As I waited for my meal amid the splendor of the recently renovated and reopened Forbidden City Restaurant, I pictured the chef as he readied my order. He'd methodically cut each ingredient to a similar dainty size, heating the wok to exactly the right temperature, the dramatic sizzle of flash-cooked meat and vegetables. His modus operandi would no doubt resemble the exactitude of Buccaneers place kicker-extraordinaire Martin Gramatica making a field goal.The same sense of timing and precision is crucial to Chinese cooking, and I learned this lesson the hard way. The first time I attempted a Chinese stir-fry, the phone rang, and the skillet got ahead of me. It felt like those dreams I sometimes have, where I am running after a train as it pulls away from the platform. The culinary equivalent occurs if you are sidetracked even 30 seconds, blowing off a telemarketer, while the skillet is hot. Even as I muttered a quick negative into the receiver, stirring the dish with the other hand, the diced chicken burned.
Dashing to remove the ruined meat from the pan, I tried to salvage something for dinner during Round 2 — vegetables cut into bite-size pieces — but the skillet ran away from me again while I clumsily fumbled with the cutting board on which they rested. It turns out that for a successful stir-fry, you have to segregate each item in its own little dish, so you can easily drop it into the pan at the precise moment it needs to go there. Like the superstar chefs do on TV.
It's all in the preparation.
If you're feeling lazy, let the chef at Forbidden City do it for you. The longtime Clearwater favorite and 2001 Best of the Bay winner reopened in July following a two-month renovation, according to its owner, Karin Wei. It now sports a sophisticated new decor in ice blue and deep reds, while retaining its formerly predictable fine service and exactingly fresh, excellent handmade fare.
The restaurant's classy new interior features clean print upholstery set off by oval Chinese lanterns that float like spaceships above the tables. The sleek bar is lit in pink, casting a soft haze over everyone and tinting pink, too, the spotless, upturned glasses hanging above you by their stems. It even has a gorgeous, black baby grand piano, a low bar set like a cinched belt around its curvy backside. An adjacent banquet room that seats 100 is equipped with dance floor, karaoke and big screen TV.
The menu features some new additions too, from fresh lobster kept alive in the restaurant's on-site tank until you're ready to eat it, to spicier selections that appeal to the younger crowd, like pan-grilled spicy prawns ($14.95).
We slid into a booth amid starched black and white linen, sparkling china and cutlery. The efficient waitress immediately appeared, and in minutes, martinis ($4.25) sat before us. The Martini Tester complained about ice in the drink — martinis typically are served "up," without ice, so as to avoid diluting the liquor — but the bartender got it right on the second round.
Our first appetizer was the dim sum sampler for two ($8.95), a combination of the most popular items served during Dim Sum, the Asian equivalent of brunch: Sau mai, steamed dumplings stuffed with shrimp and pork; shrimp dumplings, shrimp rolls, stuffed eggplant and pot stickers. Just one bite each, they made a mouth-watering impression. My favorite were the tender pot stickers, dumplings wrapped in wonton skins and stuffed, browned on one side, turned and simmered in broth.
The dining room that night was quiet, with a lilting tinkle of Asian music in the background, like a brook in a silent wood.
The Martini Tester ordered Mandarin pan-fried noodles ($12.95). The noodles were flash-fried, which turned them crunchy. They surrendered in the mouth with a most satisfying sort of "pop." And the chef added heft by topping them with the freshest bites of chicken, beef, pork, shrimp and a lavish haystack of varied vegetables. It was so good, the M.T. accused me of "overtesting," a claim not entirely unfounded.
Still, I was preoccupied with my own main course, "Polynesian grouper" ($14.95), a buttery fish filet studded with glistening pineapple, glamorized with a white pool of coconut- and pineapple-flavored sauce, and flanked with a generous berm of jasmine-scented rice. It was subtle, elegant and flavorful. I ate every bite, and furtively scraped the plate with my fork to capture the last drop of sauce.
We ordered a couple of other dishes to take out. Lemon chicken — breaded chicken breast with a mildly sweet lemon sauce, ringed with crisp green broccoli crowns ($8.95 take-out, $10.95 regular). The meat was tasty, but the sauce wimpy; it needed more lemon tang. We also chose beef lo mein ($7.95 takeout, $9.95 regular), which tasted better, its soft egg noodles matched with thinly cut rectangles of beef and bathed in a rich, tangy brown gravy.
Though we didn't expect much in the way of dessert, which in China is a rarity except during formal banquets, Forbidden City produced a surprisingly exotic one. It was a "crispy lotus ball," ($2.50), sticky rice pastry dough shaped into a racquetball-size treat, stuffed with benignly-sweet lotus seed, fried and rolled in toasted sesame seeds. Savory. Hot, soft, crispy, crunchy and fruity, all at the same time. Contact food critic Sara Kennedy at sara.kennedy@weeklyplanet.com or call 813-248-8888, ext. 116.
This article appears in Nov 27 – Dec 3, 2002.