Lucky Strike: hitting the sweet (and spicy) spot?

After our trip to China last October, w and I have been pining for good Chinese food. Even a close approximation of what we had there would be okay. Unfortunately in Portland, that is proving next to impossible. Excellent Thai food? Sure. Vietnamese? Yeah, occasionally. But Chinese done with the care and simple complexity (and if you've had real Chinese food you know those words actually do go together) we had in Shanghai and Hong Kong seemed to be like searching for coherence in GWB's economic policy. It just hasn't been there. So a couple of weeks ago when our local fishwrap The Oregonian wrote up a new-ish Sichuan joint called Lucky Strike Chinese Restaurant, which Oregonian critic Roger Porter raved over recently. Could this be the answer? Appetites raging, we set out to find out.

To get there, you have to drive a fair distance out to the east side, the places where RV dealers, radiator repair places, and cigarette shops reign supreme. In fact, somewhat coincidentally, Lucky Strike is right next door to a cigarette store. We pulled in with our friends Monique and The Handsome One, and before we got out of the car were greeted with the sound of loudly breaking glass. Seems the guy who lives above the businesses tripped coming down the stairs and crashed into the glass security door of their apartment, shattering the glass. Luckily for him in a stunning reversal of the usual Darwinian process, and most likely due to the alcohol or drugs coursing through his system, he didn't cut himself so our entry into Lucky Strike wasn't needlessly delayed. We walked into the tiny dining room, maybe 25 or 30 seats scattered at tables around the room (with three or four seats at the counter) with a flat screen TV that was playing a fascinating show about a guy getting his legs waxed, painfully it seems, which may or may not be appetite inducing depending on your particular bent. Anyway, we dove right in with beers in hand, starting our Sichuan eating adventure with the Spicy Jellyfish Salad ($5...top left pic), Crispy Tofu ($4) and the JiaoZi (dumpling in spicy sauce. $4...both pictured at right). The jellyfish Salad was excellent, one of the highlights of the whole meal. Just right spicy, with perhaps a few too many chili seeds left in, but the jellyfish itself had a nice texture, not rubbery at all, and the flavor was bright and fresh. The Crispy Tofu was also good, nothing too special, with an odd dipping sauce with muddied flavors that we thought was shrimp paste based. Kind of a "meh" dish. Sadly the dumpling, in a nice red sauce, was too doughy and w thought he ground pork filling was way too dense.

Next up were Dan Dan Noodle ($4) and Mapo Tofu ($9....both at left). The Dan Dan was delicious, a small dish of noodles bracketed with little piles of seasoned ground pork and scallion. I was really looking forward to the Mapo Tofu, one of the defining dishes of Sichuan cooking. We had an incendiary version in Hong Kong, and I was hoping for that same flavor punch. But the LS version, while good, was lacking that intensity, that "holy fuck" factor that makes this a painfully satisfying dish. Where it hurts but you have to come back for more like a masochist saying "thank you, may I have another?" This wasn't that. Also coming out at this time was the Crispy Pig Intestine ($10...regrettably pictured at right), again something I hoped would equal the skewered deliciousness I had from a street vendor in HK. All I can say was this was one funky ass plate of food. Monique thought they didn't rinse the intestine enough times. I don't know what it was, but it tasted like something that was still part of the digestive process, and a little too close to one end of it than other, if you get my meaning.

Lastly on this excursion through the spicy heart of Chinese cooking we shared the Guinness Pork Ribs ($9), their signature Ants on the Tree ($8), and the Chive Stir Fried with Egg ($7....pictured at left). The pork ribs, which Porter raved bout in his review, were a sticky, too sweet mess. About an inch or so long, and with very tender meat, the sauce had been reduced too much into a gooey mess. But it was pork after all, so The Handsome One and I made them edible by dipping them into the leftover Mapo Tofu sauce to try and cut through the sweetness. The stir fried eggs were another highlight, the eggs scrambled in the wok, then the chives which were arranged on top. Simple, flavorful Chinese cooking at its best. The Ants on the Hill was ground pork (the "ants"), scallions, and spices mixed together with cellophane noodles which unfortunately had been overcooked to a congealed glop. The flavor was good, but the texture of the noodles took away from what should have been an excellent bite.

Overall, after eating our way through a fair representation of the menu, it was......okay. Very reasonably priced: all of the above plus six beers came to just $68! The Jellyfish Salad, Stir fried Eggs, and Dan Dan Noodles were some of the best Chinese food I've had in town. The irregularity of the other dishes, combined with the extreme funk of the Crispy Pig Intestines (that isn't a taste memory you want to carry with you, believe me) really took away much desire to come back. We probably will at some point, but it isn't a place I would rush back to.
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one year ago today @ E.D.T.: one of the loves of my culinary life, a.k.a. Spaghetti alla Carbonara!

Mapo Tofu: the 2nd time is the charm!

You see recipes for the classic fiery Sichuan dish Mapo Tofu, or Mapo Doufu (the name comes from a story of an unfortunately pocked-face (ma) woman (po) who supposedly had a roadside stand she sold it from) all over the internet. Recipe sites, blogs, online newspaper food columns...everywhere. It's like every day millions of people must be making it. It's been on my to cook list for a long time, so this past Tuesday night it was my time to join the hordes of Mapo mavens. Unfortunately, out of the seeming thousands of recipes out there, I picked what must have been the worst one. It was off of the Washington Post website (in case you want to see how not to make Mapo Tofu, click here). The woman who's recipe it was actually wrote a cookbook about stir frying across China. This would not be a ringing endorsement of her book. w, who has had it innumerable times and who's dad apparently makes a definitive version, came home from work halfway through, took one sniff, and asked what was I making. Not a good sign. She took one taste and said "Um, something's not right here." She was right, only it was several things that weren't right. This most flavorful of dishes, a paragon of Sichuan fire and spice, was turned into a bland mess. Scratch one effort.

Of course with me getting kicked to the curb by the Washington Post was unacceptable, so I was like "Fuck that, I'm doing it again!" So I did more research, found out how I thought it should be, went shopping for the right ingredients, grabbed that wok I insulted the night before, and went at it again last night. I combined takes on several versions (like I knew what the hell I was doing), and this time I got the "ooh, that looks better" from w when she walked in on the process. And you know, it turned out pretty good, although I chopped the ginger which I shouldn't have as it was a little raw (best to leave it in sticks so you can pull it out), but other than that this had bite, spice, and that grabbing-for-the-water-glass heat you look for. Is this the definitive version? No, probably not, and I still want to play with it some more. I am hoping when we go to w's parents place in Houston for the Chan Family Christmas that her dad might let me watch him make his. But for now, this erased Tuesday's culinary defeat. w even asked if there were leftovers, and that's about as good a compliment as you can get at our house when the Caucasian is in the kitchen doing Chinese! If anyone has any advice on improvements, I'd love to hear them.
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Mapo Tofu
adapted from several..thank you all!

some of the mapo mise




ingredients:
1 block soft tofu, cut into 3/4" to 1" inch cubes
4 oz ground pork
3 Tbsp chili bean garlic paste
1 tsp (or more) Sichuan peppercorns, toasted and ground or crushed
1 Tbsp soy sauce
1 Tbsp rice wine
3 or 4 1" slices of ginger
4 green onions, sliced thinly, keeping white parts and green parts separate (reserve some of the green parts to garnish on top)
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 tsp white pepper
1/2 tsp brown sugar
4 Dried whole Thai chilis (more or less, depending on your heat tolerance)
1/4 C chicken stock
1 Tbsp oil
1 Tbsp cornstarch mixed with 2 Tbsp water
Salt to taste

method:
In your wok or skillet, heat 1 Tbsp of vegetable oil over medium high heat. Add the ginger slices, white part of the green onion, and ground Sichuan peppercorns and cook until fragrant for 30 to 60 seconds (pic at left). Add the ground pork, the chili bean paste, garlic, soy sauce, rice wine, white pepper, and sugar, and cook for another minute or two. Then add the tofu, green part of the green onions, Thai chilis, chicken stock and simmer for about 15 minutes, stir occasionally and carefully so you don't break up the tofu. Meanwhile mix the cornstarch with some water in a small bowl and set aside. After simmering, add the cornstarch slurry and bring up to a simmer again and cook until thickened. Add salt to taste.

Garnish with chopped green onions and serve with white rice.

note: Here in Portland Sichuan peppercorns, a critical ingredient and not to be substituted for, were somewhat hard to find. I eventually found them at Whole Paycheck, who had just gotten them in. For those of you who, unlike me, are organized cooks and can plan ahead, there are several online sources.