Big Taste in Little Burma

This weekend, we decided to head up to Taipei for a Sunday snackathon. First stop: Little Burma in Nanshijiao. Thanks in part to the old KMT-Burma-heroin highway-connection, Taipei is home to a thriving Burmese community. Xinhua Street is packed with Burmese restaurants of all shapes and sizes. Being a virgin to Burmese cuisine, the most difficult part of the outing was selecting a restaurant. We fell back on the old Taiwanese trick of following the crowd and headed in to a hole-in-the-wall style joint that was almost full. It turned out that this was because of the time of day, it was mid-afternoon and apparently the Burmese enjoy congregating in tea shops around this time. Everyone was drinking milk tea and eating some kind of coffee cake. I didn't come all the way to Big Town for tea and cake, but being sporting types, we ordered up these items to start. The cake had a unique spicy taste which was pleasant enough, although it still had that overly spongy texture that is an unfortunate trait of most Asian baking. The milk tea hit the spot on a cold day. It was strong and sweet, reminiscent of the street teas served up by chaiwalas throughout India.

But enough with the tea and cake. The real test of any East Asian cuisine is its noodle.  Luckily, this tea shop also happened to have noodles on the menu. We ordered up a liang mien (cold noodle) and a tang yi mien (flat noodles in soup). The liang mien was a dish I had eaten a few times in Chongqing, China. There, the cold noodles are placed in a dish with the raw ingredients of the sauce spooned on top. These included sugar, black vinegar, peanuts, sesame oil, garlic, and cilantro. You then mix it yourself with your chopsticks at the table. I had never been too impressed with the dish. It was always overpoweringly sweet and the granular sugar didn't have the chance to reduce in the sauce leaving an unpleasant grittiness. The cold oil was also not given the chance to absorb sufficiently into the noodles. It begrudgingly inhabited the same bowl as the noodles in an unhappily arranged marriage.

The Burmese version was markedly superior. The sauce was premixed giving the flavours a chance to get to know each other. Much less sugar was added and the garlic was dried, giving an extra crunch to the experience. Cilantro was generously mixed throughout providing a sharp shot of freshness in every mouthful. Being a lover of extra spicy food, I found the flavour a touch bland but this was easily remedied with a couple of spoonfuls of chili seed paste mixed in oil which was provided on the table. I consider this to be the most satisfying of the various species of hot sauces. The flavours and textures of this dish blended harmoniously like an old jazz standard. My taste buds gave it a standing ovation. And the benefit of liang mien is that being cold, there is nothing to stop you from shoveling it down the trap at lighting speed. No burned tongue here. Check out Sherry wolfing back those noodles at mach 3. I'm surprised the camera could ever pick up the the jackhammer-like motion of chopsticks. Luckily she didn't get her hair caught in the sticks or she might have ripped her scalp clean off. A true testament to the quality of this dish.

The tang yi mien was equally unique and satisfying. I love this style of broad, flat, rice noodles. They have more elasticity and chewiness than a standard noodle but they demand a thicker sauce to compete with their girth. Think of how alfredo sauce is served with fettucini as opposed to spaghetti. Thus, this type of noodle doesn't work too well in a standard watery soup. The Burmese soup was well aware of this dilemma and answered the call perfectly. The broth was thickened, but not conventionally with flour or starch. At first I thought it contained creamed potato, but inquiries to the proprietor proved this theory to be incorrect. Apparently it was thickened with some kind of dried fish powder, which was surprising as it didn't have a strong fish flavour. Perhaps the addition of good dose of ginger and garlic was enough to transform the fishiness into a new and unfamiliar flavour.  A spoonful of dried garlic and cilantro on top provided variations in colour, flavour and texture that made the whole dish sing. Top marks again for the tang yi mien.

Sorry Taiwan but both of these noodle dishes were better than any Taiwanese noodle dish I've eaten. These Burmese inventions now sit on the shelf of my memory that holds the greatest noodle dishes in Asia. They take their place beside the Saigon pho, the Fujianese dried pork and mushroom 'dry' noodle, and the various super-spicy bowls of noodle ecstasy I consumed in Chongqing.

But little Burma is not only good for the noodles. The Burmese shops have a variety of strange and exciting spices and snacks.  Make your coronary worthwhile with a few bags of homemade pork rinds. Deep fried pork fat never tasted so good. And pick up a couple of jars of spicy marinated vegetables and tofu. Guaranteed to add that exotic je ne sais quoi to any stir fry. I've only just scratched the surface of Burmese cuisine. You better believe I'll be making a return trip to little Burma the next time I land in Big Town.


Little Burma: Take the orange metro line to Nanshijiao Station, take exit four and head right on Xing Nan Rd. Walk for about ten minutes past the police station and take a left on Hua Xin St.