What is the new dim sum?

Sunset, Jan, 1995 by Linda Lau Anusasananan

TABLE FOR SIX FOR DIM SUM? THE HOSTESS HANDS ME A scrap of paper with 68 scribbled on it. Rumor has it that Hong Kong talent has landed here at Fook Yuen, a nondescript restaurant on the San Francisco Peninsula. It's still early this Sunday morning, and there's already a crowd--mostly Chinese--so we suspect the rumor is well-founded.

We wait for a table, tummies rumbling. Carts with stacks of steamer baskets careen among big round tables. Trays of crisp golden nuggets and sunny yellow tarts whiz by. Teasing aromas of pungent black beans, coconut custard, and cilantro shrimp mingle in the air as waitresses bark out names of dishes in Chinese. At last, 68 is called.

We are seated just outside the kitchen. Dining companion Jo Ann complains, but I rejoice. During peak dim sum hours, this is the best location: we can snag tempting morsels as they roll hot and fresh through the swinging doors. Even before tea arrives, two waitresses descend to offer plates of white cottony buns streaked with red filling and open-faced dumplings dotted with orange. Famished, we point to both. The tea is poured as another cart glides up. "Bo choi gau?" asks the waitress. Puzzled, we ask for a peek. She lifts the lid. Pearly white dumplings glisten with steam but reveal no clue to their contents. We decide to give them a try. "Chicken satay?" asks another server. We nod yes. Our table is filling quickly with plates and small steamer sections. We opt to devour these foods while they're hot and wave away the next three carts.

Golden packets of mango crepes arrive for our inspection. The fruit is in season, so we take some, mixing sweet dishes and savory ones with Chinese casualness. And when the tea is gone, we turn over the teapot top to signal for a hot water refill.

All around us in this noisy, crowded room are familiar favorites and little mysteries that demand explanation--or an educated palate. Thick porridges, jellyfish salads, cold and hot noodle dishes, curling chicken feet, leaf-wrapped sticky rice, and an uncalculated number of other dishes are being consumed with gusto and washed down with cup after cup of fragrant hot tea.

Just as the din reaches a crescendo, we ask for our bill. It's $60 for six, and we've had enough dim sum to make us feel as if we're waddling out the door.

A Cantonese revival in the West

Dim sum, a feast of tiny delectable morsels, is a social experience that Chinese often call yum cha (drink tea). This ancient custom dates from the 10th century, when chefs invented bite-size delicacies to tease the jaded palates of fickle royals and, hopefully, touch their hearts. Dim sum translates as touch the heart.

In the 13th century, Mongol invaders forced the royal court--and dim sum--south to the province of Guangdong and into the capital city of Guangzhou (formerly Canton). The Cantonese made dim sum their own, and added their own inventive dishes. Nibbling these tidbits--from morning to midafternoon--while sipping tea became part of the scenario for friends and associates who gathered to visit, gossip, or do business.

Where Cantonese migrated, dim sum went along. When communists came to power in China, many of the best dim sum chefs fled to Hong Kong, turning it into an epicurean capital where competition drove dim sum to greater refinement.

In recent years, political edginess about the 1997 mainland China takeover has had Hong Kong dim sum masters on the move again. Their favorite destinations are in the West--the San Francisco Bay Area; Los Angeles basin; Vancouver, British Columbia; and Honolulu. They've brought world-class dim sum with them, incorporating tastes and customs of the West. Clifford Chow, manager of Harbor Village Restaurant in San Francisco, sums up the movement: "It's more refined, portions are smaller, quality is much higher, and the selection is greater than ever." And he ventures, "I think dim sum is better here than in Hong Kong."

Classically, dim sum enhances fresh, natural flavors with a few select seasonings. The new Western offerings take advantage of fresh produce and nontraditional ingredients from other ethnic cuisines, both of which abound in the West, and put them to use with classic techniques and a sensitivity to healthful eating.

Gearing up for dim sum

Eating dim sum is an off-the-wall adventure. Foods come in no particular sequence; you might be able to order, but often there is no menu and you have to point at what you want from a passing cart or tray. You may not know what you're eating until the first bite; even then you may be puzzled and possibly happier in ignorance. The server may not speak English. You are expected to share. The more people in your party, the more foods you can try. Exotic ingredients like tripe, chicken feet, and shark fin are common.

Yet in most places, dim sum dining is more user-friendly now than it was just a decade ago. Some restaurants, especially upscale ones, even take reservations and credit cards and communicate in English. Although brunch isn't a Chinese concept, the hours of dim sum service fit the time frame: 10 to 3.