RESTAURANT REVIEW : Safe Chinese Fare With a Sugar Fixation

Eighty-eight is a doubly lucky number, according to traditional Chinese wisdom. Eight signifies infinity and therefore long life; 88 gives you a double shot.

That may be why 1988 brought so many new Chinese restaurants: Supposedly it would be a good year to open a business. Glendale’s Gourmet 88 is one restaurant from that year that has flourished, and in fact has just opened a sparkling new offshoot in Burbank. Let’s wait and see whether the owners’ luck holds.

The place certainly has all the trappings of success. It’s elegantly postmodern, distinctively fashioned of marble tile, quirky glass cubes and jutting plastic shapes, much like the new generation of restaurants in Hong Kong and Bangkok. One wall is constructed of wooden crossbeams and looks faintly Japanese. Another is hung with a series of impenetrable modern prints that look . . . well, faintly Japanese. Booths are cut in semicircular swaths, upholstered in peacock blue. Stunning black chairs, lacquered to a glossy sheen, embellish the center tables.

But when you eyeball the restaurant’s blue and yellow Op Art menu, you realize that this is one more Chinese restaurant that takes almost no chances. Such a universal Chinese standby as squid is nowhere in sight. Even duck, a relatively mundane item these days, barely shows up.

And when you taste these dishes, you’ll agree that this is yet another suburban Chinese palace that panders to our sugar fixation. The majority of these dishes suffer from excessive sweetness, as if the chefs had been instructed to put an extra handful of sugar into every stir-fry.

A case in point is the barbecued spare ribs. Here are four meaty ribs, lacquered red with sauce and almost as shiny as the chairs you are sitting on. But what is the dominant taste when you bite in? Sugar.

Even the cold duckling salad has this problem. It’s a huge pile of nicely trimmed duck, shredded and mixed with agar-agar, spinach leaves, apple and julienne of red pepper. It’s far too sweet, but the truth is, it almost manages to win you over anyway.

The steamed dumplings, served in a large bamboo basket, have a far less ambiguous appeal. They’re not as juicy as their Chinatown counterparts, but the meaty filling of minced pork and ginger manages to be every bit as engaging.

Now to the soup selection, and what’s all this about a shark’s fin soup for $11.75? Unheard of! Unseen too--the two occasions I attempted to order it, I was informed that they had run out.

Assorted won ton soup exists, though--a giant bowlful of food for under $5, easily enough for two. It’s an intense chicken broth chock-full of tender won tons, good barbecued pork, crunchy snow peas and sauteed shrimp. Hot and sour soup is almost as generous, brimming with chicken, mushrooms and tofu; ah, if only it were less brimming with cornstarch and vinegar.

The cornstarch light should go on whenever you see the phrase “sweet and pungent” here. I ventured to try the sweet and pungent chicken, and discovered a sticky mass of deep fried goo. The manager, distraught because no one would eat any, much less consider taking it home, removed it from our check.

Then there are those cloying stir-fries--hot sauteed shredded beef and shrimp with garlic sauce, to name two. The shrimp come up suspiciously red, with the taste of tangerine lingering on the palate long after the garlic has faded. The “hot” beef is actually quite mild, but it is sweet enough to make your teeth hurt.

There’s a way around this problem: Order simple, austere dishes such as lamb Hunan style, braised string beans or sauteed spinach, which the chefs prepare with simple efficiency. The lamb is a delight--lean, gamy sliced lamb sauteed with green onions and red pepper. The string beans have a wonderful snap, covered by a blizzard of virile minced garlic. And this spinach is nearly perfection, cooked to al dente softness.

The usual selection of noodle and rice dishes are on hand to accompany the meat, fish and fowl. Pan-fried noodles are cooked crisp, Cantonese style, and far too oily for my taste. The various soft noodles (lo mein) prepared with a choice of toppings have the same sugar problem as the stir-fries.

The service at Gourmet 88 is intelligent and unusually forthright. The waiters here have been quick to admit that most of these dishes are not real Chinese--a refreshing approach, rarely encountered.

Suggested dishes: steamed dumplings, $6.15; assorted won ton soup, $4.35, lamb Hunan style, $8.95, braised string beans, $7.25.

Gourmet 88, 230 San Fernando Blvd., Burbank, Open for lunch 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m. daily; dinner 3-10 p.m. Sunday-Thursday, 3-10:30 p.m. Friday-Saturday. Full bar. Street parking. American Express, MasterCard and Visa accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $25-$40. Call (818) 848-8688.