The stretch of suburbia (West Alexandria/Annandale/Springfield) in which I toil offers an extraordinary array of culinary riches. Annandale is, of course, known as the D.C. area’s Little Korea. But in addition to dozens of Korean restaurants, my office is also just a five or ten minute drive from all of the following: a solid Peruvian chicken joint, my favorite Afghan kebab stand, a Korean/French bakery hybrid (scroll to the last paragraph in the linked article), decent Indonesian, serviceable Thai, Northern Chinese, Pakistani sweets, and even Bolivian. But until relatively recently, I had to content myself with exploring this bounty on my own or simply not at all (I don’t have fun eating at a restaurant all by myself).
You see, most of my co-workers are admittedly happy to breakfast at McDonald’s and lunch at Wendy’s. And the few lunches that we all have together in the conference room are typically catered by Papa John’s (as a side note, one former co-worker always insisted that at least one pizza be topped with hamburger, an unusual request made all the more unlikely by the fact that he originally hailed from Bangladesh). But I don’t suffer from those choices too much because thankfully, on those rare occasions when we actually do go out for lunch as one big happy work family, we can all agree upon Mike’s American Grill.
Fortunately, one of my newer co-workers has proven to be surprisingly amenable to just about every lunchtime expedition I’ve proposed. He’s originally from India, and perhaps because he’s had to assimilate his tastes to the American palate he’s willing to explore just about any other culture as well. His command of English, including idioms, is outstanding. But sometimes when I’m trying to pitch a cuisine that he hasn’t tried before and my salesmanship is falling flat, I’ll resort to describing a particular item in terms of Indian food in a last ditch effort to pique his interest. And I only realized the other day just how odd it is that, outside of this forum, I regularly describe an already seemingly exotic ethnic dish in terms of another exotic ethnic dish- neither of which would constant my own native grub. While my interpretations can be a bit loose, I thought some folks might find it interesting to see a short list of various dishes that I’ve described in terms of Indian dishes:
1) I’ve likened Bahn Xeo, the Vietnamese crepe described in the previous post, as being akin to the Indian dosa, crepes that are typically filled with potatoes onions and spices. While the Viet Royale crepe could be loosely described as dosa-like, the one that my co-worker and I had at Saigon Citi (they do spell it "Citi" at the actual restaurant even though the link suggests ortherwise) was like a thick and greazy (and I do mean “greazy”) omelette.
2) I’ve likened Thai curry puffs to Indian samosas. The curry puffs at Thai Lemon grass are among my favorites in the area, even if Thai Lemon Grass is somewhat underwhelming, in general. The curry puff is a delicate pastry stuffed with potatoes and spices whose cooling accompaniment is usually a dish of chopped cucumbers and carrots in a light vinegar dipping sauce. This is very similar to the Indian samosa, which is basically a small, fried turnover stuffed with potatoes or meat and spices.
3) I’ve likened the salteña, a Bolivian baked turnover, to the Indian samosa. Salteñas are easily in my top five favorite food items of all time, as they are self-contained meals, or at least half-meals, with the perfect balance of sweet and savory and protein and carbs. I’ve been to a number of different Bolivian places, from the relatively upscale Tutto Bene (an Italian restaurant by weekday, a Bolivian restaurant by weekend) to the rather divey and unwelcoming Pike IV (not to be confused with Phase IV), and I’ve never been disappointed by a salteña. The salteña is typically stuffed with a chicken or beef stew that usually has peas, potatoes, onions, olives, pieces of hardboiled egg, and sometimes raisins. Unlike its possible Indian counterpart, a salteña can be potentially hazardous for the novice, as a surprising amount of hot broth will spill out if you just plant a haphazard bite without knowledge of its consequences. The salteñas pictured here are from Pike IV.
4) I’ve likened Peruvian pollo a la brasa to tandoori chicken. This is basically a battle of the marinades. I happen to favor the crisp, golden, spice encrusted Peruvian chickens to the otherworldly red of its distant Indian cousin. Like kebabs, pollo a la brasa is one of those rare ethnic foods that has true cross-cultural appeal. In fact, I have been known to describe pollo a la brasa as the unofficial fast food of the D.C. area.
5) I’ve likened Indonesian corn fritters to Indian pakora. While my enthusiasm for Indonesian corn fritters (bakwan jagung) varies depending upon the purveyor, I love pakora, especially if I can douse them in tamarind sauce and spiced yoghurt. The buffet at Shiney’s (our weekly Pakistani pitstop) regularly features a bunch of pakora lazing in a vat of curried yoghurt sauce. So bad for you, but so good.
6) I’ve likened the scallion pancakes at northern Chinese snacker A&J Restaurant to Indian uttapams. I actually don’t have that much experience with uttapams. If I’m at the buffet at Minerva, dosas with coconut or ginger chutney, pakora, and, of course, nan will always take precedence when I’m in carb-loading mode. Pretty much everyone has had a scallion pancake, at some point. But I bet most folks have never seen them fresh from the fryer all swollen like a blowfish (they flatten out into pancake form once they cool). I had the ones pictured here at Temptasian, the Szechuan restaurant, that all the foodies flipped out over and then subsequently abandoned once chef Peter Chang’s brief residence concluded. Though it’s admittedly not as good as it was during Chang’s tenure, it’s really the only place to get an authentic Szechuan fix in the close-in suburbs. We used to favor Crystal City’s Formosa Café, but they fled to Chantilly a couple years ago. There’s also the secret Szechuan menu at the Charlie Chiang’s on S. Pickett St., but dining at Temptasian is somehow a bit less depressing on a Saturday night than rolling through the loading dock ambience of S. Pickett Street.
Contact info for all of the places mentioned here can be found at the links in the article.
-AC
