 photo by KELLEY HAMBY |
BY ROGER J. PORTER |
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Golden Horse Restaurant 238 NW 4th Ave., 228-1688. Open 11 am-midnight Mondays-Thursdays, 11 am-1:30 pm Fridays-Saturdays, 11 am-11 pm Sundays. Moderate. Credit cards accepted. Children welcome. Picks: Steamed fish, crab with ginger, orange beef, Peking duck, steamed fresh bean sprouts, roast pork and oyster ceramic pot Nice touches: Crab and fish tank The unspoken scandal of the Portland food world has been the dearth of first-rate Chinese restaurants. Granted, we lack the cultural traditions of San Francisco, and Seattle's Chinese population considerably outnumbers our own. Nonetheless, there is a substantial Cantonese-speaking community here, so it's a mystery why we lack the type of restaurants that make a journey to the Chinese neighborhoods of other cities so exciting. Everyone knows that first-rate Thai cooking in Portland has increased exponentially in recent years. Why then, in the world of stir-fry, is there so little stir and such small fry? Since the demise of Uncle Chen's empire, only Legin has stepped in to fill the gap. Now Golden Horse, a compelling new restaurant in Chinatown, offers a multitude of dishes that are commonplace in southern China and its eastern coast, as well as in Hong Kong, but are seldom seen on local menus. The cooking is executed with a sizzle, and the ingredients are fresh; you sense that the kitchen is as serious as the one in Eat Drink Man Woman, the Taiwanese film that had moviegoers bolting to Chinese restaurants in droves. When I lived for a year in Hong Kong and reviewed restaurants for The South China Morning Post, my first assignment took me to a "game emporium" where I consumed roasted snake, a whole turtle, grilled ostrich and raccoon stew, only balking at bear paw and, with heavy heart, chickening out on wild civet cat. Golden Horse serves neither its namesake nor serpent, but it does offer a most delectable jellyfish, whose al dente chewiness belies the slippery texture of the saffron-hued shreds. Jellyfish seems more like a vegetable than a seafood, but it won't fool any vegan. Besides, it's served with sliced peppery smoked pork leg, which makes for a nice conversation piece as well as an intriguing starter. If you crave a bubbling ceramic pot of braised duck feet and sea cucumber, you will not be disappointed; the latter, a marine animal resembling a cucumber with short tentacles at one end, yields a gelatinous but crunchy texture with a mild flavor that absorbs the rich aromas and pungency of the duck. I nearly wept on one visit because goose gut with black bean sauce was unavailable. But bitter-melon beef assuaged my frustration. The pale jade vegetable with a slightly sour flavor melded into strips of tender beef to cut the richness of the meat and left a cooling effect in the mouth. With flecks of black bean for saltiness, this dish proved one of the most satisfying combinations of meat and vegetables I've ever experienced. But like a number of exciting dishes here, it's not for everyone. One of the great pleasures, which must be ordered a day ahead, is orange beef. Gnarly chunks of beef are fried in a blend of cloves, garlic and star anise and then stirred with orange of an almost candied concentration to create a hue crossing burnt sienna with deep pumpkin. Golden Horse nods to the North with an extravagant roasted Peking duck, which also must be ordered a day in advance. Served in the traditional way with wheat-flour pancakes, steamed and sliced hom bow, plum sauce and fresh spring onions, the duck glistens with a brightly colored and crackling skin resembling lacquered wood. Substantial chunks of tender, dark and aromatic duck meat practically fall from the bones. Another style of duck cookery at Golden Horse is known as Cantonese Chiu Chow (or Chao Zhou, as the restaurant spells it). The duck (or goose, when available) is simmered in a spicy, dark braising sauce of dried citrus peel, sugar, ginger, cinnamon and anise. It is especially wonderful at room temperature with a rice vinegar and garlic dip--ask for the already-prepared bird to be served that way. Cantonese cooking tends to be lighter than the rich fare of Beijing, where freezing winters call for a heartier cuisine. Among the most delicate of the southern dishes is the simplest, one which Golden Horse does better than anyone else in town: steamed fish, Cantonese style. On a recent visit the fish was that favorite of Asian markets, tilapia, which tastes much like catfish, and it was extremely fresh. With julienned ginger and ribbons of scallions showered over it, the taste was perfectly clean and each ingredient retained its integrity. Another interesting dish comprises chunks of geoduck lightly sautéed with an assortment of Chinese vegetables, including various kinds of choy. For a sumptuous treat nothing can match whole Dungeness crab, not braised in the familiar way with black bean sauce but, like the whole fish, steamed with ginger and green onions. This style doesn't overwhelm the subtle flavor of the meat, and the crabs even appear to plump up and yield more than usual. For these blustery winter days, ceramic-pot cooking is especially welcome. Some 20 combinations will complicate your choosing, but for a succulent assortment you can't do better than roast pork, oyster, tofu and cabbage. The clay pot allows for slow braising that keeps ingredients from disintegrating and retains their distinct flavors and textures. Vegetables are outstanding here. If Chinese mustard or fresh sautéed bean sprouts are in sight, you mustn't let them escape your grasp. Only one dish disappointed: The honey-glazed walnut shrimp are bathed in a white sauce, strangely, as if the chef were determined to marry Confucius and Escoffier. But French and Chinese cuisines, the world's two greatest, have virtually nothing in common. Cartesian cooking in Canton? Cogito ergo dim sum? Golden Horse boasts a gigantic menu, and I have a two-year plan to make my way through most of it. Given that on each of my visits countless Chinese families were voraciously devouring platter after platter, it looks as though many folks have the same splendid ambition.
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