Two Stops on the Dim Sum Circuit

I can think of no more beguiling meal in Los Angeles than dim sum, especially on a weekend morning when you’ve slept in and awakened famished. It can be utterly romantic as your significant other plies you with delicate morsels--plump seafood dumplings in translucent wrappers, crackling-crisp egg rolls and succulent barbecued pork in a flaky short pastry.

The least intimidating of Chinese restaurant experiences, dim sum at any of the grand Cantonese restaurants is served from rolling carts. Instead of parsing an unfamiliar menu (where some of the best dishes may be listed only in Chinese), all you have to do is point out what you’d like.

Los Angeles has so many restaurants that serve dim sum that I couldn’t possibly list them all. But Empress Pavilion in Los Angeles and Harbor Village in Monterey Park are two of my favorites, restaurants that anyone who loves dim sum should get to know.

At 10 a.m. one recent Saturday, we manage to beat the crowd at Empress Pavilion in Chinatown’s Bamboo Plaza. Amazingly, there’s no line at the door, but, looking up from the courtyard, I can see the escalator and the glass elevator descending from the parking structure are packed with people, all headed for the same place. We, however, wait only a few minutes before the hostess seats us at a prime table where we have a good view of the vast dining room that seats 596. On a busy morning, Empress Pavilion might turn the tables three or four times. Twenty-three cooks, 19 dim sum specialists, plus three barbecue chefs prepare the intricate handmade delicacies (40 to 60 kinds on any given day).

Before we can unwrap our chopsticks or pour fragrant tea from the large porcelain pot, one of the dozen or so waitresses pushing metal carts around the room has halted next to our table. “Siu mai?” she asks, using tongs to lift the lid off a stack of round aluminum steamer trays. When we indicate yes, she sets down a tray holding four of the steamed dumplings. Filled with minced pork, mushrooms and shrimp, siu mai are particularly delectable. Har gow? Yes, please. The wrappers are so fine and transparent that you can see the barely cooked shrimp through them. A different dumpling features chopped shrimp, pork and bamboo shoots. And yet another is filled with an enticing forcemeat of minced chicken and pine nuts.

A cart puffing steam approaches us from the other direction. From this one, we take some bao, the pale, fluffy steamed buns with richly spiced Chinese sausage tucked inside. “Deep-fried egg roll?” this waitress asks. Yes, that too. With a big pair of scissors, she deftly snips the egg rolls in half. These, I’m afraid, are a little greasy (frying is not Empress Pavilion’s strong point), but the filling of bean sprouts and other vegetables is nice. The plump, half-moon-shaped “pot stickers” contain coarsely chopped pork, mushroom and shrimp. I also like the balls of winter melon stuffed with a mixture of egg, pork and shredded dried scallops.

In 10 to 15 minutes, we have accumulated enough little dishes to cover the tabletop. Wepolish off a few to make room for pork riblets and slivered red chile in a rich, gelatinous stock flavored with black beans, always one of the best items here. Bean curd sheet is rolled around enoki mushrooms and garnished with salty julienned Virginia ham. I try to persuade everyone at my table to try the tripe or the chicken feet, but they prefer the moist barbecued pork sliced and slathered in a sweet bright red glaze. And after that, we ask for Chinese broccoli splashed with oyster sauce, the stems stacked like logs next to the emerald leaves. How much more can we eat?

As the next dim sum waitress steers her cart past at a smart pace, we spy her last plate of egg custards on the bottom shelf. She laughs and gives us the thumbs up as she hands us the shimmering deep-gold tartlets.

All around us are happy faces. Toddlers wield their chopsticks like pros, while little girls in pink dresses listen demurely to their grandmother urging them to taste the taro root croquettes. Across the room, one man picks his teeth politely behind the shield of his hand as another, a nonogenerian perhaps, in tweed cap and three-piece suit toting a bulging black briefcase, hesitates just inside the huge dining room. Spotting his family at a table of teenagers wearing baseball caps, he threads his way gingerly between the tables.

Perhaps even more impressive than dim sum at Empress Pavilion is the experience at elegant Harbor Village, the Monterey Park branch of a well-known Hong Kong restaurant that closed last year. Here, beneath sparkly chandeliers, the dining room is decorated with pink-satin swagged curtains, shiny brass pillars and pink damask tablecloths. The carts are a little fancier, too, and the service is extremely attentive. Any of the cart waitresses or managers will pause long enough to explain the dishes if you ask. And the quality of the dim sum at Harbor Village is comparable to that of the top places in Hong Kong--in short, splendid.

We load up on a dizzying array of dim sum as the waitresses with their gleaming carts round our table. I love the sticky rice balls with briny fresh shrimp inside, cooked just long enough that it retains some crunch. The egg rolls are fabulously good--crisp but not a bit greasy, filled with satiny cabbage and chopped shrimp.

When a cart rolls by dispensing wonton soup, I’m stunned by the clarity and intense flavor of the chicken broth in which swatches of spinach and silky wontons of shiitake mushrooms, shrimp and pork float. Steamed pork dumplings are enhanced by a ginger-shocked dipping sauce. And I have to confess, I like the flaky turnovers filled with barbecued pork so much that I sneak in two orders while my friends aren’t looking.

Next comes juk, that comforting rice porridge served for breakfast or a late-night snack. This one is a three-star version, laced with 1,000-year-old egg, salted duck egg and bits of flavorful pork. “Scallions?” asks the dim sum waitress, showering the bowl with green onions. Another cart bearing a red-lacquer container painted with flowers approaches. The waitress is about to bypass us when I flag her down and ask what she’s got. “Snake soup!” Wonderful, we say. She ladles out a dark brown soup thick with finely shredded snake meat. Meant to be fortifying, it’s very rich, almost smoky in taste.

Then comes a cart with a griddle top heated by gas flames. The waitress stops to flip turnip cakes with a spatula until they’re dark brown at the edges. She also has wonderful deep-fried taro croquettes coated with crisp, lacy threads of shredded taro. And from a tray a waiter is carrying, we nab a plate of deep-fried whole smelts garlanded with diced red chile. This lunch--it’s a weekday--goes on and on until, no matter how enticing the next dish, we cannot eat one more bite. Or almost. To finish, we’ve saved just enough room for a single egg custard, a fragile 1 1/2-inch-wide pastry holding a deep gold, clear filling.

China’s tradition of dim sum could teach Americans quite a bit about fast food. Dim sum is not only the ultimate quick bite, it’s also an incredible bargain, one that no other cuisine can match for food of this intricacy and quality. The selection of dishes is always interesting, and it’s about as soulful a meal as you’ll find anywhere on the planet.

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EMPRESS PAVILION

Empress Pavilion, Bamboo Plaza, 988 N. Hill St., Los Angeles; (213) 617-9898. Dim sum served 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. weekdays; 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Dim sum, about $10 to $15 per person. Parking in Bamboo Plaza. Harbor Village, 111 N. Atlantic Blvd., Monterey Park; (626) 300-8833. Dim sum served 11 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. weekdays; 10 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Dim sum, about $15 to $20 per person. Free parking in lot or in structure below.