By Dave Lowry
Brassy, blunt, in your face: the owner’s mention that despite being born in Taiwan, she’d grown up in Shanghai confirmed the usual stereotypes of those from the City by the Sea. We asked if there were any Taiwanese dishes available. Nope. St. Louisans wouldn’t like ’em. But we have the best pot stickers in town. Come on, not even the classic Taiwanese take on Three Cups Chicken? You’re kidding, we’re told. People in St. Louis don’t want chicken with bones in it. OK, got a menu in Chinese? No, but we’re handed a months-old “New Year Specials” menu consisting of the usual Chinese-American fare favored by nine out of 10 soldiers in the culinary army of General Tso.
Come on, lady. Throw us a bone, even if there isn’t any chicken meat on it. We’re supposed to be finding these cool, little-known eateries with unusual or outstanding dishes, and it’s looking more and more like this pleasantly modern little café sandwiched in along the eastern reaches of the Loop just across from The Pageant is just another strip mall–type eatery about as Chinese as macaroni and cheese. And it doesn’t help that we’re served a complimentary dish of very good pao tsai, or vinegary and sweet pickled cabbage, that’s misidentified as kimchi.
We’re ready to drift on. Still, the crunchy pao tsai was a sign of hope. It’s as traditional in Taiwanese noodle shops as malt vinegar in a fish-and-chips joint. So we rolled the dice and ordered the seafood noodle soup. And while it wasn’t so thoroughly Taiwanese as to make you worry about being forcibly annexed by mainland China during your meal, this is an excellent rendition of that island’s noodle soup dishes, or youmian.
The bowl is enormous, full of a very light chicken broth, liberally studded with scallops, shrimp, and long fingers of imitation crab. The seafood’s good. Portions of everything in the bowl are generous. But focus on that broth and those noodles. The first is light, fragrant, not at all oily. You can’t imagine not lifting the bowl to slurp that kind of lip-smacking broth. This is a decidedly superior shang tang, or basic broth, the making of a soup that sets the palate for whatever’s swimming in it. The noodles are thick and pale yellowy, with just enough texture to give them a nice bite. Scattered on top are slivers of shallots fried in oil, a condiment absolutely essential to Taiwanese cuisine. The shallots add a crunchy, rich sweetness to the soup.
Another soup on the menu that’s a bit different from what you’ll find in most Chinese restaurants is another Taiwanese classic: beef noodle soup. The Taiwanese take on what’s essentially a northern Chinese dish is a lot better than the original. The broth is tastier, the braised beef more tender than the mainland version.
The interior you will find either trendy Moderne or sterile, without the usual bright clutter of many Chinese places. The kitchen’s tiny and the tables in the dining area are small. In weather like this, you’ll enjoy sitting outside if the restaurant is full--which it invariably is, especially on nights when The Pageant is packed.
If you haven’t been there, go. The soups are worth it.
Chinese Noodle Café
6138 Delmar (Google Maps)
314-725-9889
[Note: This is the third in a new web-only review series called "Been There?"]
