Eat, Drink + Be Merry. Food, Travel, Photography, Design + Music in Los Angeles and Other Parts of the Earth.

For the last few years, I’ve sort of created my own routine whenever I was in Little China – to you that’s San Gabriel Valley, California. I started frequenting those $15-an-hour foot massages that are strewn along every major artery in SGV. After each massage, I would be hungry and grab something to eat after – what I call my “SGV happy meal”. It’s easy to identify these massage parlors – tiny shops with tinted windows and a LED-lit foot sign usually located within strip malls. For those that are curious about it, NO, there’s no dirty business going on, but rather a business that thrives on hard-working Chinese immigrants that work mainly off generous tippers. A bit sad in my opinion, but I’m sure, a better experience than being in the homeland. But I noticed as more $15-an-hour massage parlors started appearing, the better the food started tasting in SGV. For a while, the trend in SGV was the banh mi sandwich explosion, Hong Kong western-style cafes and restaurants that had some sort of television-station acronym or nautical theme. To be honest, it seemed as though SGV had plateaued. But naturally, the Chinese that moved into SGV brought along the food they enjoyed eating and we started to see an increase in Hunan, Yunnan and Sichuan-style restaurants and SGV, was fresh and clean again.

A few months ago, I was walking out of a $15-an-hour massage joint in Rosemead, just next door to one of my usual wonton noodle stops, Noodle Boy, and noticed two Terracotta soldier statues outside one of the shops. What I thought was another Chinese furniture shop was actually the latest culinary gift delivered from Mainland China. I had never heard of the Shaan Xi province, but figured the terracotta soldiers laid some reference to the army’s origin and it was probably located in the region of China where most of the tasty Chinese food is from. The kind laden with fiery chiles and drenched in prickly ash oil. It makes sense since Shaan Xi is wedged in between Sichuan, Chongqing and Hunan – not to be confused by its eastern neighbor Shan Xi. I stuck my head into the restaurant and sure enough, was hit hard with the aroma of wok-fried red peppercorns and prickly ash oil and something very typical of the Northern and Central regions of China – lamb. In addition, there are quite a few dishes offered here that are made with dough. It makes a lot of sense since, according to Wikipedia, Shaan Xi was one of the major hubs along the Silk Road which has seen many merchants and sojourners from Europe and the Middle East – thus the Islamic influence on Chinese cooking. Safe to say, Shaan Xi cuisine is heavy on lamb and bread-like objects.

I was lucky enough to meet David, one of the young servers here, and I was lucky that he spoke English. If you can’t read Chinese, the menu is pretty much useless. Instead, use your neighbor’s table as a visual menu. Look for the table with the most hardcore looking Chinese… usually a group of 4-5 men drinking tea and talking really loud. Fanny packs or man-bags as accessories beef up the “hardcore Chinese” status. David suggested I tried out the lamb soup noodles and the lamb “burger”. Always walk up to the sneeze-guard deli and pick out your favorite side dishes. I recommend the cold-sliced chili oil beef, garlic/chili seaweed, tendons, pig ears and garlic cucumbers. This will hold you over until the main event.

David came back about ten minutes later with the lamb soup noodles. Lamb-lovers, you’re in for something very special. The first thing I could think about was just how “lamby” it was. Even if I just stared at it without taking a bite, I would be content because it smelled awesome. The lamb was obviously braised for 2-3 hours and it was simply melt-in-your-mouth tender – reminding me of delicious pastrami meat. The chef had quickly wok-fried some chopped leeks, wood-ear fungus and bok choy giving it a nice char. Slightly oily yet it added some wok-flavor to the simple stock.

But the best part of this dish was the Chef’s mastery in noodle-making. We’ve all seen hand-cut noodles and knife-shaved noodles in SGV, but this style of noodle is stretched versus being cut. David explained from a ball of dough and crafty hands, the chef ends up with ONE piece of noodle that is nearly 2-3 feet long. He then takes the whole “sash” of noodles and drops it in to a pot of boiling water for a few minutes. The result of high heat naturally “rips” apart some of the noodles and it’s added to a bowl of piping hot broth. I’ve been here a few times already and a few times have pulled the noodles out as high as two feet before cutting up with the chopsticks! The texture is simply divine – something I’ve never tasted. It almost reminds of a thicker, velvet-like lasagna sheet. God, so good – look at how thin the sheet of noodle is! A few dollops of the Shaan Xi-style chili oil makes this one of my favorite soup noodles this year. I ate everything but the bowl and chopsticks. And even pondered bringing some home for Jeni. Most of the other diners are eating this huge plate of wok-fried chicken and chili dish with noodles – and it looks amazing but you’ll need at least 3 hungry people to help you out. As for the lamb “burger”, it was a bit dry but nothing a mixture of soy sauce, vinegar and Shaan Xi chili oil couldn’t save.

I love JTYH’s lamb soup noodles but after having Shaan Xi Gourmet, it looks like SXG 1 – JTYH 0. Get your $15-an-hour massage next door and “finish off” at Shaan Xi Gourmet for a very, very “happy ending”. Thanks for reading.

Other Mainland Chinese restaurant recommendations:
Chung King, San Gabriel
Hunan Chili King, San Gabriel
Lucky Noodle King, San Gabriel
Yunnan 168, San Gabriel

*March 2012 Note*
The chef at Chinatown’s New Dragon has been experimenting with the filling for his wontons. I’ve expressed some concern with the family that this new recipe contradicts the positive review I’ve given them. I hope that if you do try it, that you do find it enjoyable. Really hoping that Chef Lau goes back to his original recipe.

If you ask any immigrant in America what they miss the most from their homeland, you’re likely to hear: family, city life, monuments and of course food. But if you ask any Chinese person from Hong Kong what they miss the most from their homeland, you’re not going to hear all of that. You’re only going to hear one thing: wontons. I don’t know what it is, but if you’re from Hong Kong, you will know what I mean. The Chinese are simply picky about their food, that’s for sure, and they will all claim to have the ultimate palate. This applies to even the poorest of Chinese who will ensure that even their most basic meal of bone soup, meat scraps and day-old vegetables will be as delicious as a meal at an expensive restaurant. This same high-standard applies to wontons, which people from Hong Kong are proud of. All people from Hong Kong will tell you that nothing compares to the wontons in Hong Kong. Wontons are the one thing that can conjure up childhood memories and in some cases, instigate a loud, uncomfortable debate as I have seen happen before. As long as I can remember, my mother has been raving about the high standards in wonton-making in Hong Kong. She reminisces about a time when she could literally walk to any street hawker on the corner for a solid bowl of wonton noodle soup for only $.50. She distinctly remembers the “bite” and “bounce” of each wonton and the slippery, pleasant texture of the thin wonton wrapper. She describes a soup that is full of umami from hours of boiling slightly charred dried flounder, shrimp shells and pork bones. Thin, golden noodles that are by standard, cooked al-dente and require a more powerful bite to break through than your standard egg noodle. But at that time, I wasn’t interested in wontons. I was young and cared for nothing more than a happy meal with a cheap, plastic toy.

It wasn’t until I was 10 years old, that I finally got to experience the one thing that connected my mother to her Hong Kong roots. I remember walking with my family through the labyrinth of Hong Kong’s alleyways, which comprised of shops, restaurants and various businesses. I remember all of the various odors, good, chemical-like and putrid, that filled the streets. The sounds of indistinct chatter and honking taxis. Sensory overload for sure. But once we arrived at the wonton noodle shop, our senses were reset and our attention shifted to what we were about to eat. My parents walked up to the chef who was usually positioned at the front window of the restaurant to attract “window-eaters”. They ordered a few bowls of wontons and like a machine, the cook started making the bowls. At these typical noodle eateries, the window station usually consists of two huge cauldrons of boiling hot water: one to cook the noodles and one to cook wontons, dumplings or fish/beef balls. The flour from the noodle run-off can effect the way a wonton is cooked so there are separate pots. The windows were sometimes a bit foggy from the hot steam and you could barely make out a person cooking behind. The cook quickly grabbed a few strands of noodles and dipped them in one of the pots for no more than 30 seconds and gracefully laid the noodles in a bowl. He then grabbed a few sphere-shaped wontons and threw them in a strainer and dipped the strainer into the other pot of boiling water for no more than 2 mins and shook off the excess water. The steaming wontons were placed in the bowl and topped with a beautiful, dark brown broth and garnished with chopped, yellow chives (gau wong 韭黄) – not scallions. All of this happened in under 5 minutes and cost no more than $2 that time.

Did I forget to mention just how serious and obsessive my mother is with her wontons? We headed back to the table and began to eat. But before I could dig in, I was introduced to my mother’s ritual of wonton-eating that turned a bowl of soup noodles into a 3-dish affair. I watched as she removed all the noodles from the bowl and placed them on a separate plate so that the noodles would not get soggy. She then seasoned the noodles with red vinegar and chili oil. What she was really doing was pushing all the “distractions” such as noodles aside. Now in her bowl, were floating wontons that had about 10 more minutes of existence. Again she grabbed a bottle of red vinegar, dyed the soup red and topped the soup off with a tablespoon of the house-made chili oil. The soup was no longer a dark brown, but a bright red concoction with specks of burnt red chili flakes and tiny pools of orange chili oil. On another plate, she made her “dipping sauce” by adding a few tablespoons of chili oil and again, dousing it with red vinegar. It was completely natural for her to do this with zero hesitation. She would eat a wonton, drink some soup and eat some noodles. Repeating this until the bowl had not a single drop left. I basically copied what she did and enjoyed my first bowl of wontons. It was truly amazing.  I would wait another 11 years before my next bowl of Hong Kong wontons and it wasn’t until my most recent visit in 2008 that I really cherished the Hong Kong-style wonton and fully took in what my mother had obsessed over since she left for the United States in 1972. I ate this nearly everyday for 10 days straight.

But what makes a Hong Kong-style wonton versus wontons from Shanghai or Taiwan? Most wontons from Northern China or Taiwan seem to be heavy on pork, maybe even consisting only of pork. They are of course delicious in their own right, but not exactly what I’m looking for. It is easier to find an authentic bowl of Vietnamese beef noodle soup or Chinese beef noodle soup here in the U.S. than it is to find an authentic bowl of wontons. The Hong Kong wonton is a beautiful marriage of pork and shrimp in a neatly wrapped wonton skin – almost 50/50. The mixture is brought together by corn starch and in some cases, egg whites. It is hand mixed with usually a pair of chopsticks versus an electric mixer. The process of hand mixing also allows air to get incorporated into the filling to create a slight “bounce” in the final cooked product. The longer you mix, the finer the filling is and “bouncier” it is – it is good not to over mix the filling as you don’t want to overwork pizza dough. It is also boiled just long enough for the pork and shrimp to be cooked about 75% through. Inside, there is a nice subtle taste of white pepper and dried flounder-infused juices from the broth.  A good cook will know just by looking at the wrapper if the wonton is overcooked. I believe the wonton was first brought down to Southern China from the North in a heavy-on-pork variation. But it was the Chiu Chow Chinese who, with their access to seafood, added the touch of shrimp into the mix. The usage of dried fish or squid in soup is also a critical attribute in Chiu Chow cuisine. Such a simple thing, yet only decades of Chinese culinary technique and experimentation can yield such a beautiful dish.

Naturally, what does one do back home in Los Angeles after eating an amazing bowl of wontons in Hong Kong? He or she searches for something comparable. And almost always, it is a depressing, futile effort. We have an amazing resource/community in Southern California called San Gabriel Valley and it is the largest Chinese enclave in the US. Nowadays, it is also English for “Mainland China”.  But even the SGV is lacking in the wonton department – I’ve done my research and even defaulted to my mom for final judgment. Most often times, she responds with a head shake haha.

My mother’s ancient ritual of removing the noodles from the bowl. Thanks for passing on the pickiness trait.

How to Enjoy Wonton Noodles
I’m not the Noodle Whore for no reason and I owe the “noodle promiscuity” to both my father and mother. I grew up on noodles, I make soup noodles at home, I dream of noodles, eat noodles 3-4 times a week and I will go in peace with a bowl of noodles in my coffin. And I just want to make sure that you enjoy wonton noodles the right way.  Totally fine by me if you eat it as is.

Set up your wonton dipping sauce.
Not having dipping sauce is like Chris Tucker said in the movie Friday, “you got ham but no burger”. Or like sushi with no soy sauce and wasabi. In a bowl or plate, add 1 big tablespoon of chili oil and 2 tablespoons of red vinegar. If you see Sriracha, Tapatio or white vinegar on the table, leave right away – it’s a wonton imposter!

Ordering your noodles.
I can’t stand it when noodles or pasta are overcooked. It’s the rain on a parade. It’s the 3rd wheel/best friend that interrupts your hot date night. Always let the server know that you want your noodles “chewier or harder”. The Japanese are so technical that they even allow you to specify your noodle texture in ramen (Shin Sen Gumi). So why not do the same with your wontons? In Cantonese Chinese, you can say “meen yiew song dee“ which literally means “I’d like my noodles chewier”. In Mandarin Chinese, you can say “mian yao QQ yi dian“ which literally means “I’d like my noodles a bit more chewy”. “QQ” (pronounced keew-keew) is a term used to signify chewiness, especially in Mainland and Taiwanese cuisine. Trust me, this makes all the difference.

Customizing your broth.
If you ever use soy sauce in your soup, my mother might come busting through the walls like the Kool-Aid Man on a pound of heroine and spank you silly with a feather duster. If you have to use soy sauce in your wonton noodles, you’re probably at a bastardized Chinese place. Again, get up quietly and leave. Really the only thing I suggest for your soup is a little white pepper, red vinegar and some chili oil. Resist the Sriracha, please!

Eat your wontons right away.
While I was shooting the food for this posting, I probably delayed eating for nearly 3 minutes. If the soup is piping hot, 3 minutes is more than enough time for your noodles to go to Soggytown. And it really sucks. Wontons don’t have much of a threshold for sogginess, so eat them right away for “premium fantasy”.

Wontons with or without soup?
At most places you can order your wontons in soup or what we say in Cantonese Chinese, “gon low“, which literally means “dry mixed”. Usually, if you order it this way, you get a dollop of oyster sauce on the noodles and eat the wontons naked. I was never into this style of wontons and definitely prefer the watery version. To me wontons and oyster sauce are like rival gangs.

Wontons and wonton-like objects in Los Angeles
Until Cathay Pacific offers a reasonable price for a roundtrip ticket to Hong Kong, you might have to settle with these places. I’ve given up trying to find the ultimate wonton shop but have found some places definitely worth checking out or not. Here are my thoughts on a few Los Angeles wonton eateries.

Noodle Boy, Rosemead.
You may have had Chef Andrew Yu’s wontons before if you’ve eaten at Wonton Time. A few years ago, it closed and since then been replaced by yet another permutation of a wonton noodle shop called The Congee. Yu has re-opened in the back of a strip mall in Rosemead. One look at Chef Yu’s short spiky hair with pig tail and I knew he was from Hong Kong – it’s the standard young-guy hairstyle in Hong Kong.  That haircut may not get you the ladies but at least you exude authenticity. But haircut aside, Yu definitely makes a solid bowl of wonton noodles. When I first walked in, I was hit with the overpowering smell of dried flounder in the broth – a great sign. The clientele were surely Cantonese-Chinese people and almost all were eating wonton noodles. Another good sign is old Chinese people dining as they are THE most picky and experienced of all Chinese, self-appointed food critics. Yu’s soup is solid and absolutely delicious. The noodles are cooked al dente. The only thing I don’t understand is the wonton itself. It is massive and almost 100% made of shrimp – like 3-4 pieces of shrimp inside. Yu cooks it beautifully with a good amount of bite but the wonton ratio itself is off as there needs to be some pork. Still, this place may be the best in SGV.

The Congee, Alhambra.
This was formerly known as Wonton Time, Chef Yu’s previous wonton noodle shop. Before Yu re-surfaced, this was the prime location for wontons. Unfortunately this place is pretty average, but still better than places like Sam Woo. They also serve massive wontons like Noodle Boy. The soup doesn’t really have that dried flounder taste.

Noodle Bistro, San Gabriel – CLOSED.
My mom had introduced this to me and told me that it was “okay”, which I took to mean that it was actually good. The first time I went there with my mom and ordered up. The waitress saw how particular she was in her requests and made sure the chef was aware that he was about to cook wontons for the Chinese version of Tom Colicchio. And it was great, everything was on point. But something happened a few months later as I returned. My mom not being there, a chef change, an overall bad day? It wasn’t good at all. The wontons were heavy on pork and even had a really thick, dark-yellow siu mai-like wrapper – not normal. Well, you couldn’t try this anyway since it’s now closed.

Happy Harbor, Alhambra
Upon walking in to this place, I immediately thought I was in Hong Kong. The staff, clientele and decor exuded “Hong Kong”. Most of the diners were eating steamed rice rolls (cheung fun), porridge and Chinese donuts. Although wonton noodles are on the menu, it didn’t seem to be the main hit here. I went ahead and tried it anyway. Looking at it, it looked promising. The soup was OK but missed that seafood umami note. The wontons were nice in size with a decent amount of pork and shrimp but again something was missing. It wasn’t bad nor was it memorable. I’d go with Noodle Boy again.

Wonton Forest, City of Industry – CLOSED.
I never got to try this before it closed last year. But I had heard from many people that it was decent. Looking at photos of the wontons itself on blogs, I can tell the mixture of pork and shrimp seems right on but of course, it comes down to the taste. Fans of Wonton Forest, I’d like to hear your eulogy.

Harlam’s Kitchen, Rosemead.
Tucked inside a supermarket food court is Harlam’s Kitchen. When I first saw this, I was stoked that the word “wonton” was in the Chinese business name. But this place was a little bit better than Sam Woo. Simply put, there wasn’t much love put in it.

Hong Kong Cafes and Sam Woo-Like Restaurants, SGV.
Like Chinese beef noodle soup, wontons are a common staple in Hong Kong Western-style cafes and Sam Woo-like restaurants. The menus are so extensive that it really is impossible for the cooks to ensure quality in every dish. To me, these are the coldest, heart-less bowls of wontons. Soggy wontons, soggy noodles and universal chicken broth. At these establishments, speed is the essence, not quality. If there is a particular cafe you know of, I’d be up to trying it out.

Vietnamese and Chiu Chow Chinese Restaurants
Yes, the Chiu Chow Chinese had a lot to do with the Hong Kong-style wonton but like Sam Woo, these restaurants feature so many different things on their menu and it simply isn’t their forté like beef or fish ball soup noodles are. Vietnamese restaurants that serve “hu tieu wonton” are simply offering their version of the Chiu Chow wonton. In these establishments, they love using the dark, yellow wrappers and the wonton fillings seem to be heavy on pork and black pepper. Still tasty of course!

New Dragon Chinese Restaurant, Chinatown.
But then God shined his rays on a tiny, hole-in-the-wall called New Dragon Chinese Restaurant. In my continuous search for food in the wasteland of bastardized Chinese restaurants and tourist knick-knack shops known as Chinatown, I was lucky to stumble across this place. It’s true that if you look hard enough, you can find things and I think I’ve definitely found some hidden gems like my former favorite, New Kamara, Buu Dien, Mien Nghia and Hoan Kiem. The thing is, I wouldn’t have found this if I didn’t know how to read Chinese as the English name has nothing to do with the Chinese name. It may be the New Dragon Chinese restaurant to you, but to Chinese people it is known literally as “Wonton Dynasty”. I drove by one day and decided to give it a shot since the name itself was a bold statement.

I’ll admit I wasn’t interested once I stepped into the restaurant. Bad decor, a lot of jurors are on their lunch break, color photos of beef & broccoli on the wall and a fish tank with two puny, sickly lobsters. If I asked the waitress in English what she recommended, she probably would have suggested beef & broccoli. But instead, I asked in Chinese and she responded with, “wonton noodles”. You may not know this, but some restaurants will suggest dishes to you based on your ethnicity – they’re judgmental like that haha. “Wonton noodles, noodles extra chewy please,” I said. I learned that the chef is originally from Guangzhou, China and moved to Hong Kong to become a chef. Chef Lau moved to Los Angeles in 1985 and has been cooking in various kitchens throughout Los Angeles.

Left to right: my dipping sauce on a separate plate and munching on tasty, wok-fried pea sprouts in fermented fish sauce.

And finally, my wonton noodles arrived. Looking at it, the dish looked awesome. I liked that the wontons weren’t massive. Though they were not the typical sphere-shape, I was liking this guerilla, unconventional style of wrapping wontons. The soup was piping hot and the noodles were cooked as ordered. I first tried the soup and it was excellent, with Noodle Boy’s slightly better. A great hint of the dried flounder, not too salty and not too sweet. And then I bit into the wontons… although they weren’t as authentic looking as Noodle Boy’s, the taste was quite similar to that I’ve had in Hong Kong. The wontons were small in comparison to Noodle Boy’s, but the ratio of pork and shrimp was good and had a nice “bite” to it. And most importantly, there was that perfect amount of dried flounder taste and white pepper. There was no overpowering taste of ground pork for once. The skins itself were so slippery and toothsome. And I really enjoyed this.

And I leave you with a ridiculously large, extreme close-up of the wonton in hopes that you’ll get up soon to go try this. Look, even the wonton shed a tear because it will never be a real-deal Hong Kong wonton. To date, I think I’ve been here at least 20 times and have gotten a dozen friends into it. But I’m afraid to send my mom here as I know what she’ll say – “it’s not like Hong Kong”. Though some days Chef Lau is on, sometimes he’s off. Sometimes there’s another cook making my wontons because I can see Chef Lau reading his newspaper. And almost always, the other cooks are overcooking the noodles so make sure you request chewy noodles. But overall, this is what I’ve come to like because like many other Hong Kongers, we yearn for the real thing which we can’t get. So until my next trip to Hong Kong, this will do. Give New Dragon a shot and enjoy these comforting, almost-Hong Kong-but-not-really wontons. Oh yeah, order a plate of garlic Morning glory, Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce or pea sprouts with fermented fish sauce. Chef Lau is a very good cook and if I’m not in the mood to drive to SGV for Cantonese food, this definitely does the trick over Full House and Master Chef. Thanks for reading.

New Dragon Chinese Restaurant
924 N Hill St
Los Angeles, CA 90012
(213) 626-6050
Monday – Sunday 10 am – 10 pm
Credit cards are amazingly accepted

I first fell in love with this noodle dish known as “Thai Boat Noodle soup” after my father introduced it to me back in the 1990s. We ate it at this place, if some of you may remember, Noodle World, which at that time was actually decent. It was the joyous union of two of my favorite noodle soups, Chinese beef noodle soup and Vietnamese pho. From the Chinese beef noodle soup, you have the prominent usage of five spice powder, star anise and cinnamon sticks in a dark soy sauce-tainted broth. From pho, you have the usage of offals such as tripe, liver and stomach and thin, flat rice noodles (banh pho). Then there’s something else in here that puts this noodle dish in a league of its own. For some, this could make or break the dish: beef blood. But don’t close this window just yet, the introduction of animal blood is nothing recent. Centuries ago, maybe even to this day, the French used it to thicken soups and stews like boeuf bourguignon. The Argentines, Paraguayans and Uruguayans use it heavily in their delicious blood sausage, morcilla. This ingredient was almost treated like a “wine” or a “flavor enhancer/thickener”. And I promise you that you wouldn’t even know it was in your bowl of noodles.

Pa Ord’s Chef/Owner Lawan Bhanduram running her noodle shop on a boat.

For those that live in Los Angeles, there are a few places in Thai Town you can taste this delicacy borne on a peddler’s boat in a Thailand river. You’ve got the funky, rich and bold version from Sapp Coffee Shop. There’s a decent, five spice powder-heavy bowl from Ruen Pair that tastes best after a long night of drinking. And then there’s my favorite for the time being, at Pa Ord, which I feel has a nice balance between Sapp and Ruen Pair’s. It’s slightly sour from vinegar, light on the five spice powder and thickened with just the right amount of beef blood. I made this before in the style of Sapp’s but since the opening of Pa Ord nearly two years ago, I wanted to revise the recipe in the style of the now retired Pa Ord chef/owner Lawan Bhanduram. This recipe was developed after talking to people at Pa Ord, Sapp Coffee Shop and the Silom Thai Market in Thaitown and I’m sure they all left out a secret ingredient. So here goes!

Ingredients for Thai Boat Noodle Soup (Kway Tiao Lua). Serves 8-10 noodle enthusiasts.
10-12 quart pot (I used my 13.25 quart pot)
5 lbs. of beef bones (legs and shin bones; oxtail adds good flavor too)
1-2 lbs. of beef shank
1/2 lb. of flank steak
1 pack of Asian beef balls or pork balls
3-4 heaping spoonfuls of Thai noodle soup powder or Chinese Five-Spice powder
4 tablespoons of Thai sweet soy sauce (starting point)
12 tablespoons of Thai light soy sauce (starting point)
Thai seasoning sauce (similar to Asian Maggi)
Edible beef blood
1-2 cinnamon sticks
Handful of star anise
6-8 – 1/2″ slices of galangal
fresh rice noodles (banh pho or wide rice noodles)
3-4 small lumps of rock sugar (to taste)
Cilantro
Salt & white pepper
1-2 Kaffir lime leaves (optional – closer to Sapp style)

Additional TBNS Toppings
Beef tripe (sliced)
Pork liver
Pork blood cubes
Pork stomach
Pig tongue (braised)

Instructions for Thai Boat Noodle Soup (Kway Tiao Lua)
One. Place your bones of choice and beef shank in your cauldron and fill it up to the top with cold water. The reason you start out with cold water versus hot water is to extract maximum flavor out of the bones and flush out all the impurities. If you really want maximum flavor, roast the bones until they are browned, and then boil them – this is what is done for Vietnamese pho. Once the water is boiling, bring it down to medium for another hour. After an hour, you’ll have a nice foamy surprise waiting for you in the cauldron – scoop out everything. Do not pull out the marrow from the leg bones.

Two. Add 3-4 heaping tablespoons of the Thai noodle soup powder, galangal slices and all the spices in. If you can’t find this particular Thai brand, you can use Chinese Five-Spice powder – it’ll be just fine. Add the suggested starting amount of Thai sweet soy sauce and Thai light soy sauce. These soy sauces are not to be confused or replaced with the Chinese versions – they are completely different. The Thai sweet soy sauce is made with fermented soy beans, palm sugar and/or molasses and is known for is subtle sweetness. This is used solely for coloring food and soups. The Thai light soy sauce is much lighter in salinity than Chinese superior soy sauce and is a bit more watery. Definitely do not use Japanese soy sauce as it is very strong on the salinity and nuttiness. In addition to the two Thai soy sauces used, there is also one more that is used to give it a slight sour/vinegar-like taste. If you cannot find Thai seasoning sauce, then you can use a tiny bit of Asian Maggi. But we will use this later on. Due to the large size of the cauldron, you will be using a lot of soy sauce. Boil this for 2.5-3 hours, until the beef shank in the cauldron is tender enough – then take it out and set aside. The bones will remain in the soup for maximum flavor. Also, resist the urge to use fish sauce.

Three. It is 3 hours since you’ve been boiling the broth and now it is time to do the final seasoning and the point in which our bowls of noodles will start to differ. You really don’t need to use the Thai sweet soy sauce anymore, so you can put that away. Season the soup with the Thai light soy sauce until you’re happy and use rock sugar lumps to balance out the salinity. Once that is achieved, you want to use the Thai seasoning sauce or Asian Maggi to add a slight sourness to the soup and double check that the salt is balanced out with sugar. If you want more of the Thai noodle soup powder, add more.

Four. In a large pot, bring some water to a boil and keep on low. Add your beef or pork balls in there and let them soak in the hot tub while you prepare everything else. This pot will be used to boil your noodles so have the noodles ready. The key to making this dish right is boiling the noodles for no more than 5 seconds in boiling water, placing it in a bowl and covering it right away with broth. But rice noodles can only stay firm for so long – serve immediately! You can also use this pot of water to boil any vegetables you may want to add such as Chinese hollow-heart vegetables (also known as Morning Glory) or Chinese broccoli (gai-lan). Another key ingredient here is the fried garlic or shallots that tops off your soup noodles. In a small pan, heat up some oil (vegetable, canola or corn; not olive oil). Add the fried garlic or shallots (or both) into the oil and lightly brown them, careful not to burn the garlic – set aside. For the flank steak, cut thin slices and dip them in the pot of boiling water to your desired doneness and set aside. If you have additional meat toppings, boil/heat them up and set aside for plating.

Five. So now that you have your condiments and toppings ready, it’s time to finish off the broth with… beef blood. In a separate pot, ladle enough soup for service into a separate pot and bring it to a boil. As a general rule, for every serving, use one large tablespoon of beef blood. I like my Thai boat noodle soup on the thicker/richer side so I did two large tablespoons of beef blood per one serving. Ladle enough broth to cover the 3/4 mark of the noodles  and top with white pepper, fried garlic, cilantro and your meats. Enjoy!

I was very happy with the way this turned out and ate two bowls in one sitting. It’s amazing how the blood turns this otherwise, very Chinese noodle dish, into something more special and unique. The ultimate test for me though is to see if my father would approve of it since he ate this growing up in Laos and Thailand. But even if I had the exact recipe as Pa Ord or Sapp Coffee Shop’s, it will never taste the same. And I have a feeling it’s because I’m not serving this delicious noodle dish out of a boat on some river in Thailand. For that reason, look for me on the Los Angeles River haha. Thanks for reading.