Lemongrass
The
last nights of Pho 777 were a
bittersweet reunion for well-wishers
of Nga Tran, the best of a solid
line of Vietnamese chefs in Iowa.
Her restaurant drew an enthusiastic
clientele that one doesn’t expect
on Sixth Avenue — New York City
publishers and high ranking politicians
were among its fans. But it was
extraordinarily unlucky. Soon
after her debut, Nga learned that
a swank new Vietnamese café
was opening four blocks east.
A few months after that, she lost
her Touch Play machines. Admirers
are hoping to keep Nga in town,
but she told us she was moving
to Keokuk.
As 777 came down for its hard
landing, Lemongrass opened on
the University Strip in Clive,
not far from where the doomed
Mimosa introduced Indochina cuisine
to the western burbs three years
ago. Things have changed since
that excellent café folded.
Suburban demographics are shifting
as fast as a Wells Fargo wagon.
Lemongrass chef Chad Lum says
a quarter of their business is
with Asians. Such a knowledgeable
clientele can keep ethnic restaurants
safe from the one-menu-fits-all
trap that catches so many Mexican
places outside the inner city.
Unusual touches, including linen
and silk table cloths, plus fresh
flowers in the men’s bathroom,
will widen Lemongrass’ customer
base.
The metro now boasts half a
dozen truly excellent Thai-Lao
cafés and each distinguishes
its menu from the others. Lemongrass
adds mightily to that happy trend
with several family heirloom recipes
from northern Laos. Their “hor
moak pla” is a culinary statement;
Dilled catfish is cooked for hours
in banana leaf, rendering a starchy
texture without any starches,
and a gamut of rich flavors. This
might be the world’s finest use
of both catfish and dill. Lum
also makes a chicken version.
“Ou larm” brought a mix of galangal,
lemon grass, spinach, green beans
and shitakes in a flavorful soupy
broth. Some elephant ear, a fungus
that has miraculous abilities
to absorb other flavors, took
it to another level. Sticky rice
is served with the dish at dinner,
but regrettably not at lunch.
The dish begs to be served in
a clay pot rather than on a plate,
but I’m nit picking.
“Three flavor fish,” another
family heirloom, brought fried
tilapia on spinach and basil in
a tamarind-based sweet sauce and
caramelized onions. Stir-fried
“lemon grass” dishes presented
an edible form of the restaurant’s
namesake, with peppers and root
vegetables. “Larp” was different
from other versions around town
reminding me of Nga Tran’s crepes
— with a bed of lettuces and sticky
rice accompanying the heavily
herbed minced meat.
Lum said that stocks for soups
and sauces, both Vietnamese and
Thai, are made from bone-scratch
daily. Thai soups use chicken
stock with ginger family members
and lemon grass. Phos are made
from a rare combination of chicken
and beef bones. Heat in curry
came more from sprinklings of
dried red peppers than from fresh
chilies in their pastes. All were
sweetened with coconut milk. My
green curry was far too heavy
with bamboo shoots, too light
on basil. My red curry was more
interesting, with several vegetables
including eggplant.
Some less distinctive dishes
are popular — “put thai” was one
of the least fishy (salty-sour)
versions I’ve found, tasting of
peanuts and sweetness. Similarly,
my green papaya salad was accessible
for timid taste buds, delivering
some of the flavor of unripe papaya
and fish sauce without overwhelming
palates that aren’t used to those
wavelengths. Its dressing is a
family secret, but excludes the
harsh shrimp paste that can overwhelm
western tongues. However, Lum
will prepare anything either “Thai”
or “Lao” style — the latter uses
more strong flavors, particularly
fermented shrimp paste and fish
sauce.
Sides dish
Legacy Sports Bar & Grill
opened in the former Woodee’s
(87 N.E. Carefree Ln., Waukee)
featuring hand breaded fried foods,
hand cut steaks, prime sirloin
and Waukee’s first weekend breakfast.
And yes, they salvaged Woodee’s
popular lemon crème brulee.
CV
By Jim Duncan CVFDude@aol.com
Comment
on this story | Return
to top |