Saturday, July 25, 2009

Lucky Eight Restaurant Inc. - Sunset Park

The other day (actually about 3 weeks ago now) M and I decided to trek out to Sunset Park after work to Yun Nan Flavour Snack Inc. for some delicious meaty, soupy, noodly food stuffs. Luckily the rain had stopped by the end of our long journey on the N train, so we had a pleasantly dry walk for the 12 or so blocks to our destination. And then things went downhill.



Unlucky:
"Close today sorry." Yes, close.
I especially like how they first wrote, "Close one day" - a poignant statement emphasizing the fact that they were closed only for the ONE day we randomly elected to go there.

We wandered back down the street, and upon a friend's suggestion ended up at Lucky Eight Restaurant Inc. (What's with all the 'Inc.'s? Maybe Chinese people think corporations remind people of money, which makes them think of delicious food? Who knows.)

Mmm...incorporated...

We perused the very extensive picture menu, scanning for interesting names with enticing animal parts, and - after being told they were out of the suckling pig - ended up starting with Drunken Duck and Jellyfish.

Let me tell you, this duck was drunk as fuck. If it wasn't sliced on a plate for our consumption, it would've been puking and crying in a karaoke bar singing "I Will Survive," through vomit and tears.

One of the more interesting preparations of duck I've had. I don't know if I'd call it 'tasty.' Served cold, the duck was very tender, and obviously moist, as it was totally soused with what I suspect might have been baijiu (Chinese fire water). Wikipedia has this to say about baijiu: "There are a number of accounts in English which comment unfavorably on the taste of baijiu, comparing it with, for example paint thinner, rubbing alcohol or diesel fuel." I think that's about the impression I had when my dad fed me a tiny ceramic shot glass of it sometime in college. It'll put hair on your chest. This is coming from a girl who once pounded an entire bottle of straight soju in one go, just to prove a point (I don't remember what that point was, but I definitely drove it home...several times in early college). I actually think I could have gotten a buzz from just eating it, even if I hadn't been washing it down with a Tsingtao. Being that I do have an affinity for the taste (and effects) of alcohol, this was a worthwhile dish to try, if only for the novelty and the buzz. If, however, you are not fond of the taste of alcohol, I wouldn't recommend it. Because that is what it tastes like: duck and moonshine. The jellyfish tasted like slightly pickled jellyfish - gelatinous and tangy. I wouldn't be eager to order this again.

Oxtail with Chinese Herbs. Or, blobby bits in various shades of brown. Not the most attractive of dishes.

Oxtail is a great cut of meat, and I pretty much love it in any form or preparation (that I've had). It's fatty, usually very tender, with those lovely tendon-y, cartilage-y bits, and has great flavor. This dish was no exception in that capacity. The seasoning was surprisingly delicate, and not too salty, which I can appreciate. I was going to say it tasted 'herbacious,' but that is evident in the name. Fragrant, slightly sweet, slightly salty, with notes of ginger and ginseng. The ginseng, while very subtle here, was probably what turned me off a little. When I was growing up, my mother would often stew this horrendously noxious concoction of ginseng, red dates, and goodness knows what else, in a crockpot for days at a time, and then try to force me to drink it to 'make me grow tall.' I'm the tallest in my family (5' 5"! Woohoo!) next to my dad, so maybe I have her - and ginseng - to thank. In any case, despite the eventual benefits I may have reaped, that bitter, medicinal, dirt-like flavor of ginseng is something I am not quite mature enough to appreciate yet. However, traumatic associations aside, the meat was good, and the supple sheets of soy bean curd skin had a pleasant texture somewhat like very al dente pasta.

"The Pride of Lucky Eight"

So, we ordered this dish based on an extremely laudatory description from, among others, Peter Meehan in the Times in 2007. Here's his impression:

It comes to the table, sumptuously oily, in a heaping green tangle: some kind of reedy, oniony chives shot through with the white, the green and the bulb end of scallions all separate. Perfectly julienned stalks of Chinese celery add crunch. Rehydrated shiitake mushrooms add a meaty sweetness, slices of meaty abalone a little chew. Bits of baby squid create textural intrigue, and shreds of dried scallop add a depth that’s hard to pinpoint but easy to appreciate. It looks as if each element in the dish was individually browned, then thrown together to mask the kitchen’s precision. It is, without question, the finest stir-fried dish I’ve encountered...

My impression can be summed up in three letters: M.S.G.
That's not to say that Mr. Meehan's account is inaccurate - the dish did include all or most of the ingredients he listed. And the celery was in fact crunchy, the abalone chewy, the mushrooms mushroomy, the scallions scalliony, etc. But even with that impressive tableau of textural elements, I found the prevailing flavor, a thick blanket of M.S.G., to be distracting. In fact, I think that might be the answer to Meehan's beguiling "depth that’s hard to pinpoint but easy to appreciate." Sounds about right. It did also successfully "mask the kitchen's precision" (is that a good thing?). So well that it ends up tasting - to me - like about 80% of the generic Chinese [meat/seafood/misc.] stir-fry dishes I've had from restaurants that are miles from getting a review in the Times. Those Magical Savory Granules: I know them well. There was also a "seafood" flavor, but I put it in quotes because of the way M.S.G. has of syntheticizing (that's probably not a word) natural flavors. I'm not going to say it's inauthentic, because what the feck do I know. It's just not my bag.

All in all, not what M and I would call a victory. It was fine. I still somehow managed to eat beyond my stomach's capacity for comfortably full, teetering on sick (what can I say, I'm a pro, I do it for my reader[s?]). While there were many other intriguing things on the menu that I'd like to explore at some point, I don't think we'll be racing back to Lucky Eight anytime soon. Especially when Yun Nan Flavour Snack Inc.* is just down the street.

This entry has too many words.

*We finally did make it out there when it was open...and it was delicious. That post coming...eventually.

Lucky Eight Restaurant Inc.
5204 8th Ave (at 52nd St)
Brooklyn, 11220
(718) 851-8862

No comments:

Post a Comment