NVM Review

By Warren Rojas

Ever notice how everyone on those televised kitchen/home remodeling shows always angles for next-generation Viking ovens or subzero freezers?

Not this guy.

I’d hold out for the sensibly designed, yet artfully arranged, hanging duck- and pork-filled display case at Miu Kee (as is, of course).

The smallish, strip-mall joint is definitely showing its age—cracked Formica tabletops are becoming the rule rather than the exception, the business-grade carpet is bare in spots, ground-in black in others—but nobody seems to notice. Or maybe their eyes are more easily drawn to the aforementioned roast-meat showcase peeking out from the kitchen, the striking mini-shrine hovering above the bar or the pale, aqua glow from the bank of giant lobster- and blue crab-filled holding tanks that greet you at the front door.

A far cry from the generic corner carry-outs of yore, Miu Kee aims to present more regional Chinese cooking, including Szechuan (western), Cantonese (southern) and Hunan (central) cuisine.

Granted, I’ve watched as oblivious Westerners popped in to scoop up orders of Americanized standbys (General Tso’s chicken, sweet-and-sour pork) on their way home from work. But even the most cursory glance at what the sit-down diners are eating—the roast duck and crispy pork are clear favorites—shows this restaurant knows its stuff.

No need to request secret menus or utter unpronounceable passwords here, as management has laid bare their full culinary catalog for all to see. Fare ranges from loaded congee offerings (including a potpourri of pork offal and a preserved egg variety) to myriad delicacies (jellyfish, pigs’ knuckles, duck feet) to specialty barbecue platters (brined chicken, roast pork).

Meanwhile, staff acknowledged they still use now-taboo monosodium glutamate in certain stir-fry dishes—“It depends on what you order,” the forthright server stated—but noted that customers can always request msg-free preparations.

Beef congee brings a cloudy mass of rice porridge (think soupier grits) laden with softened brisket, shredded ginger and diced scallions. A Hong Kong-style soup is better, revealing warm broth propped up by a half-dozen shrimp-filled wontons (smack of seafood and fresh black pepper).

A ration of cured bacon and Chinese broccoli is curious, delivering clusters of salt-tinged greens rolling around with wiggly strips of fried bacon (broccoli runs away with this one).

The house roast pork, on the other hand, is salt-rubbed swine at its finest. Each plate is heaped with piles of tanned skin (beyond crunchy) and luscious, crimson meat—a pork lover’s dream sent even further skyward by tangy hoisin sauce. The roast duck might soar just a little higher, presenting a well-constructed bird with browned skin that doesn’t crackle so much as bleed soy sauce (marvelous), with terrifically moist breast meat to match.

Sweet-and-sour spare ribs proved boring (deep-fried pork, overpowering glaze; move along), whereas scallop-stuffed shrimp balls were just perplexing (did someone forget to roll in some actual flavor?).