Myers + Chang in Boston is not a Chinese restaurant.

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.

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.

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So when the literal fork in the road came up as Lipoff (of Chowhound contributor fame) steered the wheel of his Peugeot one Saturday afternooon, I decided to go with a bit of gritty urban color over a sweet suburban afternoon. Dorchester it was.

Banh mi is like a cultural and historical study packaged as a sandwich and wrapped in French bread colonialism. It typically contains some kind of protein – cold cuts, pork pate, BBQ beef, sardines, etc. – along with slivered cucumbers, bean sprouts, pickled carrots, daikon, cilantro, fish paste, chili peppers, and mayo, all on a halved crusty French baguette.

It’s also dirt cheap. At New Saigon in Chinatown, I remember they were around $3. At Ban Le in Dorchester, Lipoff’s first stop (after we feverishly consulted our respective smartphones for recs for the best), they were a mere two dollars and three quarters. In deliciousness per dollar terms, that’s a mathematically impossible to reproduce ratio.

Basil seed drink - looks like millions of fish eggs...

There was no seating inside, just a glass-paneled counter, dry goods packed high in cardboard boxes, and a somewhat-suspect looking hot buffet. Lipoff decided to throw in a basil seed drink, and the woman behind the counter composed our meal in slow, deceptively simple strokes – a smear of yellow (butter? mayo?), cilantro, beef, a squirt of sauce, the usual accoutrements. Then she wrapped it in wax paper, secured it in a red rubber band, and sent us on our merry way.

We hunkered down in the car and whipped out our cameras.

Lipoff is as equally excitable as I am about food, and even more enthusiastic. We are equally complementary as dinner partners as cultural self-descriptions: he is an egg, and I am a banana.

The consensus on the Ban Le: friggin’ delicious.

The crusty French bread enveloped fresh, crunchy vegetables, deepened by the slighty-sweet chew of BBQ beef and laced with a zip of spice and cilantro. Warming  up the beef and the bread a bit would have made it even better, but even so, orgasmic in how every element and flavor – sweet, salty, savory, crunchy, soft, spicy – worked together.

Ban Le banh mi, sitting pretty

I left a bunch of crumbs in the car.

So how do you get to sandwich nirvana?

If you take the Ashmont-bound Red Line train to Fields Corner, you’ll be dropped off in a neighborhood that seems rather unlikely. Due to a highly concentration of Vietnamese, walk up and down the street to see nothing but restaurants full of pho-slurping locals and groceries stocked with glutinous rice snacks and chili paste.

“How does this place exist?” I asked in awe. My wonder was confirmed when I saw a rare sight: a pay phone in 2010.

Since my iPhone was stolen, I kind of wish these were still around.

geological cross section of sardine banh mi

Then it was off to King Do to try another round of banh mi. We decided to give sardine a try, since it was neither pork nor shellfish (Lipoff is kosher) and it seemed like the most exotic option.

Less success. The sardines were cold, mushy, flat, and tasted like they came straight from the tin. Extra cilantro perked things up a bit, but things just weren’t quite as crunchy or revelatory as our last sandwich. I blame part of it on poor selection – clearly, sardine might not have been the best choice.

Finally, the last stop was a bit of warm liquid to soothe our wind-battered souls. A big bowl of pho had to cure Bostonian ills. Pho 2000 served us a decent, gargantuan bowl of soup that I quickly laced with plenty of Sriracha, basil leaves, and lime juice.

a platter of accessories

surface tension

After toying with the cameras a bit more, I buttoned up my jacket and hit the cold winds again. How had I lived for so long without knowing the wonders of east-meets-west fast food? Hopefully, you don’t do the same.

For students, keep in mind this is truly dirt cheap: two giant sandwiches plus an enormous bowl of pho came out to less than $7 per person.

Where’s your favorite banh mi?

Photos courtesy of Lipoff’s much better camera

Find it!

——–

Banh Mi Ban Le

1052 Dorchester Ave
(between St William St & Pearl St)
Dorchester, MA 02125
(617) 265-7171

King Do Baguette and Pastry

1225 Dorchester Ave
(between Greenmount St & Dewar St)
Dorchester, MA 02125

Pho 2000

198 Adams Street
Dorchester, MA 02122
(617) 436-1908

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2. Myers + Chang in Boston – Dim Sum Review
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It was held in one of those uber-swanky House Masters' residences.

Martin Breslin, who hasn't remembered meeting me the past two times... Tsk tsk!

incredibly delicious, especially with out "peanut" sauce. (actually cashew sauce. because of the peanut scare.)

the filling for our spring rolls

pho!

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