Chowhound Board Nazis (the Conclusion) - [Crazies]

(My original thought for tonight's article was to publish a Super Post on my favorite Shanghai cuisine restaurant in Irvine. However, recent events have given me another direction. Tonight's post will instead cover the conclusion of my Chowhound Board Nazi saga. For those of you here strictly for the food porn, never fear. My Shanghai cuisine Super Post will be published next week to help you all get through Holiday-itis at the office.)

How I Got Myself Kicked Off of Chowhound...
...by upholding my sense of honor, my dignity, and my self-respect Chubbypanda-style.



Chowhound is a San Francisco-based discussion board that was purportedly created to allow food lovers from around the world to share their favorite "locals only" spots with others. While the goal of their organization is laudable, draconian and often capricious decisions on the part of their moderators have effectively turned a project with much promise into a combination hype-machine and echo-chamber. The Chowhound Team's insistence on weeding out "insiderish" posts has directly worked against their aim of bringing lesser-known eateries into the public eye. If fondness for, and familiarity with, a restaurant marks you as an "insider" with an "agenda", how are locals to share their favorite secret spots with others?

They can't. Here lies Chowhound's Achilles Heel. As a result, you'll see ten posts in a week on much-hyped celebrity restaurants like Cube, Bluefin, Mozza, and Jar, but few unique hole-in-the-wall or mom & pop recommendations for the "Chowhounds" who "blaze trails", "comb through neighborhoods for culinary treasure", "despise hype", and "appreciate ambiance and service" but "can't be fooled by flash". In truth, I've gotten more good leads from This Hole-in-the-Wall Life by the OC Weekly's Gustavo Arellano than I ever have from Chowhound. So much for bucking hype and blazing new trails.

Long-time readers of this blog will remember that I first tangled with the Chowhound Team in October over this post about Frenzy Sushi.


(Click to read the whole text.)

Shortly afterwards, I received an email from the moderators (practically unheard of) that explained they had removed my post because they felt it was "insiderish". Fair enough. I know how discussion boards work. While I didn't agree with the mods, I knew there wasn't much I could do about it.

(For the sake of full disclosure, I've been a once-a-month customer at Frenzy Sushi for over a year. I'm not personal friends with the chef, I am not a publicist, and I do not receive any compensation for my work. However, as a regular customer and a fairly big spender, I do occasionally get comped items when I'm dining. In addition, the chef and I are on friendly terms due to my deep appreciation for his food. My goal in recommending the restaurant to others is simple. It's good. Really really good. In an area with more sushi bars than dry cleaners, a really good sushi restaurant is hard to find.)


(Click to read the whole text.)

For two months, I was a good little muzzled panda, just like the moderators had asked. I occasionally mentioned Frenzy in response to posts about sushi, or when it seemed apropos, but I didn't attempt to post other reviews for it. Then, yesterday, I responded to a survey asking for everyone's top five Ultimate OC Restaurants in 2006. I replied honestly, and Frenzy Sushi was at the top of my list. Within a few hours, my post had been deleted. I couldn't understand it. I didn't think I'd done anything wrong, or against what the moderators had demanded. Compared to my other posts, it was quite innocuous; just a name and a city in a list of names and cities. The deletion seemed utterly whimsical and capricious.

At this point, I knew I had a choice. I could continue to kowtow to the censorship of a high-handed group of moderators who wouldn't explain themselves to the very users who drove their business and kept them employed, or I could stand up for what I believed in, give my honest opinion, and take my punishment like a man. As cheesy as it sounds, some words from the Hagakure, one of the seminal texts in the school of Iaido that I practice, helped me make my decision.

A samurai who is not prepared to die at any moment will inevitably die an unbecoming death. But a samurai who lives his life in constant preparation for death - how can he conduct himself in a despicable manner? One should reflect well on this point and behave accordingly.
- Hagakure, the teachings of Jocho Yamamoto.

I reposted my list without any additional explanation. It was my pure, unvarnished, and uncensored opinion. My post was deleted again, so I reposted again. Another deletion. For the next two days, the Chowhound team and I repeated this dance over and over again. Since I work in IT, I'm in front of a computer 10-12 hours a day. It was easy for me to check the discussion thread regularly and to repost my list if necessary. The Chowhound Team couldn't keep up with me. My opinion was read. My voice was heard.


(Click to read the whole text.)

This evening, I received the terse email above from the Chowhound Team threatening me with expulsion if I didn't stop posting about Frenzy. I found myself at a crossroads. If I continued on my path, I'd be expelled from Chowhound forever. I'd lose the ability to interact with a number of fine people that I'd met on the board and a portion of my readership. In all honesty, the traffic to this blog would probably suffer. On the other hand, what did it say about me or my principles if I caved to an uncompromising dictatorship and censored myself on the board? What weight would my posts have if they didn't reflect my true opinions?


(Click to read the whole text. Depending on your browser, you may have to click on the image again to view it at actual size.)

I sent this email back to the Chowhound Team explaining in a very reasonable and structured manner why I could not comply with their demand. Then, I reposted my list for the last time.



A few minutes later I refreshed the page and was asked to log in. When I tried to do so, I received the message, "Login unsuccessful. Please check your Username and Password". The Chowhound Team had deleted my account. No explanations, no reply to my email, no attempt at further communication. I had failed to follow their orders and been excommunicated. It wasn't unexpected. I had lost a battle that I knew I wouldn't be able to win against a foe who, in that situation, held every advantage over me. Yet, I'd made my stand and stuck to my principles. I was done with Chowhound, and they were done with me.


It felt great.



The Chowhound Board Nazis Saga:

• Chowhound Board Nazis - [Crazies]


• Chowhound Board Nazis Redux - [Crazies]


• Chowhound Board Nazis (the Conclusion) - [Crazies]

Chowhound Board Nazi Commentary from Fellow Bloggers:

• Chowhound Confounds by Sam of Becks & Posh


• The Chowhound Sandbox by Fatemeh of Gastronomie


• Adventures in Chowhound by Alice of Alice Q. Foodie


• The Incredible Shrinking Chowhound: censorship at work again? by Pim of Chez Pim


• Deleted Posts on Chowhoud by Jonah of la.foodblogging


• Community Kvetch by Anita of Married with Dinner

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Those Wacky Japanese - [Crazies]

As if leading the way in humanoid robotics and creating BO-defeating deodorizing candy wasn't enough, scientists in Japan have managed to create not one, but two useful products by heating bovine manure under pressure.



That's right. You read that correctly. They're cookin' up using cow poop. Although they're not baking brownies, what they're making is almost as tasty; vanilla and gasoline, just not together.

More precisely, the Japanese scientists from the International Medical Center of Japan have managed to produce vanillin, the main organic scent and flavor component in vanilla. Most synthetic vanillin is currently produced using lignin, a chemical present in the cell walls of plants. Since cows consume an enormous amount of plant material, their feces contain high concentrations of lignin in the form of mostly indigestible cell walls. Using a one-hour heating and pressuring process, the lignin can be extracted and converted to vanillin. Amazingly enough, producing vanillin from the lignin present in cow manure is less than half as expensive as any other method. The cow has already done most of the work in extracting the lignin from plants. Best of all, once the lignin has been converted to vanillin, the processed feces can still be used as fertilizer.

Vanillin extracted in this manner couldn't be used in food (thank the gods!), but would instead be used to scent products such as candles, soap, and air fresheners.

Even more exciting is the recent news that a separate group of Japanese scientists from the Tokyo University of Agriculture and Technology have developed a process that enables them to extract 0.042 ounces of gasoline from every 3.5 ounces of moo poop, although the details given so far have been sketchy given the high demand for such technology in oil-poor Japan.



I might hesitate to wash my face with vanilla soap or scent my house with vanilla pooppourri made using cow manure. But, given the world's dwindling supply of gasline and the need to develop alternative sources of energy, I'll certainly be first in line to gas up at the new and improved Chevron. It really doesn't get much more "alternative" than this.

You've got to hand it to those wacky Japanese scientists. Now that they're broken the cow poop code, can advanced battle mecha and genetically engineered super-martial artists be far behind? I certainly hope not.

All hail our future overlords.


Sources:

• Japanese researchers extract vanillin from cow dung from Forbes.com.


• Japanese make gasoline from cattle droppings from MSNBC.

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The Californian - Huntington Beach, CA

(This post is dedicated to my good buddy Elmomonster, who taught me that mixed metaphors can be magical. It's also dedicated to the men and women with whom I work. You guys make every day a joy. Even the longest, hardest days are bearable because you're such great people. Thank you, and happy holidays.



One by one, the cars rolled up to the long, arching driveway as startled valets rushed to open doors and take keys. Civics, Camrys, Accords, Optimas, and Altimas disgorged a horde of software engineers and their families, who strode past the bemused doorman and the great glass doors of the hotel lobby like 50s movie stars. Courteous attendants greeted each new arrival, refined ambassadors welcoming foreign dignitaries to a new land. Nothing seemed to faze the staff at the Hyatt Regency in Huntington Beach.



As holiday parties went, we knew this one was going to be a doozy. We'd come a long way from a seedy warehouse in Newport Beach so many years ago. There were six of us, myself included, with a dream and barely enough money to keep us afloat. Our CEO had worked 20-hour days running another company he owned, trying to fund our fledgling enterprise. He had a vision, we had the drive, and magic had happened. This gathering was a celebration of the road traveled and friends met. We'd achieved so much, and we needed to gather our strength for the challenges ahead.



We congregated nervously around the open bar in joyous anticipation of the night's festivities. It was like Homecoming, Winter Formal, and Prom all over again with families gathered in little clusters, eyeing one another shyly. The conversational clots slowly grew larger. Friends huddled together for protection against social embarrassment and for mutual support. Then, as the libations flowed, the ice within us thawed. Natural diplomats seized the reins of discourse, bridging divides and making introductions until, with a muted crash, the ice shattered and we all came together in a riotous festival of merriment and mirth.



All too soon, servers began circling the ballroom, signaling the commencement of our holiday repast. There were only three of them, yet they seated and served us with such dedication that I would have commended it, save for the brusqueness with which they treated us. At times I couldn't decide whether I was being served a meal or fed at a trough. Given the scores of us in the room, the cold efficiency wasn't a surprise. However, I felt that a locale as grand as the Hyatt Regency should have been able to offer a higher level of service, particularly given the cost of our outing.



We started with a sumptuous lobster bisque that was to richness what wild sex on the beach is to a clichéd pickup line. Thick and unctuous, it coated the tongue in an orgy of dairy and spice. I christened it "Butter with Lobster Seasoning". Yet, I was oddly disappointed. I'd had this lobster bisque at a management summit we'd hosted at the same hotel and, as good as the bisque was at the holiday party, it had been even better then, with a strong lobster presence and much more meat. Difficulties with serving such a large group, I assumed. The Shire Nomad enjoyed the soup very much. Cat thought it was too heavy on the butter and cream, and light on the lobster flavor.



Along with our soup, we were also given golden, soft olive rolls and butter. Cold and chewy, these bready morsels exuded that delicate, fresh-from-the-bag aroma of food-grade plastic. However, torn into pieces and dipped in the soup, they proved an effective method for diluting the intense, buttery bisque.



This refreshing salad followed our soup course. As Elonweis put it in Food Network speak, it was an excellent example of a deconstructed salad. Cat jokingly countered that it was the laziest salad she'd ever seen. Composed of crisp Romaine lettuce, sliced red onion, chunks of hearts of palm, cherry tomatoes, and an avocado wedge, it was topped with a tangy tequila and lime vinaigrette. Once assembled, it was light and sharp, and did a nice job cleansing our palates after the heavy flavors of the lobster bisque.



Our entree was this glorious juxtaposition of the terrestrial and the aquatic that I decided to name Ahab and Moby Dick. On the left, Ahab was a single de-boned, seared, and roasted chicken leg perched precariously on a bed of mashed potatoes and covered in a chicken stock, mushroom, and white wine reduction. On the right, Moby Dick was a teriyaki marinated and grilled filet of salmon firmly seated on his own mashed potato throne, and covered with a tropical fruit salsa.

Ahab was delicious, with paper-thin skin that tore easily to reveal moist, flavorful flesh that harmonized well with his mashed potato base. Moby Dick was more problematic. While flaky and cooked perfectly, the gamey taste of fish past its prime refused to be tamed by the cloying sweetness of the tropical fruit salsa. I wasn't sure that I approved of Moby Dick's overall sickly flavor, particularly when paired with the same mashed potatoes that had served Ahab so admirably. No matter how many times I stabbed at Moby Dick with the harpoon-like tines of my fork, he refused to yield a combination of fruity, starchy, fishy, and sweet that was pleasing to me.

Even more distressing was the pool of sauce surrounding Ahab and Moby Dick. While the presentation of the dish was marvelous, the use of a single plate had allowed both sauces to mingle, presenting such a confusion of flavors that my tongue was tempted to curl up in the back of my throat and cry itself to sleep. For a time, Ahab and Moby Dick battled for flavor supremacy in their soupy seasoned sea before eventually sinking below waves of disappointment together, still locked in mortal combat. To the side, the sautéed spears of asparagus provided a bland balance as they watched the two titans struggle. I called them Ishmael.



A shining beacon of hope after the Aristotelian tragedy of the entree, this Christmas tree dessert spread a soothing blanket of peace across our troubled tongues. A thin cup of patterned cake held whipped cream topped by a gentle peppermint and white chocolate mousse. Studded with fresh berries and flanked by squiggles of kiwi and strawberry syrups, the tart and clean flavors of this confection danced through our mouthes, chasing away our sad memories of the Ahab and Moby Dick.



As we lingered over coffee, conversing with old friends and new, we felt both melancholy and renewal. Our revelry was drawing to an end, yet we would be back in our offices soon enough, surrounded by the friendship and camaraderie forged by determined minds striving for the same goals. We were thankful for each other, blessed both at work and at home.



The chill night air cleared my head as Cat and I left the party. Although the food I'd sampled that night had not been all I had hoped, I had feasted fully on the companionship of dear friends and colleagues. It had a been a night I wouldn't soon forget, and one that had given me yet another reason to work even harder, so that I might enjoy many more of those nights in the years to come.


The Californian at the Hyatt Regency in Huntington Beach - Probably not the best place to host an event with over a hundred people. The quality of service provided by their kitchen and wait staff seems to drop drastically. However, I might recommend it for smaller parties of twenty or less based on past experience.


Bill:

Since this was a company dinner, I can't divulge the cost per person for the event. As such, I'll be discarding the ROI value in my overall calculations.


Flavor: C+
Ambience: A
Service: B-
ROI: Discarded

Overall: B


The Californian (Event caterer & hotel restaurant)
21500 Pacific Coast Hwy,
Huntington Beach, CA 92648
714-845-4776
http://www.huntingtonbeach.hyatt.com/hyatt/hotels/entertainment/restaurants/index.jsp


Hyatt Regency Huntington Beach
21500 Pacific Coast Hwy,
Huntington Beach, CA 92648
1-714-698-1234
http://www.huntingtonbeach.hyatt.com/hyatt/hotels/index.jsp

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Pillar Point Harbor - Half Moon Bay, CA [Supplying]

My family loves fresh crab like no other. That sweet meat, dipped in a little Taiwanese black rice vinegar is a family favorite often served with hot pot. Taiwanese crabs don't grow nearly as large as the ones in the States, so every time my grandparents visit, they always want to eat fresh crab. In Northern California, where my family lives, Dungeness Crab season runs from the 15th of November to the 30th of June. Since my grandfather's visit this year coincided with the opening of crab season, nothing would do but that we pack up the family and head off to the sea in search of fun, sun, and tasty crustaceans.

(Luckily for me, I'd flown back north the Thanksgiving weekend, so I got to go along too.)



Late in the morning of the Friday after Thanksgiving, we ventured forth into the great unknown like the American pioneers. Our path led us West as we followed the footsteps of those early settlers towards the lush and craggy California coast. My father's SUV blazed the trail, darting ahead of our caravan like a frontier scout. Behind us, my aunt's minivan lumbered slowly and steadily, the Conestoga wagon carrying the women, children, and my grandfather. It was our manifest destiny to procure a bountiful harvest of plump, meaty crabs, and we boldly rushed forward to meet it.



Our first stop was the beautiful seaside town of Santa Cruz, roughly an hour south of our home in Saratoga. Although we'd never been there before in search of crab, we hoped that the Pier at Santa Cruz, next to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, would prove fruitful. Unfortunately, all we found were tourist trap shops with their high prices and mediocre products.



The Princeton Seafood Company offered a dim ray of hope, particularly when we saw one of the fishmongers prepping and cooking live Dungeness crab right outside the store.



Unfortunately, the crabs were priced higher than you'd find them in Asian supermarkets, and the store was only offering them pre-cooked that day.



Cooked crab simply wouldn't do, no matter how freshly caught it was. Crab meat begins to lose its sweetness and flavor once it's been cooked. The best way to eat crab is straight from the pot to the plate with no stops in between. We needed to find live Dungeness crabs.



After lunch (which I'll cover in a separate post), we turned our wheels towards Half Moon Bay, two hours north of Santa Cruz along the scenic Pacific Coast Highway. Our target was Pillar Point Harbor, home of several seafood buyers and wholesalers, and home of a large crab-fishing community. The fishermen at Pillar Point had never let us down.



With traffic from the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk and several stops to take in the sights, we arrived fairly late in the afternoon. The main pier at Pillar Point Harbor was lined with countless fishing boats, some only recently returned with their briny harvests. We immediately headed for the end of the main pier, where the factors for Morning Star Fisheries and Three Captains had their offices. At that time of day, we knew that the wholesalers were our best bet for crabs. Sadly, the offices were closed when we got there, and workers had already begun loading merchandise onto the trucks of buyers for transport to other parts of the state. One of the largest set of trucks was for the 99 Ranch Market chain of stores. If you bought live Dungeness crabs from a 99 Ranch Market recently, chances are it came from Half Moon Bay.



Luckily for us, we were able to find several familiar whiteboards still up bearing messages like this one, advertising Dungeness crab available on board the Betty K.



The few crabs the Betty K had left that day weren't large enough to satisfy my grandfather, although they were still able to gather a sizeable crowd of hungry crab lovers.



No, the real Holy Grail that afternoon was found on the Tonita, where the line of crab crazy locals was twice the size of the one in front of the Betty K. The Tonita had come in late that day, so still had a number of gargantuan crabs left. Furthermore, the captain was offering his usual special of $3 a pound if the total purchase exceeded five pounds. That was almost half the price the other boats were asking for live Dungeness crab, and one quarter of the price charged by the supermarkets. We bought fifteen pounds.



On the way home, tired and road weary, I saw something that made me realize how much more advanced Northern California is compared to Southern California. That's right. It's a Caffino, a NorCal chain of drive-though espresso and coffee shops. Just the thing for a Silicon Valley IT worker facing a long morning commute. I love Southern California, but I miss my childhood home.



The next morning, we feasted on the fruits de mer of our labors.

Live Dungeness crab + 5 quarts of boiling water + 1/4 cup of sea salt = Yum!

You can add the juice of one lemon to the boiling mix if you like. Don't worry. If you put them in the freezer for a few minutes beforehand, they essentially go to sleep and never wake up. It's the kindest way to send them on.



Fifteen minutes later, we started filling up the feeding trough. Don't they look gorgeous?



Some ramekins of black rice vinegar, the Chinese balsamic, seasoned with diced garlic or leeks, and it was time to dig in! Pretty good eatin' for what were essentially giant sea spiders.


Pillar Point Harbor - Get there early in the afternoon and head straight for the fishing boats. They've got the freshest product at the lowest prices. I highly recommend the Tonita. Our family has been buying from them for years, and they've always offered an excellent selection at unbeatable prices.



Pillar Point Harbor
1 Johnson Pier
Half Moon Bay, CA 94019
(650) 726-8724
http://www.smharbor.com/pillarpoint/index.htm

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Quan Hy - Westminster, CA [Eating]

It's Sunday night. I've barely eaten anything since lunch on Saturday. Why? Because I'm still too damn full. I also need to burn some excess calories, so it's the racquetball court for me during my lunch hour tomorrow and possibly a morning bike ride. But, it was totally worth it.



In mid-November, I got an email from Dylan of "Eat, Drink, & Be Merry" asking if I'd be interested in joining him and Jeni of "Oishii Eats" for lunch at a restaurant in Little Saigon that specialized in Central Vietnamese cuisine. Oh boy, was I ever interested! As a result, Cat and I were able to sit down with a number of fellow bloggers and friends for a memorable orgy of consumption I hope to repeat at the earliest possible opportunity.



In addition to ED&BM and Oishii Eats, the guest list included Elmo of "Monster Munching", Professor Salt of "You Gonna Eat That?", Deb of Green Pea, and, the Don of Little Saigon himself, Vietnamese food guru Beach, who was first introduced in my Pagolac Review. I was honored to be able to share a table with these illustrious gastronomes. They'd all been very supportive of me since I first began food blogging a few months ago, and it was pleasure to finally meet the ones I hadn't met before.



Quan Hy is one of three, family-run restaurants featuring Central Vietnamese Hue cuisine in Little Saigon. The Bolsa branch of Quan Hy is the best of the three, according to both Dylan and Beach. A number of blog posts have already been written about Quan Hy/Hop and Hue cuisine, so I'll only be covering my impressions of each dish briefly. If you're interested in Hue cuisine, I highly recommend that you also read some of the ones I've linked below. They're all very informative.



One of the signature cooking styles in Hue cuisine centers around banh, which refers to a cakes make from steamed rice flour which are then cut, molded, seasoned, and formed into a variety of difference dishes. Beach was very enthusiastic about having us try as much variety as possible, so he ordered a number of appetizers, the first of which were these banh beo.

Pools of rice paste were poured into small dishes, steamed, and then chilled. They were garnished with shredded shrimp meat and chopped green onions, and served with a ramekin of nuoc cham for seasoning. In order to eat them, you spoon a little nuoc cham onto the rice cake, then loosen from its dish using either your spoon or chopsticks. The whole cake is then slurped and consumed in one go. Since the banh beo are essentially unseasoned, you rely on the garnishes and nuoc cham for flavor. Even then, the overwhelming amount of flavor will be from the nuoc cham, so texture is what the diner primarily enjoys.



With the banh beo, Beach also ordered this plate of cha tom (steamed shrimp paste sausage patties) and cha hue (steamed pork paste sausage patties). With rubbery textures reminiscent of Asian meatballs, they were lightly flavored and could either be eaten with the banh beo or alone. I wasn't a huge fan of the cha tom, cha hue, or banh beo, but I did find my small taste of them enjoyable. I might order the banh beo again depending on my mood.



Next up was this plate of banh quai vac, which were steamed rice cakes wrapped around fillings containing pork, shrimp, and wood ear mushrooms. The "potstickers" were broiled in the oven and garnished with diced green onions and shreds of fried shrimp. This is definitely a rice cake centric dish. The banh quai vac were very chewy, like grilled mochi. Once again, texture is the main component to be enjoyed in this dish. While I didn't mind the banh quai vac, I probably wouldn't order them again. I've always had a problem with food that sticks to my teeth.



After the banh quai vac, I sampled the banh it ram, which were essentially unbroiled banh quai vac on top of crispy, fried rice cakes. The flavor was similar to that of banh quai vac, with the main difference being the added textural component of the crispy rice cakes. Once more, probably not something I'd order again.



As a child, one of my personal favorites was banh uot tom chay, which are thin sheets of rice cake wrapped around shredded shrimp. My mother always served it with a sweet soy dipping sauce. Quan Hy's rendition, like everything I sampled there, was excellent. A peanut sauce was provided instead of a sweet soy sauce, but since I'm a huge fan of peanut sauce, the digression was forgiven. The rice wrapper was chewy, but not gummy or sticky, which is probably why I liked it much better than either the banh quai vac or the banh it ram.



Another favorite of mine was banh uot thit nuong, which are thin sheets of rice cake wrapped around grilled beef and herbs instead of shredded shrimp. It's very similar to banh uot tom chay. I could probable live off of both those dishes for years, as long as I had a steady supply of limes to ward off scurvy and peanut sauce to provide fat and protein.



A silly misunderstanding where I mispronounced the Vietnamese word for Spring roll resulting in Beach ordering this absolutely delicious goi mit, a salad made from jackfruit, herbs, shredded shrimp, and shredded pork marinated in a soy-based vinaigrette. Large, crispy rice chips were served with the salad. To eat this dish, we broke the rice chips into smaller pieces, then topped them with the salad. The resulting combination of contrasting flavors and textures danced through my mouth like an intricately choreographed ensemble routine. I liked this dish very much, although I thought it was a bit pricey.

Cat and I also ordered a small plate of goi cuon tom thit for ourselves and a plate of cha gio to share. The goi cuon tom thit fulfilled my every expectation for Summer rolls. Wrapped in chewy rice paper, they were the perfect blend of aromatic herbs, astringent vegetables, and delicately seasoned meat. There were only two to an order, so we had one each.

The cha gio (Spring rolls) were amazing, with an intensely flavorful filling of crab and shrimp. The real difference was in the wrappers. Instead of using the flour-based wrappers common in Chinese cooking, which most Vietnamese restaurants in the States have adopted, Quan Hy's cha gio used the same rice wrappers used in the goi cuon, which resulted in a thinner, flakier shell that was reminiscent of puff pastry and phyllo.



At Dylan's strong recommendation, I ordered the bun bo dac biet cha tom, which consisted of thick bun noodles in a rich, spicy beef broth that I kicked up with the lime juice and fermented shrimp paste provided. It was served with coriander, sliced onion, slices of beef, chunks of beef shank and tendon, and shrimp sausage patties. Although the description of the dish in the menu mentioned pork and beef sausage patties as well, I don't think any made it into my bowl. Bun bo hue, of which my bun bo dac biet cha tom is but one variation, is considered one of the signature noodle dishes in Central Vietnamese cuisine. I enjoyed this soup very much, and was glad I was finally able to try it. Thanks Dylan!



Cat ordered the bun thit bo nuong, which consisted of grilled, marinated beef, coriander, shredded carrots, peanuts, and sesame seeds on top of a bed of bun noodles. This was a dry noodle dish meant to be mixed together with the peanut sauce provided before eating. Cat thought it was delicious, although she told me later that she thought the bun part was optional, and would probably have preferred a rice or salad base.





In a fun bit of surrealism, our meal was interrupted (or enhanced) by a group of charity carolers who sang a variety of songs as they passed around envelopes for donations for the poor. Beach made a contribution for the table. I tried to get him to take some money for Cat's share and mine, but he refused. He's a really generous guy.



As with most Vietnamese restaurants, the service at Quan Hy was only adequate. Usually, I consider myself lucky if I can manage to get a cup of water at a Vietnamese eatery. However, I was with Godfather Beach that day. Whenever I wanted something, he barked out an order in Vietnamese and the wait staff came running. When I tried to get their attention on my own, I failed miserably. I'm a fairly impressive, big guy. It's hard for someone to not see me unless they're making an effort. However, I'm working on learning more about Vietnamese language and culture, so hopefully I'll pick up the knack for getting good service soon. Then again, there may not be any trick for it. You may just have to be the Don of Little Saigon.


Quan Hy - Excellent Central Vietnamese (Hue) Cuisine at prices that won't make a grown Asian man cry. I have to give Dylan and Jeni another shout-out and big "Thank You" for both introducing me to the restaurant and inviting me along; great food, great company, and great times. I love food blogging.


Bill:

Beach split the bill up, but with tax and tip, it came out to around $16 per person, which was pretty good given the amount of food that was available. I did notice that certain people mainly ate their entrees and sampled very little of the appetizers, so I feel bad that lunch actually had a lower ROI score from their perspective. The ROI score I've given is actually based on both the item-by-item price in the menu and the quality of product received, not the $16 per person cost of our lunch. This is the fairest way to assessing ROI, given the imbalance in value received by various attendees in group dining situations.

As a side note, while I love group dining from a cultural perspective (Taiwanese/Chinese), I always feel guilty participating since I'm such a big eater.


Flavor: A
Ambience: B+
Service: C+
ROI: B-

Overall: B


Quan Hy Restaurant
9727 Bolsa Ave
Westminster, CA 92683
1-714-775-7179


Other Locations:

Quan Hy Restaurant (sister branch)
10212 Westminster Ave
Garden Grove, CA 92843
1-714-636-1652

Quan Hop (run by the same family)
15640 Brookhurst St
Westminster, CA 92683
1-714-689-0555


Reviews by Food Blogger Friends:

• A Little Trip to Little Saigon for the Little One - Little Saigon, Westminster by Dylan from "Eat, Drink, & Be Merry"


• Quan Hy - Westminster by Professor Salt from "You Gonna Eat That?"


• Quan Hy - Westminster by Elmomonster from "Monster Munching"


• Quan Hop - Westminster by Elmomonster from "Monster Munching"

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Oasis Grill & Sky Lounge - Santa Ana, CA [CLOSED]

(Edit 08/25/2013: Oasis Grill & Sky Lounge has closed.)

I'm one of those crazy people who insist on being at the airport two hours before my flight leaves. I have a pretty good reason for this policy, having once missed a flight because of delays checking in my baggage and getting through airport security. This is why I found myself with an hour and a half to kill in John Wayne International airport before my flight up to San Jose was due to depart.



Since I'm used to being quite early for my flights, I've developed a very simple strategy for effectively using my time; I try different dishes at airport restaurants. As a child, I was airsick on almost every flight I took. My treacherous body seems to have compensated for that period of gastrointestinal embarrassment by becoming practically impervious to airsickness now. So, I'm usually pretty free to stuff myself before a flight. It's tasty and usually quite affordable as long as I'm careful about what I order.



I've been curious about the Oasis Grill & Sky Lounge ever since I read this press release in October. The company that owns the new restaurant, Culinary Adventures, also owns a number of respected, high-end dining establishments throughout South Orange County, including French 75, Chat Noir, Chimayo at the Beach, French 75 Brasserie, Sorrento Grille, and Savannah Steak and Chop House. To those of you out there who are fond of some of these restaurants, welcome to the world of corporate food whoring. The name's "CP". I'm not only the club president, I'm also a client.



The decor at Oasis is billed as "Jetsons-themed", although it seemed more like a blend of Tex-Mex diner and cafeteria chic to me. Not trusting my large frame to one of those undoubtedly high-tech chairs made from cutting-edge, space-age materials, I elected to sit in a booth.

The service at Oasis was passable. My server was friendly, but lacked the polish of waiters from even mid-range dining establishments. He took my order, brought me my food, and pretty much left me to my own devices unless I flagged him down like a hobo trying to hitch a ride.

Since the corporation that owns Oasis has such an illustrious pedigree, I had fairly high hopes for the food, although I tempered my hopes with the knowledge that this was an airport restaurant. After seeing the decor, I further scaled back my expectations.



For my starter, I ordered a bowl of Bacon, Corn, and Clam Chowder. This soup was a pleasant surprise. Served piping hot, it was rich and creamy, with generous chunks of potato and the three billed ingredients. The portion size was just about right. By the time I was done with the soup, I wasn't sure I wanted my entree any more. It was about the quality I'd expect from a mid-range restaurant, although the price suffered from the standard airport markup.



Ever since I watched Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle, I've had an almost constant craving for White Castle "Slyders", which I can't get fresh on the West Coast. Which is why, when I saw All-American Sliders on the menu at Oasis, I ordered them right away. What arrived on my plate were not sliders, they were charcoal briquettes with fried onions and a pickle wedge.



This was the most disgraceful burger display I'd ever encountered. The rolls were toasted black and completely soaked in butter. The beef patties were overcooked and had shrunk to about the size of a quarter. They were also slathered with some vaguely salty and tasteless white sauce that made me remember schoolyard rumors about the real secret ingredient in McDonald's special sauce. I was unable to shake this thought for the rest of my meal.



I had been given a choice between fries and coleslaw as my side. Coleslaw seemed like a healthier accompaniment to burgers than fries, so I'd ordered that, and it turned out to be the only redeeming portion of my entree.

The coleslaw was crisp and fresh, slightly sweet from the carrots, not astringent at all from the cabbage, and not overdressed as coleslaws often are. It was quite good.



Since the sliders were uneatable in their original form, I decided to steal a page from the playbook of San Diego Restaurant Reviews' Cap'n Jack and mod my burgers with coleslaw and deli mustard. It helped, but not much. Even the tasty coleslaw and tangy mustard were unable to mask the taste of the char and the greasiness of the bread. I considered sending my plate back, then realized that I needed to board my plane soon. The sliders were a thoroughly disappointing experience.



As a side note, I've long been dubious of either the Transportation Security Administration or the Department of Homeland Security's ability to keep me safe while flying. The utensils I was given confirmed my doubts. Anyone see what's wrong with this picture? Although the normally harmless and ineffectual butter knife has been replaced with an even less effective plastic one, they've also seen fit to provide me with an infinitely more usable, sturdy, and pointy metal fork. Honestly, if you were threatening a flight attendant, would you rather have a butter knife or fork held to her throat? The entire exercise is also fairly pointless since a razor-sharp, Kyocera Ceramic Chef's Knife could easily be smuggled past the half-assed metal detectors and scanning machines they have at the security checkpoints.

Give me back my goddamn butter knife!


Oasis Grill & Sky Lounge - I'd stick to the soup and avoid their sliders or burgers. Hell, I'll probably just hit the Starbucks next time.


Bill (for one)

Soda - 3.00
Bacon, Corn, & Clam Chowder - 6.00
All-American Sliders - 11.00


Tax - 1.55
Tip - 3.00

Total - 24.55


Flavor: D-
Ambience: C+
Service: C+
ROI: F

Overall: D+


Oasis Grill & Sky Lounge
(Inside John Wayne International Airport)
18601 Airport Way
Santa Ana, CA 92707
1-949-252-6125 x10

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