You know what I haven’t appreciated enough in my life? Dumplings. They seem like such an afterthought, right? You get a wonton or a steamed dumpling thing (see? you even call it a “thing” because it’s so insignificant) with your Chinese takeout and it barely even registers while you’re consuming it. “Oh yeah, I had some dumplings, too. They were whatever.” That’s usually how it goes, if you even bother to tell anyone you had dumplings with your meal — with your main course — dumplings aren’t impressive enough to be a main course. They’re just a starter or a side dish. They’re not even really supporting actors in the movie of your meal (where am I going with this?). They’re like, extras. Like a fortune cookie. Well, maybe not THAT insignificant.
My point is, when the opportunity arose to grab some highly-regarded dumplings for lunch today, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Dumplings? The star dish? Where? Why? The answer to those questions are A) Din Tai Fung in Arcadia and B) Because they’re fucking incredible for fuck’s sake!
Din Tai Fung is a small Taiwanese/Shanghainese joint that specializes in small steamed buns (dumplings, you fool). Outside of its native Taiwan (the original was ranked as one of the ten best restaurants in the world by the New York Times) there are two branches in Hong Kong that have earned a Michelin star each, as well as locations in Indonesia, Japan, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, Los Angeles and Seattle. A Michelin star for dumplings, guys. They have to be good, right?
So good the owner had to open a second location one block away from the “original” LA location (in Arcadia, technically) in order to handle the overflow of traffic. Human traffic, that is. Wait, human trafficking? Maybe I should re-word that. Anyway, this place is insane at lunchtime. We got there at about noon-thirty and were given a number (#76). I input my phone number in their iPad and was told I would be sent a text message when our table was ready. A half-hour later they called number thirty-one and I started to get anxious. A guy who said he was number fifty-seven emerged from the hostess station to say that HE was still thirty minutes from being seated. Yet, somehow, number seventy-six was texted ten minutes later and told our table was ready. What luck.
By the way, great doesn’t begin to describe the quality of Din Tai Fung. My entire perception of what a dumpling is has forever been changed based on my lunch today. Here’s what I had:
Juicy Pork Dumplings. These are the star of the menu, or so says everyone who eats at Din Tai Fung. These little, delicate purses of flour (a proprietary blend) stuffed with pork and a fragrant broth literally erupt with juices when you bite into them. It’s unlike any taste sensation I’ve experienced, and certainly better than any other “dumpling” I’ve ever had. A bit of research taught me that the filling is actually a bit of marinated ground pork with some pork gelatin/fat that melts as it is steamed, which is what forms the pouch of broth that bursts when you bite into one. Last year Jonathan Gold touted them when he wrote his “99 Essential Restaurants” list. He said, “you could examine a hundred of the thin-walled, elastic dumplings, served 10 at a go in bullet-shaped aluminum steamers, without encountering a single instance of leakage — they’re better designed than the Android in your pocket.”
Chicken Fried Rice. It’s hard to screw up something as trivial as fried rice, but this was damned good no matter how basic it was. Hell, I’d say it was a perfect execution of an easily overlooked dish. The rice was fluffy, the chicken was cooked to perfection, it wasn’t dry, and it contained just the right amount of egg and green onion to balance the flavors. That said, could infusing some of the provided chili oil add some kick to it? Sure, but that’s also just my heat-loving palate.
Braised Beef Noodle Soup. My second favorite dish of the meal was the soup. The beef was succulent and tender, the broth was rich, and the noodles (bouncy and soft) provided great texture. Soup slurping is a big no-no around me most of the time, but even I couldn’t help myself here.
Sautéed String Beans with Garlic. Again, you’d think this was a simple dish, but one taste and you’ll realize maybe you haven’t had it executed to such a precise degree before. Mix some of these guys in with the chicken fried rice and the subtle flavor nuances of each dish were highlighted. The string beans are soft but keep just enough crunch. The garlic isn’t overpowering. Isn’t it weird that the best thing you can often say about a dish with garlic in it is that it isn’t too overpowering? How else do you describe garlic? Wow, I must know less about food than I thought…
Shrimp and Pork Shao Mai Dumplings. This variation on the soup dumpling was awesome, too. I found myself taking one bite of the shrimp and then eating the pork (mixed with the provided ginger, soy sauce and vinegar with a hint of chili oil for good measure) separately. Again, each one was just a phenomenal little flavor bomb. Like the juicy pork dumplings, these are served ten to an order as well. And so, so good.
For all the crowds outside, the atmosphere inside was comfortable and relaxed. Our waitress was quite nice, the table had a somewhat refined elegance to it (in spite of the fact that you’re basically there to eat dumplings), and though service was quick you never feel rushed, even though you know 50-plus people are pacing outside ready to break down the doors to get a table.
It’s also crazy cheap. Those five dishes plus sodas came out to twenty dollars per person, and the meal provided more than enough food for two. Could we have ordered more? Maybe one more plate, but that would have likely resulted in my leaving Din Tai Fung feeling comatose, as opposed to just buzzed on an outstanding meal.
Din Tai Fung #1 1108 S. Baldwin Ave., Arcadia, CA 91007
Din Tai Fung #2 1088 S. Baldwin Ave., Arcadia, CA 91007
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