The Mandarin House

Anyone going to the Olympics has surely got to be a tad fearful about dining out in Beijing? I’m not talking about athletes — I’m sure they’ll be happy with the usual diet of carbs or protein — but the normal punter, there to cheer on their favourite runner or synchronised swimmer, could be put off by the proliferation of snake, monkey, scorpion, dog and deer todger on the various restaurant menus.
The Chinese government has already recognised the problem and looks likely to declare a close season on serving woofer during the continuance of the Games.
A new book, Chinese Menu in English Version, jointly published by the Beijing Municipal Government and the Beijing Tourism Administration, purports to sort out another dilemma — the Chinese tradition of giving a dish a philosophical name. Dodgy English translations can make these dishes sound positively bizarre. Ever eaten ‘bean curd made by a pock-marked woman’? I thought not.
As a service to Herald readers contemplating making the trip, I decided to investigate this phenomenon. To do the thing properly, I decided I would need companions who would boldly eat where others feared to dine.
So, out went stalwarts Sibella and Bangles in favour of Foodmad and Ortolan. The former, I introduced you to a couple of weeks ago, like me, he’s a food obsessive.
Ortolan is a poacher-turned-gamekeeper, or maybe the other way round — a restaurant sommelier who jumped over the wall to work in wine sales. Ortolan borrowed her soubriquet from the late President Miterrand’s favourite bird — not his wife or mistress, but a tiny hedge-hopper that the French drown in brandy before consuming.
Both Foodmad and Ortie are total omnivores well capable of coping with any exotica that a restaurant, Chinese or otherwise, might plate up.
Fortified by a brace of beers, we trekked northwards to The Mandarin House in Parnell Street where we ordered husband and wife lung slices, pickled four seasons with beanstalk, hot spicy pocket wonder two ways, fresh razor clamp, four seasons peas in quick wonder, bean curds in homemade style, and lamb supreme zian in north east fashion.
We made our selection on name only: “Hot spicy pocket wonder — sounds like some adolescent sexual titillation”… “Husband and wife lung — gotta have that one!”
We picked the “North East” vibe as a tribute to Keano and Big Niall and we had absolutely no clue as to what any of the dishes we’d chosen contained.
In some cases we weren’t much the wiser when the dishes arrived at table; we had to call the waiter over to identify the ‘beanstalk’.
The ‘clamps’ turned out to be clams, the long, black-hulled variety you find on every sea shore, that look, when split in two, like an old-fashioned cut-throat razor, exactly as the name suggests.
Kith-and-kin to other molluscs, like mussels and palourdes, they seemed a halfway house between these and squid and came tender and delicate in a spicy, garlic and black-bean-laden sauce.
The ‘quick wonder’, a triptych of long green beans, chilli and shredded pork was mouth-warmingly sensational.
The bean curd, tofu to you and me, took on the flavour of the complex, aromatic sauce it was immersed in. Smart-arse Foodmad told us that zian meant cumin and indeed, the lamb sang of it.
The lung? Well, I suppose it was tripe or offal of some sort, maybe even sheep or ox lung itself, cooked, sliced thinly, artistically presented around a circular plate and garnished. Ortolan said that if you closed your eyes you’d just imagine you were eating slices of beef — a point well made.
We gave Ortie the wine list. She took a quick peep, snapped the book closed and said “Tea”, probably the best thing to drink with Chinese food anyhow. Certainly no wine we could have chosen would have lived with the power of cumin in the lamb dish. Other diners, mostly Chinese, were drinking tea too.
We ploughed on, chopsticks diving into the sea of food like starving cormorants. Eventually, stuffed, we called a halt. We had spent a frugal €67.24 and had a party. “Beijing? Bring it on,” said Foodmad. We must say “kudos” to the youthful, friendly staff who coped heroically with what must have seemed like daft questions.
So there you are, guys and gals. If you want a gastronomic experience with a difference without breaking the bank, give the Mandarin House a try.
And don’t be afraid to go for it; there’s absolutely nothing too scary on the menu. Still, it’s worth pointing out that, if your idea of exotic is a gherkin atop a Big Mac, there are ‘normal’ Chinese dishes, as well as a Thai menu.
The damage: €67.24 for seven dishes, plus boiled rice, plus tea
Ambience: **
Quality: ***
Service: ***
Value: *****
Overall: ***1/2
The Mandarin House, 179, Parnell Street, Dublin 1, Tel:01 878 3146