November 14: Kau Kau

It's a birthday lunch for two coworkers. A former coworker highly recommended Kau Kau, having been taking her family here for decades. Nine of us made the trek over to the International District expecting some good Chinese food.

On the bright side you can't beat the price. The surly waitress tossed a pile of menus on the center of the table, and each of us decided to get the $6.80 lunch special: soup (with two undocumented asterisks), BBQ pork, vegetable, and pork fried rice. Supposedly, they have the best BBQ. At least, that's what the awning out front says.

"Can I get miso soup with this?" asked one of us.

No.

"What kind of soup is it?" asked another.

Seaweed and tofu.

I ordered it with "soy sauce chicken." As the waitress took each of our orders, she took away plates from in front of each of us, leaving a fork, chopsticks, and napkin.

The soup came quickly. I gulped down a spoonful. "It smells worse than it tastes," I remarked. The seaweed was fortunately flavorless, although one of my coworkers, arriving late, joked that he spotted someone outside dredging it out of a puddle. I slurped most of mine down, including the one lonely cube of tofu.

Plates came out two at a time. We had a little confusion about who ordered what; the waitress was of little help. I dug into my rice first. Dark, earthy, I figure there must be some cremini mushrooms used in there.

For $7, maybe not.

I then dug into the sliced chunks of BBQ pork. It was cold, which I expected, but was it was also thick and tough, which I didn't. Normally cold BBQ pork is sliced thin and comes with mustard sides.

For $7, no.

Three co-workers debated catching the buzzing fly with chopsticks, Karate Kid style. One told a story of how his proudest day in seventh grade was when he swatted a bee out of the sky with a pencil, saving his entire class from certain doom. Cool story, bro.

The chicken reminded me of Thanksgiving turkey at my house, in that when I'm obligated to slice it, I end up inadvertently chopping it to bits, making the poor bird look like it jumped on a grenade requiring chunks of bird flesh to be retrieved from wherever they end up. That analogy would explain the small chunks of chicken bone I discovered while chewing.

For $7, yeah, that's what I get.

I returned to the rice. A few bites in, I pulled a hair or fuzz or something out of my mouth. It was gossamer enough that I couldn't see it, so I assume it came off of a sweater or shirt or other clothing. Could have been mine, I suppose.

Even for $7, that's not good.

A few minutes later, more chicken bone fragments. Another hair. I'm done.

For $7, it's way overpriced.

A few co-workers left shortly after lunch while four of us hung out afterward to deal with the bill. The waitress delivers it and runs. She reappears a few minutes later, clearing tables and paying us no mind. After several attempts, we wave her down. She rolls her eyes, stops to briefly wipe down another table, and grabs our credit card, appearing seconds later, having left the card up at the register for someone else to handle.

"So what did you think?" asks a co-worker. I mention the chicken bone and the hair. She gags.

The credit card comes back, we sign and retreat. On my way out, BeeSwatter pulls me aside. "Take a look at this."

1) In some cultures, crickets are eaten regularly, I think.
2) I hope that's a cricket hidden under his carrot.

On the walk back to the office, we agree: not very good. One co-worker stops by Bartells for a fifth of tequila to sterilize her mouth. Allegedly. Another stops at a coffee stand to burn out the taste. Allegedly.

I realize that maybe the earthy taste of the rice didn't come from mushrooms. I need to gargle some Purell. Like, $7 worth.


Kau Kau
656 S. King St.
$6.80 lunch special

November 8: Ferry Noodle House

Walking back from lunch a couple of weeks ago, I ran into an IT coworker and his team heading back to work. "Where'd you have lunch today?" he asked.

"Pick-Quick. I was kinda craving Thai food, but Thai Taste and their cafeteria trays didn't sound appetizing, and I couldn't think of anywhere else," forgetting about Thai Curry Simple, obviously.

"Oh. Have you eaten at Ferry Noodle House?" I had not. He sang their praises as we entered the building and flashed our badges. I then promptly forgot his suggestion.

I ran into him again a few days ago, and he refreshed my memory. It's on the pedestrian walkway to the ferry terminal, thus the name. It's cheap, he assured me, and crowded, but really good.

That's today's lunch. It was cheap, and crowded, and good.

It took about five minutes to get a seat, and I felt a little guilty taking a two-person table for just one person, but whatcha gonna do? I couldn't decide between the cashew chicken or the pad Thai, and then I saw combo number 1, which was both. I'd planned to order it 2-star spiciness with a cup of hot tea to chase away a headache I'm fighting, but when it came time to order, "What would you like?" "Combo 1" "Cashew chicken?" "Yes." "KTHXBYE." A few seconds later, I realized I hadn't ordered tea or specified spiciness. Too late; he was gone.

Moments later, it arrived. At first glance, the portions looked a little small, I dug in and finished it all off in a short time. Now, an hour later, it's sitting pretty heavy. I'm glad there wasn't more.

The pad Thai noodles were cut unusually short, which I liked, because it meant I didn't splatter sauce on myself trying to wind it or slurp it or cut it off. The cashew chicken was light on chicken, heavy on cabbage, with one sprig of broccoli. I thought at first they went light on cashews, but there were several buried in there.

It was good, perhaps not quite as good as Thai Curry Simple, but a nicer decor and slightly elevated service. Way better than Thai Taste.

(Very minor peeve: the receipt's suggested tip line based the tips on the full total, including tax. Slightly deceptive to those who are bad at math.)

Ferry Noodle House
93 Marion St
Pad Thai, cashew chicken, tap water, $13.01

November 1: KFC/Taco Bell

My free Uber trips to SoDo continue. I wanted crunchy tacos. I've found nowhere nearby to get them. Time for a border run! A jointly operated KFC/Taco Bell are in my sights. My Uber driver, who has plaster the seat backs with ads for his personal counseling and errand running services, laughs when he realizes where I'm going. Don't judge me, dude.

Once I'm there, though, the bright shining visage of the Venerable and Inscrutable Colonel entreats me to order the chicken. They've got a popcorn chicken meal, and my taco crunch craving could be satisfied by a side of chips. OK. Deal done. The truly friendly cashier takes my order and asks my name. To the Colonel, I'm a person, not a number. Sure.

Based on some of the other grungy joints I've seen in SoDo, I didn't have high hopes for this place, but it's clearly had a very recent remodel. One round table's artificial woodgrain positively glows in the light cast by the oversized chicken bucket lamp fixture above. If a group of 10-year-olds were to play "Let's pretend we're the Yum Brands board of directors", this is the table they'd pick.

Fountain drinks are self-serve, much to the delight of a couple of hobos who gently ask the staff for water glasses. Lids are right there. Straws, irrationally, are at a condiment bar several feet away. "Travis?" My order's up.

Dang. I meant to order mashed potatoes, but these wedges will do. The popcorn chicken is a little mushy. Maybe it's supposed to be made with 11 herbs and spices, maybe it just follows them, but it's far from the best KFC I've had. I think there's an herb out of place. The wedges are OK.

The three-layer nachos... well, what do you expect? It's chips in a tray. Yellow cheese (that's the flavor. Yellow. Don't skimp on it.) Reddish brown taco sauce. Grey bean paste. Tastier than it sounds.

I'd do this again. Eventually. If I get free Uber rides again. And if enough folks dare to try it with me, we can play Li'l Directors.

KFC/Taco Bell
2201 4th Ave. S.
Popcorn Chicken Combo, Three-layer nachos, $9.12

"The House of the Venerable and Inscrutable Colonel was what they called it when they were speaking Chinese. Venerable because of his goatee, white as the dogwood blossom, a badge of unimpeachable credibility in Confucian eyes. Inscrutable because he had gone to his grave without divulging the Secret of the Eleven Herbs and Spices."

-- Neal Stephenson, The Diamond Age: or, A Young Lady's Illustrated Primer