Jul 2009

Lee's Garden – San Diego

Chinese banquet facilities are notorious for their gaudy decor. With gold-accented trimmings, velvet-lined walls, and a forest of shimmery chandeliers, the atmosphere tends to be so ghastly that only The Real Housewives of New Jersey could find it appealing.

During its heyday in the late-eighties, Lee’s Garden was one of San Diego’s most popular Chinese banquets, as evident by the bevy of weddings booked each weekend. These days, the restaurant’s aging facade and dated interior make it difficult for it to compete with newer and more lavish restaurants. Even though Lee’s Garden isn’t as shiny as it used to be, it has remained a favorite of my family’s because the kitchen continues to churn out high-quality food.

With The Astronomer and I in San Diego the week after his 25th birthday, my mom invited my large extended family to Lee’s Garden for a belated birthday celebration. I haven’t feasted at Lee’s Garden since the day I graduated from high school, so I was beyond stoked to not only reacquaint myself with their wares, but to introduce The Astronomer to the goodness as well.

The Saturday evening of our party unfortunately coincided with a large gathering featuring loud music and God-awful singing. With full reign over the microphone, speakers, and amps, the dangerously unselfconscious herd went to town all evening long. The reveling was so obnoxious that The Astronomer and I swore we were back in Asia again. Nope, just Lee’s Garden.

Lee’s Garden has an extensive a la carte menu, but my family almost always orders one of the multi-course banquets. Our favorite is the seven-course feast ($120) that easily feeds twelve to fifteen eaters but is intended only for ten.

The concept of a properly paced meal is completely foreign when it comes to Chinese banquets. As soon as a dish has finished cooking in the kitchen, it’s haphazardly plopped onto the crowded Lazy Susan.

Minutes after placing our order, the first course arrived. Tom rang muoi, prawns with garlic and salt, arrived toasty from the deep-fryer. Brushed with umami-fied seasonings and heaps of garlic, the enticingly crisp shrimps were a delight. One bite of the shrimp’s juicy head and I was instantly reminded of why I adore Lee’s Garden.

My all-time favorite dish at Lee’s Garden is canh chua—sour soup with fillets of fish, upright elephant ears, tomatoes, pineapples, and chilies. Canh chua is a fairly standard Vietnamese dish, but Lee’s Garden rendition tastes extra special due to the abundance of fresh basil (and MSG). One of these days I’m going to ask Mr. Lee if I can hangout in his garden and learn how this soup is made.

The crab course (cua rang muoi) was prepared in a similar fashion to the shrimp one. I love crab meat but dislike how fussy it is to extract. After struggling with one leg, I abandoned it and ate the bits of fried garlic with rice. This simple combination was a favorite of mine when I was a kid, and it still holds up after all these years.

Morning glory sauteed with garlic was the lone vegetable course of the evening. This dish was a substitution; the normal banquet menu lists bok choy in oyster sauce in its place.

Following the canh chua, the steamed clams are my second favorite dish at Lee’s Garden. Scallions, dried chili pods, and the clams’ natural goodness are the dish’s major flavoring components. The meaty clams and their flavorful sauce rarely fail to please.

My fellow diners really enjoyed the chicken course, but I didn’t waste any precious space on it because the white meat usually bores me. Pass the clams!

And last but not least, tender slices of beef sauteed with broccoli, carrots, and bamboo shoots. This dish was a hair underseasoned, but still very pleasant nosh.

If Lee’s Garden weren’t so hideous, I’d so have my wedding there.

Lee’s Garden
4055 54th Street
San Diego, CA 92105
Phone: 619-583-8208

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Jul 2009

Viễn Đông Restaurant – Garden Grove

Little Saigon, a sprawling suburban neighborhood in Orange County, is home to the largest population of Vietnamese people outside of Vietnam. While I am familiar with Saigon’s culinary scene, when it comes to its American counterpart, I still have much to learn.

The city’s major arteries of Westminster, Brookhurst, and Bolsa are bustling with businesses hawking everything under the Vietnamese sun: from music to clothing to house wares and of course, food. What’s most notable about the Vietnamese food found in Little Saigon is the regional diversity. The distinct culinary styles of Northern, Central, and Southern Vietnam are well-represented and executed as authentically as America allows.

Growing up an hour and a half south in San Diego, I used to travel to Little Saigon with my grandparents every couple of years to visit their friends who resided in the area. The highlight of these trips for me was the meals we shared at Viễn Đông restaurant. My grandparents always dined here for the Northern Vietnamese fare (mon bac)—specific regional specialties that aren’t in my family’s culinary repertoire.

A recent road trip to San Diego with The Astronomer provided the perfect excuse to revisit Viễn Đông.

Viễn Đông is housed in a clean, spacious, and impressively understated (by Vietnamese standards) space. The restaurant was fairly empty the late Friday afternoon we dined, which meant prompt and pleasant service from start to finish.

I ordered a bowl of bun rieu oc tom moc ($6.75), one of my family’s standbys at Viễn Đông. Even though I’ve been back in America for nearly a year, I still can’t get over how large the portions are at Vietnamese restaurants here. The enormous bowl of bun rieu was filled with hunks of fried tofu, ground crab, vermicelli noodles, meatballs, tomatoes, and periwinkle snails. The orange-tinged broth was hot and sour, just the way I like it.

The bun rieu was served with a plate of garnishes that included bean sprouts, shredded romaine lettuce, a wedge of lime, and mam ruoc (fermented shrimp paste).

The Astronomer’s Cha Ca Thanh Long ($12.95) arrived on a sizzling platter that filled the air with the awesome scent of seared fresh dill. The generous fillet of turmeric-laced catfish was adorned with heaps of onions and scallions.

Everything about this dish was excellent, except that it wasn’t served Hanoi-style—in a pan atop a butane burner. The sizzling platter cooled down too fast, leaving the green and white onions mostly raw.

Accompanying the fish were warm vermicelli noodles, a mountain of fresh herbs, rice crackers, and toasted peanuts.

The perfect bowl of Cha Ca Thanh Long marries all of the ingredients together—a layer of noodles topped with chunks of fish, a smattering of peanuts, shattered rice crackers, an abundance of aromatics, and a drizzle of mam ruoc or nuoc cham.

Our Northern Vietnamese lunch at Viễn Đông left us stuffed to the gills and full of giddy memories from our travels.

Viễn Đông Restaurant
14271 Brookhurst Street
Garden Grove, CA 92843
Phone: 714-531-8253