Gourmet Dumpling House
Overeater who is originally from the Boston area: Ginger.
Overeater who has now consumed all ten Best Thing I Ever Ate Boston-area dishes: Vodka.
Sometimes blogs, as in life, do not make sense.
Vodka ventured to Boston recently under the guise of "college roommate visitation." In truth, she had ambushed said former roommate weeks earlier with the mission of cramming all ten Best Thing I Ever Ate Boston locations into a less-than-48-hour itinerary.
|"The Whack-Job Is Coming! The Whack-Job Is Coming!"|
|Taking an Inconspicuous Chinatown Arch Picture = Impossible|
At least, I suppose, we can chalk this place up as being "authentic."
|Although for Unknown Reasons, the Host Insists on Seating Everyone at the BACK of the Restaurant|
|I Need an English-to-Food-Network Translator|
For the record, the sliced fish Szechuan style makes the mirchi ka salan taste like a cupcake.
|And All the Tea in the Universe Can't Do Much to Combat It|
|"I May Be A While"|
|Oh No - Not the Red Pepper Flakes... ANYTHING But the Red Pepper Flakes|
|Chinatown's Most Prestigious Spa|
|Cause of Death: Stupidity|
And this, the first taste of the 492 it would take to reach the bottom of this bowl, is more pleasing than one would think. The white fish itself is nicely cooked, smooth and buttery to the point that it hardly requires chewing. At first, both the temperature and spiciness is so high that it is hard to tell from where the burning comes, but I assume that my mouth is simply reaching the required level of numbness that will be necessary for the rest of the dish's completion.
And then I take a second bite. And I am convinced that death is imminent.
|As Her Inheritance, Ginger Will Gain Only the Remainder of My Boston Itinerary|
After a grand total of six spoonfuls, my throat burns to such a high degree that I am convinced that I am going to keel over and die in the streets of Chinatown Boston without even Ginger to save me. Scrambling to find the Wheat Thins I have hidden in my bag, I try to suppress the fire in my mouth with reduced-fat crackers and small cups of tea. In the midst of this recovery, another customer stops by my table to ask what I'm eating, a question which the waiter is forced to answer when I can only manage to mumble "Very spicy" with my heat-laden tongue.
|I Should've Hired the Ducklings As My Interpreters|
In the end, I've decided that I cannot in good conscience give this dish any more than 2 stars, even if the sliced fish itself was rather pleasing. After all, if I cannot physically take more than ten bites, let alone finish the thing, it just can't rank very high. This isn't Fear Factor -- it's a self-inflicted Food Network eating tour. And if either of us feel as though we have reached the last of our days by anything other than indigestion, we are torturing ourselves in all of the wrong ways.
Gourmet Dumpling House's Sliced Fish Szechuan Style: 2 stars