Chinese done by Koreans. What does that mean?
It's not so much a culture clash but more like a collaboration. Overlapping cuisines for a menu that makes the best of both; flavors similar, sometimes diverging, and always fabulous. The Fried Dumplings, for example, seem more Chinese, filled with ground pork, glass noodles, and scallion. The filling is juicy and a little more delicate than generic gyoza, and there is something lighter in the frying as the wrappers come out airy.
Like all things Asian, the portions are generous, and even a single Black Bean Noodle feeds two or more. These noodles are more Korean, a starch-sticky and chewy al dente. The paste is thick with black bean sauce, and the texture of the noodles makes it stick in an even coat.
Mongolian Beef is simply sliced, thin pieces of beef tossed with green onion.
Chicken in Hot Garlic Sauce is a marriage between General Tso with the slightest hint of sweet and sour, and a better match was never made.
Oh how I hate sweet and sour. The sticky s*** that's plagued my childhood whenever white people get takeout. No one in China makes this crap. The garbage that comes from a can has none of the Chinese-signature vinegar-sugar sting. Their Sweet and Sour Pork isn't that either, but it is undoubtedly delicious. They coat their pork with a lovely golden batter, and it's fried so fluffy. The dip is not so bad either, less cloying with more subtlety in both sour and sweet.
I always thought Korean women had the best sense of style, and in this food it shows. There is an understated elegance to Jin Jja Roo, and no one makes a better plate of chicken.
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