Mien San

Thanks to my friend George, I was able to try what for me was a treasure trove of great Taiwanese cooking. Nondescript and partially hidden behind a blockade of cars parked in front, its bright yellow plastic signage unabashedly calling for replacement, Mien San is the place to go when your belly yearns for deliciously simple Chinese food that's also easy on the pocket.

I was so impressed with the place (even if the place was by no means impressive in itself) that I decided to go back tonight just to get a second tasting of all the wonderful dishes I tried the week prior. The close secondary reason was because I did not fully enjoy my meal since I forgot to bring my camera to take pictures! $#@%! Note to self: Never leave camera at home, again.

After failing to convince my parents that a drive to Gilmore at ten in the evening (this place is packed way past normal dining hours) was going to be well rewarded, I decided to bring my brother (aka my partner-in-most-crimes) instead. He needs little convincing as far as food is concerned.

Being the gluttons that we are, we let our eyes roam freely on their bubblejet printed menu and pointed to whatever caught our fancy. Hey, we said we were going to be rewarded, didn't we?

The meal started convincingly enough with the Assorted Cold Cuts Platter. Smithereens of stinky tofu, seaweed, pig's ear, tripe, kienchi, soyed egg, nuts and pickled vegetables arranged almost carelessly to set your appetite off to high gear. I grab a piece of the pig ear and tripe and start chewing heartily.

Next comes the Tofu with Century Egg. If there was one thing about Mien San that will make me scream "Oh Lordy Lordy", it is this. Beancurd served cold, its consistency so soft and silken that it glides down your tongue, it keeps you guessing as to whether it was meant to be an appetizer or a dessert. Served with century egg infused with the flavor of sesame oil, finely chopped mustard leaves on one side and minced garlic, sugar, and nuts on the other, and bathed in a soy sauce reduction that has just the right hint of sweetness, I can hardly think of any other dish that is as perfect as this in its composition.

I carefully slice a piece of the tofu and let it rest on my plate, then I grabbed a piece of the notorious aged egg and place it on the side. Next, the mixture of the leaves, garlic, nuts, and finally the delicious soy sauce. I smile. Right now, life couldn't be any better than this.

My brother orders the Seafood Cha-Mi (cha-mi means fried noodles) which is served with generous portions of vegetables, fish, squid, mushrooms, and shrimp. Unlike cantonese noodles, which has a light and almost aldente quality, Taiwanese noodles are thicker and more substantial leading to an obvious chewiness to it. If you can imagine Pad Thai noodles, then you are within the ballpark of what I am trying to describe. This is one of Mien San's best sellers, although it is hard for me to believe anything in this place wouldn't be.

I on the other hand order for myself the Beef with Tendon and Tripe Noodles. Tender pieces of beef, gelatinous portions of tendon, and several sheets of ox tripe in a warm flavorful broth filled with all the goodness of meat stewed in anise and other spices. The soup is so good it is almost intoxicating. The hand-pulled noodles are hefty and are a meal in itself, but I know better than to limit myself to one dish. Right?

The waitress looks oddly at the two of us as we chow down our meal and almost hesistates to give us the Kuchay Dumplings. I give her the look which says: "We're hungry. We're paying. We want those dumplings!" and she gets it. There is no science to making these small pockets filled with chives, meat, and glass noodles. As with many things in this restaurant, it is made with hardly a thought. Yet the result is a love-affair in your mouth. For more texture, next time we will ask them to stir-fry these babies.

Finally, we cap our meal with an order of Xiao Long Pao. Popular in most Taiwanese kitchens, they seem to be miniature incarnations of the more common siopao. Yet each one of these packs a warm and scrumptious surprise. I carefully nudge one of the pouches onto the ceramic spoon, drizzle a small amount of vinegar and ginger, and pop it whole into my mouth. As my teeth break the translucent cover, rich warm soup oozes out to titillate and prepare me for what's to come. The meat filling is next, and combined with the shredded pieces of its soft white shell, it is the perfect ending to this late night culinary adventure.

Burp!