Kalguksu: Handsome Hand-cut Korean Noodles at To Hyang

To Hyang, the modest family-style Korean restaurant on Geary Boulevard, has been on my list to visit for some time. After all, it's been praised to the skies by everyone from my own acquaintances (including the irrepressible Al Cheng) to the Rajahs of Real Food like the Messrs. Bourdain and Zimmern. What's taken me so long is that I do most of my gustatorial field work at lunch time and To Hyang has no lunch service; for another thing, I generally fly solo and it's as hard to put together a meal for one at a Korean Restaurant as it is at a Chinese Restaurant, and there are no "over rice" specials here. I was pleased, therefore, when I perused To Hyang's menu online and discovered that it contained what appeared to be a worthy destination bowl of noodles, a Korean specialty known as Kalguksu, with  in-house hand-made knife-cut noodles. That, my friends, is how I roll..

Kalguksu, literally "knife noodles," according to Wikipedia, is considered a summer specialty, and features fresh vegetables, most often zucchini (as is the case with To Hyang's version) in a rich, complex, slow-simmered broth. To Hyang's savory, but not spicy, broth is made from anchovies, kelp, dried pollock, green onions and a few more ingredients. Some traditional versions use shellfish, but To Hyang's does not, which will come as good news to some of my friends.  The real stars of the dish, as far as I am concerned, are the noodles themselves. Made from just wheat flour and water, they are both thick and wide, irregularly knife cut, muscular and chewy from start to finish. It's a bowl of noodles which, though meatless and containing only razor thin slices of vegetables, will make you feel like you've eaten a meal.

To Hyang's Kalguksu is $10.95, and if you think that is pricey for a bowl of noodles with no meat, think again. In true Korean style, it comes with banchan service, and my banchan came with (count 'em) eleven little dishes of delicious house made pickles. Your bowl of Kalguksu also comes with a lot of hard work and love.

I'll be back.

Where slurped: To Hyang, 3815 Geary Boulevard, San Francisco

Heading Back For a Cold One: Xi'an Gourmet's Liang Pi

When my visits to New York coincide with a heat wave, I like to fight fire with fire and eat something spicy. More often that not, my lunch choice for this purpose in recent years has been the spicy cold noodle dish known as liang pi from my favorite Flushing hole-in-the-wall, Xi'an Famous Foods. Today in San Francisco both the temperature and the humidity were in the 70s, not exactly a tropical heat wave but close enough to New York weather to give me an excuse to return to Xi'an Gourmet and try their liang pi.

Liang pi, literally "cold skin" noodles are a Shaanxi specialty which is imitated in various versions throughout China. The basic Xi'an version consists of wheat starch noodles, bean sprouts, diced kao fu and a sauce that is both spicy and a little sweet at the same time. The making of wheat starch "liang pi" noodles is a fairly complicated process, but basically calls for rinsing the starch out of wheat flour, letting the starch settle to a paste, steaming the paste after the water is drained, then cutting the "skin" which is thus formed into ribbon-like noodles.  The thick, slightly translucent noodles somewhat resemble wide rice noodles , but for the flavor and color, and are always served chilled.

The liang pi noodles at Xi'an Gourmet are not as sensational as their New York counterpart, largely on account of a lesser complexity and spiciness to the sauce. It must be pointed out, however, that David Shi built his whole Xi'an Famous Foods mini-empire of his family's "secret recipe" sauces,and he is so proud of his liang pi that he adopted "Liang Pi" as a pseudonym which graces his business cards. While Xi'an Gourmet is no match for the King of the Liang Pi Hill, its liang pi is far from something to be ashamed of. It's a spicy, cool refreshing noodle treat for hot (or cold) weather, and, at $4.95, perhaps the best bargain in Xi'an specialties on the menu. It's also worth pointing out that chef, I'm told, will be happy to up the chili oil level on request.

For the record, I paired it with what might be the second best bargain on Xi'an Gourmet's menu, the $3.95 pork roujiamo.

Where slurped: Xi'an Gourmet, 3741 Geary Boulevard, San Francisco

Slurp du Jour: You Po Mian at the new Xi'an Gourmet

You po mian before tossing

As I related in my other blog, I was delighted to discover that San Francisco gained some tasty new noodle options once San Dong House restaurant decided to maximize its use of its Xi'an-born chef's talents and re-invent itself as Xi'an Gourmet Restaurant. After absorbing that news I hastened there at the earliest possible opportunity, which happened to be immediately.

You po mian after tossing

I decided to start the Xi'an Gourmet noodle drill with you po mian, since I would be getting my protein from a lamb roujiamo, which I was also there to vet. You po mian, a Shaanxi staple, literally means "oil sprinkled noodle," indicating that it is a tossed noodle.  It can be made with either a rustic thick round hand-pulled noodle (as is she case at Xi'an Gourmet) or with a hand "torn" flat noodle, as can be found at Xi'an Famous Foods in New York, in which case it is sometimes called you po che mian, the "che" meaning "torn". You po mian is (or can easily be) vegetarian
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With my you po mian, the robust wheat noodles were a welcome change after several rounds of more delicate rice noodles or wimpy ramen noodles, and a reminder of why I love noodles in the first place. Thick and chewy as only freshly pulled noodles can be, they are first doused with a mixture of soy sauce and black vinegar, then topped with pieces of baby bok choi, scallions, garlic, ground dried chilis and other spices, and finally doused again with oil that has been heated to the boiling point, cooking the toppings and releasing the dish's fragrance.

The final step is to toss the noodles, costing them all with the fragrant elixir that has been created and EAT them, and that I did with alacrity, gusto, enthusiasm, relish, and glee.

The po che mian at Xi'an Gourmet were the equal of any I've had elsewhere, and I'll eagerly be returning to try the other Xi'an specialties on offer, noodley and otherwise.

Where slurped: Xi'an Gourmet (formerly San Dong House), 3741 Geary Boulevard, San Francisco