East Ocean City

  * Crossposted from: Cooking  Fid

 I went with my friends to East Ocean City, 27 Beach St.,
 in our fair city of Boston. John runs a consulting firm that
 has a lot of Asian clients, and this is where he takes them
 for entertainment. I arrived first for our reservation, right
 from a 5-hour rehearsal for Frank Sinatra, Junior, all hot
 and sweaty and carrying the tools of my trade, and I felt a
 certain coolness: lesson one, wear a tie when you go
 there, and whatever you do, don't carry a violin.

 Eventually everyone showed up, and when Nicholas (hand-
 tailored English suit) and John (hand-tailored Hong Kong
 suit) arrived there was a palpable relaxation by the staff.

 John did all the ordering, a good thing, because I'd be at
 sea (har har) in a maze of menus and specials and off-the-
 menu secrets. Here's what we had.

 raw geoduck slivers served on a bed of ice - an adaptation
 of sashimi, the clam was crisp, almost hard, with an intense
 marine flavor and a delicate sweetness. Some of the party
 didn't like either the rawness or the sea-gaminess, which
 left extra for me, which was good, because the serving was
 pretty modest in size.

 sea conch sauteed with snow peas - the sweetest, tenderest
 conch I've had, sliced thin and cooked quickly with good
 (but not de-stringed) snow peas and a somewhat too gloopy
 sauce.

 deep-fried whole shrimp with chopped hot peppers - made of
 the shrimp you see cavorting in tanks in the front window.
 They net a pint of them, toss them still wriggling into a
 cornstarch batter, and fry them crisp and whole. They are
 incomparably delicious, best if you eat them all, head and
 shell too. The sauce was little more than minced red and
 green hot peppers sauteed in a bit of oil with some garlic
 and a bunch of salt.

 scallops steamed in the shell with ginger and scallions -
 perfectly simple, simply perfect.

 With this we had a Segura Viudas brut sparkling wine,
 which was okay, although served sort of tepid. I didn't
 get to taste much of it, because Estelle, who talks very
 animatedly, knocked my flute right over. Between her
 "uh" and her "oh" I caught it in midflight, but the
 wine arced all over the place anyway.

 Also, we had a weird Chinese rice wine that was very
 brown and maderized and had a strawlike overtone -
 Estelle thought it was moldy, but it reminded me more
 of the Vin paille that Ian Hoare introduced me to.
 Others were even more unkind than she had been, finding
 flavors of dried prunes, rancid nuts, outdoor potty,
 and so on. This wine is very, very expensive and is
 sold warm.

 Main courses:

 roast duck in five spice powder - excellent, relatively
 low in fat, somewhat crisp but not too crisp. I prefer
 a plainer taste, but this was superb for what it was.

 oysters steamed in the shell with black bean sauce -
 you get one, about the size of your hand. They come
 from the Quilcene beds; they are good but not great
 oysters, but the presentation was impeccable.

 peapod greens sauteed with garlic - John said that
 these were the most expensive thing on the table.
 They were, however, nowhere so excellent as the ones
 I have had in Asia. These were big although tender
 and not too stringy; the ones I love are tiny and
 have a very intense pea flavor. These were mild
 and just another agreeable vegetable.

 goose vegetable sauteed with fermented bean curd -
 a more mundane dish, one of the cheapest we had,
 but holding my interest more. For those of you who
 have tasted smelly bean curd, let me reassure you
 that they used maybe a teaspoon of the stuff in
 the sauce.

 black bass steamed with ginger and scallions -
 again, as with all steamed dishes here, impeccable;
 Nathaniel had gone into the kitchen with his
 first-grader's curiosity and verified that these
 fish had been alive until they were prepared for
 our table.

 With all of this bounty, we swilled down bottles of
 Tsingtao beer, which could have been Bud for all I
 knew (it used to be a flavorsome though often flat
 or stale or downright rotten brew; then my father
 was consulted by the brewery's director, one of his
 college classmates, and he asked me, and I told him
 that they should replace the cork bottle cap liners
 with something more durable, et voila - in one swell
 foop I contributed mightily to the economy of a regime
 I hate. Worse, the beer is now cleanly made and safely
 transported and tastes like nothing at all).

 And for afters:

 tapioca pudding - a vaguely sweetened soup made from
 small pearl tapioca, diced taro root, water, and a
 little pork fat. Not most diners' cup of tea, as it
 were, but I like it.
 ___ Blue Wave/386 v2.30