If you’re wary of bacon but still need a heaping dose of pork to get
your morning started, you have other options. Dim sum, a sort of
Chinese equivalent to the classic greasy sausage-bacon-and-eggs
American breakfast, is just as pork filled and far more satisfying.
Despite everything you’ve heard about steaming carts of chicken feet
and entrails, dim sum need not be an intimidating experience for the
uninitiated. It’s simple: Sit down at a table; pour yourself a cup of
tea; wait for carts loaded with bite-size dumplings, pastries, and
barbecued meats to roll by; politely point, gesture, and look hungry.
The experience is wholly different from any hangover-filled Sunday
breakfast you’ve ever experienced—more like hailing a cab or
signaling an airplane’s landing—but it’s not difficult to
master.
You can’t walk through Seattle’s International District on a weekend
without practically tripping over a restaurant serving dim sum, but
there are a few places that stand out from the pack. House of
Hong (409 Eighth Ave S, 622-7997) is one of the busiest dim
sum spots in the ID. On weekends, the restaurant is almost always
packed, but there’s rarely a long wait for a table in the cavernous
main room.
House of Hong’s kitchen has had its ups and downs over the years,
but it appears to be back in form. The shu mai ($3.05)—pork, shrimp, and mushrooms, wrapped in thin dough,
steamed, and topped with crab roe—are plump and juicy. The
hum bao ($2.50)—like a barbecued-pork-filled
doughnut—are crispy and sweet. Chinese broccoli ($5.45) is salty,
delicious, and one of the few vegetables you’ll see float by on a cart.
And House of Hong’s fist-sized, ginger-spiked pot stickers
($3.35)—pork, shrimp, and cabbage pan-fried in a perfectly crispy
yet chewy dough wrapper—are arguably the best in the city.
Everything comes on small trays or plates, in groups of three or four,
for a few bucks—so you can pick and choose and not feel ripped
off if you pick out something you hate.
House of Hong is probably one of the more accessible spots for dim
sum newbies. The staff is helpful and patient with picky
eaters—they probably won’t even offer you chicken feet—but
the food is considerably greasier and pricier than a number of places
in the ID.
If House of Hong is beginner’s dim sum, Jade Garden (424 Seventh Ave S, 622-8181) is the logical next step. Jade Garden’s
dim sum arsenal goes a little bit deeper than House of Hong’s, and the
menu seems to put an emphasis on seafood, specifically shrimp. Aside
from the carts of traditional dim sum fare, waiters wander the room
offering up plates of shrimp with walnuts, shrimp-stuffed peppers,
shrimp and onion wrapped in pastry dough, shrimp in shrimp sauce,
etc.
But there’s more to be found at Jade Garden than just shrimp. Again,
for two or three bucks a plate, you can pick out a steaming bowl of
spareribs, which are spicy and meaty, if a bit too sweet; heaping
plates of perfectly cooked clams, unfortunately drowning in sauce; and
peanut and pork dumplings, which are lightened up by a surprisingly
powerful cilantro kick. Jade Garden also makes a mean har
gow—steamed shrimp dumplings—which are light, not
overly shrimpy, and not gummy as they can be elsewhere.
Jade Garden is fairly cheap—two people can fill up for around
$20—but it’s often busy and can take a while to get a table.
Outside of the ID, there aren’t a lot of dim sum options—only
one that I know of—but Chiang’s Gourmet (7845
Lake City Way NE, 527-8888) is worth the trip for a different take on
dim sum. Chiang’s serves “northern-style” dim sum—rather than the
Hong Kong–style that you get at most restaurants—but
sometimes change is good. Chiang’s dim sum is made to order—you
pick things off a menu instead of chasing down carts of food—and
while the food takes a bit longer than most places, the lack of
clattering carts makes the atmosphere a bit more relaxing.
While you won’t see shu mai on the menu, Chiang’s still has the
standard bao, or filled buns. Leek buns ($2.75) are moist and
oniony, although not particularly complex, but the “crispy
biscuit-wrapped pork with white pepper” ($2.95) is wonderfully
messy—the flaky pastry crust disintegrates while you
eat—and the pork meatball inside is surprisingly spicy. The
dumplings in sweet chili sauce ($6.95) are floppy and bland—the
sauce is better than the dumplings—but any failings are
completely made up for by Chiang’s poetry-
worthy pan-fried
noodles. The noodles are thick, ropy, and chewy, covered in a salty
soy-based sauce and studded with greens and slivers of meat (beef,
pork, or chicken).
While Chiang’s may be out of the way, and its menu may be limited
when compared to other dim sum haunts, you will not find a better
noodle anywhere else. It’s worth the drive.
