Mohinga Mania Restarted, With A Hearty Bowl At Tender Loving Food

A couple of years go I completed (or so I thought) a mission of sampling all eight versions of mohinga, the catfish chowder considered the national dish of Burma, available in San Francisco proper. It turns out I had missed one which was hiding in plain sight on the menu at T-28, the Chinese/Hong Kongese/Macanese and, apparently, Burmese restaurant on Taraval better known for its Macau Pork Chop Sandwich.  Since then, the boom in Burmese restaurants in the Bay Area has added another four or five versions, so I decided it was high time to resume my Mohinga March.

Mohinga Mania 2.0 begins with a bowl at Tender Loving Food, Burmese restaurant impresario William Lu's contribution to the stomping ground of his salad days, the Tenderloin.  As befits its location, TLF is in rough garb, with most of its exterior signage still identifying it as Pesba's Fried Chicken, and with an interior that makes Yamo look elegant by comparison. There is a poster with food pictures in the front window that seems to identify the establishment as Burmese Gourmet, but by the posted menus inside as well as all the media, it's "Tender Loving Food," and who could improve on that?

Tender Loving Food's version of mohina is not eleganty "plated", i.e. with the respective garnishes carefully arrayed across the top, but what it lacks in beauty it makes up in heartiness. It was probably the thickest version I have encountered, and the most gingery. Part of the heartiness had to do with the quantity of rice vermicelli noodles they managed to pack into a bowl; it was perhaps too noodle-forward for my tastes (and I don't often make that criticism) but it may have been designed with the nutritional needs of the neighborhood in mind. Even Kenny Bania would admit this is a meal. The broth itself was also thick, not overly fishy, and gingery.  Among the solids lurking is its depths were actual ginger slices along with the bits of chick pea fritters and samusa skin. I'm one who likes to chew on the ginger, so I considered the slices as little gifts. Along with the soup came a little container of cracked pepper and a couple of lime wedges.  A squeeze of lime and a pinch of the pepper played nicely against the ginger and rendered the broth at once more sprightly and more complex.

In short, Tender Loving Food serves up a bowl of mohinga that may be a bit wabe but still rises above the coarseness of its environs. Be brave. Be hungry. Go there!

Where slurped: Tender Loving Food, 393 Eddy Street, the Tenderloin, San Francisco.

Tasty Burmese Garlic Noodles From More-Than-Wannabe Food Truck Wanna-E

Wanna eat some Mandalay-style Burmese food on the run? Wanna-E, the question as well as the food truck with that name first popped up a week ago on the streets of San Francisco.  When I saw the first reports about it (thanks, Yelpers) I high-tailed it to its location at Third and Harrison Streets  for lunch, because it represents a collision of three of my favorite topics: noodles, food trucks, and the proliferation of Burmese cuisine in the Bay Area.

Wanna-E is the brainchild (or stomach-child, you might say) of four "food enthusiasts" from Mandalay, Myanmar. The fab four of Coco Lee, William Lee, Rainy Shai and Zin Zin Win bring a "passion to deliver authentic hometown Mandalay foods to all food lovers in California," according to Wanna-E's mission statement. They're currently serving lunch from 11-2 on weekdays in the parking lot on the southwest corner of Third and Harrison, and will begin making some dinner appearances at SoMa StrEat Food Park next week.

This being a noodle blog, I initiated my Wanna-E experience with a dish listed on its menu as "Not So Stinky Garlic Noodle" and described as "Classic Mandalay style noodle with house prepared pork in soy sauce, garlic oil and topped with scallions."  The Burmese name for this dish is apparently Seejet khao swè which, according to Wikipedia, "is considered an 'identity dish' of Myanmar and Burmese Chinese, as it is not available in other Chinese cuisines."

I told the man taking my order that he could make my "Not So Stinky" noodles as stinky as he liked, and he pointed out a blue-and-white pot on the counter full of fried garlic that I could use to make it as garlicky as  I liked. Along with my noodles came a complimentary sampler plate (opening week only) of various fried appetizers (shan tofu, bean fritters, wontons).

Not having had this particular dish before, it is difficult for me to pass judgement on Wanne-E's version, other than to say it was very tasty, if not too exciting (especially after my recent round of fiery Thai/Lao dishes). I used the bonus garlic relish liberally, but in retrospect I probably should have also thrown in a bunch of whatever was in the red pot next to the blue one. It probably would have helped,too, if I had eaten it hot out of the wok without pausing to pose it for pictures, but what is a blogger and Instagrammer to do?

An unusual feature of my seejet khao swe was its use of fine, "dragon's beard" wheat noodles (which, admittedly, I am not particularly fond of). In a strange way, the dish was akin to a deconstructed Hong Kong-style chow mein, with separate masses of crispy and pan-fried noodles meant to be stirred up (along with the garnishes) at the table, to achieve a duet of crunchy and soft textures, which it did quite successfully. The pork slivers in the dish were tender and succulent, and no one could complain about the portion size. I'd love to see a duck version of the same dish.

One thing I like about Wanna-E's approach is the way it proudly acknowledges (on its website and on its menu) the importance of the Chinese contributions to Mandalay cuisine.  Another dish on the truck's daily menu, a Burmese Yunnan-style rice noodle soup, will be the object of my next visit, and another little bump up in my noodle learning curve.

What was most disappointing about my Wanne-E experience? Finding out that the name doesn't mean anything in the Burmese language. It's just the way the Wanna-E Gang of Four would say "Wanna eat?" to their homeboys. Apparently, like their Cantonese and Shanghainese counterparts, Burmese Chinese are not fond of final consonants.

Where slurped: Wanna-E Food Truck, 3rd & Harrison/SoMa StrEat Food Park/Wherever

Ohn No Khao Swè Round: Hitting The Midpoint at Mandalay

A few months back I wrapped up a survey of all eight Burmese mohingas available in San Francisco, just because they were there, and it occurred to me recently that I might as well do the same with the Burmese noodle dish Ohn No Khao Swè. After all, I had already randomly covered the dish at three of the eight Burmeses restaurants in town*, and certainly wasn't averse to going for five more.

While mohinga is considered Burma's national dish, Ohn No Khao Swè, the curried coconut chicken noodle dish. might be considered the people's choice. It's certainly grown on me, having overcome my distaste for coconut (largely due to this very dish), so I resumed my quest today at Mandalay.

Like Mandalay's mohinga, the restaurant's ohn no khao swè comes short on adornment, but long on flavor depth.  It's placid golden surface is broken only by a topknot of fried shallots; no chickpea fritters or crunchy samusa shell shards. It's literally deep, too, as Mandalay seems to favor smaller circumference but deeper bowls. The chicken and boiled egg slices (which came first?) lurked beneath the surface of the broth, supported by a modest bed of wheat noodles (light on the noodles seems to be another Mandalay characteristic).

My ohn no khao swe (it's called Ong No Kaw Soi on Mandalay's menu, but I'm sticking with the first transliteration I used in this blog) was accompanied by a condiment caddy with lemon wedges and cilantro. There appeared to be a whole lemon's worth of slices, and a veritable garden of cilantro. The broth, however, came already pleasantly tart and in need of only a couple of token squeezes. I used the cilantro liberally, however, and added some pepper flakes from a shaker to kick up the heat.

While a satisfying lunch, on balance I'm not sure Mandalay's ohn no khao swè will stack up against the competition as well as their mohinga.  The flavor depth was admirable, but this type of soup cries out for a heartier complement of noodles and some textural add-ins such as chickpea fritters or other crunchies.

Four down, four to go!

*See previous reports for Burmese Kitchen, Sapphire Asian Cuisine, and Li'l Burma.

Where slurped: Mandalay, 4344 California St. at 6th Ave., San Francisco

Last Of The Mohingas: Yamo (Mohinga VII) And Little Yangon (Mohinga VIII)

Mohinga & side order of palata at Little Yangon

My successful quest to become Lord of the Mohingas by conquering all eight versions in town took me to the very edge of the San Francisco mohinga universe -- and a tiny bit beyond. I say so because mohinga #8 was at Little Yangon, which technically is in Daly City, not San Francisco. It's at "Top of the Hill" (Hi there, Steven Matthew David!) which is as much a part of a San Franciscan's geographic vocabulary as "South of the Slot," and just a few steps from the end of a Muni line, the #14 Missiion. Besides, with the most charming decor and homiest service of any area mohingeria (yes, I made that up) you'll want to take Little Yangon home with you, too.

My mohinga (that's a Burmese catfish chowder, if you are playing catch-up) at Little Yangon came in a ceramic chafing dish-style bowl (an appropriate beanpot-like touch).  It had a plenitude of spaghetti-sized rice noodles and a whole half of a boiled egg (rather than the egg slices one sometimes sees in mohinga). The chickpea fritters and cilantro were served on the side, along with a wedge of lime. I gladly made use of all these add-ins to the fullest extent. The broth was deep and rich, more tart than some, and had a nice shrarpness to it with a rare hint of spice heat.  I ordered a palata (paratha) with my soup, and it was one of the better versions I have had, browned to a slight char and not at all greasy.  It proved useful for mopping up the bottom of the bowl, which I reached in short time.

Mohinga at Yamo

A week before, I had stopped in at Yamo, the beloved Mission District lunch-counter Burmese food venue I described in an earlier post, for its version of mohinga. As might be expected, Yamo presents the biggest bargain for a mohinga (though not necessarily the best value), with a washbasin-size bowl for $6.00 including tax.  Yamo's broth appeared a bit on the starchy side, possibly because I had it at early dinner time instead of my usual lunch time, and it had been sitting on the stove all day; on the other hand, it may just be Yamo's style. The noodles obviously hadn't been sitting in the broth, as they were not overcooked even though they were of the thin, vermicelli style rice noodles. Yamo's mohinga may not be the most elegant version around, but it's a solid, stick-to-the-ribs big bowl of soup, and you can't go wrong  for the price.

Thus endeth my grand mohinga tour (though I'll be posting an overview of all eight I've come across shortly). I look forward to giving full attention to my hot list of other noodle delights to try.  But if another Burmese restaurant suddenly materializes in my town ans says "Try me!" I'll be SO there.

Where Slurped: Little Yangon, 6318 Mission Street, Top of the Hill, Daly City; Yamo, 3406 18th Street at Mission St., San Francisco

Mohinga Tour VI: Mohinga At Pagan Restaurant Is A Pagan Pleasure

My Great San Francisco Mohinga Rally finally delivered me to Pagan Restaurant in the Outer Richmond, for stop number six of eight.  It was a while coming, because Pagan only has lunch service on weekends, and lunchtime is when I do most of my exploring.  Besides, mohinga is generally considered a breakfast food.

Pagan, now called Bagan, is an ancient city in central Burma known for its many pagodas. (Yes, I know it's Myanmar, not Burma, but I'll be damned if I'm going to write about "Myanmar-ese food.") Pagan, its namesake San Francisco restaurant, serves both Burmese and Thai cuisines, neatly segregated on the menu, but it's clear from the  images adorning its coyly rustic walls as well as from its name which cuisine is in the hearts of its Burmese-by-way-of-Thailand owners.

Pagan was nearly full at 1:15, but they managed to find a table for me. The nearly all Caucasian lunchtime clientele seemed mostly in the younger Gen X and older Gen Y age group, possibly graduates of Burma Superstar. (I've grown accustomed to being the oldest person in the room, and that's the only way I would have it.) As near as I could tell, most of the orders were for Burmese food, though in many cases it's hard to tell at first glance. Service was diligent but dilatory, as there was but a single server for the whole room.

I ordered mohinga with a side order of palata (a.k.a. paratha, prata, etc.), a pan-fried flatbread. I won't explain mohinga again (there's a search box aove for your convenience)!  The mohinga, when it came, wasn't the prettiest I've been served (the few egg slices, for example, were buried in the tangle of thin rice noodles, not laid out neatly on top) but was definitely among the tastiest.  The rich catfish broth was intense and garlicky, though perhaps a little too salty, and there was a plentiful supply of yellow chick peas as well as chick pea wafers.

I also liked Pagan's version of palata. They were very thick and well browned, and not overly greasy. The main drawback was their very heaviness; I was unable to finish one side order along with my bowl of soup.

This pagan is eager to return to Pagan for their ohn no khao swe (coconut chicken curry noodle soup) and other noshes once he's finished his mohinga round.

Where slurped: Pagan Restaurant, 3199 Clement St., San Francisco

Mo' Mohinga (continued): The Road To Mandalay

My personal "All the Mohingas" tour of San Francisco reached stop number five (of eight) with lunch at Mandalay Restaurant on Cailfornia St. today. (If you don't know that mohinga is the catfish chowder with rice vermicelli that is invariably tagged as "Burma's national dish," you haven't been paying attention.

Mandalay is San Francisco's reigning matriarch of Burmese cuisine, having dispensed it since 1984 at California Street and 6th Avenue, just a couple of blocks from the more bruited-about but arguably less authentic Burma Superstar.  It also lacks the insanely long lines of BSS, though it doesn't lack for business of its own.  I had only a short wait for a two-top at 1:30 on a Monday, though when I left 45 minutes later there was a mob waiting to get in.

I ordered mohinga accompanied by an order of balada, the Burmese term for paratha, or a multi-layer pan-fried flatbread. I was taken aback when my server asked if I wanted a large or small bowl of mohinga (an option I was unaware of), then suggested a small bowl would be enough since I also would be having the balada. "When you come to a fork in the road, take it," as Yogi Berra reportedly once said, so I took her advice and went for the smaller serving. In retrospect, this turned out to be a strategic mistake on my part. Though the large, doughy (but not overly greasy) balada was certainly filling, and the delicious curry dip cause me to eat half of it before my soup arrived, I feel I shortchanged myself for not getting the larger bowl of what turned out to be probably the tastiest mohinga I have yet to encounter.

The breakfast-sized bowl of catfish chowder with the slender rice noodles lurking beneath the surface came relatively unadorned (no slices of hard-boiled egg, for example) but with a generous amount of fresh cilantro and lemon wedges on the side in a condiment caddy.  The chowder was richly fishy (in a good way), thicker and more peppery than other versions I have tried, and had a slight smoky cast to it.  A few sprigs of cilantro and the juice from a single lemon wedge brought the broth to a citrusy perfection.  I drained the bowl (as I usually do) but would have licked it clean if it were big enough to stick my head it.  Next time I'll go for the Big Boy!

I finished the balada as well, and would have drunk the remaining curry sauce from its bowl had I been sure no one was watching, it was that good.

Where slurped: Mandalay Restaurant, 4344 California Street at 6th Avenue, San Francisco

Mohing-ing In The New Year With Mohinga From The Lil Burma Truck

I decided to begin a new noodle year with mohinga, the rice noodle catfish chowder that is the national dish of Burma, from the Lil Burma food truck at the SoMa StrEat Food Park, where people were partying at lunchtime like it was 2014. I'd had mohinga from them before, but for a number of reasons (beyond the fact that it is tasty and good pun material) decided on a repeat.

For one thing, I needed a new picture of it for a blog post later this year surveying the eight versions of mohinga available in San Francisco; my previous sampling from Lil Burma was when they'd first launched their truck and were serving mohinga in a cylindrical clear plastic to-go soup container. They're now using bowl-shaped disposable containers which not only make the soup more photogenic, but also provide a better eating experience.

Secondly, it seemed appropriate to toast the New Year with something Burmese because 2014 may prove to be the year of the Burmese noodle for me. After chasing down four more bowls of local moginga soups, I plan to do a similar overview of eight versions of Burmese ohn no khao swe (coconut curry chicken noodle soup) available in San Francisco, and also sneak across the culinary border to Thai restaurants serving the Burmese-inspired but Thai khao soi. 

Finally, I was there to celebrate Thomas and Lewis Eng's achieving permanent residence status -- for their food truck, that is. As of January 1, Lil Burma has become an "anchor" tenant of the street food park, parked there permanently and available for lunch and dinner 7 days a week. Thomas and Lewis intend to take advantage of this stability to begin rotating new specials in and out of the menu. They are promising Burmese biryanis, samusas, and new salads (including, if I can lean on them hard enough, a yellow tofu salad).

But I'll never stray too far from their hearty mohinga.

Where slurped: SoMa StrEat Food Park (Lil Burma's new permanent home), 428-11th Street.

Mo' Mohinga, After A Circuitous Trip to Burma Superstar

As a rule, I try to steer clear of repetition in this blog, instead favoring the highlighting of exemplary versions (insofar as I can determine them to be so) of as many different Asian noodle preparations as I can find. I'm making an exception with a San Francisco mohinga survey (and perhaps one for mohinga's home boy ohn no khao swe) simply because I've become enamored of Burmese cuisine and also because it's a finite quest; there are eight and only eight definably Burmese venues that serve mohinga (and ohn no khao swe) reachable by Muni, so I'll know when my quest is a wrap.

I was saving Burma Superstar for the last of the mohingas (good pun, eh?) but fate, otherwise known as poor planning, interceded. Burma Superstar is both the most visible and the most controversial of Burmese restaurants in San Francisco, beloved by hipsters, but meh-ed, to put it politely, by Naomi Duguid, who knows a thing or two about Burmese food. By hitting the other seven joints first, I would be better equipped to form a fair assessment of the relative merits of BSS's mohinga.

I set out with great expectations for trying instead the mohinga at Mandalay, SF's most venerable Burmese restaurant. I knew Mandalay was open for lunch seven days a week, but alas, it had the bad manners to be closed for vacation until next week.  OK, my list included Pagan, also in the Richmond, albeit 28 blocks further west, which turned out to be not open for lunch.  Onward, then, with a growling stomach, to Burma Superstar, a mere block from Mandalay.  The one silver lining in all this is that after the time it took me to traverse 57 blocks to negotiate this one-block journey, there was no line at Burma Superstar, a seldom seen sight when one is hungry.

I found nothing particularly distinguishing about Burma Superstar's mohinga, other than its price.  At $10.75, it's the most expensive bowl in town and neither correspondingly bigger nor more generous in toppings than its competitors. What was there was good: the chickpea fritters were crunchy, the egg seemed recently cooked, and the rice noodlles were firm.  The broth had a good fishy depth, but was a little on the timid side, and alas, there are no condiment caddies on the tables at Burma Superstar.  If I were a Yelper I'd deduct stars for that; it's a man's right to chili up and trick out his mohinga's broth however he pleases. I also ordered a balada (or platha, as it appears on BSS's menu.  It was $3.95, but would have been $3.00 more for dipping sauce.  Instead, I used it to soak up the remaining broth in my bowl.

I've previously reported on mohinga from Burmese Kitchen, Sapphire Asian Cuisine, and, in passing, the Lil Burma food truck. Upcoming will be Mandalay, Pagan, Yamo and Little Yangon.

Where slurped: Burma Superstar, 309 Clement St. at 4th Avenue, San Francisco

Call It Mellow Yellow: Ohn No Khao Swe At Sapphire Asian Cuisine

The color of the Burmese noodle soup called Ohn No Khao Swe comes from turmeric, not saffron, but eating it at Sapphire Asian Cuisine today had the 1966 Donovan hit playing in my head (where it's still playing as I write). I've blogged previously about Sapphire Asian Cuisine, the Chinese food steam table joint with a separate menu of made-to-order authentic Burmese food as a seeming afterthought, and of Ohn No Khao Swe, the dish that by all measures should be ranked a close second to mohinga, the catfish chowder considered Burma's national dish.

As was the case with Sapphire's mohinga, their version's broth was as good as any I've tried, even if some solid ingredients had a more meager presence than in some more expensive versions elsewhere. In particular, very little chicken is to be found it it, with as much of the protein coming from the boiled egg slices and the yellow chick peas. It's simply called "Coconut Noodle Soup" on the menu after all, and there is a separate "Chicken Noodle Soup" (which I have yet to try) which presumably has more chicken. The broth. on the other hand, was a remarkable "mellow yellow" mild curry delight which yielded happily to enhancement by the addition of some red chili flakes and an extra squeeze of lime.  Needless to say, I drained the bowl.

Here's a video lesson on making Ohn No Khao Swe, taught by none other than Yadana Nat Mai, alias June Bellamy, last princess of Burma:

[Added 24 November]

Another video lesson for making Ohn No Khao Swe from the younger generation, in the person of London blogger/author MiMi (@Meemalee on Twitter) and a favorite resource for Burmese food knowledge:

Where slurped: Sapphire Asian Cuisine ....Taste of Burma, 475 Sacramento Street, San Francisco

The Mohinga At This FiDi Fast Food Joint Is A Diamond, Er, Sapphire In The Rough

When you walk into Sapphire Asian Cuisine in the heart of the Financial District you'll be greeted by the sight of a line passing the cafeteria-style steam table displaying glistening entrees (one item with rice, noodles or vegetable for $6.59, two for $7.59 or three for $8.59).  Your expectations, understandably, might not be high, especially if you've read the pithy caveat of one Yelper:

"The concept is quite similar to Panda Express yet the food isn't even a tenth of Panda's taste and is instead 3/2 the greasy fattiness. Again, I love greasy fattiness but I love it only when it tastes amazing! Usually greasy fattiness and delicious taste tend to go hand in hand (it's one of those culinary unfairnesses) but it was quite far off here."

Fortunately there's a benign "gotcha" here in the restaurant name's extension, "....Taste of Burma." This taste is not found in the Orange Chicken, Broccoli Beef or Thai Basil Pork from the steam table, but in an a la carte menu above the steam table, titled "Made to Order." Made to order (or at least assembled to order) they are, and include a range of Burmese classics like Mohinga (catfish chowder), coconut curry noodle soup, samusa soup, tea leaf salad, rainbow salad and  Shan tofu salad, to name a few.

I chose to first test the mohinga, because a) this is a noodle blog, b) mohinga is considered Burma's National dish and therefore merits one's first attention, and c) I've been on a fishy soup kick lately in any event. I placed my order with the cashier, paid, and found a table where I waited for it to be brought to me, which happened about 10 minutes later.

Mohinga is a chowder made from shredded catfish in a lemongrass-infused broth thickened with yellow chickpea flour, served with rice vermicelli noodles. Garlic, onion, ginger and fish paste and/or fish sauce are also typically used in the broth, and the dish is served with a variety of garnishes which may be already included or served on the side.

My mohinga arrived with a small dish of crushed red chili peppers and a lime wedge on the side. Toppings on the soup included the obligatory cilantro, spring onion tops, fired onions and what appeared to be bits of samusa skin.  As an added bonus, sliced hard-boiled eggs and yellow chickpeas, which are sometimes optional add-ins at extra cost, were included in my $6.59 bowl of soup. 

After tasting the broth, which was complex, citrusy, and slightly fishy, I added a squeeze from the lime wedge and half the crushed dried chilis (which were joined later by the other half).  Although not a lot of tangible shredded catfish was evident, and the noodles were a little too soft (as they could hardly escape being, given their thinness) it was overall a very stout bowl of mohinga, with a broth that was as good as I have had, and well worth returning to. And there wasn't a touch of greasy fattiness (of either the good or bad variety) to it.

Where slurped: Sapphire Asian Cuisine ....Taste of Burma, 475 Sacramento Street, San Francisco

A Swell Ohn No Khauk Swe' From The Lil Burma Food Truck

I've blogged before about my initial encounter with Ohn No Khauk Swe' (a. k. a. Ohn No Khao Swè and other romanizations) and how the Burmese Kitchen version endeared itself to me despite my not being a big coconut fan.  It's a dish that seems tailor-made for cool weather (despite the fact that Burma has precious little of that) and today's slight crispening of our Indian summer's air was excuse enough to intercept the Lil Burma food truck at SoMa StrEat Food Park and try its version on my way to Costco.

As described in my earlier post on the dish, ohn no khauk swe is a chicken noodle soup that features wheat noodles in a mildly curried, turmeric-tinged coconut milk and chicken stock broth thickened with garbanzo bean flour. Garnishes include cilantro, lime, shredded red onion, fried shallots, chili oil and presumably fish sauce. Sit-down restaurants offer hard-boiled egg slices and fried split peas as optional add-ins, but were these were not offered in a food truck environment.

Overall, Lil Burma's version stacked up well to the restaurant version I previously enjoyed, being rich hearty, and savory. As served, it was perhaps too timidly spcied, but extra chili is available for the asking, which I will certainly do on a return visit. The noodles were a little soft to my tastes, perhaps a victim of food truck logistics, or of my ordering past the lunchtime peak. These small faults aside, it was rewarding enough to keep me enthusiastically on the ohn no khao swe trail, which will lead me to other Bay Areea Burmese venues .

Where slurped: Lil Burma Food Truck, SoMa StrEat Food Park, 428-11th Street, San Francisco

Burma Road Food: Kyat Tha Khauk Swe' Thouk (What?) From Lil Burma Food Truck

The San Francisco Bay Area, long blessed with a richness of Burmese cuisine choices, finally has its first full-fledged, street legal Burmese food truck in Lil Burma, as reported in my other blog.  Wherever there is Burmese food there are noodles, and after having sampled Lil Burma's Mohinga (the fish chowder noodle soup that is Burma's national dish) on my first visit to the truck, I returned today to vet the kyat tha khauk swe' thouk.

Kyat tha khauk swe' thouk, to use Lil Burma's choice of romanization, is literally chicken (kyat tha) noodle (khauk swe) salad (thouk). This is not your ginned up Chinese chicken salad created for Western tastes, but a hard-core Burmese staple, from a cuisine that celebrates cold salads as fervently as any in the world.  The salad features shredded chicken on wheat noodles anointed with 14 ingredients (according to the posted menu)  These included, as near as I could determine, crushed dried shrimp, shredded cabbage, cilantro, fish sauce, lime and peanut oil.

Tofu salad from Lil Burma

While there, I also got to sample a new menu item, Tofu Salad (Tofu Thouk). Though noodle-less, it's a close cousin to the chicken noodle salad, also containing (the same?) 14 ingredients.  Although dried shrimps and fish sauce are included in accordance to the Burmese canon, it can be made vegetarian on request. Noodle guy and carnivore though I am, I enjoyed the tofu salad almost as much as the chicken salad. Both are marvelous mixtures of flavors (sour, sweet, salty) and textures, and hearty enough for a satisfying lunch.

Where slurped: Lil Burma food truck, SoMa StrEat Food Park, 428-11th St., San Francisco

A Noodle Trifecta At The Burmese Water Festival, And Yes, That's a Thingyan

Khauk Swe Thoke at the Burmese Water Festival

I headed out to Union City today for the first time in my 50+ years in San Francisco, attracted by the expectation of good home-style Burmese food at the San Francisco Bay Area Thingyan Festival, a. k. a.  the Burmese Water Festival, a. k. a. the Myanmar New Year Festival. It took place at Kennedy Park, which fortunately is adjacent to the Union City BART station.

A Thoke Sone

It took seemingly forever to get to Union City on BART, and by the time I got there, cased a long string of food booths, bought the tickets that were legal tender for food, and returned to the food booths, some items were already selling out and I felt fortunate to grab a cold noodle salad (called a thoke sone, according to the man who took my tickets and a fork and napkins).  It was a (literally) hand-mixed salad of broad rice noodles, rice vermicelli noodles, green papaya shreds, cabbage, and a host of condiments that I probably cannot pronounce.  One gets the choice of mixing it oneself with ones own bare hands (and eating it with the same bare hands, in traditional fashion) or having the expert hands of the preparer mix it. Since I had already been handed a fork, I chose the latter. After I devoured it,  I returned and another cold noodle salad caught my eye (see the photo at the top). This one (if I understood the server correctly) is called khauk swe thoke and is made with egg noodles and dried shrimp.   By default it's served not spicy, but they had some crushed dried chilis at hand to remedy that.

Mohinga

After my second helping of noodles went down as easily as the first, I returned to the tents and finally found some protein in an attractive form: a  Shan tofu salad, strips of yellow tofu made from chickpea flour colored with turmeric, topped with a savory sauce and plenty of crushed peanuts and cilantro. It was soothing mix of the sharp and the bland, the crunchy an the smooth. Belly full, I proceeded to walk off my lunch by exploring the rest of the event, and was shocked to discover another bank of food stalls I had overlooked on the opposite side of the park, with more substantial meat and seafood fare, still serving long lines of hungry people. A mohinga stand anchored the far end of this pod of food stalls, and I decided it would be a sin to leave without sampling the signature Burmese catfish and rice noodle chowder, full belly or not  It was as good as any restaurant mohinga I have had, and just as I was waiting to order, their production line paused while they were pretended with an award certificate.

As unprepared as I was, I managed to pick three noodle winners. Next year I'll come early, forewarned, and with a plan of attack in place.

Where slurped: San Francisco Bay Area Thingyan Festive, Union City.

Slurp du Jour: Cold Burmese Noodles From Yamo

With gentrification of the Mission marching on -- a Nicaraguan restaurant of 30+ years standing was just replaced by a yuppie sandwich, sausage and beer place -- I decided, in a moment of panic, to trek to the Mission to do a bed check on an even rarer gem, the Burmese hole-in-the-wall known as Yamo. Thankfully, due perhaps to its location in the less desirable, more bombed-out northern end of the Mission, its shoebox configuration (difficult to do much with that tiny space) and its strategy of aggressive affordability, Yamo appears to be dug in and thriving.

Yamo is indeed a tiny place, with no tables and approximately 10 seats at a counter that runs front to back. Behind the counter were five(!) women involved in the prepping and cooking for about half a dozen mid-afternoon customers when I arrived. This may seem like overkill, but by dinnertime all would be frantically busy with lines of customers waiting for seats, and separate lines of customers waiting for takeout. The attraction? Tasty food, large portions and nothing over $6 on the menu.

It was a warm day in the Mission and steamy hot inside Yamo, so I abandoned my intention of checking out the current state of the house mohinga or khao swè and settled on something listed on the menu as Yamo Cold Noodles. These were described as "cold noodles mixed with house special flavor, onions, cabbage, cucumbers, and chicken." (In Burmese this would be "kyat tha khauk swe' thouk, or chicken noodle salad. 

 There were, in fact, both red onions and green onion tops; crushed peanuts, dried garlic, carrots, cilantro and a sauce that was slightly sweet and slightly spicy contributed to the "house special flavor."  A generous amount of freshly cooked chicken chunks crowned the affair.  The chicken was still hot from the pot and the "cold" noodle dish was a mixture of hot and cold, crunchy and tender textures, and sharp and mellow flavors, with a refreshing end result.

The bite for this was $6.00, tax included. I requested hot tea, and was given a green tea teabag and a tumbler of hot water, gratis. Yamo may not quite be Burmese Kitchen of Burma Superstar, but with a value-to-price ratio like this, it's no wonder they have to beat off customers with a stick.

Where slurped: Yamo, 3406 18th Street at Mission St., San Francisco

Ohn No Khao Swè, Oh Yes! Coconut Chicken Noodles at Burmese Kitchen

To be sure, I'm not a big fan of coconut; it calls to mind overly-sweet pastries and candies, the bad Thai food of days gone buy, and atherosclerosis (though coconut's bad rap for the latter sees to be undergoing some rehabilitation lately). But with a cold front settling in, I experienced a craving for something thick, rich, savory and warming. On top of that, I was getting envious of Andy Ricker and his boys chasing khao soi around Thailand and tweeting about it. I hadn't been to Burmese Kitchen for a while, and I knew they served what one could reasonably expect to be a good version of ohn no khao swè, the granddaddy of khao soi.

Ohn no khao swè is chicken cooked in a mixture of coconut milk, turmeric, and chicken broth served over  egg noodles and garnished with crunchy fried noodles, lemon or lime, onions and cilantro.  At Burmese Kitchen the onions, cilantro and a wedge of lime were served on  the side, and the toppings in the bowl appeared to include crunchy pieces of samusa shells. I also ordered the traditional Burmese options of a sliced boiled egg and fried split peas (50 cents each), as well as a roti for sopping up the remnants of the liquid. (When the basic soup without options is $5.95, it's easy to be a big spender.) 

Blogger/food writer Meemalee has a recipe for Ohn No Khao Swe and also a nice description of the end product which I'll quote, rather than plagiarize, because it fits Burmese Kitchen's version to a T.

"This is a wonderfully subtle, lightly curried dish, vaguely like laksa but comforting and flavoursome without whacking you in the face. Of course, you can also adjust the seasoning to taste - adding more fish sauce, squeezing more lime or sprinkling more chilli at the table."

I did, in fact, add some crushed red chili to add a little spice heat, but other than that left well enough alone, since the thick broth seemed so perfectly balanced.  The wheat noodles were also cooked just right, pleasantly springy though soft enough to absorb the goodness of the broth. The roti, which I ordered on whim, also served a yeoman's role in soaking up the last remnants of the broth.  In sum, the Coconut Noodle Soup (as it appears on the menu) at Burmese Kitchen is a dish I will go for again, coconut or no.

Where slurped: Burmese Kitchen, 452 Larkin Street, San Francisco

Slurp du Jour: Mohinga from Burmese Kitchen

San Francisco is blessed with a number of solid Burmese eating places, including Burmese Kitchen, which I had never visited before today, all serving Mohinga, considered by many to be the national dish of Burma. It was a raw day today, the coldest so far this Winter, and it seemed like a good day to warm myself up with a bowl of Mohinga; not because it is spicy (it is hardly that) but because of the warming richness and depth of flavor that it brings. Burmese Kitchen also happens to be nearby the Asian Art Museum, which was due for a visit by me.

I found the restaurant's dining area attractive and comfortable, if a bit kitschy, with a grass hut motif going. A high counter with stools, similar to a ramen bar, added to the comfort of solo diners like me. I ordered Mohinga with an optional sliced boiled egg in it, and a roti on the side.

Mohinga has been called the Burmese version of pho. It has a number of variations, but the basic version is rice noodles in a fish broth thickened with chick pea flour and seasoned with garlic, onions, lemon grass, and ginger. The noodles are vermicelli sized, called nanthay noodles in Burma. The broth is made from extended (even continuous) simmering of specified fish types (varieties of catfish are acceptable) and may or not contain actual chunks of fish when served (Burmese Kitchen's did not). To add substance, various add-ins are offered. Burmese Kitchen offers fried chickpeas in addition to the sliced hard-boiled egg I ordered. Other toppings may include shredded spring onions, shredded raw or cooked green beans or slices of fried squash. My bowl also came, pho-style, with a complimentary garnish dish containing fresh cilantro and a lime segment.

I found the delicate, complex flavors ot my bowl of Mohinga to be deeply satsifying. The noodles were less toothsome than I'm used to with pho (and all manner of wheaten noodles) but this may be just a Mohinga style; along with the absence of any chili heat, the softness of the noodles seemed complicit in delivering an unctuousness that was not at all unpleasant. I also wished I had order the fried chickpea add-in as well as the boiled egg; even accompanied by a roti (which I found to be a little on the greasy side) my lunch was barely substantial enough to get me through the cold afternoon.

A nice little overview of Mohinga's history and its place in Burmese society by Dr. Khin Maung Nyunt can be found here.

Where slurped: Burmese Kitchen, 452 Larkin St., San Francisco.