Guest guest Posted November 4, 2006 Report Share Posted November 4, 2006 Vegan Japanese dishes are pristine, healthy but tend to taste bland Bill Addison, Chronicle Staff Critic Friday, November 3, 2006 view chart Printable Version Email This Article I have a vegetarian past, including a six-month stretch as a vegan in the mid-'90s that was undone by an irresistible slice of New York pizza. And though these days I gleefully consume all manner of artisan cheeses and organ meats, occasionally I do crave a break from my decadent, animal fat-laden diet. Cha-Ya in the Mission provides just that sort of respite for meat eaters -- and an occasion for staunch herbivores to bask in an entire menu full of animal-free options. Its vegan Japanese offerings mirror those served at Cha-Ya's original and enduringly popular location in Berkeley, where lengthy waits for the small restaurant are customary. The Mission outpost is roomier, but has a glaring quirk: unflattering lighting. The harsh, unnatural fluorescent rays show off the impressive cleanliness of the bright white walls and shiny hardwood floors, but they also made me feel as if I were moving in slow motion through an untoward experiment in a spooky sci-fi flick. The space is much better on a cloudless afternoon, when the sunshine makes the restaurant seem like a calm reading room at a meditation retreat center. Eating at Cha-Ya can require embracing a mind-set of austerity. Tofu and heaps of precisely sliced and diced vegetables take center stage in broths, noodle bowls and sushi that showcase their simple clarity. It can be refreshing, yet it can occasionally leave you longing for richer jolts of flavor. Newcomers to this type of cuisine may want to zero in on the foods that have become mainstream via sushi restaurants. Miso soup ($3), with scallions, tiny cubes of tofu and flat ribbons of wakame seaweed, has a warming appeal. Edamame ($4.50) pop from their pods with a soft, salty crunch. Pan-fried gyoza ($5.50) -- pot stickers -- are filled with minced vegetables but have the same crispy-plush bite that makes them a universally beloved restaurant dish. Sea vegetable salad ($6) contains hijiki, my favorite seaweed from my vegan days. Its ominously inky color belies a gentle oceanic taste and a feathery texture. However, an accompanying blob of sesame-tofu sauce was so sour it made me wince. The menu has a labyrinthine quality when it comes to entrees. Separate main courses can be ordered a la carte or paired with other dishes chosen from a grid of "combination dinner set" options that include miso soup and salad. These pairings make sense: Mixing and matching provides a welcome contrast of flavor. An entree called moon garden ($8.25) is surprisingly sensuous. A near-literal garden of vegetables -- broccoli, shimeji mushrooms, asparagus and gingko nuts among them -- is steamed in a dense and creamy tofu custard. I might return and couple that dish with vegetable tempura ($8.50 a la carte, $17.75 combined with moon garden). The tempura batter crackles agreeably and is served with a silky -- if very mild -- soy-based dipping sauce laced with mirin. Carnivorous grousers who worry that they might leave hungry should order the veggie-tofu curry ($8.50), a robust noodle bowl full of tofu and the same pea-patch abundance. The broth is by far the most assertively spiced item at the restaurant. You select either udon (broad white wheat) or soba (thin buckwheat) noodles for the soup; I prefer the toothy, nutty qualities of soba. Yet, even with open-minded eaters, misjudgments could result in a meal that might be decidedly underwhelming. On my third visit, a friend gamely let me order every dish I was curious about but had yet to try. We started with senroppon salad ($5.75), a showy dome of shredded daikon, turnip, cucumber and carrot with a gloss of soy vinaigrette on the bottom of the plate. It's a dish I'd seen on several tables during each of my meals, but the dressing was so sparse that the composition came off as only watery, earthy root vegetables. I've never been crazy about all-vegetable sushi, and the soba sushi ($8.50), composed of spinach, tofu and pickled burdock with noodles in place of rice, didn't change my mind. And although a selection of unusual mushrooms sounded tempting in the sansai noodle soup ($8.25), the broth tasted as if it were made with salty vegetarian bouillon cubes. The one triumph of the evening was an uramaki sushi roll filled with warm avocado tempura ($5.20), which provided the richness for which we'd been yearning. However, we bottomed out at dessert (all $4.25). Vegan cake was gluey and dry, and the pear in a compote with vanilla soy milk and grainy green tea sauce verged on mushy. A glass of sake or wine would have eased the disappointments. Unfortunately, the restaurant is awaiting its liquor license, and for the time being doesn't allow BYO. I looked around the room at the nearly full restaurant of contented customers drinking green tea and being served by an unwaveringly polite staff. But the serene scene alone, I knew, would not be enough to coax my friend back. At Cha-Ya, diners almost immediately realize whether they're in or out with this type of understated, ascetic cooking. I'm mostly in, but I also concede that one person's subtle austerity is another soul's abject blandness. Peter H Send instant messages to your online friends http://uk.messenger. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 7, 2006 Report Share Posted November 7, 2006 yeah..read that in the paper personally, think the guy is sorta mad... cha ya is incredible tho, haven't been to the one in SF yet peter VV Nov 4, 2006 8:34 AM Re: DINING OUT - SF Chronicle Vegan Japanese dishes are pristine, healthy but tend to taste bland Bill Addison, Chronicle Staff Critic Friday, November 3, 2006now part of stylesheet --> view chart Printable Version Email This Article I have a vegetarian past, including a six-month stretch as a vegan in the mid-'90s that was undone by an irresistible slice of New York pizza. And though these days I gleefully consume all manner of artisan cheeses and organ meats, occasionally I do crave a break from my decadent, animal fat-laden diet. Cha-Ya in the Mission provides just that sort of respite for meat eaters -- and an occasion for staunch herbivores to bask in an entire menu full of animal-free options. Its vegan Japanese offerings mirror those served at Cha-Ya's original and enduringly popular location in Berkeley, where lengthy waits for the small restaurant are customary. The Mission outpost is roomier, but has a glaring quirk: unflattering lighting. The harsh, unnatural fluorescent rays show off the impressive cleanliness of the bright white walls and shiny hardwood floors, but they also made me feel as if I were moving in slow motion through an untoward experiment in a spooky sci-fi flick. The space is much better on a cloudless afternoon, when the sunshine makes the restaurant seem like a calm reading room at a meditation retreat center. Eating at Cha-Ya can require embracing a mind-set of austerity. Tofu and heaps of precisely sliced and diced vegetables take center stage in broths, noodle bowls and sushi that showcase their simple clarity. It can be refreshing, yet it can occasionally leave you longing for richer jolts of flavor. Newcomers to this type of cuisine may want to zero in on the foods that have become mainstream via sushi restaurants. Miso soup ($3), with scallions, tiny cubes of tofu and flat ribbons of wakame seaweed, has a warming appeal. Edamame ($4.50) pop from their pods with a soft, salty crunch. Pan-fried gyoza ($5.50) -- pot stickers -- are filled with minced vegetables but have the same crispy-plush bite that makes them a universally beloved restaurant dish. Sea vegetable salad ($6) contains hijiki, my favorite seaweed from my vegan days. Its ominously inky color belies a gentle oceanic taste and a feathery texture. However, an accompanying blob of sesame-tofu sauce was so sour it made me wince. The menu has a labyrinthine quality when it comes to entrees. Separate main courses can be ordered a la carte or paired with other dishes chosen from a grid of "combination dinner set" options that include miso soup and salad. These pairings make sense: Mixing and matching provides a welcome contrast of flavor. An entree called moon garden ($8.25) is surprisingly sensuous. A near-literal garden of vegetables -- broccoli, shimeji mushrooms, asparagus and gingko nuts among them -- is steamed in a dense and creamy tofu custard. I might return and couple that dish with vegetable tempura ($8.50 a la carte, $17.75 combined with moon garden). The tempura batter crackles agreeably and is served with a silky -- if very mild -- soy-based dipping sauce laced with mirin. Carnivorous grousers who worry that they might leave hungry should order the veggie-tofu curry ($8.50), a robust noodle bowl full of tofu and the same pea-patch abundance. The broth is by far the most assertively spiced item at the restaurant. You select either udon (broad white wheat) or soba (thin buckwheat) noodles for the soup; I prefer the toothy, nutty qualities of soba. Yet, even with open-minded eaters, misjudgments could result in a meal that might be decidedly underwhelming. On my third visit, a friend gamely let me order every dish I was curious about but had yet to try. We started with senroppon salad ($5.75), a showy dome of shredded daikon, turnip, cucumber and carrot with a gloss of soy vinaigrette on the bottom of the plate. It's a dish I'd seen on several tables during each of my meals, but the dressing was so sparse that the composition came off as only watery, earthy root vegetables. I've never been crazy about all-vegetable sushi, and the soba sushi ($8.50), composed of spinach, tofu and pickled burdock with noodles in place of rice, didn't change my mind. And although a selection of unusual mushrooms sounded tempting in the sansai noodle soup ($8.25), the broth tasted as if it were made with salty vegetarian bouillon cubes. The one triumph of the evening was an uramaki sushi roll filled with warm avocado tempura ($5.20), which provided the richness for which we'd been yearning. However, we bottomed out at dessert (all $4.25). Vegan cake was gluey and dry, and the pear in a compote with vanilla soy milk and grainy green tea sauce verged on mushy. A glass of sake or wine would have eased the disappointments. Unfortunately, the restaurant is awaiting its liquor license, and for the time being doesn't allow BYO. I looked around the room at the nearly full restaurant of contented customers drinking green tea and being served by an unwaveringly polite staff. But the serene scene alone, I knew, would not be enough to coax my friend back. At Cha-Ya, diners almost immediately realize whether they're in or out with this type of understated, ascetic cooking. I'm mostly in, but I also concede that one person's subtle austerity is another soul's abject blandness. Peter H Send instant messages to your online friends http://uk.messenger. As nightfall does not come at once, neither does oppression. In both instances, there's a twilight where everything remains seemingly unchanged, and it is in such twilight that we must be aware of change in the air, however slight, lest we become unwitting victims of the darkness. William O. Douglas Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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