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.

Mongolian Food In SF That's Not Mongolian Beef: "Tsuivan" Mongolian Noodle At Let's Jam

A couple of weeks ago I didn't know that Mongolian food (other than hot pot) existed in San Francisco or within easy transit access.  Then the hyper-resourceful gastromancer with the nom de l'écran "hyperbowler" came up with, first, Asian Grill/Монгол хоол in downtown Oakland a very short walk from the 12th Steet BART station, then Let's Jam, a downtown San Francisco cafe with a split personality, the important half being a Mongolian food cafe. Being a San Francisco first person (take that, Donald Trump) I hit  up Let's Jam for lunch today for my first Mongolian meal in memory.

Let's Jam, on the fringe of the Tenderloin on Geary St, began as a run-of-the-mill bagel-and-coffee place run by a couple of Mongolian women who introduced Mongolian classics by stealth, then posted an official Mongolian food menu, complete with pictures, around a year ago. Item #1 on Let's Jam's Mongolian Food Menu is Tsuivan - Mongolian Noodle, a hallmark Mongolian stew of noodles, meat and vegetables. Since it was the only dish on the menu which uses indigenous steamed Mongolian noodles (house-made at that) it was my choice; not that I didn't also hanker for some dumplings, but I'd been forewarned by Yelp reviews of huge portion sizes. My caution was well advised. The order of tsuivan which came my was a veritable mountain of food on a square plate,, with a side (or rather a corner) of pickled beet salad.

According to the research of poster hyperbowler, there are variations among versions of tsuivan, including a version he encountered at the Oakland venue with wok-charred noodles. The version at Let's Jam (described as "home  made pasta, beef, carrot and cabbage mixed seasoned with salt and onion") had noodles that appeared to simply have been steamed and mixed in with the meat and veggies.

The noodles had been thinly cut, one could almost say julienned, and their size and coarse bland texture were reminiscent of some shredded potato dishes found in Northern China. The well-cooked beef shreds were chewy, as if to emulate mutton, and the vegetable contribution was minimal as, alas, was the seasoning.  I found the blandness of the dish somewhat surprising, but not the portion size. It could easily feed two hungry people for around $11; after eating half or less, I asked for a takeout container and donated the remainder to the street culture of the Tenderloin.

Due to the dish's blandness, I'm not likely to return for the Tsuivan at Let's Jam, but there are dumplings and lamb ribs on the menu with my name on them.

Where slurped: Let's Jam, 842 Geary St., the Tenderloin, San Francisco

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Lemon Chicken Ramen At Kirimachi Ramen, Just Because.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Lemon Chicken Ramen, and I had it today at Kirimachi Ramen. No, it's not soggy chicken kara-age nuggets in a lemon gunk-infused cornstarch broth; in fact there's no chicken flesh in it. What it is, is a chicken stock based, dashi-infused shoyu broth with traditional chasshu (roast pork) as the primary protein topping, along with a half soft-boiled egg, some menma (fermented bamboo shoots) and, notably, six razor-thin lemon slices.

This lemony snippet of ramen culture is the result of a recent visit to Tokyo by Kirimachi Ramen's owner-chef Leonardi Gondoputro and wife Febry Arnold, for the purpose of Febry's participation in the 2016 Tokyo Marathon. Chef Leo and Febry are so passionate about ramen and running, respectively, that their shop's T-shirts are emblazoned with the slogan "26.2 Miles Per Bowl" -- and never has a ramen restaurant had a more fit FOH then does Kirimachi.

While in Tokyo they discovered the lemon-infused potion at one one of Tokyo's now ramen-yas and Leo reverse-engineered it, with his own touches, on return.  At Kirimachi, the house-made thin, straight noodles rest in a rich, tart chicken and soy sauce broth. The noodles are springy even after resting in the piping-hot broth, which has been made stout enough to stand up to the bold contributions of the lemon slices. As always at Kirimachi, the pork slices and egg half were also perfectly cooked.  Were the lemon slices meant to be eaten? Definitely, according to Chef Leo, who advised that they are best eating with some noodles. I managed to do this even with my non-native chopsticks skills, and found it a novel mouth-feel experience.

The Lemon Chicken Ramen is one of the latest of Kirimachi's constantly rotating (and evolving) specials list, so there's no telling how long it will be available. The citrus-y tartness of this soup enhances its appeal on especially warm days, which today happened to be, and it delivered 26.2 miles of comfort.

Where slurped: Kirimach Ramen, 3 Embarcadero Center, San Francisco.