Breaking the Chinese menu code

To outsiders, authentic Chinese restaurants are like some maddening puzzle, equal parts tantalizing and frustrating. You know you want more than beef with broccoli, but how do you order that wonderful-looking stuff that guy is eating at the next table? And what the heck is it?

Now along comes Carl Chu to the rescue, to lay bare one of California’s, if not the country’s, great culinary treasure-troves.

Chu is the author of “Finding Chinese Food in Los Angeles,” one of the most remarkable culinary guides in many years. The self-published book, available in only a few stores at this point, provides just about everything you’ll need to know to eat your way through Monterey Park and Alhambra, as well as Hacienda Heights, city of Industry, Diamond Bar -- and beyond.

Chu’s book is more than a mere guide to L.A. restaurants. It gives the reader a deep understanding of the cuisine, looking at it as part of culture and history. He explains each region, how and why its food is the way it is, and includes summaries of important ingredients and signature dishes. And then he does something to make all of it accessible to anyone, anywhere: Every dish he describes includes its name in Chinese characters, so you can merely point to what you want and any waiter will understand. Many of the dishes also get color photographs.

A wiry 30-year-old, Chu moved to California with his family when he was 8. Originally from the Northern province of Shanxi, his grandfather had followed Chiang Kai-Shek in exile to Taiwan. In the ‘80s, the family came to the United States. But rather than settling in the burgeoning Asian enclave of Monterey Park, they went to Downey.

“They wanted us to grow up as all-Americans, not to live half here and half in China the way they thought we would in Monterey Park,” says Chu. After a rough start (when his teacher handed out papers the first day, in the space for “name,” he dutifully copied the word “name”), it took him six months to get up to speed in English.

He eventually wound up at Northwestern University, where he earned a master’s degree in transportation economics. Today he works as a transportation industry consultant and talks about the intricacies of railroad and airline competition with the same passion he discusses chou hou paste and Chinese pickles.

The determination to write “Finding Chinese Food” came from traveling the country on business, eating at great restaurants in New York, Chicago and San Francisco, and realizing that the places in the San Gabriel Valley deserved to be better known.

“There was a story to be told,” he says. So, armed with a desktop publishing program and an appetite, he went after it.

Chu wasn’t satisfied with just a list of favorite restaurants. “Finding Chinese Food” begins with a brief history of Chinese immigration into the United States. Then comes an overview of Chinese food and drink, a masterful chapter on tea drinking, then alcoholic beverages, desserts and banquets. Our appetites whetted, he moves on to the main course: a region-by-region survey of China.

Take the North, which in Chu’s overview includes Shandong, Beijing and other areas north of the Yellow River. First there is a brief description of the area, which is cold and rural (“If Chinese food had a flyover country, then Northern China must be it”) and its cooking in general (wheat-based, featuring noodles and dumplings rather than rice).

This is followed by a more in-depth appreciation of Shandong cuisine, including the region’s history and some important ingredients and dishes. Then comes a one-paragraph recommendation of Three Family’s Village Restaurant in Rowland Heights, highlighting its noodle dishes.

Shandong covered, Chu moves on to a chapter on the intricacies of Beijing duck, with restaurant recommendations (Rosemead’s famous Quanjude, of course, and the far lesser-known JZY Cafe in San Gabriel). Then it’s on to Islamic Chinese cuisine (Islamic Chinese Restaurant in Rosemead, Tung Lai Shun in the San Gabriel Mall and Beijing Islamic in Torrance).

There’s a separate chapter on the North’s myriad dumplings (he likes Dumpling 10053 in El Monte, which serves salmon jiaozi; Yung Ho Tou Chiang in San Gabriel; Malan Noodles in Hacienda Heights; and Arcadia’s trendy Din Tai Fung).

Finally, he wraps up the North with a short chapter on Mongolian hotpot (Kingswood Teppan Steak House in Rowland Heights, JZY Cafe again, Cocary Bar B.Q. Restaurant in Monterey Park and BBQ King Buffet in that wonderful San Gabriel Mall).

So much for “flyover” country.

“By understanding each region, you can start to identify a restaurant’s dishes and their origins by their characteristics,” Chu says. “This way, when you go to a restaurant and see certain dishes, you’ll be able to identify the region of origin and you’ll be better equipped to order what the restaurant does best. You come in knowing the basics rather than just taking your chances on a roulette game.”

This is also a good way to get around the problem of the special menu that’s only printed in Chinese. Don’t bother trying to match up the characters, just point to a dish you want in the book and ask. With staple regional dishes, Chu says most restaurants will be able to do them, even if they’re not on the menu.

“I wanted to explain some of these dishes most people don’t really know about, in hopes they’ll start to ask specifically for them and the restaurants will keep doing them,” says Chu. “I do that. My parents do that. My sister does too.”

Perhaps partly with his own family in mind, Chu says he wrote the book for both American and Chinese readers. “Most Chinese here identify with the region they came from and they’re not very familiar with the cooking styles of other regions,” Chu says. “In that sense, a lot of Chinese cuisine is just as foreign to them as it is to Americans.”

As an example, he offers his late grandparents. To their final days, they were Northerners, he says, despite living in Taiwan and then the United States since 1949. “They didn’t really consider a meal complete unless they had some kind of bread or noodle,” Chu says. “Rice, to them, just wasn’t worth eating.”

Or maybe they just needed a good guide to explain it to them and show them where it was best.

“Finding Chinese Food in Los Angeles” is available at the following bookstores: Cook’s Library, 8373 W. Third Street, Los Angeles; (323) 655-3141. Chevalier’s Books, 126 N. Larchmont Ave., Larchmont Village; (323) 465.1334. Vroman’s, 695 E. Colorado Blvd., Pasadena; (626) 449-5320.

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Savoring Sichuan

In “Finding Chinese Food in Los Angeles,” Carl Chu demystifies the menus of regional Chinese restaurants. Here is an excerpt from the Sichuan chapter with some typical dishes. For those only familiar with kung pao chicken, it is a revelation.

Pockmark-face

Lady’s Tofu

The story of the pockmark-face lady is now a culinary legend. During the War with Japan, a tofu-making lady in Chengdu, with her face marred with acne scars, sold this tofu dish from a ramshackle street stand. Chengduers were immediately drawn to its aromas and flavors, enhanced in part by the fried ground beef simmering in the wet-hot chili sauce.... The original tofu stand still exists in Chengdu -- it is now modernized, state owned, and converted into a full-size restaurant. The pockmark-face lady’s recipe is also copied all over the world. This dish can be found in homes as well as in restaurants, with variations that even follow the Islamic and vegetarian dietary rules.

Water-boiled Beef

A most understated dish on the Sichuan menu, the name “water-boiled” suggests nothing of the fiery cauldron that it actually is. Slices of beef are simmered in a red broth, seasoned with chili peppers, fermented chili-bean paste, soy sauce, and Sichuan peppercorns.... Upon serving, the rich stew is ladled over fresh lettuce or blanched Napa cabbage. The water-boiling technique is also flexible for use on other meats, such as liver, tripe, and fish. Water-boiled Beef is a good representative dish of Sichuan cuisine, displaying many of its unique and distinguishing attributes: numbing-hot, complex flavors, and the opulence of wholesome peasant cooking.

Dan-Dan Noodles

This is the quintessential street vendor snack from Chengdu. It is a hot, meatless cold noodle dish, sold by vendors who walk around the city carrying an over-the-shoulder balance called the “dan.” If you want a bowl of noodles, just flag a vendor down, who proceeds to fill a bowl heaping with cold noodles, then pour a sesame sauce on top of it. The noodles are garnished with chopped preserved mustard green hearts, chili oil, and peanut powder. “Dan-Dan” is an affectionate term simply meaning, “noodles served from the dan.”

Ants Up a Tree

Although the curious name suggests something exotic, this dish is no more than heaps of cellophane bean noodles stir fried with ground pork. Ants Up a Tree is also rather bland -- a slim minority in an otherwise fiery lineup of Sichuan specialties. Some people claim that this is actually a Hunan dish, although there is no concrete evidence suggesting that this is true.

Strange-flavor Chicken

The “strange” flavor comes from a seemingly haphazard combination of five conflicting flavors: sweet, hot, sour, numbing, and saltiness. The result is another hallmark of Sichuan culinary skills. Flavors are complex and unique, yet the dish is simple and understated. Cold pieces of boiled chicken are topped with this sauce, allowing the flavors to soak through. It is excellent as an appetizer, or as an in-between-meals snack that goes especially well with beer.