Posts Tagged ‘Sweet’

Merlos – Salvadorean Empanadas

Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010

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The Los Angeles adventure of discovering fried dough continued after sampling both a baked Argentine version and a Colombian empanada with a fried corn exterior. We arrived at Merlos and like our previous visits to other small, ethnic restaurants in the neighborhood, was surprised at the lack of customers considering it was a Friday night. During our brief visit, we did witness several customers come in a pick-up large to-go orders so I assume — and hope — the restaurant thrives on its local community for take-out.

Along with a savory, beef-stuffed empanada, we spied on the menu an empanada con leche a seemingly sweet version which we found worthy of the experiment. While the Colombian empanada was encased in the crispy, corn-based masa here the offering from El Salvador is a wheat-based pocket of fried goodness with the hearty filling meatier and more robust. Along with beef, we could detect carrots, potatoes, onions and was advised that additional seasonings include bell pepper and achiote. The exterior crust was delightfully crispy with no hint of greasiness. Served alongside was a light slaw intensely reminiscent of Japanese tsukemono; finely chopped cabbage simply dressed with slightly sweetened white vinegar. It is hard to not compare the Colombian empanada with the Salvadorean one. While the Colombian empanada’s filling was finely puréed and more subtle in its seasonings, the empanada from El Salvador had more coarsely chopped filling ingredients which made the flavors more defined and interesting.

The sweet empanada con leche — which technically could be defined as a stuffed bread or pastry — proved to be a bit of a misnomer as a fried dough, although we didn’t know it until it arrived. Not an actual dough, this was a hollowed-out plantain which had been filled with a vanilla pudding and fried. The moisture from the banana made this fried offering not as crunchy as one might like, but both my friend and I were pleasantly surprised at the simplicity of the ingredients being not too overtly sweet and quite engaging. It would have been very easy to make this teeth-achingly sweet but the simple vanilla pudding did not overpower the sweetness of the banana. Nor did the richness of the banana overwhelm the sugars in the pudding. The combination reminded me of a classic banana cream pie without the crust or meringue.

2401 Marine Ave
Gardena, CA 90247
(310) 516-7800

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Hing Lung – Chinese Donuts and more

Friday, May 21st, 2010

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Several weeks ago, my friend, Cassandra, introduced me to her friend, Sara. We were talking about my doughnut obsession and Sara, in all her exuberance, offered to show me around the joys of Chinese fried dough, something which has almost completely alluded me. We set out for Chinatown and got to our first stop, Hing Lung, a bit late; it seemed that the classic pork liver-based porridge which is served with a special fried dough was already sold out for the day. But not to fear, there was still plenty for me to try.

The first offering was a long, slender fried dough known as youtiao (油条) — approximately 2″ thick and 9″ long. Wrapped in a steamed rice noodle, it is then known as zháliǎng (炸两). This is a classic dim sum dish, garnished with sliced scallions, sesame seeds, and served in a small puddle of sweetened soy sauce. The interior fried dough was still warm from the deep frying and crunchy, with a tender, light interior. I was somewhat anticipating the dish to be soggy, but the slightly custardy dough was not limp or too dense. The golden brown exterior had a distinct, light crunch to it and an easy tooth. The steamed rice noodle provides a savory complement along with a differing textural component. Because of the fried dough, it was rich and filling.

But that didn’t stop us from enjoying a separate Chinese cruller, the tánggāo (糖糕), or “sugar cake,”  a sweet, fried food item similar in appearance to youtiao but shorter in length and rounder, somewhat like a football. We ate this plain, although I believe it was this version that is often served with the porridge, soy milk, or rice congee for breakfast. Still warm, they were shaped with a seam down the center and are designed to be torn in half lengthwise.

A little investigating revealed this parable: The Cantonese name yàuhjagwái literally means “oil-fried ghost” and, according to folklore, is an act of protest against an official who is said to have orchestrated the plot to frame the general Yue Fei, an icon of patriotism in the 1100s who fought for the Southern Song Dynasty. It is said that the food, originally took the form of two deep-fried humans and  later evolved into two figures joined  in the middle, representing Qin Hui and his wife who both had a hand in collaborating with the enemy to bring about the great general’s demise. The two sides of the youtiao symbolically represent the husband and the wife and their demise is affected by deep frying them and then after their death, separating them for all eternity by ripping them apart and consuming them.

It was a very fortunate day, Sara and Cassandra were able to get me special access to the kitchen area and photograph the station where the chefs create the dough and fry them. There is a long, flour-covered work station and trays of the dough can be seen waiting to be worked and sliced before heading to the deep fryer. Unlike the Western-style commercial fast-food deep fryers which so many McDonalds workers are accustomed to, there are no inset baskets in which the dough is placed. These men of talent carefully hold a long-handled wire strainer and extra long chopsticks to grasp and hold the dough as it is cooking. They have to be careful to not allow the dough to sink to the bottom of the cavernous vat of scalding oil. It is hot, demanding work and while appears easy, requires deft and skill. What a fabulous day to just skim the surface of Chinese fried dough. According to Sara, I’ve got a long way to go in the exploration and I can’t wait to continue.

674 Broadway
San Francisco, CA 94133
(415) 398-8838


Hing Lung on Urbanspoon