I’ll have to admit that other than watching this seasons Top Chef: All Stars clusterfuck that was the dim sum challenge, I had never seen a dim sum service, complete with a crowded dining room, metal carts filled with delicious treats and lots and lots of yelling. Sure, I’ve been to a few hundred Asian restaurants (no, seriously–I live in Seattle. There’s alot of Asian restaurants in the Pacific Northwest) but I have never experienced the amazingness that is true dim sum.
It started with plans to go out to dinner with my best friend and an old friend from high school I hadn’t seen in a while. Since I chose where we went last time we went out to eat, I relinquished control and let them take the reins on where we would eat.
We ended up at a dim sum restaurant in Bellevue that I 1) can not remember the name for the life of me and 2) was literally in the middle of a field of strip malls, and I couldn’t get back there if you paid me.
We walled into a busy lunch service in a sea of wooden tables all with lazy susans attached to the table tops, and were seated in the back. There were no menus, no traditional servers, and no knives and forks. My old friend turned to me and asked “What do you eat? No pork, no beef, you’re impossible, just, oh, just sit there, there will be something!” Silver carts started wheeling by, with steamed up glass windows, obscuring the showcased treats inside. Dumplings and potstickers and golden fried pillows of tofu with sweet spicy dipping sauce. There was lots of yelling going on between patrons and servers at the carts in languages I could not understand, and little dishes just kept appearing on our table. “Eat this one, but not this one, this one is not for you!” I was told each time a new treat appeared, and I finally had to insist my old friend sit and enjoy the shared meal, which eventually she did, and we caught up while stuffing our faces and drinking green tea. Hopefully we’ll go back soon for another round.
And yes, they have chicken feet. And no, I haven’t tried them. Yet.