Take a Walk on the North Side -- Milwaukee's Asian Markets

My coworker, Phia, is a man of few words. Few, rushed, and often excited words. One day, very much out of the blue (as he's wont to do), he approached me after our morning meeting.

"Gotta new pho place! Asian markets! Tasty!" 

Phia had me at pho.

If you've been a constant reader (and if you have, I apologize, and owe you a debt of gratitude for sticking with us for these three-odd years), you'll know our romance with pho hasn't been an incredibly long one, but riddled with bouts of fiery passion that truly magnificent love affairs often are. 

We've tried good. We've tried meh. We've even been to Hue... the restaurant, not the city, and we liked it... a lot. But really hardcore-authentic pho has been a bit of Beowulfian legend -- traded back and forth in hushed tones in back-alleys and drawn as daydreams in foodie's multi-subject Mead notebooks like so much study hall fodder. Well, Milwaukee, we've found the pho of your dreams. And a lot of other really, really cool food, too. You might even want to try the tripe. 

First, a bit of background: Milwaukee's Asian Markets Phongsavan (which is the business' full title) is, as its name might imply, a market. Like, plywood stalls, chicken wire, everything-under-the-sun market, with hawkers and alien produce and all the smells and sights and lack of climate control you can imagine in an actual Asian Market. Many of the market's customers are Hmong, although you'll find Vietnamese, Chinese, and Thai goods and folks there, among many others. 

The building was previously a transmission workshop, and the owners plan on remodeling the current space, as well as adding a massive building next-door, in the coming years. Right now, the building is a little homely, and it's easy to mistake it for a warehouse or factory. But step inside, my friends, and you are suddenly half a world away...

There's a large grocery section in the market, well stocked and with what seems to be very good turn-over, meaning what's on the shelf seems to move fairly quickly. I was particularly excited to find Red Boat brand fish sauce -- something I had heard about but only now get to experience. 

Stalls of domestic products line the aisles, ranging from innocuous aspirin to slightly intimidating herbs and barks. 

Beautiful fabrics and traditional garments hang willy-nilly, helping complete the journey from North-side Milwaukee to South-Pacific

People here are happy, social, and warm: you may not share a language, but you can share the experience, and everyone we've ever encountered is happy to be a part of it.

In the back of the market is the produce and food stall area (which is where all the action is, of course!), and if a foodie heart beats in your chest, it will arise and thunder at the sight of so many exotics:

Here, our own Adam concentrates curiously at copious containers of chilis, 

only to make dear and life-long friends with a squash(?) a few moments later. Yes, that is the grin of satisfaction on his face.(?)

I thought maybe Adam had found Waldo when he shouted across the room, "OH! LOOK!" which was, to my dismay, followed with, "I actually know what this is! That's some big ginger!"

Big ginger, indeed, Adam, but we weren't here to ogle the produce... we were here for some pho. Some really serious pho. And I was going to get some, big ginger or not. 

BIG IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT THE FOOD STALLS NUMBER ONE: 

A lot of the food is prepared early in the day, and when it's gone, it's gone -- we had our friends from CBS This Morning with us for our review, and by the time we got set up, established lighting, let our awesome imprimatur and EM "superfan" Sr. Stella talk about how awesome we all are (duh), and ordered, a lot of the prepared food available at the stalls was already sold out. Sad face.

This is where Phia chimes in:

"Well, yeah! Get to the market at 11am! That's when everything is still there!" 

Which was really great advice... the next day.

It didn't dilute our spirits, though, or our thirst, and we all ordered rounds of bubble tea.

Poor Adam: it seems every single picture I took of the evening somehow involved him.

The stand which sells bubble tea also has delicious Vietnamese Summer Rolls (gỏi cuốn), which we made quick work of. 

The rolls were everything that a great summer roll should be: a chorus of textures, crisp lettuce, chewy noodles, substantial roast pork, crunchy shrimp (yes, that's the way I'd describe a cooked shrimp), bound together with rich, sweet, hoisin-infused peanut sauce.

The bubble teas, at least on this outing, were nothing to write home about. In the past, I've watched as a ripe mango was de-boned right in front of me, tossed into a blender with ice and Lord only knows what else, and blended to a smooth finish, studded with tapioca pearls. Sadly, all the ripe mangoes seem to have been de-boned, because our bubble teas were of the too-sweet variety made with powdered fruit flavor. 

BIG IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT THE FOOD STALLS NUMBER TWO: 

During the summer months, the dining area is indoor/outdoor, and is exposed to both the heat of the day, and any insect friends that may buzz their way towards your plate.

BIG IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT THE FOOD STALLS NUMBER THREE: 

The pho is quite divine.

When ordering pho, you'll be faced with two very important decisions. The first of which is, Regular Pho or Special Combination Pho.

Regular Pho is filled with everything you'd expect out of pho from an American restaurant: delicious, plentiful meats that everyone's grandmother would never turn her nose up at. If you're new to pho, this is where you probably want to start.

The Special Combination Pho, however, offers a veritable cornucopia of meaty vittles, including, but certainly not limited to:

• Roast Pork
• Krab
• Meatballs
• Shrimp
• Tendon
• Tripe
• Brisket

The second decision you'll be confronted with is size: huge, or mega-honkin'-gut-buster-gargantuan. 

The pork is absolutely amazing. Rich, rich, rich roasted flavor, fatty, meaty, golden brown skin and chewy-in-the-fun-way lean meat. Brisket is good, although it tends to be pretty well done by the time it arrives on the table (I love my brisket rare). Meatballs have that familiar, strange density and cheese-curd squeakiness that we all love so much. The Krab is, well, still Krab, and the shrimp have ranged (on different visits) from perfect, fresh, and crisp, to over-done and iodine-y. Your milage may vary.

The Pho Broth, which, let's face it, is really the raison d'être here, is marvelous. Rich and full of palate-pulverizing umami goodness (did you hear that? It's the sound of my physician reminding me about my already-too-high blood pressure! Sodium ahoy!), it dances nicely around the big meaty bullies, glances off the pungent green onions, and wraps around the chewy rice noodles like a well-worn blanket.

Each table in the dining area of the market is well-equipped with a tray of pretty much anything you'd ever want to dunk in your pho, including:

• Soy Sauce
• Hoisin Sauce
• Sriracha
• Hmong Hot Pepper Sauce (aka, pain and suffering... today and tomorrow)
• Ground Peanuts
• Pickled Chili
• Beef Base

And, let us not forget our friendly trays of pho accompaniments:

Thai Basil, bean sprouts, lime, and chili. Fairly standard.

Did I mention there was tripe in the Special Combo Pho? Yeah, it's a little leathery, a little gritty, and a little like chewing on a wet napkin, but there's also something very... macho... about it. I usually ask the folks at the counter to cut back on the tripe... just a little to remind me of the humble beginnings to pho, but not enough to frustrate the experience. 

Also on the menu for the evening was a chicken curry, which has a lovely Thai name I can't remember. Immediately, I thought of Tom Kha Kai, a heavenly Thai coconut chicken curry soup. There's Thai red curry paste here, and lemongrass -- the coconut broth was light, with a little acidic brightness and citrus notes. Still, it lacked a satisfying punch -- tasty, but probably not the sort of thing I could make an entire meal of.

Roast pork was sadly absent, but there was still plenty of roast chicken and sticky rice to go 'round.

The mangled chicken carcasses were nothing too pretty -- and the well-done meat was a bit dry, but I think I understand what the chicken could be if we were to arrive at the market at, say, 11am, as Phia had suggested. Still, the skin was a beautiful mahogany, and the flavors were there -- but the texture was a bit off. I'm going to chalk this one up to it having been 8pm by the time we actually were able to eat.

Is there anyone who hates sticky rice? Certainly none of the Eating Milwaukee staff -- even when you're busy making network television, and the rice congeals into a massive brick of starch, it's still delicious, ripped apart by hand and used as everything from fork and spoon to bread and napkin. 

While we were a little late in ordering, the pho stall also offers delicious Lao sausage, with all of the garlic, ginger, and lemongrass sass you can handle. I was terribly disappointed that they had run out -- next to the pho, this is one of my favorite dishes the stall offers.

Epilogue

Milwaukee's Asian Markets are probably off most of Milwaukee's radar. I couldn't blame someone for not knowing about them: tucked away, without a proper sign, no advertising, and a bit of culture shock waiting for the average caucasian Milwaukeean. Yet, if one were to be frightened off by the exotic nature of the markets and the very real-life Laotian or Thai or Vietnamese market atmosphere, they would be missing a wonderful experience in spite of its strongest traits. This is not the Ethnic Foods aisle at Pick 'N' Save, and it's not Super A-Number-One Chinese. This is the market of cultures displaced from their homelands, a market made to comfort and assuage as much as it is to peddle and hawk. Not too long ago, neighborhoods of Germans and Poles had markets not too different -- selling food, clothing, and household items from home, a little bit of comfort in a country so dissimilar from their own, a place where customs, language and landscape are so foreign to seem an entirely different planet. Communities are built around these markets, and an identity, an integral part of America's diverse patchwork of cultures and traditions, is forged in the intermingling of natives and new sons and daughters.

Go, and visit. Listen, and learn. Oh, and watch us on CBS This Morning -- it's only fitting that the crazy food blog gets national media attention at the equally outrageous and equally lovable (ahem) Asian Markets.

Report Card:

Atmosphere: A- / C+

Why two grades? Well, there's two very different ways of looking at this. Either you're completely turned off by an un-climate-controlled dining area with flies, or you see it as an authentic experience and enjoy the change of pace. I'll let you decide what camp you fall into.

Prices: A-
$8-$9 for a huge bowl of pho, filled to the brim with meat, is the deal of the century. Hmong egg rolls are something like $1 a crack, and Lao sausage is $4. You really can't beat that with a stick.

Service: B
Despite being counter-service-only, the folks at the food stalls are glad to bring your food to you, bring you napkins, boundless glasses of ice water, and anything else you made need to trim your pho like a spicy, beefy Christmas wreath. I understand I pushed the bounds of the simile there.

The Food: B+
Some hits, some misses -- the challenge here is, there are days the food is phenomenal, and there are days when it's merely okay. The grade, therefore, reflects more the lack of consistency of exceptional taste, not the actual lack of quality.

The Details:

Milwaukee's Asian Markets Phongsavan
6300 N. 76th St.
Milwaukee, WI 53218
414-760-3771

Bangkok House; or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Spice

I had to drive around a little while after tonight's dinner: there was a lot to process through. This has been the hottest day in Milwaukee so far, with temps maxing out at 85°, and that always brings out the crazy in all of us. Look no further than the antics down on Lincoln Memorial Drive today. We're cooped up all winter, survive spring in spurts of warmth and cold, and all of a sudden, the heat hits, and we're all exploding like Jiffy-Pop.

It is in these odd, immediate moments of change that I kind of find myself a little lost, and one of my favorite past times is to look at my beloved city as if I were a visitor... what would Milwaukee look like if I weren't a native?

So, tonight, I drove. With my delicious Thai dinner settling, I went down Howard to the Lake, meandering under big old Maples and Oaks, through Milwaukee, through Bay View, through St. Francis. I looked out over the lake and watched the planes lined up like a short string of Christmas lights, smelled woodsmoke from backyard fires, and as I headed South on S. Lake Drive, I smelled coal from factories, bacon from Cudahy, laundry soap, wet grass, and lake water. I was a foreigner. It was beautiful.

I have an obsession with feeling all at sea, it takes me out of my routine, things are exciting, different, so distant from the grind that we all face every day. In my work, I've become almost burnt out with tragedy, and when tragedy becomes routine, you need to find an escape.

I think that's why we started Eating Milwaukee; it's a way to be that famed "Tourist in Your Own Town." We can go to a restaurant we've never been to, or maybe one we've been to over and over again  (ahem, Tandoor), and live outside of our lives for a little while. It's like taking a vacation for a few hours.  Food is such a glorious reminder of culture, such an intimate way of sharing, that you can't help but love the effect a good meal can have on a bad day. Or, for that matter, how an amazing meal can elevate an already great day.

So, tonight, we went to Bangkok House.

Located in a strip mall (Hmm... Asian cuisine, strip mall, awesomeness... anyone see a trend?) at the corner of E. Layton Ave. and So. Whitnall, Bangkok House is, to say the least, unassuming. In fact, if you didn't see the very plain channel lettering above the front entrance, you would probably never even know it's there. Which of course would make you very, very foolish indeed. Because you would be missing out on a certain gem of a meal.

One thing you'll notice right away about Bangkok House is the décor. It is lush, clean, and elegant. Chandeliers hang from the drop ceiling, and busy floral drapes adorn the windows. This is NOT your average Thai joint. Even the bathrooms are well appointed and immaculate.

During the week, there is a wonderful lunch buffet:

which I highly recommend, and what's even more is that everything on the buffet, as far as I can tell, is offered on the regular dinner menu. This way, you have the opportunity to try a vast number of dishes, and be armed with your favorites and impress the hell out of your friends when you go for dinner next.

Our bubbly, talkative waitress seated us, and immediately took our cloth napkins out of our water glasses and filled 'em up. This, of course, was foreshadowing of the heat to come.

The menu at Bangkok House is extensive, and perhaps the most exciting part of it is that there are NO repeats. No cop outs, no "Chicken" section with the same dishes as the "Beef" and "Seafood" sections. Every page is filled with unique, individual selections, and most are available with your choice of chicken, beef, or pork.

Having already established the supremacy of Chicken Satay, we ordered some for an appetizer, as well as an order of Thai Beef Jerky, which we had become familiar with on our outing to the delightful Mekong Café.

The Thai Beef Jerk came with a nice garnish of carrot strings, and a sweet and sour chili dipping sauce:

The Chicken Satay, oh glory of glories, was served with two different dipping sauces: one a light, sweet cucumber-perfumed sauce, and the other, a thick, robust peanut sauce:

You may notice something here: as often as we've ordered Chicken Satay, we've never had one with the grill included! Part dinner theatre, part do-it-yourself-cooking, the point is that the chicken is fully cooked and ready to eat, but you get to put the finishing touches on it at your table, letting it char, sizzle, and smoke while all the tables around you get insanely jealous. Does it make the chicken taste any better? Sure, it adds some flavor. But it is fantastic drama, making the food interactive. It's like flambé, except far less lame. 

The beef jerky was sublime. Crispy on the outside, amazingly tender on the inside, perfectly marinated and spiced. And the sauce! Lots of Sriracha mixed in made it hot, but never overwhelming. I could have made a meal of it. 

After grilling our chicken for a while,

I was finally able to dig in. The chicken was so, so tender. You'd think being essentially twice-cooked would make it tough, but it was divine. The marinade, consisting of curry spices and coconut milk, was strong and to the core of the meat. The flavor was truly new to me, and I loved every tender, chickeny moment of it.

The sauces were equally wonderful, with the lighter, sweeter one being a nice harmony, while the thick, rich peanut sauce elbowing its way through to the top of the flavor profile. It was actually a lot of fun to switch off between the two, from soothing, easy-listening to raging death metal and back again. 

Which is one reason why I love Thai food so much: it's all about the contrast. So much is delicate coconut versus strong basil, or lilting lime butting heads with brassy curry. Soft, comforting noodles and crunchy peanuts and fish sauce. In one dish, there can be all of these flavors, all bouncing around like the balls in a lotto machine, and still, it all just works beautifully. 

We also ordered soup... which actually came out before the appetizers. Andy had Tom Yum Goong, which is a spicy, clear hot and sour soup with shrimp:

While Lauren, Sonja, and I had Tom Kha Gai, a creamy, luscious soup with coconut milk, straw mushrooms and chicken (or veggies, in Sonja's case):

Andy's soup was a scorcher. But big, bright citrus flavors of lime juice and lemongrass, and a nice, initial flame-out in the back of your throat. 

Our soup was peerless. Creamy, but not at all viscous, with big chunks of straw mushrooms and chicken:

It was the general consensus that, when we came back for the lunch buffet, we would eat nothing but the soup (since, luckily for us, it's featured daily!). Creamy coconut, fresh, herby cilantro, scallion, lime... soothing and still slightly spiced. Do not... and I repeat... DO NOT MISS THIS SOUP. 


Time for our entrées!

Andy ordered Pud Prig Khing (chicken with stringbeans with lime leaves in a chili ginger sauce):

 Lauren ordered the unfortunately named Pud Baby Corn (beef with baby corn and mixed veggies in a brown, oyster sauce):

Sonja ordered the tradition Pud Thai:

And I ordered Massaman Curry (chicken with potatoes and carrots in a thick, coconut-based curry gravy):

All of our dinners, except for Sonja's (which already had noodles), were served with Thai Jasmine rice.

Andy's chicken with lime leaves and string beans was hot at spice level three, but not unbearable. Crazy flavors, salty, sweet, and hot, with each hunk of chicken coated in a sort of sauce-paste, and the whole conglomeration bathed in chili oil. Amazing.

Lauren's beef with baby corn was equally delightful. The sauce spicing was more staid at one-and-a-half (or, One Plus, or Two Minus, on Andy's spicing scale), but had that rich dark oyster flavor.

Sonja's Pud Thai was a perfect execution, with the noodles taking all of the saltiness of the fish sauce, combined with the acidity of lime, and softness of egg, and the crunch of peanuts and dried shrimp.

My curry was delightful. Spiced perfectly and one-and-a-half, with tender chunks of chicken and potato, slices of onion and carrot, and a thick, creamy coconut gravy. The flavor profile wasn't new to me (similar to Macanese Portuguese Sauce, which I don't have a good link for, or even Japanese Golden Curry), but I do love the coconut milk, and the potatoes and carrots make it hearty and homey.

Easily one of the best Thai food experiences I've had, I can't say enough about the quality of our meal. Everything had a sense of care and craft to it, and I have absolutely no qualms about talking Bangkok House up to both Thai food fanatics and newbies alike. Our server was helpful and fast, funny and accommodating, and our food was spot on. It was the perfect Out-Of-Milwaukee experience: we could have easily been in Los Angeles, or Seattle, or New York, or D.C., and nothing would have been amiss. This is why I love dining out. And this is why we keep eating, and keep writing... finding retreats from reality like Bangkok House makes Mondays (and Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and Fridays, and every other weekend) just that much more bearable.

Report Card:

Atmosphere: B+

Sometimes, I almost wonder how the country-club interior and fabulous authentic food came together to form this one restaurant, but I certainly can't argue with success. Clean, well lit, and just a little odd, but a refreshing change of pace from some other Disneyland Asian restaurants we've been to.

Prices: B

Entrées will run you between $9 and $19, depending on your tastes. This alone is reasonable. Our soups were about $2.50, but our appetizers were a little on the pricey side, about $8 each. But, you get to grill at your table, so I guess it all evens out in the end. Can you put a price on pyromania?

Service: A

Fast, helpful, friendly. What else can you ask for? Besides a floor show?

The Food: A/A+

We all agreed: spectacular. Each and every dish is unique and interesting, you'll be looking forward to coming back long before your food even arrives, because there were ten different items on the menu you want to try. Absolutely delicious. 

The Details:

Bangkok House Restaurant

4896 S. Whitnall Ave.

Milwaukee, WI 53235

(414) 482-9838

Awesome website with full menu (with up-to-date prices!) available here.