Überprüfung: Tasty

To begin with, I feel like an apology is in order for the first post.
I had posted the review for Paris 66 two weeks ago and within a couple of hours had heard from a couple of friends resembled something out of Cloverfield (i.e. it made absolutely no sense). Over the next 3 days, I tried re-posting it, with some success. However, the font is still wrong, the spacing is off, and there are no pictures. I would have tried a last time on Sunday, but something went horribly wrong.

In any event, this post will be better. At least better than the Steelers effort in the 4th quarter.

As I mention before, I have a habit of becoming complacent when it comes to food. When I find something good, I stick with it. Such is the case with Chinese. Maybe five or six years ago, on a suggestion from a graduate student, my dad ordered Chinese for dinner out of a largely unknown hole-in-the-wall, take-out only restaurant called Zaws.
From my experience, when we get older, we have vivid memories of moments in our lives that truly define ourselves. Maybe its one's wedding, a trip to a foreign land, or some other event. For me, one of those events is eating Zaws for the first time. Seriously. The place is that good.

So going out to eat somewhere else for Chinese was difficult for me to fathom. Nevertheless, I coerced a Singaporean friend to take me to his favorite Chinese spot. Thus, I found myself at Tasty, a largely take-out place found on South Highland in Shadyside.
Going in, I had one specific expectation. Being with someone who spoke fluent Cantonese, I expected that I would finally get to behold the secret menu.

For those who don't know, it is rumored that most, if not all Chinese restaurants carry a second menu (most likely written in Chinese), that lists authentic Chinese, thus catering to natives or descendants who still prefer the real stuff. I wanted the real stuff.

We entered into the largely unassuming Tasty and were quickly ushered to a table with mini-Styrofoam cups filled with hot tea. When our waitress handed us our menus, I made my move: I asked my friend where the secret menu was. He simply flipped over the menu to the other side. "No seriously, where is it?" My friend (for the sake of anonymity, we'll call him by his favorite Penguin, Geno) begins to laugh, pointing out that the real Chinese is simply on the back of the menu, in plain sight. "You Americans usually just ignore it and go for the Chop Suey."

In any event, Geno asks me what I'm in the mood for ("seafood") and quickly orders three dishes: a squid, ma po tofu, and a tofu-brisket.

Out of the three dishes, the one that I anticipated the most was the tofu-brisket. Why? Because I've never seen anyone put tofu and a meat together. I've always been under the impression that the two are meant to stay separated. Tofu conjures up images of tasteless and mushy dishes that can only be saved by adding at least half a pound of curry into the dish. Obviously I'm not a fan of tofu. I'm also not a big fan of some of the supporters of the tofu lifestyle.

And before you can say anything to defend youselves, let me leave you with this: Lions eat gazelles. Orca eat penguins. I eat cow. It's the circle of life, deal with it.
The squid is served cut up in pretty large pieces sauteed in a very light, savory broth. Geno especially liked the squid, but I personally don't care for the texture of squid when it's cooked in larger pieces. But if you served me a bowl of just the broth? I would take it in a heart beat. I guess the broth would describe one of my obsessions of Asian cuisine: the spectacular translucent, yet delicately flavored sauces/soups/broths. In western cuisine we prefer our sauces and soups heavier, laden with flavors. It's a great contrast of cultural cuisine.

But of the three dishes, I found myself getting seconds of the tofu-beef. I have no idea why, but the dish is pretty damn good. The brisket is decent, but a little dry. So why do I get more of it? Because of the tofu...IT'S FRIED. And it is amazing. It has a firm texture on the outside, but is melted on the inside, like a nicely baked piece of brie. The sauce served with it has fantastic notes of heat that compliments the proteins. Forget the other two dishes, this stuff is amazing. This is proof positive that anything is better fried.

In any event, the trip to Tasty taught me two fairly important lessons:

First, our American understanding of Chinese food is completely off-base. There's a reason why we don't order stuff off the secret menu. We want our chicken fried and served in a hot-and-spicy sauce (a quintessential American taste). Sounds familiar? That's what General Tso's essentially is. It's like comparing Taco Bell to traditional Mexican. Is a cheesy gordita crunch really all that Mexican? The last time I went to Mexico, they weren't wrapping hard tacos with soft shells, three cheeses and bacon. But that doesn't mean the gordita crunch is any less delicious. It's taking concepts from one country and adapting them to another country's preference. American Chinese restaurants are such a success story BECAUSE they were able to adapt. We wouldn't have Chinese take-out if it wasn't for it.

Secondly, I've come to realize that I hold several unjustified opinions regarding food. I have a grudge against tofu (as explained before). Sour cream scares the hell out of me. Ditto cottage cheese. Smelly cheeses are a huge turn-off. Etc. And I've come to realize that my bias against Gruyere is not a result of taste (I've never tried it), but because Gruyere looks and smells hideous. The rind is a foot thick (exaggeration) and the smell is something straight out of a sulfur mine (another exaggeration). Same way with tofu. When I see tofu, I see a lifeless, soulless, and tasteless piece of food. There's nothing good going to come out of something that's synonymous with "tofurkey" or "tofutti." And yet here I was, eating an entire delicious plate of the stuff. Lesson learned.