RESTAURANTS / MAX JACOBSON : Halal Eatery Makes the Rugged Province of Xinjiang Seem Almost Hospitable

A Chinese restaurant where no one eats rice? Eyyaaahhh.

Well, listen. Xinjiang, China’s rugged westernmost province, is full of Muslims, mostly a people of Turkic extraction known as the Uighurs. I visited the province in 1983 and spent a few days in the city of Turfan, a quiet oasis in the middle of one of China’s largest deserts.

And no kidding, there was no rice in Turfan. In fact, there was nothing to eat except flat bread and lamb shish kebab.

Back to California, and here’s China Muslim restaurant, a cultural anomaly right out of some antique Baedeker’s guidebook in Rowland Heights, just a few miles over the Orange County line north of Brea. There may be rice on its menu, but I’ve never seen a customer eating any. (Actually I think it’s because of the giant breads that everybody orders here, rather than any bizarre empathy customers might have for rice-impoverished Uighur shepherds.)

China Muslim is a halal restaurant, meaning that everything served conforms to Islamic dietary laws. No pork is allowed on the premises, and traditional Chinese dishes have to be modified accordingly. The steamed dumplings and won tons are filled with beef or lamb, for example. Vegetable dishes usually flavored with pork are made with minced fish.

At any rate, it’s excellent cooking, and those giant breads are spectacular. In Chinese they are called sze ma da bing, literally “sesame big flat bread,” and that is exactly what they are. A loaf is about three feet around, six to eight inches high and crusted with sesame on top. The kitchen cuts it into slices for you, and you pull the slices apart in layers. When eaten with a lamb dish, such as the gamy, lean lamb with green onions, the combination makes Xinjiang seem hospitable. Or almost.

The restaurant is operated by a family from Taiwan, though, so any real connection with the rugged Chinese northwest is pure cultural coincidence. In fact, the restaurant has no regional atmosphere to speak of. There are a few Chinese reliefs depicting life on the Yangtze River mounted on the drab, coffee colored walls, and a framed hanging of the Shahada or Islamic credo (“There is only one God, and Mohammed is his prophet”) written in Chinese and Arabic calligraphy.

Taiwanese cooking plays a big part on the menu, and this accounts for the clientele, which is not limited to Chinese Muslims. Around the big round tables sit large parties of Boras (Muslim Gujaratis from Burma), Arabs, Pakistanis, black Americans and Taiwanese who eat here. Those tables fill up, too.

Several dishes are made with Taiwanese-style green-bean sheets, translucent noodles made from the pounded flour of mung beans. There are also about two dozen dishes featuring hand-rolled noodles in spicy broths and various stir-fry dishes. Everything I tasted was just great.

Tops on my list would be No. 63, described in Chinese characters only; one of the three dishes on the menu the house didn’t feel merited a translation. Ask for chow mao du if you’re feeling frisky, or hold up six and three fingers respectively if you’re not.

Either way, what you’ll be getting is fragrant shredded tripe. This is the best tripe dish I’ve run across in some time: soft, firm and full of the perfumes of ginger, garlic and beef stock. Even if you don’t like the idea of tripe, try it this once.

Another untranslated specialty is No. 22, dao ko sao ji, literally “chicken cooked in the style of the city of Dao Ko,” and it, too, is a must. This is a cold dish of ginger-, anise- and shallot-rubbed roasted chicken, cleaver-chopped and served on a platter. Ours was moist and tender, and a really exotic recipe.

I had never really thought of eating lamb with chow mein before, but it’s one of the best choices here. When the menu says pan-fried noodle, the noodles come up crispy; when it says chow mein, the noodles are soft with a meat and vegetable gravy. I prefer the soft noodles, and as always the lamb is lean and tasty.

However, I didn’t care for the lamb with pickled cabbage warm pot. It’s a generous clay pot filled to overflowing with a swarm of fun sze (clear bean thread noodles), lots of minced lamb and maybe a whole head of fresh cabbage. The problem is that there’s also a sort of pickled cabbage that gives the whole soup an unappealingly sour quality.

You’ll find most of your favorite Chinese dishes on this large menu in some form or another. There are 20 shrimp and fish dishes, including a very fiery kung pao shrimp, mu shu shrimp, braised sea cucumber and a whole steamed catfish. Beef dishes from steak in black bean sauce to beef chop suey (no kidding) are available, and there are several chicken dishes too.

The one thing I wouldn’t advise trying is lamb stew. This version is greasy and loaded with anise. Leave this recipe to the Irish.

Dim sum such as green onion pie--a crisp, flat Chinese bread fried in a shallow pool of oil--and chewy, yeasty steamed dumplings are always cooked to order, afternoon or evening. Consequently they are hot and fresh. The kitchen also makes the thick flour noodles (“dough slice,” as they’re called on the menu) that you see topped with lamb on many tables.

(You say it’s lamb and rice you want? Whaddaya think they’re running here, a Greek restaurant?)

China Muslim Restaurant is inexpensive. Dim sum are $1.25 to $5.60. Soups are $3.60 to $5.50. Cold dishes are $4.85 to $5.50. Main dishes are $3.80 to $9.85. Noodle dishes are $3.60 to $5.65.

* CHINA MUSLIM

* 18331 E. Colima Road, Rowland Heights

* (818) 810-2499

* Open daily for lunch and dinner 11:30 a.m. to 9 p.m.

* Cash only.