JTYH: DAO XIAO MIAN IN ROSEMEAD

The traffic in Los Angeles is legendarily dreadful.

It doesn’t really affect me much. During the day, I have plenty of articles to write, which means I rarely stray too far from my couch, unless I have a meeting. In the evening, when Sybil returns home, a long day’s travail means she has neither the energy nor the inclination to drive much further than two blocks without kicking up a stink.

On Friday, however, the stars fashioned themselves in that all too rare configuration, which meant that I had finished all my writing for the week and Sybil had a day off work. After a wonderfully leisurely day of doing nothing in particular, we set off to meet our friends, Angel and Sebastian, across to the other side of the city in Rosemead, an area known for its large Asian population and high density of Asian restaurants.

Angel had been raised in this neighbourhood and suggested we meet at one of her favourite Chinese restaurants, JTYH, which specialised in Dao, Xiao Mian. These are the “knife shaved” noodles, which are a speciality of Northern China. As the name suggests, the noodles are shaved from a large block of dough straight into a pot of boiling water and are then served dry with a paste of sesame seeds, in soups or cooked in a wok with meat and seafood.

Despite the hideous traffic, we arrived a little early and soon found the unassuming little restaurant tucked next to a Mexican market and a Taco Bell. As we took in the menu and sipped on tea, we ordered a plate of cold pigs ear, sliced into thin strips and served with hot pepper oil to nibble on. They were not really to Syb’s tastes, which left me to pick away at the plate until our dinner companions walked through the door.

Once they arrived, I left most of the ordering in Angel’s hands. First to arrive was a large plate of “Three ingredient” Jiaozi or dumplings. These contained lamb, pork and beef and were being hand made in front of us by one of the staff. They had been fried until the bases were crisp and golden ready to be eaten after a quick bath in a vinegar dipping sauce.

Next up a pleasingly dense and savoury pancake studded with spring onions followed by a plate of cricket ball sized Goubuli baozi. These were the hit of the night. The dough casing had been steamed and then fried. They pulled apart easily with chopsticks to release a little cloud of savoury steam, which cleared to reveal the porky contents. Again, the dumplings benefited from a good slug of vinegar, to cut through the fat content of the filling and could easily have been an ample supper on their own.

Angel doesn’t roll like that, however and, just as we were about to tuck into our second dumpling each, the noodles which were the main reason for our visit, arrived. The first preparation came served in a broth flavoured with a little star anise and chunks of braised beef. The noodles were short and chewy, which is, Angel informed me, exactly how they are supposed to be and the final addition of chopped coriander added a pleasing crunch to each bite. The last dish to be placed in front of us, was more ordinary and although the knife cut noodles again offered a great texture, I soon left them alone and turned back to the beef broth for a second helping.

Portions, as the pictures show were bloody enormous and the bill came to around $45 for the four of us including service. Terrific value when you consider that the leftovers will also provide two of Sybil’s lunches at the beginning of next week.

Quite when the work and traffic gods will deign that a return visit can happen, I don’t know, but JTYH is definitely one to mark down the next time we can both face the drive East.

NOODLE BAR BONUS AFTER BAR SHOW BUST

I had my day all mapped out, well at least I thought I had.

I would spend the day at The London Bar Show, where attractive girls in short skirts or even shorter shorts would spend the day pouring rare and exotic spirits down my throat while I listened to the great and the good of the bartending world explain the origins of The Martini. I would come away with a goodie bag heavy with free booze and a liver buzzing the tune to “The Yellow Rose of Texas” and, I would be happy, oh so very happy.

Unfortunately, The current economic climate and the inability of the organisers of The Bar Show to organise a piss up conspired against me and, instead of my planned full day of boozing, I spent twenty minute wandering up and down the aisles of Earl’s Court 2 wondering where all the spirit brands were exhibiting while I waved away people asking me to sample energy drinks and electronic cigarettes.

There were some interesting demonstrations going on from people like Gary Regan but, with the noise from the stands of said energy drinks, I could hardly hear what was being said and, so after saying a quick “hello” to a couple of people I slunk out wondering what to do with the rest of my day.

Heading back to The West End, I got off the tube at Leicester Square and walked down Cranbourn St, that tawdry little road that links the Charing Cross Road with Long Acre. On the right, I spotted one of those small Chinese buffets of the sort that super serious food people like me walk passed with our noses so far in the air it is a wonder we are not looking in the other direction.

Except this time, I recalled that a Chinese colleague of HP’s had told him that a few months before the owner of the place had decided to do something a bit more original and, alongside the usual stuff, steaming away waiting for tourists, had brought in a chef to hand pull Lan Zhou La Mian noodles to order.

It didn’t look that promising and ducking inside, I saw two French tourists poking disconsolately at something day-glo orange on their plate. However, persevering, I looked at the menu and saw that they offered a range of dishes using the noodles from Northern China and for £6 ordered a bowl of Dan Dan La Mian with peanuts, sesame and shredded chicken.

I had to wait a while, the chef wanting to let his dough rest, but when it was deemed ready, he cut it up and then deftly flung it out until it had transformed from one strand to many, before plunging it in boiling water.

The end result was as good a budget lunch as I have tried in London for a long time. The noodles retained some bite and the broth, when spiced up with a liberal addition of chilli was nourishing and delicious. The price is, I imagine less than you probably spend at the Pret-a-Manger a few doors down on the same street. A real bargain.

I am not aware of too many people in London making hand pulled noodles to order, so this unassuming little café, called Zhen Zong Lan Zhou, is a little treasure and well worth a visit. The Bar Show on the other hand needs to show considerably more spirit before they can persuade me to go back next year.

BA SHAN: HIDDEN DUMPLINGS FROM THE BAR SHU PEOPLE

Talk about a soft opening, Ba Shan, the latest restaurant from the owners of Bar Shu (to be re-opened after a refurbishment at the end of May, we were told) is having an opening so soft it could be a fluffy kitten wrapped in feather pillows.

There is no sign above the door yet, still being painted in China we found out, and the only evidence that the building diagonally opposite Bar Shu is an eatery of any sort is the view of laid tables through the small windows and a sign by a buzzer saying “Press this bell for Ba Shan.”

As we peered through the window, a waitress appeared at the door and ushered us in, apparently remembering us from a previous visit to Bar Shu and assuming correctly that we had come to give the new place a try. If she had not, we would probably still have been there now arguing if it really existed at all.

If the outside is a work in progress then the inside is already rather splendid, set out with the theme of a wealthy merchant’s house from Xi-an, with one room representing the “theatre” and another the “tasting room” etc etc

The food on the menu is also inspired by that same city at the end (or is that the beginning?) of the Silk Road and offered up in small plates to be eaten in the same way as Cantonese dim sum, with sharing the order of the day.

Starter plates included “strange flavour” peanuts with the “strange” being the unmistakeable hint of Sichuan peppercorn, with its tell tale anaesthetic properties numbing the tongue. Rather nice and better than a plate of ribs, slow cooked in soy and sugar until soft, and served cold. The dryness was a desired result of the process, they claim, I remain unconvinced as I did by the deep frying of prawns which were oily and saved only by an excellent “fish fragrant” dipping sauce.

So far, so blah, but things perked up immediately with the arrival of a plate of cold buckwheat noodles with a sweet, sour sauce and tofu and a procession of Xi-an style dumplings, which reminded me of my visit there, where I was told of a local saying

“If you have visited Xi-an and not eaten dumplings, you have not visited Xi-an”

The ones at Ba Shan are delicate and elegantly presented and the quotie in particular, equivalent to the Japanese gyoza, were delicious with the tell tale crust on the underside that comes from adding water to the pan while frying.

In fact, all of the dumplings we tried were spot on and even the vegetarian versions deserved a few raised eyebrows for their soft casings and fresh innards of crunchy vegetables. Points removed for not draining them properly so they sat in a puddle in the bottom of the serving dishes, but they did not last long enough for that to matter.

Best of all, were two versions of roujiamo, otherwise known as Chinese Hamburger. A Xi-an classic and here at Ba Shan served in bite size versions with a filling of cumin-scented beef a nod to Xi-an spice trail heritage.

Finally, a dish not yet on the menu, but which we were urged to try, small rounds of puff pastry, stuffed with more gently spiced beef, which broke open to release a pleasing waft of steam as they had come fresh from being deep fried.

With tea and a charge for lovely service, the bill of £70 made us sit back a bit, but represents an attempt to work our way through the entire menu and the way these small plate meals always tend to build up to more than you anticipate. A sensible meal for two here should come to no more than £60, consistent with dim sum at one of the better places.

Ba Shan wont please the purists, of course, just as its sister restaurants fail to stifle dreary moans about lack of authenticity, but by my limited experience of the region it celebrates, it does a pretty decent job and, what’s more, it’s a nice place to have lunch, which, I have to say, in London, is becoming an increasingly rare thing and worth trumpeting, even if they owners don't feel that way yet about the existence of the restaurant itself

PRINCESS GARDEN: DIM SUM DOWTOWN

London has a Hell of a lot of restaurants, 10,000 + of them, I think, So, even with DH’s capacity for eating out, it would still be a pretty mean feat to exhaust all the possibilities.

However, in two areas of dining, we are beginning to run out of options. Fish & Chips is one, of course, as DH have eaten at most of London’s chippies worthy of note and many unworthy ones too. Also, places for a decent dumpling as our love of Sunday Dim Sum, particularly after an over indulgent Saturday night, has left us scratching our heads as we search for new places to go.

Princess Garden in Mayfair was the suggestion of one of HP’s colleagues who is originally from Hong Kong and we pitched up at Midday as per usual to find the place empty and the staff milling around with a bored look in their eyes. All this made the manager’s question as to whether we had a reservation seem a bit strange, that is until two minutes after we were shown to our table and a steady flow of seeming regulars trickled in until the whole place was heaving.

Dumpling prices came in at around £2.80 a time and our order for twelve assorted fried, steamed and baked barely raised the waiter’s eyebrow with only the additional order of half a roast duck making him give us a quizzical look. We like duck with our dim sum, so shoot us.

It was not a good start. Cold pork puffs and a “wild pork delight” did little to make us think this would be a worthwhile way to spend a Sunday lunchtime, but things soon began to pick up as the excellent steamed dumplings began to arrive. With enough of a misshape to confirm that they had not come out of a catering pack, each dumpling was piping hot with just the right amount of bite to the dough and filled with fresh, well flavoured ingredients where you could taste the main event. Har Gau and Sui Mai were both spot on, but it was simple scallop and asparagus dumplings and pea shoot dumpling which had us cutting the third portion with surgeon like precision so no one could be accused of eating more than the other.

Frying showed an excellent hand too, with both cuttlefish balls and taro croquettes opening to reveal a hot filling in a greaseless casing. The roast duck was as good as we have had in some time, excellent crispy skin covering a layer of fatty meat and then moist flesh. Not cheap at £15 for a half duck, but worth the prices and effort to reduce the bones to sawdust. Minus points however for the sauce of duck stock, which had been laced with MSG and had both of our hearts banging out African rhythms on the inside of our chests for the next few hours

However, it was the final dish that realy made us both take notice. Cheung Fun can often be nothing but cold sludgy dough with little of interest in side to make eating the slimy casing worthwhile. Here, the sauce served on the side, the dough was light and the filling, well-flavoured cuttlefish wrapped in a crisp egg pancake to give texture. So often this is the one dish to be left on the table, here it was cleared to the last piece.

Location and quality means that this is not a Chinatown cheap option and our bill including tea and service came to £63, but while it lacks the inventiveness of some of the newer arrivals in town, Princess Garden makes a useful alternative to Royal China and another interesting addition to the DH list when only Dim Sum will do.

Any other suggestions more than welcome

EATING FOR BRITAIN: ON THE ROAD WITH RHIDIAN

I meet amazing, curious and crazy people as I travel around, but few have been as beguilingly barking as my new chum, Rhidian. I was put in touch with him by Henrietta Lovell, of The Rare Tea Company, who explained that he often took his obsession with food to ridiculous levels. After one short day in his company, I can see what she means, hanging with Rhidian is a dangerous business.

He reminded me of a character from Wallace & Grommit, with unbounded and infectious enthusiasm for everything and everybody, particularly food and food people. His first sage advice was to have a light breakfast at my guesthouse and I soon began to understand why after I met him as planned opposite The Balmoral Hotel on Princes Street and he began to outline his challenging food itinerary for the day.

First up, second breakfast at a small, unassuming café called Embo where, while Rhidian broke open a decent looking wrap, I found room for a large portion of scrambled eggs and local smoked trout on honey bread.

Next up, one of the highlights of the day, indeed one of the highlights of any number of days. Rhidian took me to meet his chum Mark who runs George Bowers, one of Edinburgh’s top game butchers. Rhidian, it transpired knew everyone there well and would often pop in to help in busy times in return for being taught the skills of a master butcher. This shop is the real deal. A huge chill room filled with ageing beef, game birds waiting to be plucked and butchers of years standing, cutting and trimming with uncanny precision. Rhidian had persuaded Mark not only to show me how they made their haggis, but also to allow me to create my own Chieftain O’ The Pudding Race.

In a large steamer, the carcasses of trimmed game were being boiled to make a deep stock whose gamey fumes filled the air. In a pan, Mark mixed this with the classic ingredients for the haggis, heart, lung, liver and fat. He cooked them off for a short while before mincing with fresh onions and then adding the spices (lots of white pepper, I reckon) and pinhead oatmeal and then it was my turn as I was instructed to rinse off the salted ox stomach used for the casing and then, using the sausage machine, to make a haggis of my very own.

Well, despite the laughter from the assembled, gnarly faced old butchers, I thought I did a rather splendid job and was pleased as punch when Mark wrapped my creation up for me and added to it a fresh Scotch pie for extra measure.

After a quick stop at Luca, one of Edinburgh’s most famous ice cream shops, I was surprised when Rhidian slotted his car into a small space in front of what appeared to be a very ordinary looking Chinese restaurant. Rhidian, as I was realising, doesn’t do ordinary and assured me that I was in for a treat. Chop Chop, run by Chinese chef Jian and her English husband, Roy specialises in dumplings from the Northern East regions of China and, under their guidance the staff presented us with plate after plate of juicy, succulent dumplings both boiled and lightly fried. Alongside these came simple yet flavour packed side dishes of green beans and a particularly stunning plate of aubergine in garlic and chilli. Chop Chop already has great reviews in Scotland and recently came second to the famed Manchester restaurant Yang Sing in a major competition sponsored by Tsing Tao.

One can’t help thinking that any broadsheet reviewer willing to eat outside Fulham and head to Morningside, might just be on to a real winner. I can safely say that, if Chop Chop were in London, it would be as busy as Tayyabs. That’s how good it is.

Next stop was one of my organising, a chance to meet with the good people of MacSween’s haggis. Unfortunately, they are a bit iffy about pictures being taken in the factory, so I don’t have anything to show for a fascinating and hugely enjoyable two hour visit with James and Jo MacSween, but what interested myself and Rhidian, who joined me, most was the similarity in enthusiasm between them and Mark at George Bowers. MacSween may be making tonnes more of the things, but their passion for what they are doing was obvious and their generosity likewise as they plied us with goodie bags to take away.

Rhidian had plans to finish me off with not one but two classic Scottish fish suppers. Unfortunately, after the first, at The Cadora Café, just across The Forth Road Bridge, I was spent. Rhidian had beaten me and, despite his cries of “lightweight” the savoury sweat oozing from my brow told me that I should probably call it quits and head to my next guesthouse.

So, after following him back to his house to borrow a cool bag to store my haul for the day, I headed off through the winding unlit lanes of Fife in the direction of the village of Pittenweem, where I would be spending the night mainlining Zantac.

I am already planning a rematch with Rhidian next time he comes to London. The bugger wont know what hit him.