Stuff to eat. Mostly around St. Louis.
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.