At an hour when, remarkably, I was fast asleep, an internet-reader discovered my blog, and was quite pleased. As a blogger I am naturally tickled pink when someone is quite pleased by what they find here.
It's one of the main joys of blogging.
Anonymous commented:
"Stumbled upon your blog, it's awesome. But more importantly, where ARE the best lao po bing 老婆餠 in SF?"
The post underneath which he or she appended their remark was CHINATOWN BAKERIES: DOW SA BING AND OTHER BING THINGS, written in January 2011.
"Stumbled upon your blog, it's awesome. But more importantly, where ARE the best lao po bing 老婆餠 in SF?"
Dear Anonymous commenter,
Thank you!
For me, the very best lou poh beng (老婆餠) in the city are down on Jackson Street at Yummy Bakery.
人仁西餅麵包 YUMMY BAKERY & CAFÉ
607 Jackson Street,
San Francisco, CA 94133.
415-989-8388.
But, in all honesty, I have had better ones. There's something about the air here, and the available ingredients, that affects taste.
- - -
老婆餠
Yummy is one of my favourite places, as it is a friendly, bright, clean, and comfortable small bakery, where I can always be assured of a cup of Hong Kong Style milk-tea (港式奶茶 'gong-sik naai-cha', also called 香港奶茶 'heung-gong naai-cha'). Their lou poh beng are pretty darn good, and come in two sizes. In addition to the old wife cookies (老婆餠), they have a wide variety of other treats, which I have enumerated here: Tea and something yummy.
At least once a week I will head down there to spend a pleasant half-hour over snackiepoos. Doing so is very important for the mental health.
At present, like all Chinatown bakeries, they are also selling mooncakes, it being the appropriate season for that.
Yummy Bakery takes pride in what they do.
Justifiably, and very much so.
It is a good place.
Another bakery of which I am fond -- and, remarkably, they ALSO do milk-tea and lo po beng -- is Blossom Bakery right in the center of Chinatown.
幸福餅家 HANG FUK BENG KAA
BLOSSOM BAKERY
133 Waverly Place, between Clay and Washington.
San Francisco, CA 94108.
415-391-8088
Early in the week I would usually head over there for a lotus-seed pastry (蓮蓉餅 lin-yong bing) and a cuppa, but lately I've grown fond of their charsiu sou (叉烧酥 barbecue pork filled rolls), and their curry puff (咖喱角 gaa-lei kok) are also very tasty.
The charsiu sou are larger than elsewhere and the flaky turn-over crust is to my mind utterly delightful: airy, fragile, multiple tissue-thin layers, all nice and crumbly crumbly, crunchy-munchy.
It's an old-timey looking place. Clean, but well-worn. Many of the middle-aged gentlemen who head there after work are Toishanese, still adapting to America, but doing so gracefully. They are no longer the young hotshots they once were, but calmer settled adults.
They're well-tempered, and they'll leave you your privacy.
Many of them have known each other for a while.
There might be some gossip exchanged.
Don't worry, no one you know.
There are many other Chinese bakeries in San Francisco, as much of the population is of East Asian heritage. Out in the avenues, in 'New Chinatown' on Clement Street and in the Sunset District, as well as oddly enough on Mission Street, and elsewhere.
Seeing as I hang out in the downtown, I tend to frequent the bakeries and coffee shops of the original neighborhood.
But I encourage exploration; the journey of a thousand munchies starts with a single bite.
Who knows, one of them may have the best low pou bing in the universe.
And that discovery will be dynamite.
Chinese Bakeries are awesome.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Showing posts with label 老婆餅. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 老婆餅. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
THE CHINESE COFFEE SHOP
One of the pleasures of living close to Chinatown is that one can scoot across the hill for a milk-tea and a snackipoo at a moment's notice. Nothing quite beats a hot stimulating beverage and a small pastry for sheer affordable comfort. Most coffee shops are gone, and their place taken by bakeries with big dining-hall coffee machines. Counter seating no longer exists, and lunch specials are hard to find. But the places that are around nowadays are just as good an environment to hide out for an hour or two as their predecessors.
And the selection of snackipoos, though not entirely the same, still features many familiar items, and there's a wider selection besides.
So you won't hear me complaining.
Especially not with a snoutful of buttery crumbs.
I suspect that at such times I must look incredibly guilty.
You'll just have to imagine the shenanigans I might have been up to.
Recently that was a strong cup of gong-sik naai chaa (港式奶茶) and a lou-poh beng (老婆餅) at the Yummy Bakery And Cafe (人仁西餅麵包) down on Jackson Street. Their cakes are very good (far too much for one person, though), their selection of interesting snackipoos is outstanding, and the young fellow behind the counter can't recall that I speak Cantonese if I haven't been there in a while, though the boss-lady (老闆娘) remembers it quite well.
I guess to the young, all of us older people look the same. And there must be hundreds of mature men in San Francisco, though you wouldn't think it.
This being a city for brash twenty-somethings, and all that.
RAMBLING OFF TANGENT
Yes, uncle (阿叔) is feeling his age. Not in the sense of creaking and tremors, which are still several decades in the future if at all, but in recognition of the fact that I am older than Jayzus in the eyes of young people. Being, as I am, just a little bit over thirty. Which is impossibly ancient, good heavens, I probably need a walker, and my nice hot milky-milk at night. Plus a nurse!
It doesn't help that I keep meeting sweet young couples. Lovers who are just so bubblingly full of piss that a man feels like going into hiding, even though many of them think I'm like, totally, fascinating.
Sometimes they refer to me as 'Professor'. Either because I smoke a pipe, or seem to know stuff about quite a number of things.
Knowledge: it's frightfully old-school.
Anyway, they'll frequently pull my whiskers conversationally for a while, and thank me ever so prettily for my time. Then they leave holding hands.
Why are all these people in relationships? Such things are wasted on immature kiddies! Darn it, this dry old fart would like it so much if a nice shy bookish librarian would chat with me for hours. Young lady with brains and glasses?
I would try to be at my most scintillating!
NOW BACK TO OUR SUBJECT
I'm fairly certain the girl who works there on occasion remembers my minor linguistic ability; she always seems far less flusterable, far more in control.
But both of them are very competent and gracious. As well as conscientious.
It says a lot for the owner that she brings out the best in her staff, who may actually be relatives. Good people, and a good place.
I stayed for forty five minutes finishing my tea, and saw several customers come in, scope out the offerings, make their choices, and leave happy.
A number of them bought a selection of pastries for family or work-mates.
All over Chinatown there are folks with buttery crumbs on their lips.
Radiant people, with dreamy smiles.
It's yummy.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
And the selection of snackipoos, though not entirely the same, still features many familiar items, and there's a wider selection besides.
So you won't hear me complaining.
Especially not with a snoutful of buttery crumbs.
I suspect that at such times I must look incredibly guilty.
You'll just have to imagine the shenanigans I might have been up to.
Recently that was a strong cup of gong-sik naai chaa (港式奶茶) and a lou-poh beng (老婆餅) at the Yummy Bakery And Cafe (人仁西餅麵包) down on Jackson Street. Their cakes are very good (far too much for one person, though), their selection of interesting snackipoos is outstanding, and the young fellow behind the counter can't recall that I speak Cantonese if I haven't been there in a while, though the boss-lady (老闆娘) remembers it quite well.
I guess to the young, all of us older people look the same. And there must be hundreds of mature men in San Francisco, though you wouldn't think it.
This being a city for brash twenty-somethings, and all that.
RAMBLING OFF TANGENT
Yes, uncle (阿叔) is feeling his age. Not in the sense of creaking and tremors, which are still several decades in the future if at all, but in recognition of the fact that I am older than Jayzus in the eyes of young people. Being, as I am, just a little bit over thirty. Which is impossibly ancient, good heavens, I probably need a walker, and my nice hot milky-milk at night. Plus a nurse!
It doesn't help that I keep meeting sweet young couples. Lovers who are just so bubblingly full of piss that a man feels like going into hiding, even though many of them think I'm like, totally, fascinating.
Sometimes they refer to me as 'Professor'. Either because I smoke a pipe, or seem to know stuff about quite a number of things.
Knowledge: it's frightfully old-school.
Anyway, they'll frequently pull my whiskers conversationally for a while, and thank me ever so prettily for my time. Then they leave holding hands.
Why are all these people in relationships? Such things are wasted on immature kiddies! Darn it, this dry old fart would like it so much if a nice shy bookish librarian would chat with me for hours. Young lady with brains and glasses?
I would try to be at my most scintillating!
NOW BACK TO OUR SUBJECT
I'm fairly certain the girl who works there on occasion remembers my minor linguistic ability; she always seems far less flusterable, far more in control.
But both of them are very competent and gracious. As well as conscientious.
It says a lot for the owner that she brings out the best in her staff, who may actually be relatives. Good people, and a good place.
I stayed for forty five minutes finishing my tea, and saw several customers come in, scope out the offerings, make their choices, and leave happy.
A number of them bought a selection of pastries for family or work-mates.
All over Chinatown there are folks with buttery crumbs on their lips.
Radiant people, with dreamy smiles.
It's yummy.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, December 05, 2012
TEA AND SOMETHING YUMMY
The motorcar came to a stop in front of a building with tall windows that looked out over the village green. Though at present, it would be doubtful if any one even gazed out; the weather was beyond inclement, to the point of saturation. Dense pillars of rain washed over the grass, the cobbles, the concrete sidewalks, presenting a grey veil to the streetscape.
Three gentlemen exited the vehicle, and not bothering to even unfurl their umbrellas stepped purposefully toward the door, their overcoats spattering the water off as soon as it hit. Two young fellows, and a man whose erect bearing suggested a military background, but whose trimness almost decisively stated air force.
Big galoots do not get into the pilot programme.
They don't fit very well into cockpits, you see.
The proprietress took their order after having seated them in a comfortable lounge. Soon she came back with a vast tray, on which two pots, a large urn with extra hot water, and several plates, as well as three cups and saucers, presented an inviting view, much more beckoning, fascinating even, to the three men than any amount of wetness bucketing down outside.
England always looks rainy. Sodden, even.
But afternoon tea seems ever new.
After having enjoyed several cups, along with a nibble here and there of the goodies, the aeronautical gentleman relaxed in a comfy chair in the corner with a cigarette, while one of the younger chaps pulled out a pipe, filled it, and lit up. While he enjoyed his first puffs of flake, his brother grumbled at the fumes and pulled a well-worn book out of his coat pocket (the outerwear was hung by the fire to dry), then settled down at the table reading about chess. The games of the masters.
The older gentleman and the pipe-smoker debated over a map of the area, deciding where they would head tomorrow. Occasionally one or other of them sipped a bit more tea, taking care not to spill either ashes or hot liquid on the map.
So far it had been a splendid journey.
Devonshire was positively littered with comfortable oases.
Where afternoon tea might be had at certain hours.
And smoking was still permitted.
It was, after all, the seventies.
TEA TIME
It has been a long time since I visited the South-West of England, and I have heard that the wheatgerm freaks in Whitehall have outlawed public smoking even there. Possibly they still allow it in coal mines, as people suffering from black lung and chronic pulmonary fatigue from digging up the slag cannot possible get any worse.
Or maybe there too it is illegal. Might as well make the last few years of the victims of industrialization even harder by sending them out into the rain to smoke.
Yes?
Two of the three people in the vignette above are no longer in this world.
The R.C.A.F. bomber pilot flew his last sortie over two decades ago, and the chess player won his final competition back in the nineties.
Still, afternoon tea continues. It speaks of old times, good friends, and family members who are fondly remembered.
All three of us enjoyed taking tea when we were in England, as well as at home in the Netherlands. My father would often have it on Saturday or Sunday afternoons, back in Valkenswaard, and I frequently prepared myself a pot after school, to keep me company when reading or doing my homework.
My brother had it while studying chess.
A proper Devonshire cream-tea includes hot scones, clotted cream, fresh fruit preserves, a slice or two of cake, and a very large pot of strong tea.
I believe one should always follow it with a pipefull of fine aged Virginia flake, but that may not be precisely your fancy. Possibly you smoke Oriental mixtures, or light Balkan blends. Or maybe even not at all.
Taking the Devonshire cream-tea out of England emasculates it. Without a fresh green sopping wet countryside, and people speaking in poofter accents, high tea is not the same.
Reproducing the scones and clotted cream is rather ridiculous.
Pretentiously academic, even.
Fortunately here in San Francisco, we have alternatives. Not substitutes or mere replacements, but stuff that fits the tradition more than admirably, and better even than what they do in Blighty.
We live very well here.
We have Chinatown bakeries.
人仁西餅麵包
YUMMY BAKERY & CAFE
607 Jackson Street, San Francisco, CA 94133.
Telephone: 415-989-8388
This is one of my favourite places, because of an extensive selection of goodies of high quality. They devote care and attention to what they do, and it would be very hard to leave disappointed.
Their offerings would grace any tea-table.
Seriously good stuff.
Among other things:
芝士蘑菇包 Cheese and mushroom bun
火腿粟米包 Ham and corn bun
雞包 Chicken bun (baked)
叉燒包 Charsiu bun (baked)
菠蘿叉燒包 Pineapple charsiu bun
火腿芝士包 Ham and cheese bun
香腸包 Hotdog bun
粟米火腿包 Corn and ham bun
奶油包 Cream bun
蔥油條 Scallion bun
蛋撻 Egg tart
火腿南鬆卷 Ham and pork floss roll
蛋沙律包 Egg salad bun
藍莓芝士包 Blueberry cream cheese bun
菠蘿奶黃包 Pineapple cream bun
火腿蛋包 Ham and egg bun
毛毛蟲 Cream and jam bun
丹麥包 Danish pastry
提子包 Raisin bun
牛角包 Croissant
蔥油肉鬆卷 Scallion pork floss roll
椰香包 Coconut bun
紅豆菠蘿包 Red bean paste filled pineapple bun
肉鬆包 Pork floss bun
菠蘿包 Pineapple bun
椰菠蘿叉燒包 Pineapple charsiu bun
火腿芝士包 Ham and cheese bun
椰香包 Coconut bun
豆沙包 Red bean paste bun
南瓜包 Pumpkin bun
香芋包 Taro bun
紅豆龜仔包 Tortoise-shaped bun with red bean paste
蒜蓉包 Garlicky bun
墨西哥棒 Mexican roll
奶油筒 Cream horn
合桃拿破侖 Walnut Napoleon
草莓蛋卷 Strawberry roll
瑞士餅 Swiss pastry
奶油曲奇 Butter cookie
奶油蛋糕 Butter cake
合桃酥 Walnut pastry
紫菜酥 Seaweed pastry
雞仔餅 Chewy cookie
咖啡奶油筒 Coffee cream horn
老婆餠 Wife cake
冬瓜老婆餠 Winter melon wife cake
皮蛋酥 Preserved egg pastry
蛋黃酥 Egg yolk pastry
椰撻 Coconut tart
椰絲球 Shredded coconut ball
杏仁奇脆棒 Almond pastry
果醬蛋糕 Jam cake
咖啡合桃卷 Coffee walnut roll
朱古力牛油蛋糕 Chocolate butter cake
紙包蛋糕 Paper cupcake
糖多士 Sugared toasts
西糕大餅 Xigao cake
甘草花生 Licorice-flavoured peanuts
南乳花生 Namyu (fermented beancurd) flavoured peanuts
蒜蓉花生 Garlic-flavoured peanuts
As you can see, there are lots of delicious things to choose from. Anyone who cannot find something satisfying at Yummy Bakery & Café just isn't trying.
You can snack there, or far better yet, buy a lot of stuff to take home.
It will make your tea-time memorable.
No, I don't want you to get fat. But I do want you to have a good time.
Some hot-buttered toast, as well as little sandwiches -- cucumber, smoked salmon, cress, pâté, or potted meat -- would not be amiss either.
But you will have to make those yourself.
Please allow pipe smoking afterwards.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Three gentlemen exited the vehicle, and not bothering to even unfurl their umbrellas stepped purposefully toward the door, their overcoats spattering the water off as soon as it hit. Two young fellows, and a man whose erect bearing suggested a military background, but whose trimness almost decisively stated air force.
Big galoots do not get into the pilot programme.
They don't fit very well into cockpits, you see.
The proprietress took their order after having seated them in a comfortable lounge. Soon she came back with a vast tray, on which two pots, a large urn with extra hot water, and several plates, as well as three cups and saucers, presented an inviting view, much more beckoning, fascinating even, to the three men than any amount of wetness bucketing down outside.
England always looks rainy. Sodden, even.
But afternoon tea seems ever new.
After having enjoyed several cups, along with a nibble here and there of the goodies, the aeronautical gentleman relaxed in a comfy chair in the corner with a cigarette, while one of the younger chaps pulled out a pipe, filled it, and lit up. While he enjoyed his first puffs of flake, his brother grumbled at the fumes and pulled a well-worn book out of his coat pocket (the outerwear was hung by the fire to dry), then settled down at the table reading about chess. The games of the masters.
The older gentleman and the pipe-smoker debated over a map of the area, deciding where they would head tomorrow. Occasionally one or other of them sipped a bit more tea, taking care not to spill either ashes or hot liquid on the map.
So far it had been a splendid journey.
Devonshire was positively littered with comfortable oases.
Where afternoon tea might be had at certain hours.
And smoking was still permitted.
It was, after all, the seventies.
TEA TIME
It has been a long time since I visited the South-West of England, and I have heard that the wheatgerm freaks in Whitehall have outlawed public smoking even there. Possibly they still allow it in coal mines, as people suffering from black lung and chronic pulmonary fatigue from digging up the slag cannot possible get any worse.
Or maybe there too it is illegal. Might as well make the last few years of the victims of industrialization even harder by sending them out into the rain to smoke.
Yes?
Two of the three people in the vignette above are no longer in this world.
The R.C.A.F. bomber pilot flew his last sortie over two decades ago, and the chess player won his final competition back in the nineties.
Still, afternoon tea continues. It speaks of old times, good friends, and family members who are fondly remembered.
All three of us enjoyed taking tea when we were in England, as well as at home in the Netherlands. My father would often have it on Saturday or Sunday afternoons, back in Valkenswaard, and I frequently prepared myself a pot after school, to keep me company when reading or doing my homework.
My brother had it while studying chess.
A proper Devonshire cream-tea includes hot scones, clotted cream, fresh fruit preserves, a slice or two of cake, and a very large pot of strong tea.
I believe one should always follow it with a pipefull of fine aged Virginia flake, but that may not be precisely your fancy. Possibly you smoke Oriental mixtures, or light Balkan blends. Or maybe even not at all.
Taking the Devonshire cream-tea out of England emasculates it. Without a fresh green sopping wet countryside, and people speaking in poofter accents, high tea is not the same.
Reproducing the scones and clotted cream is rather ridiculous.
Pretentiously academic, even.
Fortunately here in San Francisco, we have alternatives. Not substitutes or mere replacements, but stuff that fits the tradition more than admirably, and better even than what they do in Blighty.
We live very well here.
We have Chinatown bakeries.
人仁西餅麵包
YUMMY BAKERY & CAFE
607 Jackson Street, San Francisco, CA 94133.
Telephone: 415-989-8388
This is one of my favourite places, because of an extensive selection of goodies of high quality. They devote care and attention to what they do, and it would be very hard to leave disappointed.
Their offerings would grace any tea-table.
Seriously good stuff.
Among other things:
芝士蘑菇包 Cheese and mushroom bun
火腿粟米包 Ham and corn bun
雞包 Chicken bun (baked)
叉燒包 Charsiu bun (baked)
菠蘿叉燒包 Pineapple charsiu bun
火腿芝士包 Ham and cheese bun
香腸包 Hotdog bun
粟米火腿包 Corn and ham bun
奶油包 Cream bun
蔥油條 Scallion bun
蛋撻 Egg tart
火腿南鬆卷 Ham and pork floss roll
蛋沙律包 Egg salad bun
藍莓芝士包 Blueberry cream cheese bun
菠蘿奶黃包 Pineapple cream bun
火腿蛋包 Ham and egg bun
毛毛蟲 Cream and jam bun
丹麥包 Danish pastry
提子包 Raisin bun
牛角包 Croissant
蔥油肉鬆卷 Scallion pork floss roll
椰香包 Coconut bun
紅豆菠蘿包 Red bean paste filled pineapple bun
肉鬆包 Pork floss bun
菠蘿包 Pineapple bun
椰菠蘿叉燒包 Pineapple charsiu bun
火腿芝士包 Ham and cheese bun
椰香包 Coconut bun
豆沙包 Red bean paste bun
南瓜包 Pumpkin bun
香芋包 Taro bun
紅豆龜仔包 Tortoise-shaped bun with red bean paste
蒜蓉包 Garlicky bun
墨西哥棒 Mexican roll
奶油筒 Cream horn
合桃拿破侖 Walnut Napoleon
草莓蛋卷 Strawberry roll
瑞士餅 Swiss pastry
奶油曲奇 Butter cookie
奶油蛋糕 Butter cake
合桃酥 Walnut pastry
紫菜酥 Seaweed pastry
雞仔餅 Chewy cookie
咖啡奶油筒 Coffee cream horn
老婆餠 Wife cake
冬瓜老婆餠 Winter melon wife cake
皮蛋酥 Preserved egg pastry
蛋黃酥 Egg yolk pastry
椰撻 Coconut tart
椰絲球 Shredded coconut ball
杏仁奇脆棒 Almond pastry
果醬蛋糕 Jam cake
咖啡合桃卷 Coffee walnut roll
朱古力牛油蛋糕 Chocolate butter cake
紙包蛋糕 Paper cupcake
糖多士 Sugared toasts
西糕大餅 Xigao cake
甘草花生 Licorice-flavoured peanuts
南乳花生 Namyu (fermented beancurd) flavoured peanuts
蒜蓉花生 Garlic-flavoured peanuts
As you can see, there are lots of delicious things to choose from. Anyone who cannot find something satisfying at Yummy Bakery & Café just isn't trying.
You can snack there, or far better yet, buy a lot of stuff to take home.
It will make your tea-time memorable.
No, I don't want you to get fat. But I do want you to have a good time.
Some hot-buttered toast, as well as little sandwiches -- cucumber, smoked salmon, cress, pâté, or potted meat -- would not be amiss either.
But you will have to make those yourself.
Please allow pipe smoking afterwards.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, June 23, 2012
SORT OF A GENTLE FOOD FILLED ESSAY
For nearly two years now I rise late on weekends, pad around the house in my sleepwear drinking coffee, and have a nice hot bath. Then I go into Chinatown for something to eat. It is not good for the soul to hide in the apartment all day, one has to get out and do something. But I have far more routine than imagination in that regard, and, as you can guess, snackipoos followed by several hours at the office are a great good. The lively crowd of people on Stockton, followed by quiet in the financial district - these complement each other.
Plus weekends are for pipe-smoking. Can't really do that at home.
3:45 PM
When I got off the bus at Clay and Stockton, a mother and her little girl disembarked also. Both were shorter than me, of course.
Other than that the woman was probably only five foot one or two, I cannot remember much about her. Young, with gentle eyes. Cheerful.
But the kid I remember distinctly. Three, maybe four years old, bright and very intelligent looking, wearing a pretty red jacket with little yellow flowers. Sparkling dark brown eyes, mop of black black hair. Small hands.
An extremely beautiful child.
She had the most engaging hopeful expression that I have ever seen.
Without speaking, she seemed to say that good things would happen.
Surely there were interesting adventures ahead?
A fine sunny day downtown, yay!
At the place where I ate a bowl of fish-slice rice porridge, the owner’s little son was saying farewell to a new best friend. At that age, children do not need much of a language in common. Both boys were the same height, barely three years old. One spoke Cantonese, the other something that sounded very much like Teochew. While the father of the little non-Cantonese speaking fellow was getting him ready to go, his new companion kissed him.
Very sweet. It was the cutest thing.
An elderly gentleman purchased two hargau and a cup of tea, then sat down and started unwrapping tea-eggs. Possibly the hargau and tea-eggs were the only thing he was going to eat today. He did not look like there was any superfluous money in his life. Gaunt, with very worn though clean clothes; clearly he wasn't a rich capitalist. Shrimp pockets and boiled eggs cannot be a very satisfying repast.
He ate calmly, not rushing, nor excessively dawdling over each bite.
Rinsed his mouth periodically with tea, then wiped his lips.
He thoroughly enjoyed his tiny meal.
Smiled afterwards.
[Fish-slice porridge (魚片粥): fresh fish curls that poach just barely in a large bowl of hot rice porridge, with shredded ginger added. Hargau (蝦餃): shrimp bonnets, being fresh chopped shrimp wrapped in a translucent skin cleverly tucked at the top and steamed. Tea-eggs (茶葉蛋): the eggs are first boiled till hard, cooled, rolled to crack the peel, then simmered again to allow the flavouring to seep in through the cracks and marbleize the surface of the egg within. Often they are kept in the tea-spice liquid for several more hours for the best flavour. Use two TBS black tea or pu-erh in a pan of water, add a hefty jigger of soy sauce, whole five-spices plus extra star anise, a slice of ginger and a large piece or two of dried tangerine peel. The first simmer is for twenty minutes after the liquid has come to boil, the second simmer will be about three hours - prolonged cooking eventually re-tenderizes the proteins.]
4:15 PM
While puffing on a post-lunch pipe on Jackson Street I saw that the windows of Yong Kee are now papered-up. The owner of the shop next door informed me that 'yes, they’re closed, all gone'. A very great pity, their haahm dan sou and gai bao were excellent. I’m sure I’m not the only one who will miss them. They probably retired at last, and there isn’t any point in passing on the business to the Americanized generation.
So many of the familiar places are gone, the neighborhood has changed.
When people move out now, it’s usually to go to the avenues.
Only old people still embrace these streets.
[Yong Kee (容記糕粉店): a bakery and dim sum shop that dated from before the war, which had a stellar reputation and made some truly marvelous items. Mostly unknown to outsiders, as the awning was only in Chinese. Nothing in the trays was labeled. You knew what you wanted when you went in, and asked for it by name. Haahm dan sou (鹹蛋酥) are salt-preserved egg yolks, very rich, inside a flaky pastry crust with a little sweet lotus seed paste (莲蓉) to anchor them in place. A gai bao (雞飽) is a steamed chicken-filled bun, than which there is naught finer when the mood strikes.
Regarding the post-lunch pipe, note that I have several pipes and three different pipe-tobaccos with me today: a matured red and black Virginia with Perique, a blend of red Virginia ribbon and matured red Virginia cake plus Orientals and air-cured leaf, and a profoundly fumigational pressing of red Virginia with Latakia and Turkish. I'm heading to the Occidental later this evening for a few bowls. Red Virginia dusk.]
Outside the New Orchid Pavilion a cluster of retirees were discussing the opera poster in the window. I’ve seen the same one all over Chinatown, some well-known artist from HK is going to perform. Seven entirely different plays! Seven Cantonese operas I’ve never heard of, and of which I have no recordings at all in my collection. Maybe these are unique rarities, but more likely they're minor theatre pieces that allow a greater interpretational range – the other ‘stars’ are probably amateurs from the local opera clubs.
I’ve heard folks practicing in the basement on Sacramento Street, as well as at the club near the Broadway. Some of them have far more enthusiasm than skill. Few have less.
The retirees were animated, and probably looked forward to a good show.
Behind the window pane, one of the people who works at the New Orchid Pavilion was intently observing them.
Would they come in? Were they going to eat?
Hey, how about some business here!
There’s an empty table in the rear. Two empty tables!
Eat, eat, eat! Oh please!
4:45 PM
Having been unable to satisfy my craving for a haahm dan sou at Yong Kee, I stopped by another bakery instead. They didn’t have any haahm dan sou, so I ordered a lo po bing (老婆餅) and a cup of coffee. While enjoying my flaky wintermelon pastry, a young mother and her little child came in, got stuff at the counter, and sat down at the very next table.
I recognized them as being the two that had gotten off the bus at Stockton.
The mother asked the little girl about her lo po bing.
“Ho m-ho sik-ga?”
The tyke beamed up at her.
“Dee! Lishus!!!”
Yep.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Plus weekends are for pipe-smoking. Can't really do that at home.
3:45 PM
When I got off the bus at Clay and Stockton, a mother and her little girl disembarked also. Both were shorter than me, of course.
Other than that the woman was probably only five foot one or two, I cannot remember much about her. Young, with gentle eyes. Cheerful.
But the kid I remember distinctly. Three, maybe four years old, bright and very intelligent looking, wearing a pretty red jacket with little yellow flowers. Sparkling dark brown eyes, mop of black black hair. Small hands.
An extremely beautiful child.
She had the most engaging hopeful expression that I have ever seen.
Without speaking, she seemed to say that good things would happen.
Surely there were interesting adventures ahead?
A fine sunny day downtown, yay!
At the place where I ate a bowl of fish-slice rice porridge, the owner’s little son was saying farewell to a new best friend. At that age, children do not need much of a language in common. Both boys were the same height, barely three years old. One spoke Cantonese, the other something that sounded very much like Teochew. While the father of the little non-Cantonese speaking fellow was getting him ready to go, his new companion kissed him.
Very sweet. It was the cutest thing.
An elderly gentleman purchased two hargau and a cup of tea, then sat down and started unwrapping tea-eggs. Possibly the hargau and tea-eggs were the only thing he was going to eat today. He did not look like there was any superfluous money in his life. Gaunt, with very worn though clean clothes; clearly he wasn't a rich capitalist. Shrimp pockets and boiled eggs cannot be a very satisfying repast.
He ate calmly, not rushing, nor excessively dawdling over each bite.
Rinsed his mouth periodically with tea, then wiped his lips.
He thoroughly enjoyed his tiny meal.
Smiled afterwards.
[Fish-slice porridge (魚片粥): fresh fish curls that poach just barely in a large bowl of hot rice porridge, with shredded ginger added. Hargau (蝦餃): shrimp bonnets, being fresh chopped shrimp wrapped in a translucent skin cleverly tucked at the top and steamed. Tea-eggs (茶葉蛋): the eggs are first boiled till hard, cooled, rolled to crack the peel, then simmered again to allow the flavouring to seep in through the cracks and marbleize the surface of the egg within. Often they are kept in the tea-spice liquid for several more hours for the best flavour. Use two TBS black tea or pu-erh in a pan of water, add a hefty jigger of soy sauce, whole five-spices plus extra star anise, a slice of ginger and a large piece or two of dried tangerine peel. The first simmer is for twenty minutes after the liquid has come to boil, the second simmer will be about three hours - prolonged cooking eventually re-tenderizes the proteins.]
4:15 PM
While puffing on a post-lunch pipe on Jackson Street I saw that the windows of Yong Kee are now papered-up. The owner of the shop next door informed me that 'yes, they’re closed, all gone'. A very great pity, their haahm dan sou and gai bao were excellent. I’m sure I’m not the only one who will miss them. They probably retired at last, and there isn’t any point in passing on the business to the Americanized generation.
So many of the familiar places are gone, the neighborhood has changed.
When people move out now, it’s usually to go to the avenues.
Only old people still embrace these streets.
[Yong Kee (容記糕粉店): a bakery and dim sum shop that dated from before the war, which had a stellar reputation and made some truly marvelous items. Mostly unknown to outsiders, as the awning was only in Chinese. Nothing in the trays was labeled. You knew what you wanted when you went in, and asked for it by name. Haahm dan sou (鹹蛋酥) are salt-preserved egg yolks, very rich, inside a flaky pastry crust with a little sweet lotus seed paste (莲蓉) to anchor them in place. A gai bao (雞飽) is a steamed chicken-filled bun, than which there is naught finer when the mood strikes.
Regarding the post-lunch pipe, note that I have several pipes and three different pipe-tobaccos with me today: a matured red and black Virginia with Perique, a blend of red Virginia ribbon and matured red Virginia cake plus Orientals and air-cured leaf, and a profoundly fumigational pressing of red Virginia with Latakia and Turkish. I'm heading to the Occidental later this evening for a few bowls. Red Virginia dusk.]
Outside the New Orchid Pavilion a cluster of retirees were discussing the opera poster in the window. I’ve seen the same one all over Chinatown, some well-known artist from HK is going to perform. Seven entirely different plays! Seven Cantonese operas I’ve never heard of, and of which I have no recordings at all in my collection. Maybe these are unique rarities, but more likely they're minor theatre pieces that allow a greater interpretational range – the other ‘stars’ are probably amateurs from the local opera clubs.
I’ve heard folks practicing in the basement on Sacramento Street, as well as at the club near the Broadway. Some of them have far more enthusiasm than skill. Few have less.
The retirees were animated, and probably looked forward to a good show.
Behind the window pane, one of the people who works at the New Orchid Pavilion was intently observing them.
Would they come in? Were they going to eat?
Hey, how about some business here!
There’s an empty table in the rear. Two empty tables!
Eat, eat, eat! Oh please!
4:45 PM
Having been unable to satisfy my craving for a haahm dan sou at Yong Kee, I stopped by another bakery instead. They didn’t have any haahm dan sou, so I ordered a lo po bing (老婆餅) and a cup of coffee. While enjoying my flaky wintermelon pastry, a young mother and her little child came in, got stuff at the counter, and sat down at the very next table.
I recognized them as being the two that had gotten off the bus at Stockton.
The mother asked the little girl about her lo po bing.
“Ho m-ho sik-ga?”
The tyke beamed up at her.
“Dee! Lishus!!!”
Yep.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, April 17, 2011
YUMMY BUNS!
Sometimes the best medicine to bring you back down to earth is a snack.
It reconnects you with humanity - your own, and everyone else's.
Having seen a number of unpleasant e-mails this morning, I headed into Chinatown for snackiepoos.
Dammit, a man's gotta have his snackiepoos!
The humanity!
人仁
西餅麵包
YUMMY BAKERY & CAFÉ
607 Jackson Street, San Francisco, CA 94133.
415-989-8388
There are some Cantonese women who once they reach their mid-forties radiate a loveable quality that has naught to do with romance. More like a chipper maternalism, especially so when they are also bird-like.
Head cocked quizzically, alert, bright-eyed.
Perky, but in a completely non-perky real-person kind of way.
Think of it as a mature cheekiness. Sparkle.
It's hard to describe. They are alive, they are curious, they find things interesting, and they are very people-oriented.
The lady behind the counter at the bakery tried to explain to some tourists what a pineapple bun is. There was no hard-sell in her approach, she genuinely wanted them to have happiness after purchasing something to eat. But she did wish them to know that 'pineapple' in the name did not refer to taste. There was no filling, it wasn't a sweet confection.
Just bun.
菠蘿包 BO-LO BAU
The item in question is a big round poofy product with a scaly top; what the Japanese would call a melon bread. The crust is crunchy and sweet, and during baking cracks to form segments rather resembling the surface of a pineapple, hence the name.
You can have it warm with butter (bo-lo yau 菠蘿油), which is very delicious....... but as we're already talking about something very high in sugar, carbohydrates and fat-content to begin with, the pineapple bun is justifiably considered one of the most dangerous snacks in Hong Kong.
Especially with butter.
Filling it with luncheon meat instead doesn't really help.
Either way, it is extremely popular. Deservedly so.
[Filled with luncheon meat: 餐肉菠蘿包 ('tsaan-yiuk bo-lo bau'). Other popular types may have sweet bean paste stuffed inside ('dow-sa po-lo bau': 豆沙菠蘿包), or egg-custard cream ('nai-wong bo-lo bau': 奶黃菠蘿包).]
After the counter woman had helped the tourists, she brightly turned to me.
I did not have a pineapple bun (eh, maybe next time), requesting instead a wife cake and a 蛋黃酥 ("egg-yolk flaky") to take back to the office.
They are known for their wife cakes (lo-poh beng: 老婆餅), and their 蛋黃酥 are also stellar.
The Yummy Bakery & Café could very well become my favourite bakery in C'town.
Nice people, and good products.
Sparkle.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
It reconnects you with humanity - your own, and everyone else's.
Having seen a number of unpleasant e-mails this morning, I headed into Chinatown for snackiepoos.
Dammit, a man's gotta have his snackiepoos!
The humanity!
人仁
西餅麵包
YUMMY BAKERY & CAFÉ
607 Jackson Street, San Francisco, CA 94133.
415-989-8388
There are some Cantonese women who once they reach their mid-forties radiate a loveable quality that has naught to do with romance. More like a chipper maternalism, especially so when they are also bird-like.
Head cocked quizzically, alert, bright-eyed.
Perky, but in a completely non-perky real-person kind of way.
Think of it as a mature cheekiness. Sparkle.
It's hard to describe. They are alive, they are curious, they find things interesting, and they are very people-oriented.
The lady behind the counter at the bakery tried to explain to some tourists what a pineapple bun is. There was no hard-sell in her approach, she genuinely wanted them to have happiness after purchasing something to eat. But she did wish them to know that 'pineapple' in the name did not refer to taste. There was no filling, it wasn't a sweet confection.
Just bun.
菠蘿包 BO-LO BAU
The item in question is a big round poofy product with a scaly top; what the Japanese would call a melon bread. The crust is crunchy and sweet, and during baking cracks to form segments rather resembling the surface of a pineapple, hence the name.
You can have it warm with butter (bo-lo yau 菠蘿油), which is very delicious....... but as we're already talking about something very high in sugar, carbohydrates and fat-content to begin with, the pineapple bun is justifiably considered one of the most dangerous snacks in Hong Kong.
Especially with butter.
Filling it with luncheon meat instead doesn't really help.
Either way, it is extremely popular. Deservedly so.
[Filled with luncheon meat: 餐肉菠蘿包 ('tsaan-yiuk bo-lo bau'). Other popular types may have sweet bean paste stuffed inside ('dow-sa po-lo bau': 豆沙菠蘿包), or egg-custard cream ('nai-wong bo-lo bau': 奶黃菠蘿包).]
After the counter woman had helped the tourists, she brightly turned to me.
I did not have a pineapple bun (eh, maybe next time), requesting instead a wife cake and a 蛋黃酥 ("egg-yolk flaky") to take back to the office.
They are known for their wife cakes (lo-poh beng: 老婆餅), and their 蛋黃酥 are also stellar.
The Yummy Bakery & Café could very well become my favourite bakery in C'town.
Nice people, and good products.
Sparkle.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, April 10, 2011
WIFE CAKE - PILGRIMAGE TO YUEN LONG
There are TWO reasons to go to Yuen Long (元朗) in the New Territories. One of them is poon choi (盤菜), the other one is wife cake.
Yes, you can get both of those things elsewhere, but Yuen Long is the source.
盤菜
Poon choi (basin dish: 盤菜 or 盆菜) is a compound of various ingredients pre-cooked separately, then carefully layered in a basin and reheated together for a short while, so that each ingredient may share some of its flavour and aroma with its neighbors.
The more expensive foods (roast duck and roast pork) are higher on the pile, and their juices will run down through the layers imparting savouriness to the more mundane items, making the braised lobak chunks on the very bottom avidly sought after.
A good poon choi is a feast, a bad poon choi resembles the leftovers that sergeant Yamada was heating up on a hotplate at his desk in the television series Barney Miller.
Poon choi is native to the New Territories (新界), available at some restaurants in the rest of Hong Kong, and not made anywhere else in China.
老婆餅
Wife cake (lo poh beng: 老婆餅) is a Chinese pastry consisting of candied winter melon paste surrounded by layers of contrasting dough – an oil dough around the filling, a water dough on the outside. Both dough layers are rolled together for uniformity, then folded around the filling.
Then an egg wash, and two slits to prevent it puffing up in the oven.
The completed product is baked for about twenty minutes to crisp it, resulting in a confection which is crumbly and delicious when fresh, soft and slightly chewy the next day.
Either way, divine with hot milk-tea.
[The term 老婆 (lo poh) is typically Cantonese, and almost the same in meaning as the hippie-era term 'old lady'. Lo is old, poh is a related female. My old lady = 我嘅老婆 (ngoh-ge lo-poh = my better half.]
What makes the product specifically a 'lo poh beng' is the different dough layers, which separate from each other and render it flaky.
Some bakeries fold the two layers over and roll them out a number of times to create a millefeuille effect.
The home cook is probably better off not trying this, though.
[Caution to the kosher and halal segment of my readers: traditionally, animal shortening (clarified lard) is used in Cantonese bakeries, as it really does yield a better, tastier result. Nowadays some manufacturers use vegetable oils. Butter can also be used. A few companies (including the one mentioned below) use palm oil. Coconut is a small part of the filling. And note that peanuts are a common presence in the kitchen of any Cantonese pastry shop.]
The most famous wife cakes are made by Wing Wah (榮華) in Yuen Long.
榮華餅家 AND 大榮華酒樓
Wing Wah in Yuen Long is well known for wife cakes, though they also make many other things, and run a very fine restaurant on the second and third floor of their building.
Their attention to detail, and the quality of their foods, make the half-century old company a destination.
Address: Number 4-6 On Ning Road, Yuen Long
If you're taking MTR to Yuen Long, get off at Tai Tong Road (大棠路), go down to Green Mountain Road (青山公路) and walk towards Kuk Ting Street (谷亭街), turn right.
Ignore Sing Lee Beef Balls and the Seven Eleven just up from the corner, there's another Seven Eleven scarcely one short block away on Shui Che Kwun (水車館街). Cross Shui Che Kwun. A few yards further on, go left up Sai Tai Street (西堤街). Cross Tai Fung (泰豐街), and keep going on Sai Tai. You should be able to see a red three-storey building at the end of the street by now.
Sai Tai Street curves leftwards and turns into On Ning Road (安寧路), and right on the bend, on the right hand side in that bright red building, is the restaurant.
Taai Wing Wah Jau Lau: 大榮華酒樓.
Note that, predictably, a Seven Eleven occupies one of the ground floor spaces of that building.
Seven Eleven truly is everywhere.
That's VERY suspicious. Hmmmmm!
YAM CHA (DRINK TEA: 飲茶)
The entrance to the restaurant is between the news stand and the gift-shop, where you can purchase their famous lo poh beng, mooncakes (in season), and preserved meat products.
If it's still morning, you should have dim sum (點心) here. The steamed egg custard cake (nai wong ma-lai gao: 奶黃馬拉糕) is one of their best dishes, but you may want to concentrate on the more savoury items. Taro cake (woo gok: 芋角), fried glutinous rice cake with pork (haahm sui gok: 咸水角). Very nicely prepared Phoenix claws (chicken feet; fung jao: 鳳爪). Diverse rice flour sheet noodles (cheung fan: 腸粉), plus Chicken buns (gai bao: 雞飽) and Charsiu buns (叉燒包). Steamed shrimp pockets (ha gau: 蝦餃). Pork stuffed into a wheat dough cup (siu mai: 燒賣). And more.
It's all quite delicious. Aren't you glad you came?
Of course Tai Wing Wah Restaurant also does poon choi, which is more suited to later in the day, especially if you're in a group of ten or twelve people. It gets quite crowded, and often there is a line out the door.
There are other places to get poon choi, however, and they are all proud of their versions of the dish.
Taai Foon Hei (大歡喜飯店 'great welcoming happiness rice-shop') at 76 Kau Yuk Road (教育路) is also very good.
Unsurprisingly, they aren't too far from a Seven Eleven.
Look for the green sign that sticks out over the street, stating 大歡喜盆菜.
Peng San Poon Choi (屏山盆菜) is also famous.
They too are in or near Yuen Long, but I do not know exactly where.
There is NO poon choi in San Francisco. You will have to do without.
But we do have lo poh beng.
Every bakery makes those.
And milk tea we also have.
FLAKY YUMMY GOODNESS
One of the best places is on Jackson Street (昃臣街) between Grant (都板街) and Kearny (乾尼街). They're diagonally opposite the old Great Star Theater. Easy to find.
Nowhere near a Seven Eleven.
YUMMY BAKERY & CAFÉ
607 Jackson Street
San Francisco, CA 94133.
415-989-8388
They are justifiably proud of their lo poh beng. They will pack six of them in a special box for you.
In addition to lo poh beng, they also produce a number of other products: breads, non-Chinese pastries, birthday cakes and wedding cakes, and the usual sweet soft biscuits exchanged between families upon the engagement of a young couple.
I heartily recommend them.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Yes, you can get both of those things elsewhere, but Yuen Long is the source.
盤菜
Poon choi (basin dish: 盤菜 or 盆菜) is a compound of various ingredients pre-cooked separately, then carefully layered in a basin and reheated together for a short while, so that each ingredient may share some of its flavour and aroma with its neighbors.
The more expensive foods (roast duck and roast pork) are higher on the pile, and their juices will run down through the layers imparting savouriness to the more mundane items, making the braised lobak chunks on the very bottom avidly sought after.
A good poon choi is a feast, a bad poon choi resembles the leftovers that sergeant Yamada was heating up on a hotplate at his desk in the television series Barney Miller.
Poon choi is native to the New Territories (新界), available at some restaurants in the rest of Hong Kong, and not made anywhere else in China.
老婆餅
Wife cake (lo poh beng: 老婆餅) is a Chinese pastry consisting of candied winter melon paste surrounded by layers of contrasting dough – an oil dough around the filling, a water dough on the outside. Both dough layers are rolled together for uniformity, then folded around the filling.
Then an egg wash, and two slits to prevent it puffing up in the oven.
The completed product is baked for about twenty minutes to crisp it, resulting in a confection which is crumbly and delicious when fresh, soft and slightly chewy the next day.
Either way, divine with hot milk-tea.
[The term 老婆 (lo poh) is typically Cantonese, and almost the same in meaning as the hippie-era term 'old lady'. Lo is old, poh is a related female. My old lady = 我嘅老婆 (ngoh-ge lo-poh = my better half.]
What makes the product specifically a 'lo poh beng' is the different dough layers, which separate from each other and render it flaky.
Some bakeries fold the two layers over and roll them out a number of times to create a millefeuille effect.
The home cook is probably better off not trying this, though.
[Caution to the kosher and halal segment of my readers: traditionally, animal shortening (clarified lard) is used in Cantonese bakeries, as it really does yield a better, tastier result. Nowadays some manufacturers use vegetable oils. Butter can also be used. A few companies (including the one mentioned below) use palm oil. Coconut is a small part of the filling. And note that peanuts are a common presence in the kitchen of any Cantonese pastry shop.]
The most famous wife cakes are made by Wing Wah (榮華) in Yuen Long.
榮華餅家 AND 大榮華酒樓
Wing Wah in Yuen Long is well known for wife cakes, though they also make many other things, and run a very fine restaurant on the second and third floor of their building.
Their attention to detail, and the quality of their foods, make the half-century old company a destination.
Address: Number 4-6 On Ning Road, Yuen Long
If you're taking MTR to Yuen Long, get off at Tai Tong Road (大棠路), go down to Green Mountain Road (青山公路) and walk towards Kuk Ting Street (谷亭街), turn right.
Ignore Sing Lee Beef Balls and the Seven Eleven just up from the corner, there's another Seven Eleven scarcely one short block away on Shui Che Kwun (水車館街). Cross Shui Che Kwun. A few yards further on, go left up Sai Tai Street (西堤街). Cross Tai Fung (泰豐街), and keep going on Sai Tai. You should be able to see a red three-storey building at the end of the street by now.
Sai Tai Street curves leftwards and turns into On Ning Road (安寧路), and right on the bend, on the right hand side in that bright red building, is the restaurant.
Taai Wing Wah Jau Lau: 大榮華酒樓.
Note that, predictably, a Seven Eleven occupies one of the ground floor spaces of that building.
Seven Eleven truly is everywhere.
That's VERY suspicious. Hmmmmm!
YAM CHA (DRINK TEA: 飲茶)
The entrance to the restaurant is between the news stand and the gift-shop, where you can purchase their famous lo poh beng, mooncakes (in season), and preserved meat products.
If it's still morning, you should have dim sum (點心) here. The steamed egg custard cake (nai wong ma-lai gao: 奶黃馬拉糕) is one of their best dishes, but you may want to concentrate on the more savoury items. Taro cake (woo gok: 芋角), fried glutinous rice cake with pork (haahm sui gok: 咸水角). Very nicely prepared Phoenix claws (chicken feet; fung jao: 鳳爪). Diverse rice flour sheet noodles (cheung fan: 腸粉), plus Chicken buns (gai bao: 雞飽) and Charsiu buns (叉燒包). Steamed shrimp pockets (ha gau: 蝦餃). Pork stuffed into a wheat dough cup (siu mai: 燒賣). And more.
It's all quite delicious. Aren't you glad you came?
Of course Tai Wing Wah Restaurant also does poon choi, which is more suited to later in the day, especially if you're in a group of ten or twelve people. It gets quite crowded, and often there is a line out the door.
There are other places to get poon choi, however, and they are all proud of their versions of the dish.
Taai Foon Hei (大歡喜飯店 'great welcoming happiness rice-shop') at 76 Kau Yuk Road (教育路) is also very good.
Unsurprisingly, they aren't too far from a Seven Eleven.
Look for the green sign that sticks out over the street, stating 大歡喜盆菜.
Peng San Poon Choi (屏山盆菜) is also famous.
They too are in or near Yuen Long, but I do not know exactly where.
There is NO poon choi in San Francisco. You will have to do without.
But we do have lo poh beng.
Every bakery makes those.
And milk tea we also have.
FLAKY YUMMY GOODNESS
One of the best places is on Jackson Street (昃臣街) between Grant (都板街) and Kearny (乾尼街). They're diagonally opposite the old Great Star Theater. Easy to find.
Nowhere near a Seven Eleven.
YUMMY BAKERY & CAFÉ
607 Jackson Street
San Francisco, CA 94133.
415-989-8388
They are justifiably proud of their lo poh beng. They will pack six of them in a special box for you.
In addition to lo poh beng, they also produce a number of other products: breads, non-Chinese pastries, birthday cakes and wedding cakes, and the usual sweet soft biscuits exchanged between families upon the engagement of a young couple.
I heartily recommend them.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
FROM A CHINATOWN BAKERY
The other day I found out that Auntie Jenny is eighty years old. Which is both an approximate, and the first time I have ever really known her age. You see, she isn’t family – the term 'Auntie' is what in many cultures you call women who are of your parents generation.
Auntie Jenny is a woman I have known far longer than most people in the United States. When I first met her she was in her early fifties. No, I never asked her age – despite the jet black hair, it was obvious that she was a generation older.
In those days I regularly went to a bakery in Chinatown. My routine was rather predictable – if it was early evening, I would usually have a dowsa-bing or a lowpoh-bing plus a cup of coffee while reading the newspapers.
If it was earlier in the day a gaibow and coffee. Many cups of coffee.
I was there more often in late afternoon than in the morning.
[Dowsa-bing: 豆沙餅 - sweet red bean paste enfolded in a layer of thin flaky pastry. Lowpoh-bing: 老婆餅 - "old wife cake"; candied melon confiture enfolded in a layer of thin flaky pastry. Gaibow: 雞包 - steamed bun filled with chicken, including some ginger and black mushroom for taste and texture, and a slice of lahp-cheung for a salty-sweet flavour addition. Lahp-cheung: 臘腸 - Chinese sausage; usually made with pork, sometimes with duck and duck liver.]
They also had cake - coffee crunch cake and strawberry cake, both very good. As well as many types of pies, and excellent pastries. So sometimes a slice of apple or custard pie. But mostly just the small red-bean pastry.
[Many of the Chinatown bakeries had been opened by cooks who worked at the fancy white-folks hotels and restaurants back in the day when Chinese were never allowed in as customers. Unlike most modern Chinese-American bakeries, which derive a lot of their inspiration from Hong Kong, the old-style bakery / coffee shop / lunch counter had many products that would have been instantly recognizable to white people if they had ventured in. Better and more sincerely made, too. These men justifiably took pride in their abilities.]
Auntie Jenny was one of the three ladies who worked behind the lunch counter. She and her husband ran a laundry, and had worked hard - she owned her own home. After he passed away, she took a job where she could be around people - yes, Cantonese speakers, but her English was perfect. It was a question of atmosphere, mostly.
At that time there were still many folks in Chinatown who had come of age before racial barriers came down, and while they were fully Americanized, C'town was always home. It was the place where they could let their hair down. Their comfort zone.
It was also the one place in the Bay Area where no one ever commented about my accent.
Not even when I started speaking Cantonese.
[And good heavens, I still sound thoroughly atrocious, but now it's mostly because I sound like a thug, rather than just unintelligible.]
For nearly fifteen years I was a frequent customer at that bakery, until they tore out the lunch counter to make room for boxes, and Auntie Jenny had to find another job. Well, she didn't actually need to - she could've easily retired, but she liked being around people. It was her pleasure in the company of others that had kept me going back. Around warm sociable people one always feels welcome; her sparkle and her gentleness drew me in.
Since then I've gone to other C'town bakeries, but it isn't the same.
Auntie Jenny lives in the same neighborhood as I do - about four blocks away. We bump into each other occasionally.
She's a tiny woman, at least a foot shorter than me. She no longer dyes her hair, it's now silvery white. Her eyes shine, she likes to chat with people, and she's got all of her faculties. Lively.
Her hands have become smaller and much more delicate-looking with age - speckled, slightly arthritic, but still strong, still warm.
In her own words: "not doing badly for an eighty year old".
Not too many can say as much.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Auntie Jenny is a woman I have known far longer than most people in the United States. When I first met her she was in her early fifties. No, I never asked her age – despite the jet black hair, it was obvious that she was a generation older.
In those days I regularly went to a bakery in Chinatown. My routine was rather predictable – if it was early evening, I would usually have a dowsa-bing or a lowpoh-bing plus a cup of coffee while reading the newspapers.
If it was earlier in the day a gaibow and coffee. Many cups of coffee.
I was there more often in late afternoon than in the morning.
[Dowsa-bing: 豆沙餅 - sweet red bean paste enfolded in a layer of thin flaky pastry. Lowpoh-bing: 老婆餅 - "old wife cake"; candied melon confiture enfolded in a layer of thin flaky pastry. Gaibow: 雞包 - steamed bun filled with chicken, including some ginger and black mushroom for taste and texture, and a slice of lahp-cheung for a salty-sweet flavour addition. Lahp-cheung: 臘腸 - Chinese sausage; usually made with pork, sometimes with duck and duck liver.]
They also had cake - coffee crunch cake and strawberry cake, both very good. As well as many types of pies, and excellent pastries. So sometimes a slice of apple or custard pie. But mostly just the small red-bean pastry.
[Many of the Chinatown bakeries had been opened by cooks who worked at the fancy white-folks hotels and restaurants back in the day when Chinese were never allowed in as customers. Unlike most modern Chinese-American bakeries, which derive a lot of their inspiration from Hong Kong, the old-style bakery / coffee shop / lunch counter had many products that would have been instantly recognizable to white people if they had ventured in. Better and more sincerely made, too. These men justifiably took pride in their abilities.]
Auntie Jenny was one of the three ladies who worked behind the lunch counter. She and her husband ran a laundry, and had worked hard - she owned her own home. After he passed away, she took a job where she could be around people - yes, Cantonese speakers, but her English was perfect. It was a question of atmosphere, mostly.
At that time there were still many folks in Chinatown who had come of age before racial barriers came down, and while they were fully Americanized, C'town was always home. It was the place where they could let their hair down. Their comfort zone.
It was also the one place in the Bay Area where no one ever commented about my accent.
Not even when I started speaking Cantonese.
[And good heavens, I still sound thoroughly atrocious, but now it's mostly because I sound like a thug, rather than just unintelligible.]
For nearly fifteen years I was a frequent customer at that bakery, until they tore out the lunch counter to make room for boxes, and Auntie Jenny had to find another job. Well, she didn't actually need to - she could've easily retired, but she liked being around people. It was her pleasure in the company of others that had kept me going back. Around warm sociable people one always feels welcome; her sparkle and her gentleness drew me in.
Since then I've gone to other C'town bakeries, but it isn't the same.
Auntie Jenny lives in the same neighborhood as I do - about four blocks away. We bump into each other occasionally.
She's a tiny woman, at least a foot shorter than me. She no longer dyes her hair, it's now silvery white. Her eyes shine, she likes to chat with people, and she's got all of her faculties. Lively.
Her hands have become smaller and much more delicate-looking with age - speckled, slightly arthritic, but still strong, still warm.
In her own words: "not doing badly for an eighty year old".
Not too many can say as much.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
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