Eat Dallas: Non-white people edition

While researching the culinary scene in Dallas I stumbled upon a Chowhound thread that went completely off-topic into a discussion about getting Vietnamese food in Dallas versus New York City. It's a widely known fact that internet posting boards are the best, most accurate places for getting information, so I was intrigued by said discussion. Apparently the DFW metroplex has a large Vietnamese population, coincidentally enough, they are known to make some great Vietnamese food.To me that was reason enough to warrant some investigation, which meant getting in a friend's rental car (damn! and we were so close to making it through the trip without a car!) and heading up to the Richardson and Garland area just north of Dallas, where a large community of Asian-Americans resides.

We were headed specifically to Pho Bang, a Vietnamese restaurant located, perhaps not surprisingly, in a nondescript strip mall in Garland. Upon being seated I was happy to this had the right amount of asian-ness to it for our group. 90% of the customers were Vietnamese, always a key thing to look for in ethnic restaurants, but they still had English translations on the menu, which meant we weren't walking into a complete minefield.

First things first we decided on ordering some pho, which for the unfamiliar is a Vietnamese soup that can be customized in countless ways and provides a backbone to the cuisine of the region. It's tasty, filling, and a staple for Vietnamese restaurants. I haven't had pho enough times to consider myself an expert, but I found the offering from Pho Bang to be as good as hoped. I did leave the restaurant wondering perhaps if my pho etiquette was a little off. I have been under the belief that the bowl of pho is much like a plate of nachos, in that you just customize it how you want by throwing in all sorts of things like chili paste, sirachi, plum sauce, greens, thai basil, and making one big bowl of super soup. But casual glances around the restaurant showed some of the locals eating theirs by mixing up small side dishes of spices and sauces in which to dip the solid contents of their soup, leaving the broth pristine and in its original form. Was I creating the Vietnamese version of the Chimichanga? By throwing in a bunch of shit into a bowl of carefully crafted soup was I just ruining the balance and delicacy of the flavor? Part of me wants to say yes, but I am not sure what the proper procedure is here, or perhaps there is none at all.
But the ethical dilemma of properly consuming a soup was nothing compared to our attempts to order an appetizer for our meal. Seeing as the menu at Pho Bang offered Spring Rolls, a light, delicious favorite of mine, I suggested we try the Summer Rolls, something different but most likely similar. Our order prompted some concern from our Vietnamese waitress, who seemed to think (correctly, I might add), that we didn't know what we were ordering. After a few minutes of her repeatedly saying something in unintelligible English and tugging at the skin of her arm, we decidedly nodded that we in fact did want to order the Summer Rolls, despite not really understanding any of what she had been trying to tell us.

"Pork Skin" was the magic translation, lost in a sea of accents and flesh grabbing. Honestly I don't remember exactly how we figured that one out, but our rolls arrived in true Vietnamese fashion, stuffed with shredded (probably boiled?) pork skin. The rubbery strings of skin snapped back and whipped your lips with each bite, a sensation unlike any I had ever had before. It was most akin to eating an egg roll with roughly chopped rubber bands in it. The rolls themselves had a pungent taste that was far from agreeable with my Western taste buds, and no amount of dipping in the bowl of sweet and sour sauce that accompanied them could dull the flavor. I did my best to finish the roll, determined 1) to be adventurous and eat something I did not like right away, and 2) to not let the waitress see that we should have heeded her warnings. My dining companion Mike perhaps summed it up best by describing them as "one of the most 'ethnic' things I have ever eaten".

But the adventure is part of the thrill of it all, and in the end we were rewarded with a delicious, authentic (at least as far as I can tell) Vietnamese meal. It was a small way to enjoy another side of Dallas, and a style of food that's not as readily available to me in Milwaukee.

This post devolved more into an exploration of Vietnamese cuisine than I was expecting, but perhaps that is much more interesting than our trip to Taqueria El Si Hay. This place was just a classically good Mexican taco shop in the Oak Cliff neighborhood of Dallas. All I can say is that when you find a solid place like that you just have to appreciate that they know what they are doing. Nothing I've never had before, but just about as good as I've had elsewhere. In fact their salsa verde was pretty kick ass, and had that rich color that I can never seem to achieve with mine. I have thought that maybe its because I don't cook mine down enough, but it could also just be that my gringo blood will never allow me to achieve perfection in Mexican cooking.

And on top of everything else it had the classic signs of good ethnic food. We were there at 2 in the afternoon, it was packed, and 90% of the customers were Mexican.

COA Milwaukee

One of my favorite cuisines, both to eat and to cook, is Mexican. It's a cuisine based on flavorful, inexpensive ingredients that were accessible to the masses. It's full of dishes that take lots of time, care, and expertise to make, yet are still made best by little old grandmas (abuelitas) rather than by professional chefs. In terms of bang for your buck, I don't think you can do any better than some good Mexican. I love Mexican. You love Mexican. Everyone loves Mexican.

Now, when you think Mexican you usually envision some hole in the wall taqueria complete with nostalgic pictures of ole Mexico and red, white and green themed everything. You definitely don't think of some trendy, modern sit down restaurant with servers dressed in all black, situated in a new "mixed development" mall in suburban Wisconsin. But this is exactly what COA in Glendale is. The decor speaks almost nothing of traditional Mexican, and the location screams fauxburban. Yet on the front, right above the entrance is a sign that says "The Heart ofMexican Street Food". What? I don't want to generalize too much, but this place had all the signs of the places I love to hate. In short, I was ready to walk into the place, order their crappy food and then rip them apart for being expensive, inauthentic, and generally just trying too hard.


But that all fell apart once I took a bite of my carne asada taco, which to my disappointment, was pretty solid. The meat was well cooked and flavorful, and the toppings, while a little more extravagant than you would normally find at a taqueria(the roasted jalapeno was a nice touch though), were still fairly authentic. Aside from being served with a minuscule slice of lime that no self respecting Mexican would find acceptable they actually did a pretty good job. Damn, and I was so ready to hate this place too. On the flip side, my dining companion ordered a lamb torta that did not meet the same standards. I was intrigued to see the lamb offering on the menu, as it's not something you see very often in Mexican cooking, especially in Mexican street food. Perhaps there's a reason as the overcooked lamb was rubbery and very off putting. I think we both decided to stick with the tacos next time around.

I guess this post turned into a sort of restaurant review, in that I think COA does a pretty good job for what they are. They take some inspiration from Mexican street food, glamour it up a bit, tack on a couple bucks on the price and some shiny decor and call it a restaurant. It's not a bad concept, and if it gets more people to accept eating corn tortillas and tacos with no cheddar cheese then perfect. My real point is just that I'm struggling with the lack of hispanic culture on the north side of Milwaukee. In Chicago you almost expect there to be a taqueria on every other street corner, even in the nicer parts of town. And if you live in the right neighborhoods, you can find a Mexican grocery store stuffed with fresh produce a prices a fraction of what your local conglomerate super market offers. Unfortunately I cannot say the same for Milwaukee.

It's not that there is not a sizable Hispanic population here, it's just that its more concentrated into one area of town, and that area unfortunately is neither where I live nor work. I would kill for a good neighborhood taqueria somewhere around me, and if I've picked up any Hispanic readers in Milwaukee then please make this happen. And if you live next to a taqueria in Chicago, or where ever, please savor and appreciate what you have, even if it's not the best one ever. The thing about them in the states is that while they're not always fantastic, they are rarely bad, and usually a great source for cheap, convenient meals.