My sister Anna and her husband Carl are visiting from Delaware for a brief vacation. It's been a long time since Anna and I were a couple of kids navigating the intricate maze of grime, grit and profound memories of New York City of the late
1970s. The first night they were here, the three of us walked around my neighborhood sussing out a parking spot that wouldn't require frequent moves to dodge morning street cleaning rules. It was dark and quiet as we headed East on foot in this Cuban family neighborhood. A bodega we passed had their garbage neatly piled in dark bags in front of the store. The subtle smell of smoke infused paper and produce immediately brought me back to the Red Apple grocery store in Chelsea that was effected by the blackout of 1977. It was boarded up, but still prey to lootings, and Anna and I were not going to miss out on the opportunity for free candy. I'm not sure if guilt or delayed planning accounted for our grand cache being a case of cherry Luden's cough drops, each tinged with natural smoke flavoring. Tonight we walked down to Amsterdam and back, finding no parking spaces. Passing the bodega for the second time, Anna commented, 'That smell reminds me of that store that burned down.' I was shocked she had the same response.
The next day I had the brilliant idea to include the Wooleyhans in on the vegetarian reviewing process. I picked Vegetarian Dim Sum House, a basic, fairly-priced Chinese restaurant that I'd been to once before and really enjoyed. Neither Carl nor Anna are vegetarians, but both were willing participants. We arrived to the no-frills decor at 5:30 in the evening, with only one other table of customers. The young hostess greeted us with a blank expression and started herding us to a table as she asked how many we were. Accustomed to Southern hospitality (at least by New York standards), I could read from my sister's body language that she was insulted at the chilly reception we received. As we took our seats, I reassured her that other reviews I had read of this place agreed that the service was indifferent. As Anna leafed through the extensive menu, her appetite took precedence over being annoyed at the hostess, and her smile started sneaking up on her face (Anna has the warmest smile when she's feeling at ease). While Anna and I struggled to pinpoint our perfect food selections, Carl sat contentedly with his menu closed. 'You already know what you're getting?' I asked, a little jealous of his decisiveness. 'I'm getting the special.' There was an $8.95 special scotch taped to the inner front menu cover featuring vegetarian roast pork with honey and vegetables. I kept an encouraging smile plastered on my face as I nodded in agreement, but secretly wanted to convert him to the evils of mixing sweet and savory foods. Anna settled on hot and spicy bean curd with mixed vegetables for $9.95, and I ordered something similar with dried bean curd for the same price. To be daring and assist future readers of this website, we also ordered two appetizers- lotus root cakes for $2.95 and vegetable spring rolls for the same price.
The appetizers, though generic and greasy in appearance, were quite a hit. Anna commented that the lotus cakes tasted like shepherd pie, and all three of us couldn't give the spring rolls more praise. We debated about the ingredient in the cakes that tasted like mashed potatoes. I sensed it was taro. As the hostess walked passed our table, Carl said in a gentle voice, 'Is that mashed potatoes in there?' Without looking at us, she answered a perfunctory 'Yes'. As Anna finished it off, she said to herself, 'Bad customer service', and shook her head. I tried to capture the moment:
Carl's special arrived first. The dish looked a lot more appealing than Anna and I had anticipated, and after tasting a bite, we were converted to the merits of fake pork, and determined to be more flexible in our long standing flavor mixing prejudices. Carl and I both thought the vegan pork tasted uncannily like pork. After a few more bites, he concluded that the consistency was too uniform to be real pork. Carl is one of the most skilled analyzers I have ever met, and would make an excellent restaurant reviewer himself. Here's Carl and his covetous fake pork:
Anna ordered a wonton soup too at some point, and was very disappointed in the whole bowl. When her unexpectedly large plate of bean curd and veggies arrived, she became a little overwhelmed with the mass of food. As she tasted her first bite of her entree, the blandness of the dish continued her growing pile of grievances with this restaurant. Enjoying my own version, I offered her to try some. She took one bite and proclaimed it was blander than hers. Out of hunger, she continued eating unhappily. After a few more minutes of noble attempts at bonding with her food, she announced that this was exactly like eating a big bowl of oatmeal- it just doesn't disappear.
I felt for her, but my appetite was not effected by the reminders of the lack of flavors in my dish- I simply added a few teaspoons of hot pepper oil and soy sauce, and was quite content. Here's my dried bean curd dish, which I noticed resembled raw chestnuts, but tasted more like chewy sponges- but in a good way.
Our traditional group photo reflects the various levels of satisfaction with this establishment:
There was too much going on for me to remember the total of our bill, but it was reasonable, and I personally will continue frequenting this place.
The Nitty Gritty: Vegetarian Dim Sum House, 24 Pell St., New York, NY
Our Ratings: Food: 3.5 STARS
Service: 3.3 STARS
Atmosphere: 3 STARS
