I know they say that yoga is good for you, but it just makes me look like hell. Sure - I strut down Grand Avenue with my spandex and water bottle and biodegradable floor mat, but I walk out of class marinading in my own sweat, feeling like jello, and looking like a disheveled train wreck. Now picture my boyfriend, who was recovering from a rowdy bachelor party, and stick us at the end of 4 hours worth of house hunting, and you'll get a feel for what we looked like when we walked into Mai Village on the east end of University.
Mai Village has a few beebee holes in the windows that it sports like schoolyard scars - you just don't live in that neighborhood without getting a little scuffed up. But the inside is breathtakingly beautiful - a full-size bridge delicately arcs over a sizable koi pond, antique wooden shudders block out the University craziness, and an enormous, antique pagoda has been entirely reconstructed in the center of the main dining area. The restaurant decor gives the feel of eating in the Asian wing of a history museum - it is anything but cheesy - and would make the trip worthwhile even if the kitchen were closed. Even better, they let us in despite the spandex, flip flops, bleary eyes and slumped shoulders.
We kicked it off with an order of Royal Eggrolls. These were more petite than most (the length of a middle finger and the girth of Rolos) but came with a generous side of lettuce leaves, fresh mint, carrot, sliced cucumber, and a clear, sweet house sauce. Unsure of how to proceed, we treated the appetizer as if it were a lettuce burrito with eggroll in the middle, filling each lettuce leaf with eggroll, topping it with veggie garnish, rolling the whole thing up, and dipping it in sauce. Our survival skills paid off... the light veggies toned down the greasiness of fried eggroll and provided a satisfying crunch that contrasted with the soft, pork insides. The cool texture of mint and cucumber were a delightful compliment to the warm eggroll, and the sweet yet subtle sauce tied it all together. Overall, this dish was a success.
For the main course I ordered Bun, a traditional Vietnamese "salad" of vermicelli noodles, lettuce, carrot, green onions, peanut, and fresh basil. I chose a spicy sauteed chicken accompaniment and the dish was served with just enough to give it some bite, but not so much chicken that the flavor overpowered the more gentle vegetable ingredients. Again, the temperature really made this dish work. The chicken was warm, the noodles and veggies were cool, and the same sweet house sauce unified everything. While Bun is a great alternative to the heavier, saltier, saucier dishes, it does have one disadvantage... no leftovers. After a few hours in the fridge your lettuce will turn soggy and the Bun will lose that optimal texture, so I didn't even bother.
Leftover limitations aside, we were impressed with Mai Village. The restaurant provides formal flair with a laid back attitude, it offers a menu full of kung pao staples with plenty to satisfy diners looking for something a bit different, and it let us in despite the fact that we looked like hell. If you're looking for an elegant yet approachable restaurant to whet your Asian appetite, stop by this St. Paul eatery (and take an extra moment to gaze at those koi.)
Monday, June 16, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
The Happy Gnome (6/8/08) Beats Staying at Home
It's no secret that I hate Sunday nights. Sunday morning is great for sleeping in, Sunday afternoon I'm still frolicking through the weekend, but by Sunday night the dread of another work week hits my stomach like bag of rocks. Most of the time this is compounded by severe remorse for overindulging myself the night before or nagging guilt over not finishing my reading for school.
Thinking that a place called The Happy Gnome must be a good antidote to the weekly bout of "I'm going to be sick and stay home tomorrow I swear to God I'll do it," we drove east down Selby and parked in their generous lot next to the St. Paul curling club. We seated ourselves on the outdoor patio, where tree cover was so thick that we didn't even realize it had started drizzling until we asked our waitress why everyone was moving inside. Suckers.
The Gnome has a notoriously long and quirky beer list, which I highly recommend as Step One in treating the Sunday blues. I opted for a Juju Ginger beer, which had a distinct gingery nose but finished light and crisp, just like a good summer beer should. I wouldn't recommend drinking three or four Juju Gingers, but one or two would be a refreshing accompaniment to fish, noodle dishes, or even old-school Chinese food.
We leaned back in what may be the most comfortable wrought iron chairs ever, gazed at the trendy locals in pixie cuts and retro 1950's eyeglasses, and sipped our beers until prompted to place our orders. The Happy Gnome has two menus: a Bar Menu with a full range of modestly priced one-course meals, and a Dinner Menu with heartier and pricier fare. I ordered tilapia tacos from the Bar Menu and was pleased with the choice - two crispy flour tortilla shells stuffed with cumin and pepper crusted tilapia, chunks of fresh avocado, generous sprigs of cilantro, and an underlayer of piquant yet sweet mango pico de gallo. The dish was simple and light, fresh and lively... the perfect pick-me-up on a sticky summer Sunday.
My fellow diner ordered curried beef tips from the Bar Menu, an adventurous dish of beef tips over orecchiette pasta, smothered in a coconut curry sauce and accented with broccolini. I had to taste a few bites before deciding whether or not it worked for me - the coconut milk and curry seeped into the beef tips and soaked nicely into the tender broccolini, but over orecchiette pasta? I ultimately decided that the pasta shapes were the perfect vehicle for cupping the sauce and got over the surprising contrast of dense, eggy Italian pasta pared with an Asian-inspired topper. After all, this is the age of multinationalism, right?
After we cleaned our plates, emptied our glasses, and signed the check, I looked around and wondered how long we could stay before becoming conspicuous. Under the thick tree canopy you could hardly see the gray clouds hanging ominously over St. Paul. The patio lights strung between the branches were going to come on soon, people were laughing and chatting at tables of family and friends, and I neither knew nor cared how much time was left before the clock tick-tocked into Monday morning.
Thinking that a place called The Happy Gnome must be a good antidote to the weekly bout of "I'm going to be sick and stay home tomorrow I swear to God I'll do it," we drove east down Selby and parked in their generous lot next to the St. Paul curling club. We seated ourselves on the outdoor patio, where tree cover was so thick that we didn't even realize it had started drizzling until we asked our waitress why everyone was moving inside. Suckers.
The Gnome has a notoriously long and quirky beer list, which I highly recommend as Step One in treating the Sunday blues. I opted for a Juju Ginger beer, which had a distinct gingery nose but finished light and crisp, just like a good summer beer should. I wouldn't recommend drinking three or four Juju Gingers, but one or two would be a refreshing accompaniment to fish, noodle dishes, or even old-school Chinese food.
We leaned back in what may be the most comfortable wrought iron chairs ever, gazed at the trendy locals in pixie cuts and retro 1950's eyeglasses, and sipped our beers until prompted to place our orders. The Happy Gnome has two menus: a Bar Menu with a full range of modestly priced one-course meals, and a Dinner Menu with heartier and pricier fare. I ordered tilapia tacos from the Bar Menu and was pleased with the choice - two crispy flour tortilla shells stuffed with cumin and pepper crusted tilapia, chunks of fresh avocado, generous sprigs of cilantro, and an underlayer of piquant yet sweet mango pico de gallo. The dish was simple and light, fresh and lively... the perfect pick-me-up on a sticky summer Sunday.
My fellow diner ordered curried beef tips from the Bar Menu, an adventurous dish of beef tips over orecchiette pasta, smothered in a coconut curry sauce and accented with broccolini. I had to taste a few bites before deciding whether or not it worked for me - the coconut milk and curry seeped into the beef tips and soaked nicely into the tender broccolini, but over orecchiette pasta? I ultimately decided that the pasta shapes were the perfect vehicle for cupping the sauce and got over the surprising contrast of dense, eggy Italian pasta pared with an Asian-inspired topper. After all, this is the age of multinationalism, right?
After we cleaned our plates, emptied our glasses, and signed the check, I looked around and wondered how long we could stay before becoming conspicuous. Under the thick tree canopy you could hardly see the gray clouds hanging ominously over St. Paul. The patio lights strung between the branches were going to come on soon, people were laughing and chatting at tables of family and friends, and I neither knew nor cared how much time was left before the clock tick-tocked into Monday morning.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Drive by Chai's Thai (6/3/08)
I wouldn't be nearly as effective driving down Cedar Avenue if I hadn't grown up playing Paperboy. Pedestrians dart out from the sidewalk, random objects lay abandoned in the the middle of the street, and the side streets sport potholes the size of bathtubs. I can skillfully maneuver my Civic around these obstacles but have yet to master the art of driving in a straight line while craning my neck out the driver's side window and yelling for my passengers to look for "that place." Which is what one will probably do when venturing to Chai's Thai on the West Bank.
It's a tiny place, easy to miss despite the huge green awning that advertises "Chai's" (my passengers can vouch for this), and while it's not quite a hole in the wall the decor is anything but plush. Knowing that the restaurant only holds about eight tables of patrons, I made reservations for three at 7:30 on a Tuesday night. We would have been seated immediately even without the reservation, but I still recommend calling ahead if you're dead set on Chai's - the place is so small that eight full tables can leave you waiting for over an hour.
My friend, Susan, and I started the evening with a coconut full of fresh coconut juice. Needless to say, fresh coconuts are a novelty up here and the drinks sparked stories of exotic trips to Hawaii, Puerto Rico, and Ghana. But drinking from coconuts in Minneapolis must be like eating lutefisk in Mazatlan... the juice tasted a bit flat, the coconut flesh was rubbery, and neither of us drained those nuts. My boyfriend, Jack, ordered a pot of green tea and was similarly disappointed as the tea hadn't completely steeped by the time it was served.
Undaunted, we kicked the meal off with a round of crab and avocado rolls. We were each expecting something packed with fresh avocado and crab, but what came was quite different - a thick-shelled eggroll with light crab and a small trace of avocado, topped generously with a heavy, spicy, cilantro sauce. My fellow diners gave the appetizer a tepid review but I really liked it (although I have given it a lighter, crispier shell, more avocado, and sauce on the side.)
Chai's is a tiny place with a huge menu, so it I agonized over me entree for quite a while. I ultimately opted for a noodle dish packed with squid, shrimp, scallops, then topped with a brown sauce reminiscent of pad see yew. You would think this dish would spawn paragraphs of critique around the seafood, noodle texture, or sauce complexity, but there really wasn't much to say. It was fine. I liked it. But I wouldn't go out of my way for it.
Susan ordered pad thai with shrimp tempura. The dish was stunning - a white, square plate, covered with half of a banana leaf, pad thai piled in the middle, six inches of shrimp tempura propped against the pad thai as if forming the frame of a tepee, and a small white bowl of sauce on the side. The shrimp was perfectly battered and fried, crispy but not too cakey, yet the pad thai base tasted a bit like canned tomato paste, was too heavy on the peanut and too light on the fish sauce.
Jack opted for a stir fried mix of chicken, white onion, and green pepper drenched in an unusual yet delicious chili mint sauce. I found the sauce too salty, but since western mint dishes are often sweetened it was a treat to chase that mint flavor with the warm, spicy taste of chili.
Once we paid and scavenged the enormous doorside candy bowl, we lumbered down Cedar, past african markets, seedy bars, and apartment towers affectionately known as the "crack stacks." We reached my Civic and as I sank into the driver's seat I realized that aside from the first-rate company, my impression of Chai's was much like my entree. It was fine. I liked it. But I wouldn't go out of my way for it, and unless I happened to be in the neighborhood looking for a meal, I'd probably just drive by.
It's a tiny place, easy to miss despite the huge green awning that advertises "Chai's" (my passengers can vouch for this), and while it's not quite a hole in the wall the decor is anything but plush. Knowing that the restaurant only holds about eight tables of patrons, I made reservations for three at 7:30 on a Tuesday night. We would have been seated immediately even without the reservation, but I still recommend calling ahead if you're dead set on Chai's - the place is so small that eight full tables can leave you waiting for over an hour.
My friend, Susan, and I started the evening with a coconut full of fresh coconut juice. Needless to say, fresh coconuts are a novelty up here and the drinks sparked stories of exotic trips to Hawaii, Puerto Rico, and Ghana. But drinking from coconuts in Minneapolis must be like eating lutefisk in Mazatlan... the juice tasted a bit flat, the coconut flesh was rubbery, and neither of us drained those nuts. My boyfriend, Jack, ordered a pot of green tea and was similarly disappointed as the tea hadn't completely steeped by the time it was served.
Undaunted, we kicked the meal off with a round of crab and avocado rolls. We were each expecting something packed with fresh avocado and crab, but what came was quite different - a thick-shelled eggroll with light crab and a small trace of avocado, topped generously with a heavy, spicy, cilantro sauce. My fellow diners gave the appetizer a tepid review but I really liked it (although I have given it a lighter, crispier shell, more avocado, and sauce on the side.)
Chai's is a tiny place with a huge menu, so it I agonized over me entree for quite a while. I ultimately opted for a noodle dish packed with squid, shrimp, scallops, then topped with a brown sauce reminiscent of pad see yew. You would think this dish would spawn paragraphs of critique around the seafood, noodle texture, or sauce complexity, but there really wasn't much to say. It was fine. I liked it. But I wouldn't go out of my way for it.
Susan ordered pad thai with shrimp tempura. The dish was stunning - a white, square plate, covered with half of a banana leaf, pad thai piled in the middle, six inches of shrimp tempura propped against the pad thai as if forming the frame of a tepee, and a small white bowl of sauce on the side. The shrimp was perfectly battered and fried, crispy but not too cakey, yet the pad thai base tasted a bit like canned tomato paste, was too heavy on the peanut and too light on the fish sauce.
Jack opted for a stir fried mix of chicken, white onion, and green pepper drenched in an unusual yet delicious chili mint sauce. I found the sauce too salty, but since western mint dishes are often sweetened it was a treat to chase that mint flavor with the warm, spicy taste of chili.
Once we paid and scavenged the enormous doorside candy bowl, we lumbered down Cedar, past african markets, seedy bars, and apartment towers affectionately known as the "crack stacks." We reached my Civic and as I sank into the driver's seat I realized that aside from the first-rate company, my impression of Chai's was much like my entree. It was fine. I liked it. But I wouldn't go out of my way for it, and unless I happened to be in the neighborhood looking for a meal, I'd probably just drive by.
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