(scroll past the next 750 words for review)
INTRO:
After the ageless married couple tradition of, "Where do you want to eat? I dunno. I'll eat whatever you want," my wife and I found ourselves heading out of LA around 9:00pm to go back home. I'm usually a great multitasker while I drive (I'm writing this review on my phone via text as I drive right now! jkdsajd), so I wanted to bust out my Yelp app since my wife couldn't settle on a spot. But as I was swerving through traffic fumbling for my phone in my pocket (jk again), I remembered that I wanted to try Bafang Dumpling a while ago. It was on the way home and conveniently open late.
Bingo.
BODY:
We rolled down the quiet streets of Van Nuys on this quaint Saturday night, announcing our foreign presence in the form of our giant dinosaur German Shepherd screaming at innocent pedestrians. Typical. We finally pulled up and were satisfied with the space and quietness of the parking lot, since our reptile-dog needed a noiseless place to hangout in the car while we ate.
As soon as we walked in, I was pleased with the tidiness of everything. As a type A personality, I liked how organized and easy it was to read the menu and well labeled sauce station (Quick aside: I was hella scared to use them because they were in these large containers with pumps, so I was worried that the soy sauce/black vinegar would jizz all over my clothes upon first squirt, but fortunately it did not). I was hungry af so I was ready to order one of everything, but the way my mortgage in California is setup...
What caught my attention the most were the people in the restaurant. Mind you, this was around 9pm on a Saturday in a suburban area. There was a middle-aged Asian man (I mean with Asians, you can never really tell) sitting by himself at a table, chowing down on some noodles. Not looking at his phone. No earbuds. Just chow town. Based on how homie was dressed, he most certainly has been to/is from Asia (As an Asian immigrant myself, I can say this. You probably can't). He certainly looked like he was enjoying himself, so I took that as an preliminary positive sign.
Ordering ahead of us in line was a young man around my age who I shared some identities with. A bit of scruff on his face (Though that's not me, I know it's tough to accomplish as an Asian). A cool, loosely fitting beanie that made it clear he listened to hip-hop. Baggy oversize t-shirt and joggers that Gen Z'ers would approve of. You know the type. He was there with his dad trying to quickly explain the menu to him in an exasperated "C'mon dad, there's people behind us in line, it's not that complicated" way. I could tell he was feeling the heat because he even started muttering some things in broken Mandarin (Something I also do) to rush him.
After we ordered and were waiting for our food, we sat down at a half booth near them and saw the two of them waiting in awkward silence. The mother eventually joined them, but you could tell the group of them probably weren't used to sitting down at a restaurant together.
I was worried "belt to ass" may have been coming if the parents disapproved of the food.
OUTRO:
I'll save you the drama: I could tell the food was, in fact, satisfying to the taste How? They went from 1) Not talking at the table, to 2) Mom and dad kinda nodding their heads as they slurped down their noodle soup, to 3) Actually exchanging a few words.
As if this was some Wong Fu Productions short about how food brings Asian families together, I saw warmth in their eyes. The parents acknowledging that their son finally made a good choice, despite living in overpriced Van Nuys working a job that most likely isn't in the medical field. The son, happily peering back at his parents, proud that he brought them to a place that harkened them back to their home country. It melted my ice cold heart, as I listened to the dad blow a snot rocket in the unisex restroom, to see an interaction that I so rarely have with my one remaining parent. I later saw them grocery shopping at 99 Ranch minutes before it closed, which is a true sign of a united family unit.
I was just happy I got to witness their journey.
Oh, and the actual review:
Taiwanese beef noodle soup: 5/5 - As a Taiwanese immigrant I actually do have authority to judge. Nice tender chunks of meat, not too salty broth, well cooked noodles, good amount of veggies, and a huge portion size to meet the needs of fat Americans.
Signature potstickers: 4/5 - Good flavor and filling. A bit on the smaller size so if you're hungry, order more than 6.
Signature dumplings: 5/5 - As someone with high cholesterol due to my irresponsible tendency of eating salty foods, I was surprised that I liked the boiled dumplings more than the fried, oily, potstickers. They just felt so much fuller in ingredients with a nice QQ skin.
Hot & sour soup: 3.5/5 - Didn't hate it, didn't love it. I knew when I ordered it, it was mostly on the menu to placate the Whites. read more