Philippe by Philippe Chow
December 31st, 2009 by
To begin: here is a spread from an incredible feast I partook of the last time I was in Shanghai:
That's how it works. A ridiculous array of sauces and bastings and dirty secrets, often a good six or seven animals represented. And, if the spinning glass wheel of offering doesn't indicate, it's about community.
Across America, as most know, this cuisine gets pretty bastardized; it's a challenge to find anything near replication of what's found in the mountain towns, industrial swamps, and gaudy, noisy feasting houses of metropolis' Beijing or Shanghai, or, perhaps the beacon of Pacific Asian cuisine, Hong Kong. Still, it can be found. Local LA guy Jonathan Gold wanders The Valley and its many tributaries all the time, for instance, pining for dumplings and braised pork. And he finds them. To an extent.
Most of this damn-close deliciousness is found adjacent dry cleaners and donut shops in the concrete strips California does so well. And there's no doubt something cool about this.
But for fine dining, a bit of atmosphere, a bit of romance, charming and attentive treatment, and the opportunity to gorge on the best of the best, Chinese food, is commonly skipped as a destination.
However, I recently had the opportunity to experience the new Philippe by Philippe Chow in West Hollywood, and uniquely, a number of the delights met some of the more amazing middle-of-the-night feasts I've had in China, from the alley grills near Beijing's university districts, to its 4-story, 24 hour Peking duck points of interest.
And its Beijing that Phillipe specializes in- most importantly, Peking duck. But first, the cocktails. I enjoyed a delicious pear martini made with Ty Ku sake, and nibbled on duck rolls, only to soon be bowled over by the boy food-esque chicken satay in a peanut cream sauce, of which I wish Mr. Chow could separately market late night for that particular after-the-club craving. Next were some silly good salt and pepper prawns, evened out by a scallion pancake.
And then: the duck. Wheeled to the table before slicing, the roast was perfect, the juice bubbling beneath the skin, running down the rim of each papery, chewy pancake wrap. This was washed down with a California Pinot, one of many from the restaurant's rad list of wines.
Along with the food, the atmosphere is sexy and lush, and one can't help but feel, at least after a wine glow, at ease in the slow panning reds, creams, and charcoals akin to Won Kar Wai's "In the Mood For Love". It's also pretty lively and energetic, and I was fortunate to witness an incredible hand-pulled noodle presentation in the dining rooom from one of the chefs.
West Hollywood's Philippe by Philippe Chow, with other locations in New York and Miami, is an excellent destination for those looking to shake up fine dining. The flavor is big, the fare rich, and it's pretty regularly peppered with pretty people.
I wouldn't put anything on my culinary experiences bellying up round the tables of China, but this particular night made me feel as if I was being swallowed up and stuffed by one of its decadent hotels; yet when I came out, it was nicely quiet, and even though this is LA, the air was substantially cleaner.
