Rustin S.
Yelp
I am a Mysophobe. For the non Latin-majors out there, just imagine what you normally joke about being a "germophobe" and you're not far off track. I have an irrational aversion to germs and dirt; I own it. As you might imagine, 2020 has been my least pleasant year in some time. I have been unable to even contemplate eating someone else's cooking in months. Still, having lived in 11 countries and learning how to prepare the regional favorites of each one, to say that we have continued to eat well would also be a fair statement.
With that in mind, I have watched the restaurant safety reviews stream through facebook for a couple of months with great interest.
When a friend posted about Mr. Hui my heart skipped a beat. I lived in Central
and Southeast Asia, and "Fantasy Chinese" & "Mr. Hui" (and Fung's Kitchen in OKC) have always been just as genuine and authentic as they come. I read as she described the precautions they've taken to ensure the safety of their patrons, and my stomach started growling. About an hour later I found myself on their ridiculously simple online ordering platform, building an order for the second meal we've had in 5 months that we did not prepare ourselves.
When I arrived, I was the second car in the lot, so I waited. The first patrons came out masked. Good. I walked in through the open front door and became a little anxious. "Why leave the door open?" I thought out loud...
"To vent out room and bring fresh air in" replied the young woman behind the glass. Of course. That's what the fan is for. They're not allowing the air in the takeout lobby to sit still, and in so doing have offered an additional layer of safety. I guess I smiled because the young woman grinned big enough for me to see it under her mask.
I walked the few steps to the glassed-in counter and gave her my phone number. She began reading the receipts and two men in face masks walked out of the kitchen to ask her a question. A third masked man came out of the kitchen and set down some large platters. I signed the credit receipt she had slid under the glass to me and place it in the bucket with the rest of them, and as I did she slid a bag, heavy-laden with all kids of goodies towards me.
I had picked out some pretty standard fare; Singapore-style spicy chow mai-fun, egg rolls, General Tso's Chicken (which is actually an authentic Chinese dish, contrary to popular rumor) and a couple of other things.
I also ordered a dish that I used to get in China as a boy, but assumed it would be totally different than I remember. "Beichuan liangfen" is essentially fat, square noodles made from mung bean powder and toasted sesame and spices, and translates to "Broken Heart Bean Jellies" - not even kidding.
The dish, as the name half implies, is rumored to cure sadness. Feel sad? Ask Waipo (gramma) to make you some broken-hearted jellies. You'll be right as rain in no time.
While I cannot confirm that its healing powers are universal, the signature bright flavors and spice of Szechuan style chili oil and black vinegar definitely take your mind off of your troubles. And even though you know you're eating noodles (albeit noodles that look like translucent ice) you'll absolutely understand where the Americanized idea of "jelly" comes in.
I raced home and started unpacking. I removed the liangfen last and cracked it open, trying to maintain a sense of proportion - "I haven't had liangfen in decades, and I am in Oklahoma, after all" I thought. Immediately I could smell the vinegar and my stomach growled again. The aroma of chili oil with its big chunky pieces of chopped red chilies snuck out next. I grabbed a pair of kuaizi and fished a long jelly out and into my mouth...
If you were to tell me that there wasn't a Waipo in the kitchen, I wouldn't believe you for a moment. If you claimed that you were still sad after having eaten the spicy, vibrant citrus and bitter onion greens of the liangfen, I would feel bad for you, as you are beyond the reach of modern Gramma science.
Mr. Hui, your food has made me happy.
So, by the power vested in me by absolutely nobody, I declare Mr. Hui a diamond-level gem of safety and flavor, and give them, I dunno, thirty-five stars? Is that too many?
I feel they've earned them.