Nostalgic bites: Discovering Asian delicacies at two different Boulder County eateries — restaurant review

I’ve come to realize that who I ate with, what I ate and where I ate during my formative years was a powerful force in shaping who I am today, at least when it comes to dining.

Friday night family dinners in Oakland Chinatown were something I took for granted as a young person. Now, I can appreciate the familiar waiter we saw at numerous restaurants for over a decade and the bearded solo diner, rumored to be a martial artist of some notoriety. Both were part of my community. The steaming hot plates of noodles, pork with salty fish over rice and pork-stuffed bao weren’t just dishes but critical parts of the fabric that wove my family, and later, lifelong friends together.  

My most enduring friendship was forged in the heat of dim sum steamer baskets. I’ve known this friend since elementary school, and our bond strengthened in high school over dim sum meals.  I continue to share these gatherings with her and her family to this day. 

The best meals aren’t just well prepared. They also serve as reminders of personal identity and evoke strong bonds to family and friends. Recently, I’ve had occasion to enjoy two Boulder County Asian eateries, which not only bring back fond memories of the past but also create new ones for myself and others.  

Asian Cuisine in Superior

Superior’s Asian Cuisine, located at 1627 Coalton Road, dishes out selections from many culinary traditions, spanning from pho to pad Thai. This comprehensive menu tracks with my theory that restaurants in places like Colorado are more likely to serve a smorgasbord of Asian dishes to attract a wider customer base. Eateries in larger metropolises like New York or Los Angeles with more diverse populations can afford to be more specialized when it comes to their menu’s scope. 

But the diverse menu here doesn’t diminish the experience, specifically the Chinese offerings. While Asian Cuisine’s contemporary strip mall location is a far cry from a charmingly rundown Oakland Chinatown haunt, the stripped-down and unpretentious vibe fosters a certain come-as-you-are comfort level. Jimmy, the main server, is attentive and friendly in an endearingly old-school way. The reasonable prices reflect a commitment to providing decent value. 

Case in point is the $14.50 chicken and vegetable Hong Kong pan-fried noodles, or jeen mein, a dish served piping hot that happens to be one of my late Dad’s favorites. Admittedly, the preparation here is inconsistent. The noodles can be less crisp or the sauce more watery than optimal. But the boneless white meat chicken’s tenderness, as well as the crisp mix of stir-fried carrot, broccoli, bok choy, cauliflower and mushroom, are always on point. Most importantly, those elements make this dish a touchstone linking me to Dad’s memory, much like listening to his favorite Sinatra album.  

Another course worthy of consideration, and a relic of my misspent childhood, is the dry style (as opposed to gravy style) beef chow fun. Asian Cuisine’s take on it is the best I’ve found in Colorado. The Peking duck is also a well-executed course, freighted with steamed buns, sauce, scallions and cucumber. Note, though, the bird itself is closer to a regular roast duck than the crispy skinned, minimal meat, textbook Peking style. 

Nana’s Dumplings and Dim Sum on the Hill

Nana’s Dumplings and Dim Sum, the new addition on the Hill at 1125 13th Street, looks like any other student-friendly, fast-casual joint. Having opened late last year, it’s unsurprising that it lacks traditional accouterments such as lazy Susans in the middle of the table and service from worn stainless steel carts. But Nana’s makes up for those minor deficits by serving up both Chinese and American classics, including lo mein and an authentic array of dim sum with more dumpling varieties than you can count. 

It was fitting that my dining companions for my Nana’s outing were a first-year CU student and his roommate, two budding connoisseurs of Asian cuisine. Playing the role of the dollar-store Henry Higgins of dim sum, I guided them through Nana’s voluminous menu. But what made this meal particularly poignant was the fact that the student is the son of my best friend, with whom I enjoyed eating dim sum in high school. 

We ordered several dim sum items, which were uniformly excellent, as were some of the dishes that are more Chinese-American than authentically Chinese. Dishes in this category weren’t things I grew up eating, and my family would have likely disowned me if they caught me gnawing on an inauthentic crab rangoon. Yet Nana’s interpretation of this luxurious treat was as good as could be, plump with cheese and crab, hot all the way through, with a memorably crisp exterior. 

But the unequivocal stars of the show were the real-deal dim sum. Steamed pork buns possessed the correct pillowy texture and a respectable filling of moist and tender meat, enveloped in a sauce that was neither too salty nor too sweet. 

The classic shu mai dumplings featured a toothsome and tender filling enveloped by a delicate wrapper, free of the rubbery quality indicative of overcooking.  

Last but not least, the bite-sized steamed pork spare ribs, another favorite of my Dad’s, were perfectly tender. The right proportion of garlic, sliced jalapeno, salty black bean and garlic balanced out the pork’s considerable richness.  

While the three of us engaged in animated conversation before the dishes arrived, the table fell silent as we started devouring what had been put before us. By night’s end, there were two new converts to the dim sum cause. Most significantly, what had started with my best friend decades ago would continue with her son. Someday, fueled by his own memories, he too might pass on the dim sum torch to the next generation.