L.A.’s Hot for Mongolian Barbecue : An exotic twist on the all-you-can-eat formula

The desk clerk in my Taipei hotel gave me a hot tip for dining out. I envisioned a fabulous restaurant find--one that would make my foodie friends back home envious. Thanking him profusely, I took the address he had scribbled in Chinese for the cab driver.

The place lived up to my expectations. It was a cavernous, noisy, Mongolian-style barbecue--the first I’d ever experienced. In full view of the diners, shirtless cooks manned several gigantic iron grills radiating heat so intense you could feel the warmth from a few feet away. Along one wall a long buffet of raw ingredients offered a variety of meats--sliced mutton and deer among them--as well as an array of fresh vegetables. Diners piled their selections into a bowl which they handed to one of the shirtless chefs. As the ingredients hit the grill, puffs of sizzling steam would erupt and seconds later the cooked food was returned to the customer’s bowl. The entire spectacle made me sorry I hadn’t brought my camera.

Back home, I never got around to flaunting my Mongolian Barbecue experience. When a friend invited me to eat at a place called Colonel Lee’s, I kept my Taipei adventure to myself as he launched into a description of the raw ingredient buffet, the huge iron grill and the Mongolian-style food. Colonel Lee’s, he said authoritatively, was a new Mongolian Barbecue franchise.

That was in the ‘70s. Today, descendants of the now-defunct Colonel Lee’s, along with a few brand-new enterprises, are serving Mongolian Barbecue from Thousand Oaks to the South Bay. They don’t offer the exotica of that Taipei restaurant (no mutton, deer or shirtless chefs), but there’s one in almost every neighborhood. The prices for their all-you-can-eat extravaganzas never exceed $10.

The largest and most opulent Mongolian Barbecue is Big Wok in Torrance. In its spacious dining room, black banquettes stand out against peach-toned, grass cloth-covered walls. Except for a statue of a camel by the buffet area, nothing about the room suggests the harsh Gobi desert on the Mongolian steppe where the idea for this barbecue originated. A low black tile partition surrounds the huge steel grill and two chefs in tall, pleated white toques serve your just-cooked food on china dinner plates--a far cry from the way fur-clad Mongolian nomads ate their mutton or wild game fried on portable iron grills.

After you select your meat (wafer-thin slices of chicken, turkey, lamb, beef or pork) and vegetables from the buffet, it’s up to you to flavor your dish from the pots of various sauces. To guide you, the place mat offers several recipes: To create a mild Mongolian barbecue, for example, it advises using one spoon of regular barbecue sauce, two spoons of sweet ginger sauce and two spoons of barbecue oil.

Back at your table, a waitress wearing a Big Wok tee shirt brings cups of good Chinese soup, your choice of the appetizers, rice and shao bing-- flaky northern-style Chinese sesame buns. Some Mongolian barbecue aficionados like to stuff these buns and eat their barbecue as a sandwich. And the roasted sesame seeds from the container on the table can add another delicious texture.

Big Wok, 24012 Vista Montana, (corner Anza and Pacific Coast Highway), Torrance, (213) 375-1513. Open Tuesday-Friday 11:30 a.m.-9:30 p.m.; Saturday-Sunday 4-9:30 p.m.

The 13th-Century Chinese, with their refined tastes, were not thrilled with the table manners or culinary style of their Mongolian overlords. Marco Polo, who spent many years in the service of the great Kublai Khan, noted that the Chinese believed in cutting foods into properly edible morsels, while the Mongolians cooked lambs by boiling them whole in caldrons. These were then cut up into large hunks, bone and all, and served at the table. The boiling caldron, like the huge flat-topped barbecue grill, later became a symbol of Mongolian cooking. The Mongolian hot pot with its charcoal-fueled chimney in the center has become a familiar sight in Asian restaurants.

Nowhere is the legacy of both these Mongolian cooking styles more deliciously apparent than at Cocary in Monterey Park. The restaurant bills itself as a Chinese barbecue--but not the sort that hangs those glistening roast ducks in the window. Each table in the large, open restaurant holds a grill divided into six curved segments. Attached to its center is a cooking pot, which your waiter fills with soup stock as soon as he lights the grill. The food you select may either be simmered in the pot or grilled.

In place of the standard Mongolian barbecue-style buffet, Cocary has three huge, high-tech refrigerated cases along one wall. The first is stocked with various meats, including deliciously marinated beef and sliced sausage. Another holds seafood items and platters of vegetables. Still another case is filled with all sorts of noodles, condiments, and appetizers--we chose the fried peanuts with hot chiles. Three-tiered wire baskets are stacked next to the cases, for carrying your selections.

The pace is hectic. Whole families get into the act of cooking while waiters rush around to the beat of Chinese rock music.

Back at our table we grilled giant tiger prawns, simmered tiny clams in our soup, and added sprigs of watercress just until they wilted in the hot broth. Then we boiled fish dumplings; their wrappings are tiny, ultra-thin omelets. After enough cooking, the broth becomes rich and savory--ideal for boiling a plate of noodles.

At the meal’s end the waiter totes up the stack of dishes, as was customarily done in old-style dim sum parlors (prices range from $1.19 to $2.99), and presents the bill.

Cocary, 112 N. Garfield (mini mall, northeast corner of Garvey), Monterey Park, (818) 573-0691. Open daily, 11 a.m.-1 a.m.

Golden Lyon is an excellent place to convince a vegetarian friend that Mongolian barbecue isn’t just for carnivores. It boasts the largest collection of sauces I’ve seen at any Mongolian barbecue, offering much opportunity to experiment with new flavor combinations. A dish of broccoli and scallions with sweet, fresh ginger sauce and rice wine is a good beginning. Follow that with cabbage, onions and lots of fresh coriander doused with the spicy barbecue sauce and stuffed into one of Golden Lyon’s superb shao bing. Several more trips to the buffet produce an exotic curry dish and a bean sprout-tomato-garlic concoction.

Another nice touch here is the serve-yourself fresh fruit bar included with either lunch or dinner, which comes with wonderful Chinese almond jelly. The price for this all-you-can-eat dinner, including egg roll and soup, is just $7.95.

Golden Lyon Mongol’s Bar-B-Q, 3681 E. Colorado Blvd., Pasadena (corner of Rosemead Blvd.), (818) 796-1832. Open Sunday-Thursday, 11:30 a.m.-9:30 p.m.; Friday-Saturday, 11:30 a.m.-10 p.m.

King’s, with three locations, is the only Mongolian barbecue chain in Los Angeles. But it doesn’t feel like a formula establishment. At the Reseda Boulevard branch, tables are draped with mauve cloths, the pastel room has quiet booths and watercolor-prints on the walls, and the barbecue itself is enclosed behind glass.

Like many other barbecues, King’s offers low lunchtime prices ($3.85-$5.75), but one may make only a single trip to the buffet. And although a generous bowl of meat is served, experienced patrons have cultivated a skill for piling on as many vegetables as their bowls can possibly hold. Watching diners transport these carefully constructed vegetable towers over to the cooking area is a real side show. If you’d rather make several trips to the buffet, there’s a lunchtime all-you-can-eat meal for $6.26.

The shao bing here are hot and flaky; they come only on the B, E, and F luncheons and the dinner, however. Dinner prices range from $8.75 to $10.55

King’s Mongolian Barbecue, 9545 Reseda Blvd., Northridge, (818) 886-9711. Open daily 11:30 a.m.- 9 p.m. Also 19652 Vanowen St. Reseda, (818) 881-0700. And 970 W. Foothill Blvd., Claremont, (714) 624-4334.

Fledgling rock stars, sound mixers, television production people and little old ladies all treat the Hollywood Mongolian Barbecue as if it were home. “Hi, how’ve you been,” is the most common greeting heard. And people wave to the proprietors, Michelle and Jack Liu through the big plate glass window when they pass.

The Hollywood Mongolian Barbecue is probably the oldest in the city--one of the original Colonel Lee’s transformed. If Ms. Liu doesn’t recognize you, you may get a motherly lecture about how there are no doggie bags (for the $8.75 all-you-can-eat dinner) and a three dollar charge for wasting food.

At mealtimes the personnel dash between the kitchen and buffet replenishing the sliced meats and fresh vegetables, occasionally stopping to ask if you have enough rice. Once you fill your bowl at the buffet one of the Lius will help you select the right sauce ingredients.

Hollywood Mongolian Barbecue, 5401 Hollywood Blvd., (213) 464-6888. Open Tuesday-Friday, 11:30 a.m.-9:30 p.m.; Saturday-Sunday, 4-10 p.m.

Another former Colonel Lee’s, Three Flames, in Westchester has been in business since 1973. On weekends during the dinner hours a small crowd is often found outside waiting for seats.

When I tried Three Flames I’d been eating Mongolian Barbecue almost every day for a week, and still I found plenty of new ways to amuse my palate. The extra spicy-hot Fiery Dragon Sauce, which I hadn’t seen at other barbecues, was one of the best diversions. But it was hard to top the dish my companion created--curried lamb, tomatoes and onions with just enough hot chile oil. I embellished beef and broccoli with the spicy barbecue mixture, rice wine and oyster sauce. These varied possibilities are why Three Flames, and in fact many Mongolian places, have such a loyal following.

Three Flames Mongolian Barbecue, 5608 W. Manchester Blvd., Westchester, (213) 641-6868. Open Monday-Friday 11:30 a.m.-9:30 p.m.; Saturday-Sunday, 4-9 p.m.

Mongols, a high-tech, fast-food Mongolian barbecue, is smack in the heart of Westwood. Droves of UCLA students dine at the long white counter under the pastel glow from a neon sign spelling out “Mongolian Barbecue.” The food, served in the usual buffet style and cooked on Mongols’ enormous red tile grill is terrific, especially with the addition of the fresh minced garlic (most other barbecues provide garlic powder). The shao bing, however, could use a little work.

Mongols does not offer an all-you-can-eat dinner. Skip the $5.45 meal, which comes with a lackluster soup , in favor of the generous a la carte bowl of barbecue for $4.45. Both are accompanied by a huge bowl of fluffy rice and shao bing. Like its fancier relatives, Mongols serves beer and wine.

Mongols B-B-Q, 1064 Gayley Ave., Westwood (213) 824-3377. Open Monday-Thursday, 11:30 a.m.-10 p.m. Friday-Saturday, 11:30-11 p.m.; Sunday, 4-10 p.m.

The following establishments do not stand out from the pack, but they are fine neighborhood spots just the same. Many promote the health aspects of their food--you’ll see “we use no fats or oils in our cooking,” in their advertisements and on menus. But the token items--soups, appetizers and dishes other than the barbecue itself--usually hail from the dark ages of American-Chinese cooking: They have bland Cantonese flavoring, are deep-fried and use lots of cornstarch. When you go, remember to stick to what you’ve come for: Mongolian barbecue.

TORRANCE: Golden Camel Mongolian Barbecue, 21006 Hawthorne Blvd., (213) 371-6638. Open Monday-Friday, 11:30 a.m.-9:30 p.m.; Saturday, noon-9:30 p.m.; Sunday, 3:30-9 p.m.

REDONDO BEACH: 2709 Manhattan Beach Blvd. (corner of Inglewood), (213) 643-8258. Open Monday-Friday, 11 a.m.-2 p.m. and 4:30-9 p.m.; Saturday, 11 a.m.-9 p.m..

SHERMAN OAKS: Mogo’s Mongolian Barbecue, 4454 Van Nuys Blvd. Sherman Oaks, (818) 783-6646. Open Tuesday-Saturday, 11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. and 5-9:30 p.m.; Sunday, 5-9:30 p.m.