Chef Ma's continues to shine at new location in Overland

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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

pork and squid stir fry with celery

Editor's Note: This dining review appears in SLM's September '21 issue, which went to press shortly before restaurant owner/chef Ying Jing Ma's death.

We were between tables. On one side, a group gathered around plated mounds of caramel-hued fried rice, fat egg rolls, and cashew chicken. The other table was laden with dishes such as candied soft-shell crab with eggplant, pork with fried tofu, and hot braised pig trotters with taro. Few chefs have managed to combine familiar Chinese American fare with authentic Chinese cuisine as skillfully as the late Ying Jing Ma, and now the new place in Overland that bears his name is continuing to raise the bar for enjoyable dining.

At the former location, which was housed in a converted Taco Bell, the “real” menu was rendered entirely in Chinese. At the new digs on Page, the whole range of offerings is now listed in English, but the translations are somewhat limited. “Golden yolk pumpkin shrimp,” for example, doesn’t convey the wonderfulness of the dish. Yolks are salt cured and mashed as a binder for puréed squash and shrimp, served as beautiful golden nuggets fried to a delicate crust with a sweet, mousse-like interior.

“Hainan chicken rice” is an underwhelming description of a spectacular dish, one afforded celebrity by the late Anthony Bourdain. Poached chicken is served with a garlicky dip; its skin tightens to a silky, delectable suppleness. The rice is flavored with chicken fat, ginger, and broth; its fragrance and color are like saffron. Gloriously simple, this one’s a classic.

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Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Hainan chicken rice with fresh ginger based dipping sauce, roasted peanuts, broccoli, and carrot flower

Much of the menu leans toward Guangzhou (also known as Canton), the chef’s home, so it features lots of pork. Squid and pork don’t seem like they’d be friends, but the combination of textures—along with the crisp of celery and slices of firm tofu—is a complete success. “Salt and pepper pork chops,” a Chinatown standard, gets the correct preparation here, with chunks of fatty pork marinated and parboiled before being quick-fried and dusted with salt and pepper. The fat’s transformed into juicy, sweet, porky goodness. You’ll never look at a fried pork chop the same way.

Chef Ma worked in Hong Kong; you can taste this background in a number of “clay pot” stews. It’s a misnomer—these are actually soups, slow-cooked combinations of vegetables, along with lamb, fish fillets, or (your best bet) pork belly. What guanciale is to Italy, pork belly is to southern China. In dishes such as this lovely soup, it reaches a kind of perfection, braised in a delicate broth that’s loaded with sliced Napa cabbage, carrots, nibbles of tofu, and glass noodles. Then add something fried to balance the meal: A side of salt-and-pepper-crusted fried squid is perfect.

Combining dishes in this way is one of the many joys of eating quality Guangzhou food. When ordering, pay less attention to ingredients and more to preparations. Match stir-fried green beans splashed with soy sauce to accentuate their sweetness, for instance, with a mound of curry-dusted Singapore street noodles.

Photography by Kevin A. Roberts

Salt and pepper calamari

Eggplant that’s been stir-fried in a luxuriant XO sauce pairs well with fish steamed Szechuan-style and served in a gravy of garlic, chiles, and ginger. (The XO, by the way, is a sauce of condensed dried scallops, ham, and other mysterious Eastern ingredients that was created in the ’60s in Hong Kong and named after the cognac because it sounded elegant.)

A couple of strikeouts spoil the otherwise grand batting average at Chef Ma’s. Similar to many other restaurants trying to make a go of it during the pandemic, Chef Ma’s recently seemed to be shorthanded, so service took longer than might be expected. The best advice: take it easy, and come anticipating not the perfunctory speed of a takeout place but rather a leisurely meal like your Aunt Tilly might serve.  Flimsy Japanese-style chopsticks look and feel cheap, and bagged tea served in porcelain pots is more appropriate to the Pucklechurch Club than a Chinese restaurant of this caliber. There’s no liquor, but you can bring your own wine. (Although if you think bringing chardonnay is a suitable accompaniment for Chinese food, as one party did, this might not be the place for you.)

Chef Ma’s is a bright, still under-the-radar star in the local dining scene. If you appreciate authentic Chinese fare, then you’ll recognize it here. If you want to learn to appreciate it, this is a good place to start.