Amber

It's been a while since I've blogged. I've thought about it a lot, I've taken a lot of pictures and eaten a lot of food, but somehow it was never enough to get me to upload the pictures, edit them, and then wax poetic about a meal on here. Firstly, I blame Instagram. It's just too easy to post pictures on there, and all I need is my iPhone, not my DSLR. To me, pictures are the most important part of food blogs anyways (I use most as a photographic restaurant menu, is that okay?) and Instagram provides more than enough food pictures. Secondly, it seems as though all the meals I've had are either unimpressive or too complicated for me to want to write about it.

Then I had a meal that was so pretty and so tasty I had to share. I'm not gonna write much--if you want a background on the history of the restaurant and the chef, I'm sure you can google it and find that information somewhere else. I just want to share the beauty of the meal, the essence of my experience and how I felt while I ate there.

Amber
at The Landmark Mandarin Oriental, Hong Kong
7F, 15 Queen's Road Central
tel: +852 2132 0066
dining date: January 29, 2013
**Michelin stars, 44th best restaurant in the world

First impressions count and that glorious ceiling left me breathless. The second I turned into the dining room, I saw this impressive ceiling sculpture. The rods, protruding in varying lengths from the high ceiling, were arranged in a flowing fashion that added movement to the majestic dining room. Though I will admit, looking up and seeing the ends of thousands of bronze rods hanging right above my head was a touch unsettling. Regardless, it really is quite stunning.


The second most impressive aspect of my meal at Amber was the service. It's the tablecloth-ironed-stemware-spotless-perfectly-paced-synchronized-dish-unveiling kind of service. The kind of service where the front of the house is just as excited as you about the food being served, where questions about the food are welcomed and gladly answered in detail.


Lastly, the beauty of the food that arrived on our table at Amber really took my breath away. The colors were so bright, the compositions so tight and neat, dainty but not precious--just such beautiful plates. Since we started our lunch too late to indulge in the dégustation menu, we ordered two different sets of the lunch menu and shared everything, resulting in 8 different courses total. Though unintentional, I think that ended up being the best way to order.

And now, the food: 

amuse bouches: Amber's signature beetroot and foie gras lollipop 

not pictured: pork croquette, crab spring roll

left: duck foie gras 'ballotine', pink lady apples with verjus, purée of kobacha pumpkin, crispy ginger bread
right: royal oyster no.1 served over pickled kyuri cucumber jell-O, greek 'hung' yogurt, fresh green apple sorbet

Our appetizer courses came in sets of two, for a total of four dishes, each one as delicious as the last. We started with the oyster dish, a dish that was perhaps more visually stunning than anything else. The different shades of green really excited me, and I took more pictures of this dish than I care to admit. Flavor-wise it was a very clean and bright dish, with oysters that weren't aggressively briny. The cucumber jell-O and apple sorbet were appropriately subtle yet refreshing. 

I've come to realize I love cold preparations of foie gras much more than their hot, seared counterparts, and this version was spot-on. Dense, and solidly creamy, it melted just a touch when smeared on the accompanying hot, buttery brioche. Too good. 

left: taiyouran egg with black winter truffle, bread croutons & crispy chicken skin

right: tasmanian salmon belly, confit & served cold, with periwinkles, grey shrimp & dill as a 'vichyssoise'

The second set of appetizers started with a 63 degree poached egg served in a martini glass. This was expectedly rich and luxurious, with crunchy bits of buttery croutons and chicken skin. Delicious, but I'll be honest, while I was spooning this in my mouth, I was still thinking about the oyster dish. 

I'm never too excited when I see salmon on a menu, so the fact that a salmon dish was my favorite course that day really came as a surprise. I realize salmon confit is nothing new, but maybe it was the cut of salmon, its accompaniments, or something, that made it unlike any salmon dish I've ever had. It was cold, with a texture that I can only describe as a cross between salmon sashimi and lightly poached salmon, but it was neither. The quenelle of caviar added little pops of saltiness as expected, but the tiny grey shrimp and periwinkles were such powerful bits of ocean-y sweetness, it was eye-opening.

line caught john dory steamed with prawns and espelette pepper, heirloom carrots, braised fennel & prawn bisque



iberian pork 'pluma' dusted with 'quatre épices' then char grilled, kobacha pumpkin, fresh hazelnuts & vintage sherry vinaigrette

The main courses were just as impressive as the appetizers--not an easy feat. It's been a while since I'd had John Dory fish. Upon seeing it on the menu, I vaguely remember my dad saying it's one of his favorite fish to order at a restaurant. What I didn't remember, was the amazing texture of this fish--firm, dense and sweet, slightly translucent in color, and with each gentle nudge of a fork, large pieces would flake off. A layer of purée prawns was cooked on top of the filet, adding another dimension of sweet, snappy textures. Combined with the prawn/lobster bisque sauce, the whole dish tasted more crustacean than fish. The pork dish was also fantastic, the meat tasting more rich and flavorful than you'd imagine pork to be. However, my heart belonged to John Dory.

fresh unpasteurized cheese matured by bernard anthony

I can't remember the last time I saw such a beautiful cheese cart, and I may have made some embarrassing squeal-like noise when restaurant manager Sébastien Noyelle rolled it over. I made another excited expression/noise when he said "époisse" while naming all the cheeses, to which he made an psuedo-exasperated French face and asked, "why does everyone like époisse?" Really, I think the better question is, "who doesn't like époisse?" ;) I ended up with a plate of mimolette, morbier, camembert au calvados, epoisse, and some kind of blue cheese that made me more than happy--so happy that I barely needed the following desserts. We took the mignardises home in a beautiful "Amber" takeaway box that they must've designed for this specific situation. They survived the flight, and I enjoyed them the next day back home in Taipei while reminiscing about the meal. 

tainori 64% chocolate, black tea 'délice' over a meyer lemon jell-O & milk sorbet

left: chestnut ice cream, brown rum marinated raisins & pastry 'diplomat' cream served as a deconstructed 'mille-feuille'
right: mignardises, salted caramels, calissons, pistachio macarons, caramel cream puff, candied chestnut, chocolate tart

I realize that at the beginning of this post, I said I wouldn't write much, but I couldn't help it. I just remembered why I used to love blogging so much. It gives me a chance to relive a meal, and this meal was too good for me not to relive to its fullest, wordy, extent. 

Oyster Shucking

I've recently acquired a very important life skill. I can now shuck oysters.

All it took was a dozen Luna oysters and a quick, under-a-minute, tutorial from the two Frenchmen manning the Carlsbad Aquafarm booth at the Santa Monica Farmers' Market for me to become a master oyster shucker.


Before I embarked on my oyster shucking adventure, I wondered whether strength or skill would be more essential to my success. In most of life's situations, I would say skill is more important than brute strength. In oyster shucking, I have to give strength a slight advantage. I can only shuck about a dozen before I have take a break, eat the dozen oysters, and then shuck some more oysters. That being said, it's skill and a thick kitchen towel, rather than strength, that will save you from stabbing through your palm with an oyster knife.

First, hold the oyster between a folded kitchen towel, cup side down, flat side up. The trick is to get the tip of the knife into the "hinge" or little crevice at the narrow end of the oyster (dirty?). Being the wimp that I am, I have to really work to get the knife through the shell. I do this by twisting and wiggling the knife left and right as if it were a drill. Once you're in, you'll realize that the poor oyster's adductor muscles are still trying to hold its shells together. Lift the flat shell up and scrap the muscle off with the knife. Run your knife under the now exposed oyster flesh and loosen the other adductor muscle attached to the curved shell. Try not to lose too much of the briny liquor. These are the only tricks I have to offer. If you don't have oystermen at your local farmers' market, take a look at this video. It's not the most exciting video and there's no French accent, but it will do.

I meant to take pictures of this process, I really did, but it's impossible to shuck an oyster while simultaneously working a camera. Oyster shucking is a two-handed job.

I like my oysters with a simple squeeze of lemon, but since I always get a slight hint of cucumber from Luna oysters, I thought a cucumber fennel mignonette could be fun. Why fennel? Because I am STILL obsessed with fennel.

Cucumber Fennel Mignonette
1 persian cucumber
fennel fronds
4 tablespoon rice wine vinegar 
2 teaspoon sugar
fresh cracked pepper 

Cut the cucumber in half, lengthwise, and scrape out the seeds/pulp with a small spoon. Do a nice, fine dice on the cucumber, chop up some fennel fronds, and combine with the rice wine vinegar, sugar, and pepper. Prepare this before you start shucking oysters and by the time you're done, the all the ingredients in the mignonette will have become good friends.

To enjoy my beautifully shucked oysters, I've been arranging them on my new pasta bowl and salad plates from Bauer Pottery. Though not holding what they were intended for, the bowl is the perfect size for a bed of crushed ice and a dozen oysters, and the salad plates in the signature "Bauer Orange" add such a nice splash of color. The servingwares' bright colors and shapes are inspired by a Californian lifestyle, and if a summer of freshly shucked oysters from the Santa Monica Farmers' Market, enjoyed on my patio in beautiful weather doesn't scream California, I don't know what does.

Thus, my current Saturday morning ritual involves visiting the farmers' market, picking up a pint of Gaviota strawberries from Harry's Berries and a $10 bag of a dozen Luna oysters from the Carlsbad Aquafarm. I come home, shuck my oysters, invite a friend if I'm in a sharing mood, and happily slurp oysters to my heart's content. If you love oysters, but have never shucked an oyster, it's time you get over your inhibitions and just do it. It's done wonders for my Saturdays and my oyster addiction. I've even started blogging again.

Gyoza

Dumpling making should be a group effort. In our family, this is the usual division of labor: I chop the veggies, my brother mixes the filling, my dad and I form the dumplings, and my mom cooks them before we all devour them. For whatever reason, I recently thought it would be a good idea to attempt this entire process by myself. Sure it was a little lonely and made me wish the rest of my family was sitting at the table with me, but it was actually pretty easy for one person to do. And to be honest, a Sunday afternoon with the Charlie Parker Pandora station, a stack of dumpling skins, and a tray waiting to be filled with dumplings is my definition of relaxation anyways.

In Taiwan we get the most amazingly "Q" dumpling wrappers from a local street market to make jaozi (餃子). The dough is still soft and pliant, capable of stretching itself to contain a bellyful of pork filling. The skin, therefore, molds perfectly to the filling even as it is boiling, holding in all the porky juiciness. Really, my mouth is watering even as I write this. Unfortunately, I don't believe this kind of wrapper can be found here in LA. And as much as I enjoy repetitive actions, there's also absolutely no way I would sit here and roll out 80 individual pieces of dough myself. My solution was to make Japanese gyoza dumplings instead. In my mind, the gyoza skins didn't matter at much as long as they were thin and slightly chewy.

A trip to the local Nijiya Japanese market resulted in a stack of frozen gyoza skins straight from Japan and some beautifully fatty ground pork. Here is where I warn against making dumplings with subpar meat. If you can't find gorgeous looking ground pork, just don't do it. It won't be worth your time. We tend to think the simpler the filling the better, but that also means there's nothing to cover up less than pristine pork. When we make dumplings in Taiwan, we use kurobuta pork, or 黑毛豬.  

So here is my tester recipe for yaki-gyoza, or Japanese pan-fried dumplings. Incredibly authentic? Not sure, but it was quite tasty. I was surprisingly happy with the results, though I will say that the recipe can benefit from some more tweaking. Next time I will experiment with adding chives, some grated garlic, and a little more grated ginger. If it is tastier, I will add an update to the end of this post! 

Gyoza

makes about 80 dumplings

1 head napa cabbage, medium

1 1/4 lbs ground pork

2 tbsp soy sauce

1/2 tsp grated fresh ginger

1/4 tsp sesame oil

gyoza skins

Cut a head of napa cabbage in half, lengthwise. Core the two sides and rinse each leaf separately. In the bottom of a colander, lay down a layer of the dried cabbage leaves. Sprinkle a light, even layer of salt over it before covering the first layer with another layer of leaves. Repeat until the entire head of cabbage has been salted. 20-30 minutes later, a lot of the moisture in the cabbage leaves will have been drawn out. Squeeze the leaves with your hands to get even more of the water out. Finely mince and set aside while you gather the rest of the ingredients. 

In a bowl, mix together the ground pork, soy sauce, grated ginger, sesame oil, and minced cabbage. Stir together, in one direction only, until well combined. Some recipes would call for salt, but since I salt the napa cabbage leaves pretty thoroughly, I figured that was enough salt. It's also at this point where I would put on a little pot of water to boil, make a little tester ball of filling, and cook it to see where you are on seasoning. Tweak and adjust as you see fit. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let it sit in the fridge overnight. This way, all the ingredients get to mingle together and make nice. 

The next day, assemble your filling, gyoza skins, a small bowl of water, and some foil covered baking sheets on the dining table, gather any willing volunteers, put on a movie or some jazzy music, and sit down to start the dumpling making. First, put a reasonable amount of filling in the center of the round gyoza skin. Dab a small amount of water all the way around from the edges and pull the two sides together to form a half moon with the filling in the middle. To pleat, I start from the center, pleat to the right, come back to the center, and finish pleating to the left. The OCD side of me finds it incredibly entertaining to try to pleat the same number of pleats in every dumpling, and I usually do at least eight pleats which may already be four too many. Of course, I'd advocate that the appearance of the dumpling is almost just as important as the taste of the dumpling but really, just make sure the filling is well sealed in the skin. 

Once a tray is filled with freshly pleated dumplings, put it in the freezer. Once it is frozen, the dumplings may be kept in a Ziploc bag to conserve space.

To cook, heat some oil in a nonstick pan before adding frozen gyoza straight into the pan. Cook on one side for 4-5 minutes, or until golden brown on the bottom. Then, add just enough water to cover the bottom of the pan and cover with a tight lid until all the water has evaporated. With frozen dumplings, I tend to do this twice--just to make sure the filling is cooked and heated through. After the water as evaporated just cook until the bottom crisps up again. Slide onto a plate and serve with a dipping sauce. Technically, I suppose you should serve them crispy side up, but I think it looks prettier crispy side down. The only downside is that the crispy side gets not so crispy. You be the judge on which matters more.

Dipping sauce possibilities:
#1: mixture of soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, sugar, and chili oil to taste.

#2: ponzu 

#3: black vinegar (my favorite though this is definitely more Chinese than Japanese)

So with Chinese New Year's Eve is coming up, I figured this was an appropriate post. Dumplings are usually something eaten during Chinese New Year since they have the shape of gold ingots, or yuan bao, and are thought to bring prosperity to the new year. Also, since I haven't blogged since god knows when, maybe a post on dumplings would be an auspicious start to a new year of food blogging.

Burrata with Sungold tomatoes

Sometimes, the only thing that gets me through the week is a Wednesday morning trip to the Santa Monica farmer's market. I'm not normally an early riser AT ALL, (in fact, sleeping in is probably one of my greatest skills) so waking up early enough to make it to the farmer's market before class is not an easy task for me. However, I can't think of a better reason to get out of a warm bed in the mornings than the prospect of beautiful produce. Maybe this is weird but selecting of the perfect piece of fruit of vegetable really gets my adrenaline going. I can stand in front of a pile of apples, picking and choosing, for longer than I care to admit.

Though it's definitely no longer summer, the farmer's market is still overflowing with tomatoes--cute little cherry tomatoes, gnarly heirloom tomatoes, meaty beefsteak tomatoes, you name it. Somehow, even with all these choices, I decided on a basket of bright orange Sungold tomatoes. They turned out to be so perfectly ripe, I could literally peel the skins off like a grape and enjoy a pure, unhindered burst of sweetness from only the flesh.

So after a little inspiration from this beautiful food blog and a few little drawings during a particularly un-stimulating economics lecture, I created this little afternoon snack for myself with this week's goodies from the farmer's market--Sungold tomatoes, frisée, pistachios.

Burrata

Sungold tomatoes, frisée, pistachio, prosciutto, balsamic caramel

Peel some tomatoes, wash some frisée, shell pistachios, crisp up prosciutto in the oven, reduce balsamic vinegar and honey, plop down a healthy portion of creamy burrata, and finish with a drizzle of extra virgin extra fruity olive oil. Super simple. Barely any cooking involved, but so beautiful to look at. 

Lukshon (DineLA)

Last Monday, as per a typical weekday night, my man and I turned on the TV for some late night Food Network but this time, we were rewarded with an episode of The Best Thing I Ever Ate (one of the few shows left on that network that I can stand). Within 5 minutes into watching the episode, Sang Yoon's handsome (?) mug showed up on my TV screen, and before the next frame even appeared, I shouted "chicken pops!" Needless to say, Ian was very impressed with my psychic skills when the episode continued with Chef Yoon demonstrating how he makes those spicy balls of chicken on a stick. It also sparked the urge to immediately visit Lukshon the next afternoon and be physically reunited with spicy chicken pops. 

Lukshon happened to be participating in DineLA when we visited for lunch, though I found their version of the DineLA system to be rather convoluted. Instead of choosing your own three courses--like you would from any other restaurant's DineLA set menu--Lukshon forces a party of two to choose only one course from each section to share family style. It gets even more complicated for parties of three or four with some obscure algorithm that involves half-sized dishes, full-sized dishes, and a-little-larger-than-normal sized dishes. All I know is, paying $44 total for 2 people for 1 appetizer, 1 entree, and 1 side is not really a "good deal" at Lukshon for lunch. Luckily, we could improvise and order one set of the DineLA menu (with 1/2 sized portions) and also some individual dishes to be able to try a greater variety of dishes.

Lukshon
3239 Helms Ave.
Culver City, CA 90232
tel: 310-202-6808

spicy chicken pops

shelton farms' drumettes, garlic, kecap manis, spicy sichuan salt

We started, of course, with spicy chicken pops! We love these so much we ordered a regular sized portion in addition to the half-sized DineLA appetizer portion. I sweat and tear up at the tiniest bit of spice like a real wuss, but for these balls, I tough it out. They were just as good as I remembered, with a creeping heat and a sweet and salty glaze that I love so much. 

pork belly lettuce cups

cabbage, crispy pig ear, thai chile, lime, mint, aromatic rice powder

For the entree option in the DineLA set, we got a half-sized order of tender pork belly. To be honest, I don't think I'd be able to handle a full-sized portion of that pork belly. It was delicious and all, but oh so rich! I really needed the light, acidic cabbage slaw in this dish to cut the fattiness of the pork. The slaw was topped with beyond crunchy bits of pig ears which had a nice, almost nutty, flavor. This was Ian's first encounter with pig ears, and he really enjoyed them fried to a crisp, though I tend to like preparations that retain at least some of their gelatinous nature. 

Halfway through our meal, we overheard the table next to us talking about how they just saw the spicy chicken pops on an episode of The Best Thing I Ever Ate. I had a little giggle. Then an elderly couple sitting at the table next to them said, "Hey! We're also here because of that episode!" I had an even bigger giggle.

thai beef salad "deconstructed" 

gem lettuc, radish, carrot, tomato, herbs, spicy lime vinaigrette

We also ordered the thai beef salad off of the regular lunch menu. Though it's advertised as being "deconstructed," I'm not quite sure where the deconstruction occurred. It seemed like a very pedestrian salad, though all the flavors you would expect from a thai beef salad--fish sauce, lime, peppers, garlic--were there. The beef also wasn't particularly memorable. I could easily recreate this in my kitchen. 

bhutanese red rice

lamb bacon, maitake mushroom, egg, scallion, chinese celery 

The side dish on the DineLA menu was the only one that came in it's usual size. The bits of lamb bacon were appropriately smokey and lamb-y, though to me, the most important part of the dish was actually the slivers of celery. They provided a much needed crunch of freshness to the otherwise salty and slightly sour rice dish. Overall, it was enjoyable though we were unable to finish the entire portion and ended up taking the rest home. However, it smelled like sour cream and onions in the car. Odd, no? 

Vietnamese iced coffee

dark palm sugar butterscotch brownie

Dessert at Lukshon is always a complimentary little bite at the end of the meal. I love this concept and so far, every dessert I've had there has been surprisingly refined. This time, we had a little square inch gooey, butterscotch goodness. It was warm out of the oven and was so dense, it seemed more like a caramel candy than a brownie. Rich and sweet, the small square was more than enough to satisfy my need for something sweet after any meal. I also ordered an iced Vietnamese coffee which left me happily caffeinated for the rest of the day. It was a great way to end the meal. 

I really really really want to sit in the corner sofa seat on the outside patio (especially in the beautiful weather we had that day), but every time I've been, some lucky person is already sitting there...next time...

So, do I still love Lukshon? Yes, I do. 

Do you need to visit Lukshon? Yes, you do. 

Does it need to be during DineLA week? No. 

YEN Restaurant

This year, according to the lunar calendar, the Chinese Valentine's Day falls on August 6th. My brother's birthday is on August 7th, and the Chinese Father's Day is always on August 8th. So, what is the easiest solution to having to celebrate 3 holidays in a row? Host a large meal with close family and numerous friends, replete with Chinese delicacies and complete with a spinning Lazy Susan, of course.

Obviously, we'd have to do it in style. And right now, there's no place more stylish in Taipei than the newly opened W hotel with it's YEN restaurant serving Cantonese-style dishes. We'd feast not only our stomachs, but also our eyes as we enjoy an 11 course meal with a bird's eye view of Taipei. I've already visited the restaurant two times prior, but this time, we reserved one of the private rooms for our large party.

It was a monstrously large room, with floor-to-ceiling windows, and it's own private bathroom that also offered a vertigo-inducing view as you did your business (awkward?). The room itself was beautifully decorated, seamlessly interweaving elements of Chinese culture with the W hotel's signature modern style. Needless to say, we lingered long after our meal to take pictures in the room, of the room, with the room. It's okay, we're Asian ;)

Halfway through our meal, the skies cleared after an afternoon shower, and we were treated to pale blue skies, lingering clouds and a rare crystal-clear view of the usually smog-laden city. Gorgeous.

For the private rooms, the restaurant offers table menus, starting with 18,000 NTD per table of 10 people. This comes out to about $550, which I think is rather reasonable for feeding 10 people 11 courses in a beautiful setting with impeccable service. The cherry on top? There's no corkage fee.

YEN Restaurant

@The W Hotel Taipei, 31st floor

10 Zhongxiao East Road, Sec. 5, Xinyi District

Taipei, 110 Taiwan

tel: 02-7703-8768

www.wtaipei.com/en/yen

yen's appetizer

pork spare ribs plum sauce, drunken chicken, vinegar-cured jelly fish, smoked-soy mackerel

While I find a lot of Chinese appetizer platters to be a nightmare, this was quite tasty. The jellyfish was actually edible--not the usual rubbery strands that come in ping pan appetizers. There was a very prominent black vinegar flavor that I loved. The pork ribs fared less well. I found it a little tough so I generously sneaked the second piece on to my brother's plate. The sweet and sour glaze on top was enough to satisfy him. The smoked soy mackerel would have been good with a bowl of steamed rice, but it was a little salty on its own. The best part was the drunken chicken, rolled onto itself into a sort of roulade with solidified collagen-rich juices, pleasantly "Q" skin, and the flavorful, "drunken" thigh/leg meat marinated in shaoxing wine.

fish maw, prawns with almonds, fish cartilage soup

The soup was rich and thick, much like the broth you'd find in a quality bowl of shark's fin soup. Except here, you'd find snappy pieces of sweet shrimp (instead of inhumanely harvested shark fins) and and chewy pieces of fish maw (apparently also called a swim bladder and is what allows a fish to float?). There were also pieces of raw almond halves that have a really concentrated almond flavor. Really nice.

steamed garoupa with fish sauce, crisp bean crumbs

My grandpa had a habit of always ordering whole live fish if we were ever at a Chinese restaurant. Genetics are a scary thing, and my dad has the same tendency. Thus I've eaten quite a few steamed fish, usually topped with curly strands of scallions and doused with a soy-based sauce. I rarely enjoy it. So that was the mentality I had going into this piece of fish that they had portioned off the bones for us. With the first bite, I questioned it's freshness. With the second bite, I questioned the texture. With the third, I loved it. The fish was, without a doubt, fresh and though the meat was a little soft and flaky for me (typical of a garoupa), the topping of crispy bits of fried soy bean was sensational.

crisp fried prawns, wasabi mayo, kumquat

This seemed to be a play off of the more traditional "honey walnut shrimp" with a similar fried texture covered in a mayonnaise based dressing, though this version was infinitely more enjoyable. There was a slight creeping heat from the wasabi in the mayo, though it seemed to add more flavor than spice. The candied kumquats and a fine dice of fresh mango added a touch more sweetness to the perfectly cooked prawn.

classic roast duck, pancakes, condiments

I've had this roast duck 3 times within the past two weeks. No, I'm still not sick of it, and each time I've had it has been even better than the last. This last time, was near perfection. The whole duck was carved tableside into thin slices of crispy skin--not fatty, not chewy, just crispy--and tender slices of meat. One slice of skin, one slice of meat, crunchy sticks of cucumber, and a generous smear of a house made plum sauce inside a thin, "Q" wrapper makes for a truly heavenly bite.

baby abalone braised with sea cucumber, greens

This was an example of how bigger is not always better. This was no rubbery, bland piece of abalone the size of a hockey puck. The abalone was indeed a "baby," no bigger than the size of a petite madeleine, which perhaps is why it was so tender and why the flavors from the braising had penetrated it so well. The same went for the sea cucumber. Usually I'm not a fan, but this preparation was so flavorful, I actually enjoyed it gelatinous texture. Two bites into the dish I stole a glance at my brother's plate, wondering if I could steal a piece of his abalone of his plate. Sadly, by the time I looked over, his piece was already gone.

slow braised pork trotters, peanuts, lotus root

By this point, I was getting full, but I can NEVER say no to pig's feet, and neither can my dad, who couldn't go three consecutive bites of this version before praising, yet again, how well cooked it was. I would've done the same but I was too busy eating. The peanuts which usually accompany a white braised version of pig's feet were also very pleasant here--adding not only a textural contrast, but also a nutty flavor. The braised lotus root served a similar function.

seafood stir-fried with thin rice noodles, sweet basil leaf

This went into a little plastic container, which then went into a little bag that said "to go"...

three dim-sum in a basket

Though I skipped the previous course, I couldn't resist the little bamboo steamer of dim sum. The entire thing was still steaming when it was set down in front of me. Of course I had to eat it. The sui mai and the har gow were both very well done, but my favorite was the one with the green wrapper. I don't know it's name in English, but the green color comes from a kind of dried grass that gives it a slightly herbal flavor. So good and such a good way to end the savory courses.

cream of mango with sago pearls, pomelo, lime sorbet

fresh fruits

Dessert was a little disappointing for me though the fruit was beautifully cut. The cold mango "soup" tasted fresh though a little bland. The only criticism I have of this restaurant is that it's dessert offerings could really use some help. I know it's typical of a Chinese restaurant, but if you can do everything else so well, why not put a little more effort into the desserts? I think how a meal ends is very important.

So, while the food is definitely Cantonese in style, there were also welcomed aspects of creativity that slightly strayed from the traditional. Rather than serving all the dishes family-style, the servers would portion out the large dishes onto individual plates for us. Thus the Lazy Susan in the middle of the table was rendered rather useless, but if you ask me, I preferred this western-style of serving. This way, everyone gets an equal amount, and I don't have to eye that last piece of duck meat, wondering if it would be impolite of me to dart out my chopsticks for it. I would recommend this Chinese restaurant over the ones at the top of Taipei 101 any day. Though you may not be dining as high up in the atmosphere, the view is stunning enough and the food is beyond comparison.

P.S. I have to say, this meal also put the dinner menu at Lung King Heen to shame in terms of just overall taste...