Late in 2009, at the invitation of old friend Hasni “Jeff” Ghazali of Bentara and Central Steakhouse, I accompanied the New Haven-based “Never Miss A Meal Club” to Queens. The Never Miss A Meal Club is a passionate group of New Haven-area restaurant owners, chefs, other food professionals and their families who periodically schedule stimulating food outings.
Our destination that Sunday morning was Jade Asian Restaurant in Flushing Chinatown for a dim sum extravaganza. Jade Asian replaced popular Gum Fung a couple of years ago, but some have hailed it as a substantial upgrade.
We arrived at the restaurant about an hour later than expected, changing our reservation on the fly. We lost time due to an accident backup in Norwalk and due to circling the Flushing parking garage looking for a space.
As we crossed 39th Avenue to the restaurant, we immediately became aware of the diversity that makes Queens so much fun.
Although there were plenty of people seeking a table,
there was some seating for those who were waiting
and hope in the form of those who were leaving.
Before long, the hostess
informed us that our table was ready. We were led into the cavernous, weirdly futuristic space,
where every table was either occupied
or about to be.
Soon the members of our party were seated at two large round tables. One group was placed by a window,
while our group had a nearby interior table.
I couldn’t resist this little charmer at my table.
Nor did she have to worry about being the only child.
No sooner had we been seated than carts full of food were being wheeled to our table.
We just pointed at the steaming-hot food we wanted.
There were both traditional and more exotic dim sum offerings. We were an adventurous group, trying scores of different items, which I’ll identify to the best of my ability. So here you see clams with black bean sauce,
New Zealand mussels with mayonnaise sauce,
pork shumai,
salt shrimp,
salt-and-pepper-fried octopus
chicken tongues,
pan-fried chive cake,
siopao (baked roasted pork bun),
salt-and-pepper fried anchovies,
stewed ox tripe,
pan-fried stuffed eggplant,
sticky rice and pork,
shrimp wrapped in sticky rice,
shrimp fun rolls,
fried tofu and shrimp,
beef fun rolls,
steamed vegetarian dumplings,
fried scallops wrapped in bacon,
fresh tofu in simple syrup,
vegetarian spring rolls,
stir-fried rolled rice noodles,
shrimp-stuffed jalapeño peppers,
shrimp har gow,
glutinous rice stuffed with black sesame paste (yum),
and steamed gai lan.
Forgive me if, after the passage of some time, I’m not able to identify every item. This is some kind of sparerib dish
and this is some kind of fried tofu dish,
and the following items could be filled with just about anything.
I would welcome a comment from anyone who knows for certain what any of the mystery items is.
As esoteric as some of our orders were, we somehow missed the following: pan-fried pumpkin cake, snails with black bean sauce (which I love to cook), chicken feet with black bean sauce, black tortoise Jell-o, crispy bitter melon dumplings stuffed with sesame, sliced lotus rhizome stuffed with shrimp paste, beef tendon with chu hou sauce, and sea cucumber with duck feet.
For me, however, the single greatest pleasure may have been the durian custard tart.
Forgive my long aside on durian, but it’s one of the world’s most interesting foods. Most Americans haven’t been exposed to the bizarre, large, spiked, custard-like, southeast Asian fruit that people either love or hate. As one who is married to a Filipina who loves durian, I have tried the fruit several times. However, this was the first time I enjoyed it. Durian is famous for having a nice flavor but sewage-like smell, a description which makes little sense to a restaurant critic who thinks of the senses of taste and smell as being almost inseparable. In the Philippines, durian is generally not allowed on public transportation or in hotels due to its strong odor. At one Makati hotel, we sicced the staff on the occupants of a room whose durian was stinking up our entire corridor, and moments later, a security guard emerged holding at arm’s length a bag containing the offending item. After you eat durian, you will detect its smell coming from your pores and even in your pee. As for getting the smell off your hands, the trick apparently is to add water to the shell of the plant and wash your hands in it. My wife insists this works. Anyway, this was the first item made with durian that I ever liked unreservedly, and my wife, to whom I brought two of these pastries, was in heaven, pronouncing it the best prepared durian treat she had ever encountered.
When you dine at Jade Asian, if you’re not Asian you may feel like a “stranger in a strange land,” but the staff is actually quite welcoming and friendly.
At the end of the meal, your food will be totaled up on a stamped form as foreign as an abacus, all part of the fun.
And do we look like we were having fun?
It’s often said that the best way to judge an Asian restaurant is to see how many Asian patrons it has. Enough said.
Connecticut has had some decent dim sum restaurants in the past, but nothing approaching the variety or housemade quality of this one. Although we Nutmeggers are blessed with a vibrant restaurant scene, for some food experiences, as the members of the Never Miss A Meal Club know, one still has to leave the state.
But we weren’t done. We left Jade Asian with big smiles on our face,
then headed out into the neighborhood to forage. We wound up a few blocks away at New A & N Food Market,
where the world seemed to be passing by.
Even before we went inside, we sampled some fruits
and wondered at the number of mango types (Philippine mangos are the best, but not readily obtainable).
We headed indoors, passing exotic fruits like apple pears, mangosteens (unrelated to mangos), loquats and star fruit.
The produce was fresh and abundant, and the shoppers looked very focused.
I couldn’t resist the pomelos (related to grapefruit)
and the bitter melon (which some Filipinos cook, but which my wife incorporates in a fresh salad with tomato, onion, raw ginger, coconut vinegar and salt to taste).
However, many things a Filipino cook would seek would have to be obtained in Little Manila (Roosevelt Avenue from 63rd to 71st Streets).
I conclude with photos of some of the most visually interesting items—the denizens of the deep that occupied crates and lurked in murky tanks.
Jade Asian Restaurant, 136-28 39 Avenue, Flushing, New York, 718-762-8821