|
Saturday, April 09, 2005
The Chinese experiment
When the second generation takes over, there’s no telling what surprises lie ahead. J.A. Bacalso is ready to discover just that.
We insisted on the frog’s legs. They arrived shortly, hissing in a sizzling plate steeped in a brownish sauce, heaps of them looking fine and plump.
They are served differently here on purpose. Other Chinese restaurants serve them coated with salt and fried, at Ching Palace, the royal decree is to
do things differently. And no, they do not taste like chicken at all.
A dish of roasted eel follows in the frog’s heels (pardon the pun). My palate is used to enjoying the dish Japanese-style on top of rice and with a
sweetish teriyaki sauce. Roasted, the eel takes on an altogether different flavor enhanced by a woody aroma that plays up its tenderness.
The experimentation with the dishes is both premeditated and the result of a great irony, a collaboration between the chef and the restaurant’s driving
force, the youthful Jan. Premeditated because they do not want to end up as just another Chinese restaurant, thus the novel ways of cooking old
favorites. Ironic because Jan suffers from a yet-undiagnosed malady that causes her to break into allergies upon ingestion of certain food. At this
Palace, that’s the way the fortune cookie crumbles…someone else’s misfortune is another man’s gustatory boon.
My personal favorite is the simmering pot of mutton with white beancurd sauce, which the waiters position in front of me. The soup is rich and flavorful,
and the meat is cooked just right that it breaks readily into delicious pieces at the slightest touch of the fork. I missed out on the wild boar meat,
though, which a party of devotees wiped out just a few days back.
The fish that were swimming behind me in a giant tank will, later in the day, turned up as table three’s soup of choice. Fortunately, the exotic birds at
the other end of the room, just a tip of the iceberg that is the owner’s love for exotic creatures, are not on the menu. They are part of a collection of
tigers and crocodiles in the master’s own private zoo where they are, not unlike the patrons of Ching Palace, treated just like royalty.
My seatmate Orly had just celebrated a birthday, so Jan brings out the birthday noodles and a birthday bun. Both are strictly old-fashioned, a sign
that experimentation still respects tradition. The noodles are a symbolic offering for long life, and the lotus seed- filled bun made to look like the whole
peaches in Chinese cartoons (painted a healthy pink) is another emblem for luck. It’s just a gussied-up siopao with a tufted top and sweet filling,
instead of the meat. but in our eyes, we’re devouring the king’s favorite. And burping royally all the way home.
(April 9, 2005 issue)
Write letter to the editor.Click here.
Join the Sun.Star message board.Click here. |
|
[return to top]
[home]
[network page]
|
LOCAL NEWS
BUSINESS
OPINION
SPORTS
LIFESTYLE
FEATURE
SUPERBALITA
WEEKEND
|
