Stuff to eat. Mostly around St. Louis.
Tai Ke
If I were planning an ultimate eating trip through Asia, I'd start in Japan, bounce down to Taiwan, swing over to Hong Kong, dive down to Vietnam, then finish things off in Singapore. Surprised to see Taiwan on the list? You shouldn't be. The sub-tropical island off the Southeastern coast of China is a food mecca, full of some of the most food-obsessed people I've ever met. There are two sides to Taiwanese cuisine: street food and restaurant food. I spent little time at actual restaurants in Taiwan, and almost every dish I ate at them was similar to the Hokkien Chinese food I was eating on a daily basis in Singapore. This means a lot of noodle soups, braised meats, and tons of seafood.
Tai Ke is St. Louis' newest and only Taiwanese restaurant, as far as I know. I wasn't overly excited about eating there until my sister went and told me they had a Taiwanese Street Snack section of the menu.
I fucking love Taiwanese street snacks.
I nearly shutdown from culinary overload at the Shilin street market. Fried chicken breasts the size of a small child, sausages of all sizes and flavors wrapped in sticky rice, penis-shaped waffles and ice cream, dumplings galore, tofu that smells like a rotting corpse (okay, maybe not that one), bubble tea! I'm getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.
Newcomers to the St. Louis blog scene JeniEats and Eat First Worry Later joined me for my culinary adventure to Tai Ke. We started with the braised pig ear, which weren't the kind I was familiar with. These were served room temp and were more crunchy than soft, a texture I imagine most Americans will be turned off by. Had there been more of the garlicky, sweet soy on the dish, I think they would have benefited.
I was overjoyed when the street snacks hit the table. We started with the gua bao, pork belly buns, which were meaty chunks of braised pork belly sandwiched between steam bread with cilantro, ground peanuts, pickled mustard greens, and a sweet sauce. The pork doesn't have that crunchy outer layer that Hiro's have, but I thought these were still definitely worth ordering.
The Taiwanese have an affinity for tube meat and sticky rice. It's the Asian version of a hot dog and bun. The sausage itself is a sweeter, fattier dog than you find in pretty much any Western cuisine, making it all the more delicious. Diabetics thought they were cool to eat hot dogs, but not in Taiwan! The sausage is drizzled with the chef's secret sauce (it's like a Chinese ketchup, almost) and some cilantro. I love these.
Finally, we have the fried pork chop. It's a pork chop with a crunchy five-spice infused breading. You're goddamn right it's good.
The entrees were just as solid as the starters. The Three Cup chicken is a steaming bowl of chopped chicken in a deeply flavorful sauce of rice wine, soy sauce, sesame oil, roasted garlic, ginger, and Chinese basil. I imagine Chinese and Taiwanese grandmas across America started making their versions of this this past week to help fight the cold.
The sizzling bean curd comes out hissing and bubbling like the fajita platter at Chili's, except it actually tastes good. The tofu is fried, then put on a cast iron platter with bell peppers, onions, snow peas, and leeks. It sounds like your typical stir fry, but I thought the sauce was fantastic.
Both the mapo tofu and spicy shrimp stir fry were both leaps and bounds better than their descriptions would make you think (and compared to most Chinese restaurants around). The mapo tofu had a nice level of heat to it thanks to chili oil and Szechuan peppercorns and the shrimp, labeled as "hot" with 3 chili peppers, wasn't nearly as spicy as I feared it might be. The flavor of the dish was spot on thanks to a hearty helping of roasted garlic, scallions and more Szechuan peppercorns. Roasted garlic makes every dish better.
Out of all the new Chinese restaurants I've gone to this year, this was the most solid first impression I've had. There's not one dish up there I wouldn't recommend (well, maybe the pig ear plate). Eating there did what any good meal should do: it left me full, happy, and wanting more. The famous Taiwanese braised beef noodle soup will be my next order.
The restaurant is tucked away behind a shopping center off Olive Blvd., right near Dao Tien, and I highly recommend you make reservations. We went on a Wednesday night and saw tons of people get turned away due to the 30+ minute wait.
Tai Ke
8604 Olive Blvd
St. Louis, MO 63132
314.801.8894
Private Kitchen
2015 has quietly been a good year for St. Louis' Chinese food scene. We lost the always interesting Szechuan Pavilion (again), but we gained Tai Ke Taiwanese, Yummy17, Private Kitchen, Lona's Lil Eats (in late 2014, really), and revamps of Lulu's, Jia Xiang, Corner 17, and Joy Luck Buffet. Lona's has enjoyed continuous hype and publicity since they opened, though Private Kitchen seems to be the Asian restaurant du jour. The concept is unique to St. Louis, as far as I know, in that it's reservation only, you must place your order beforehand (they pick up the ingredients the day of your visit), and it's operated and owned by a husband and wife. He's the chef, she's front of house.
As soon as the reviews, Tweets, and Facebook posts started popping up about Private Kitchen, I knew I had to go. There was so much hype, it had me wondering: is this The One? Will St. Louis finally have a Chinese restaurant that will put all others to shame?
I've visited a few times now and I'm going to have to say no, this is not that restaurant. At this point, without having tried Corner 17 or a proper meal at Tai Ke, I would say that it does go in my Top 3 Chinese restaurants in town, along with Yummy17 and Jia Xiang.
The food is Shanghaiese, which often (but not always) means a heavy reliance on sugar and sweetened sauces, and that is my biggest qualm with it: it's just too sweet for my taste.
Their xiao long bao (soup dumplings) are easily the best I've had in St. Louis. If you don't know about soup dumplings, read this. Private Kitchen's don't hold a candle to Din Tai Fung or Paradise Dynasty across the world, but they're more than passable. The skin is soft but sturdy enough to hold the piping hot soup and meatball and the soup itself has almost a truffle flavor to it. If you've never had a soup dumpling, these are a must try.
The black mushroom and bok choy is a simple dish done very well, with each mushroom acting like an edible sponge full of delicious broth. The smoked salmon was a very literal version: raw salmon rolled around fruit salad, stuck under a glass full of smoke. It was my least favorite of everything I ate at Private Kitchen, but I respect the new attempt at a Jewish deli classic.
The three entrees I would recommend you get start with the squirrel fish. The fish is deboned, then each filet is cut into little slices (while still connected to the fish), then deep fried and served with something close to a sweet and sour sauce. I imagine it's a pain to prepare, but the end product is worth the work. It's like having fish french fries!
There's a page of the menu (found on their Facebook page) that is in Chinese only. Ask for dishes off of that. Highlights from it include the sweet and tangy shell-on shrimp dish, which I made a mess peeling my first visit. I found out on the return that you just eat the whole thing, shell and all.
I can't imagine there's a dish that's much worse for you than the beef, also found on the Chinese page. Cubes of meat are fried and tossed in a soy and sugar sauce. It's like popcorn beef, but even more addicting because of the sweetness. We got this dish at both meals, and both times the beef was gone in about 2 minutes.
The crab and lobster both came in similar sauces—some mix of ginger, scallions, and sweetness. They're both good, but nothing special (aside from the dragon's head carrot with the lobster). If you're looking for whole crab or lobster at an Asian restaurant, I much prefer Mai Lee's.
If you're looking for authentic Chinese food in a more intimate setting, Private Kitchen is where you should be going. The food is better than most of what you'll find in St. Louis, and I can guarantee there are some dishes you haven't had before. If you've got a sweet tooth, you'll love it, but those with savory palates and diabetes aren't going to be fans. When you call to make your reservation and order, don't worry about looking at the menu. Order yourself some soup dumplings, then tell them what you like. Besides the dishes above, they have lamb, chicken, and duck available, as well.
Let me know what you think about your meal there. You can leave a comment below or hit me up on Twitter or Facebook.
Private Kitchen
8106 Olive Blvd
University City, MO 63130
314.989.0283
The Best of Singapore: Candlenut
Singapore is a food lover's paradise. Everyone knows that by now, thanks to the likes of Andrew Zimmern, Anthony Bourdain, and me. The Singaporeans are in constant competition with the Taiwanese and Japanese to see who is more obsessed with food. To say the tiny city-state is chock full of restaurants would be an understatement. As a visitor (and even as a local), the question becomes: where should I eat? Nearly every magazine, TV show, or blog will say one of the following:
It's so cheap! You should just eat at these hawker stalls. You'll only spend $10 a day!
If you like sushi, you must try Waku Ghin. For $400 a person, it's totally worth it.
So those are your options: you either eat outside at a hawker center or spend hundreds of dollars eating at a "celebrity" restaurant.
The country is quickly becoming a playground for celebrity chefs, just like Dubai and Las Vegas. Gordon Ramsay, Mario Batali, Daniel Boulud, Wolfgang Puck, Jamie Oliver—I could go on—they all have restaurants in Singapore now. Some of these are excellent—Batali's Mozza and Boulud's DB Kitchen were both wonderful every time I ate at them, but they're all so heavily hyped by the Singaporean media (both bloggers and professionals), I think Gordon Ramsay could literally shit on a plate and the bloggers would be lining up to take pics and discuss how innovative it is—and how it's so much better than anything Singaporean restaurants are making.
On this last trip, Patricia and I wanted to eat at an unpretentious restaurant with great food, helmed by a local chef. Deciding to do that instead of spending $700 at JAAN proved to be a brilliant move.
The two best meals I had in Singapore this past trip (and quite possibly in all my time there) were at Artichoke, Bjorn Shen's funky modern Middle Eastern eatery, and Candlenut, Malcolm Lee's foray into contemporary Peranakan cuisine. Both restaurants have the fine-casual feel that American restaurants have shifted towards. Service is relaxed and friendly, the atmosphere is fun, and the focus is on creating great food that doesn't require a $250 tasting menu.
These two chefs couldn't be more different. Shen is brash and foul-mouthed. He's like Singapore's own Anthony Bourdain, and honestly, I think Singapore needs a guy like him. Lee, on the other hand, is quiet and contemplative, more like Thomas Keller. These are the two chefs cooking the best and most exciting food I had in Singapore.
Part 1: Candlenut
I can't think of another meal that has floored me quite like my first meal at Candlenut. After 3 years in Singapore, one meal completely shifted my perspective on what Singaporean food was and what it could be.
I knew about Candlenut before eating there, but only so far as knowing that it existed. The cuisine—modern Peranakan—I knew almost nothing about. I just knew they had some type of nut that, if not properly prepared, will kill you. Great!
Peranakan cuisine is a mix of Chinese, Indonesian, and Malay ingredients and cooking styles. Not satisfied with churning out the classics, Candlenut's wunderkind chef Lee is serving up beautiful modern renditions.
It's the most exciting food I ate in Singapore and what I would expect more restaurants to be doing: taking the food the Singapore was built on and letting a team of young chefs make it their own. Visiting chefs and foodies, this needs to be at the top of your list. Not Restaurant Andre.
Below are the menus from our two meals there; you probably won't recognize most of the dishes, but we'll get to that.
18 July Menu
Jiu Hu Char, Homemade Kueh Pie Tee Shell
Warm Relish of Minced Pork, Banana Chili, Dried Shrimp
Wagyu Beef Rib, Buah Keluak Sambal, Turmeric Egg
Tumbuk Prawns, Laksa Leaf, Starfruit
Pong Tauhu Soup, Prawn & Crab Meatball, Shellfish Bisque
Grilled Red Snapper, Dried Shrimp Sambal, Smoked Salt
Baby Sweet Potato Leaf Curry, Sweet Prawns, Crispy Whitebait
Maori Lake Lamb Rack, Dry Red Curry, Roasted Coconut, Kaffir Lime
Wok Fried Wild Baby Squid, Sambal Petai, Fried Shallots
Wing Bean Salad, Baby Radish, Cashew Nuts, Lemongrass, Calamansi Lime Dressing
27 July Menu
Jiu Hu Char, Homemade Kueh Pie Tee Shell
Warm Relish of Minced Pork, Banana Chili, Dried Shrimp
Grilled Spice-Marinated Chicken Satay, Peanut Sauce
Tumbuk Prawns, Laksa Leaf, Starfruit
Rawon Oxtail Soup, Buah Keluak, Fried Shallots
Grilled Red Snapper, Dried Shrimp Sambal, Smoked Sea Salt
Chap Chye Braised Cabbage, Sweet Beancurd Skin, Pork Belly, Prawn Stock
Blue Swimmer Crab, Yellow Turmeric Coconut Curry, Kaffir Lime
Wok Fried Wild Baby Squid, Squid Ink, Tamarind, Chilis
Local Chicken & Black Fungus Kerabu, Gingerflower, Mint, Kerisik
Buah Keluak Ice Cream, Salted Caramel, Warm Chocolate Espuma
"Kueh Salat", Kueh Bangkit, Coconut Sorbet
Candlenut's Signature Chendol Cream, Pandan Jelly, Gula Melaka
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Jiu hu char: dried cuttlefish and vegetable stir fry
Warm relish of minced pork
Tumbuk Prawns, Chicken Satay
Wagyu beef, buah keluak sambal
Buah Keluak is the name of the potentially fatal nut I mentioned, and it is the flavor I'd used to differentiate Peranakan food from all others. It's often referred to as the Asian truffle, given its black color and intense, hard to place flavor. I don't think it's actually similar in flavor at all to a truffle, though. To me, it's like a chocolatey Oaxacan mole.
It was served three ways during our dinners: the first, seen below, was my favorite. Wagyu beef rib, cooked until it was falling apart, sat over a turmeric crepe, accompanied by a spoonful of thick buah keluak sambal. We didn't know what hit us. This single bite was like some Willy Wonka candy that simultaneously tasted like a Mexican mole, a wintry braised beef, and a Southeast Asian sauce.
It was one of the best things I've eaten—not just this year, but ever.
Wing Bean Salads
Pong Tauhu Soup, Chap Chye
Wok-fried Squid
The term 'wok hei' refers to a flavor imparted by cooking in an incredibly hot seasoned wok. Both squid dishes at Candlenut had so much 'wok hei', I almost cried.
The darker dish, cooked with squid ink, had a more earthy, briny taste, but a little tang and sweetness from the tamarind. The other, cooked with a spicy sambal made with petai (otherwise known as bitter beans or stink beans) and fried shallots had a more familiar Southeast Asian flavor that we couldn't stop eating. Spicy and sticky from the sambal, it was just fantastic.
Swimmer Crab Curry, Sweet Potato Leaf Curry
If pizza didn't exist, I think curry would be my favorite food on earth. Americans love curry, yet every Asian menu has just two types: red and green. Get with the times, people. There's a whole world of curry out there!
The blue swimmer crab in a yellow turmeric coconut curry with kaffir lime was a sweet, delightful curry. The curry itself was similar to the one that made me fall in love with Chris Bailey's cooking, but the incorporation of the tender swimmer crab took it to another level. Our other curry, a thicker, vibrantly orange bowl of amazing, was full of baby sweet potato leaves, sweet prawns, then topped with crispy fried whitebait to add crunch.
Both curries were phenomenal, but the upper hand goes to the sweet potato leaf curry with sweet prawns.
Beef Rawon
When we sat down for our second dinner and I saw that there was oxtail soup with buah keluak, I squealed with glee. When it came to the table, things got tense. One bowl was brought to the table. Patricia and I both eyed the bowl, then each other. I knew I was supposed to be a gentleman and let her have it first, share it equally, blah, blah. She knew it too. The thing is...I didn't want to share it. I wanted it all.
Just before we would have gotten into a relationship-ending brawl over the beef, they brought out another bowl. Phew.
It had all the great flavors you'd expect from an oxtail stew; that thick gravy; the meat that's falling apart. Take the best beef stew or braise you've made, then add a few secret Southeast Asian ingredients, then add the chocolatey, bitter buah keluak. What do you get? An orgasm.
Lamb Rack, Red Snapper
Buah Keluak ice cream, Kueh Salat
Oh, dessert. You sexy temptress.
Buah keluak ice cream, you say? Yes, sir. On its own, it was almost too intense; the mix of high grade dark chocolate and the buah keluak almost create the taste of a boozy chocolate milkshake. A bite with the salted caramel, chocolate espuma, and pop rocks evened things out. One of the most intensely chocolate desserts I've had.
Kueh Salat is typically a two-layered gelatinous dessert. The bottom is made of glutinous rice, the top is a green pandan custard. Lee and his team break it down: an intense pandan custard topped with coconut shavings, crushed Kueh Bangkit (coconut cookies), and a coconut sorbet on the side. The coconut sorbet all by itself is almost good enough to be one of my top desserts of the year. This is Singapore in a dish.
Part of why we went back to the restaurant a second time was just for this. The balancing of coconut and the vanilla-ish pandan is just unreal. I would consider this a perfect dish. Of all the desserts I can ever remember eating, I've liked none more than this.
Chendol Cream
The photos may look like any decent Asian restaurant's, but I can assure you all the flavors were far beyond any I've had before. If Candlenut was in New York, San Francisco, Chicago, or even St. Louis (well, probably not), it would completely booked every night. If you're a Singaporean or planning to visit Singapore, you must go.
When I was picking my Top 5 Desserts and Top 10 Entrees this year, it was hard not to include more of Candlenut's dishes. I always sway towards Asian-influenced desserts, and all 3 we had could have made the list. This was, and still is, the best meal I've had this year.
Check back Wednesday for a post on Artichoke.
Dumpling in Singapore
My early days in Singapore were rough: profuse and constant sweating, an apartment with walls so thin I could hear every loud, angry conversation my neighbors had, and no friends. I was a hot, tired, lonely manchild. I was also completely overwhelmed by the hundreds of eating choices within a 15 minute walk of my apart. So much so that I had taken to eating mostly grocery store sushi or attempting to cook on my tiny one-burner stove. I was in a food depression. After some Googling, I learned that the closest mall to me had this popular dumpling chain from Taiwan in it called Din Tai Fung (DTF). I decided I would man up and go eat there all by my lonesome.
That's where I had my first Xiao Long Bao, or soup dumpling, and my life was forever changed. I was going multiple times a week, trying everything I could. It became my go-to restaurant to take out of towners. The risk averse could stick with the XLB's and maybe a bowl of noodle soup, while the more intrepid could try the funky black and green century eggs.
Even now it remains Patricia and my "can't decide where to eat" restaurant. Twice on this past trip we ended up there. I've always loved that a meal there could be extremely healthy or the kind of glutinous feast that leaves you wheezing.
Simple starters range from the Oriental Saladin special vinegar dressing is a simple (below) to sliced duck in a crispy spring onion pastry.
If I'm not getting XLB's, which is rare, I'm getting the Oriental wantons in black vinegar and chili oil. The combination of Chinese vinegar and chili oil is just so goddamn good, I can't help but spoon the excess sauce into my mouth after I've killed off the wontons.
Every DTF has a window into the room where all dumplings and buns are made at lightning speed and steamed. Every dumpling is rolled out to an exact diameter, given an exact amount of meat, and folded exactly 18 times. All of this happens in seconds. I would be terrible at it.
At the nicer DTF locations, they have premium dumpling options, including chili crab and truffle. No longer able to resist temptation, I ordered a single Pork & Truffle Xiao Long Bao. One small dumpling, $5.00.
Was it worth it? Was it truffley? Oh mama. What makes a XLB magical is that solid meat aspic is in the filling, so when steamed, the aspic melts and the dumpling is magically filled with both a tiny meatball and piping hot soup. This truffle version had truffle in the broth, plus whole slices of shaved black truffles. It was truly a flavor bomb.
I remember the first time Patricia and I tried Paradise Dynasty, a beautiful, huge restaurant at the top of the ION Orchard mall. I felt like I was cheating on Din Tai Fung with a younger, richer, more beautiful restaurant. "Don't worry, DTF! I'm sure the food here isn't as good as yours!" I thought to myself.
I was so wrong. Paradise Dynasty was better in every way. In an instant, Din Tai Fung became the ugly ex-girlfriend. I Brad Pitted Din Tai Fung. Paradise's focus is less on dim sum and more on soups, noodles, and more hearty entrees, but their dumplings are incredible.
All of their ads are for their 8 flavored XLB's (original, garlic, Szechuan, ginseng, foie gras, black truffle, cheesy, and crab roe), but the original is king. The dumpling's skin is softer and less dough, the soup and pork vastly more flavorful. They are the greatest XLB's I've ever had.
St. Louis has so few options with soup dumplings that you probably don't know how to eat them correctly. Here are the steps, in photos:
Look at your dumplings. Plan your attack. Choose the juiciest one.
Pick it up - GENTLY, MAN! - and place it on your spoon.
Poke a hole in it so the soup runs into your spoon. Drink said soup. Alternately, you can just go at it like a vampire: bite it and suck.
Dip the soupless dumpling into your mix of soy/vinegar/ginger.
Their other dumpling types are winners, too. The pan seared buns with a slightly sweet dough? Not sharing those. Their take on the dumplings in chili and vinegar? Not only are they way meatier than Din Tai Fung's, but the sauce has a much better balance thanks to some sweetness.
The fact I can't get dumplings this good in St. Louis makes me so, so sad. The only solution is that I will have to take on the endeavor myself, slaving away in my kitchen until I get it right. One day, Spencer's Dumpling Hut will be unveiled and all will rejoice.
Tim Ho Wan
Tim Ho Wan is "Hong Kong's most famous dim sum," as stated on their menu, and, believe it or not, the recipient of 1 Michelin star. Pretty impressive for a dim sum restaurant with a fairly limited menu. The first Tim Ho Wan's to open in Singapore came just before I left in 2014, with queues getting near 3-hours in length. I'm not waiting 3 hours for any food, especially not dim sum. Instead, I tacked some extra time on a trip to Hong Kong and ate it at the train station. No queue. Win for Spencer. Efficiency is Tim Ho Wan's game: you sit and look at the small menu. You're given a pencil and a list of the menu items, which you mark off like you're at a sushi place.
I sat. I ate. Then, unable to comprehend what I had just consumed, my head exploded.
Before we get to the fatty gold at the end of the rainbow, I wanted to try to counter balance things with something healthy. I quickly perused the menu, saw something green, and got that. The vegetable and shrimp dumplings were fine, but nothing special. Steamed prawn, steamed greens, yawn. The bit of fish roe at the top made it perty, but didn't add much as far as flavor goes.
It's hard to tell in the picture, but it also came with Goop. Goopy sauces and soups are enjoyed much more in Chinese cuisine than any Western cuisine I've found, with the prime example being the jello-like bird's nest soup. Not my thing.
Char Siu Bao. It's the dim sum classic loved across the globe: pillowy steamed bread filled with piping hot Chinese BBQ pork. You've had it at Mandarin House, Lulu's, *insert Chinese restaurant you swear is delicious here*, but none of those can get close to matching what Tim Ho Wan has created.
Have you seen the movie Kingsmen? You remember the scene in the church where Colin Firth fights like 50 people? That's what I would do to a room of people if I found out there was only one order of these left. Let's talk about what makes these so great.
The exterior: The dough is unapologetically buttery and sugary. The bottom of the buns have reached a level of crunchy, buttery perfection, not unlike a piece of toasted brioche or even a cookie. The top has a similar crunch to it. The midsection has been left puffy and soft. You tear into it, expecting it to pull apart like a piece of bread...
The flakeyness: But it doesn't! It flakes apart like some kind of magical biscuit-bread hybrid.
The filling: It's salty, it's sweet, it's meaty. It's as delicious as anything from Pappy's or Bogart's (gasp!).
People tend to think bloggers are being hyperbolic when they say how good things are, but I swear to god, this is one of the greatest things I've ever eaten. Google other reviews of Tim Ho Wan and you'll see that everyone agrees.
Life goal: I figure out how to make these and open up a small baked BBQ pork bun stall. Soon enough, everyone is addicted to them. After fattening up the entire St. Louis population to proportions previously thought impossible on such a mass scale, I move on to the rest of the US. Following the rapid is expansion of both my BBQ bun chain and the waistlines of the American people, Tesla is forced to develop hovering chairs for fat people. Boom, I just wrote the prequel to WALL-E about how everyone ended up like this.