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Myers + Chang in Boston – Dim Sum Review

Lingbo Li — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 21:09:15 +0000

Myers + Chang in Boston doesn’t fall under the category of Chinese restaurants.

Yet I frequently hear it compared to one. Chinese food in the US, as Jennifer 8. Lee would say, is the true American cuisine. It has wooed the stomach of millions. Its takeout vessels have become iconic of American culture itself. It is the gateway cuisine to other Asian foods. Myers + Chang (not Meyer’s and Chang) is the post-gateway restaurant.

Asian food has been pigeonholed mostly as… efficient. There are grease-cheap Chinese food joints that seem minted from a humorless factory line. The only ambience in these outposts is the sparkle of a sputtering neon sign. Then there are the cramped Chinatown places that Chowhound loves, serving regional specialties and packing serious heat.

But as in any major market, there’s room for niche players. Myers + Chang in Boston has angled itself as a pan-Asian restaurant with all the trappings of a hip bistro. It’s menu is self-aware, even preciously trendy (Asian chicken and waffles, anyone?). There are gluten-free options. It has the benefit of nimbleness without the issue of catering to the lowest common denominator.

Entrees are around $11-17. The waiters don’t wear those awful black vests. Food arrives on nice plates. My coke had a pink twisty straw and a lime wedge. There’s an open kitchen, a crimson dragon print on the windows, and airy, uncluttered seating. You could take a date here, not spend a ton, but not look cheap.

Some people might complain you can get more “authentic” food for less money in Chinatown.

I would say they’re missing the point. Even though I love the divey food experience, sometimes you just want the rough edges sanded off your Saturday dim sum brunch, you know? I appreciate atmosphere. Sometimes you have to fight for your food in a Chinese restaurant and that makes me cry a little inside. It reminds me too much of being in China, the one that travel agencies don’t talk about..

Plus, those places don’t make things like fried egg banh mi! Myers + Chang does. (I took these photos with my Canon Rebel XS, for those interested in such things.)

I tried a few dishes off their weekend dim sum menu.

You should skip the congee. It is bland and not very good – go get it in Chinatown to experience its full, creamy glory. The fried egg banh mi is like the lovechild of an Egg McMuffin and Vietnam’s most famous sandwich. (Which is itself a fusion of French and local traditions.) It’s tasty, but could be improved with oozy yolk + more pickled carrots and daikon.

Their tea smoked spare ribs are excellent and fatty. You should pick every shred of flesh off the bones, then lick the rest off your fingers.

Grilled corn on the cob with Sriracha butter is juicy and a bit smoky, better than fourth of July. Anything with Sriracha is fine by me. I also tried a special. I don’t remember what it is anymore, sorry. It’s old age.

The coconut pie is a mini pie shell filled with coconut-flavored pudding, topped with cream, then sprinkled with toasted coconut. It’s serviceable, and probably better than any dessert you could ever hope to get at a Chinese takeout joint.

I saw another table with pork belly buns and got really jealous. I was full by that point, but I tried scowling at them. Pork belly buns didn’t magically appear as planned.

What I’d like to try some other time off their dinner menu: their Asian-braised short rib soft tacos on their dinner menu; chicken and waffles; Indonesian fried rice.

Awhile back, they had soft shell crab banh mi. Sad I missed the boat on that one.

I like this place. I think it has its place in the Asian food ecosphere. Keep doing your thing, Myers + Chang.

How Lingbo Tried “Mouse Shit” Peppers; Emerged Victorious (Now with photos)

Lingbo Li — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 17:28:49 +0000

I had eaten everything from vegan bacon to blood sausage. Now it was time to seek a new holy grail of culinary extremes: a cuisine hot enough to hurt me.

I wanted to sear away my taste buds. I wanted tears to stream out of my eyes. I wanted something more wicked than wasabi and more nuanced than Tabasco.

What I wanted, in short, was real Thai food.

(This is an excerpt. This column appeared today in the Crimson, you can find the full text here.)

We started off with bowls of tom yum soup, filled with shrimp and slices of mushroom. Small chili flakes and a smattering of mean-looking oil floated about ominously on its surface.

The meal began abysmally. With my first mouthful, I choked on some chili flakes and spent a few minutes sputtering and speechless. Herzfeld’s wife handed me some Kleenex.

I had tripped on the starting line. Thankfully, the next two dishes—a beef satay with peanut sauce and “Tod Man Pla,” or fish cakes—were not spicy. I had ample time to recover.

In the meantime, Herzfeld imparted bits of Thai food trivia. The spicier Thai food got, he explained, the more you could taste the underlying ingredient.

“The metaphor I like is a fireworks display: an initial explosion followed by a fireworks display of the various flavors of the different spices,” Herzfeld said.

If in the course of adventurous eating you get burned, stay away from water. “Water weakens your saliva,” Herzfeld said. “If you’re being burned by something spicy, the trick is to eat rice.”

We then started on a platter of “Nua Yang Nam Tok,” or Waterfall Beef. The recipe calls for fish sauce and ground dried red chilis. I took a bite.

It had a bit of a kick, but I didn’t find it painful at all.

This was followed by a dish of green papaya salad, composed of long shreds of papaya with bean sprouts, green beans, shrimp, and peanuts, then dusted in ground chili. This was significantly spicier, like Ashlee Simpson, post-punk makeover. It actually got spicier as it cooled. I ate it with sticky rice served in a small woven container.

Noting that I had not collapsed, Herzfeld requested that our dishes be made spicier. “He’s worried about her,” Herzfeld said of the waiter’s trepidation. Maybe I should have worn khakis and combat boots instead of a skirt.

Then came a trio of delicious but unfrightening dishes: penang, with carrots, peas, and strips of chicken in a red curry, then ground chicken with basil (I doused it in sodium-laden fish sauce), and finally, “Stir Fry of a Shit Drunk Man.” You know, drunken noodles.

I wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or victorious. The food had definitely not been nuclear spicy, so I decided to make a final run for culinary extremes. I fished out a few infamous Thai “mouse shit” peppers from the pot of fish sauce. I popped them straight into my mouth.

The two professors looked at me expectantly. I chewed. And swallowed.

The burn was not a lot worse than a hit of Sriracha. They looked impressed. But later, as my body tried to digest the banquet, my stomach tingled and shuddered, a little angry at the introduction of straight-up chili pepper. I was proud. I felt that much more authentic.

See Lingbo Cook: Pad thai!

Lingbo Li — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 03:24:51 +0000

proof that I can cook, too! sort of.

Becca, Kate, and I tried to make pad thai the other day… it turned out reasonably successful (aka tasty and edible) however, I had to avert imminent disaster since we subbed curry paste in place of tamarind paste (don’t ask), which resulted in an inedibly spicy dish.

Cue washing the noodles off 4 times. Following by cooking up the rest of the noodles.

Martha Stewart would be proud.

The recipe was also terribly worded and confusing. It advised cooking the noodles in a the wet ingredients. Which there were not enough of to finish cooking the noodles. Cue dumping in the rest of the vegetable broth + a lot more water.

I guess in real life, cooking is not as linear as on the Food Network. I may never achieve a state of Ina Garten zen.

But my noodles will at least edible.

I haven’t died yet.

Thai Restaurant Week (10% off)

Lingbo Li — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 15:59:59 +0000

While I’m enjoying my hopefully scorching Thai food tonight, you can also plow through your own bowl of drunken noodles for a discount as part of Thai Restaurant Week.

Enjoy 10% at various Thai restaurants around Boston, including Spice in Harvard Square. Click here for the coupon and participating restaurants.

A better deal is to pick up on those Collegiate Coupon books (try the Harvard COOP) for the buy one entree, get one half off at Spice.