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What is Burmese cuisine? Simple question, but not so simple to answer, given that the country comprises more than a hundred ethnic groups, each with its own traditions, and the foods of the neighboring countries are very popular. Aung Aung Taik, in his book Burmese Cooking, suggests that the simplest answer is "that Burmese food is everything that is commonly cooked and eaten in Burma except for Chinese, Thai, and Indian dishes."
Larkin Express Deli
Tea leaf salad (la pat dok) $5.95
Ginger salad (gin dok) $5.95
Fish chowder (moh hinga) $5.50
Chicken coconut soup (ong noh kau swer) $5.50
Eggs with special sauce $5.95
Fish cake with special sauce $7.50
Fish in tamarind sauce $7.50
If a native expert like Taik has trouble answering that question, the challenge is even greater for an ignorant American here in San Francisco faced with a typical Burmese restaurant menu in which the country's unique and exciting specialties are scattered among and outnumbered by relatively pedestrian Chinese and Indian dishes. Guess wrong about which is which, and you can end up with a disappointing meal.
At Larkin Express Deli, there's no such problem. The Burmese dishes are still in the minority, but the rest of the menu features classic American lunch fare such as soup, sandwiches, roast turkey, and meatloaf not much chance of confusion. In fact, the place is in most respects such a stereotypical Civic Center deli that many regulars may have no idea that the place serves anything more exotic than a turkey sandwich. (Thanks to Chowhound user ThaDu for bringing its double identity to wider attention.)
It can still be a bit of a challenge to figure out all the Burmese dishes that are available. To get the full picture, before entering the restaurant you need to check out the whiteboard in the front window, which may list daily specials; then you need to grab a paper menu from the counter for the list of soups and salads made to order; and finally you need to ask someone behind the counter to identify the items in the Burmese section at the far right of the steam table (the day's selection from the paper menu's "hot meals" section, plus occasional specials). Don't be shy about asking questions, the owner is eager to educate the curious about his country's cuisine.
The tea leaf salad could be the best in town. At some other places, the namesake ingredient is a strong-flavored, dark-green paste of fermented mature tea leaves, and the salad is mostly lettuce or cabbage. Larkin Express instead uses small, young leaves that have been fermented whole, resulting in a more delicate taste and color. They are the dominant ingredient in the dish, which also includes toasted yellow split peas, peanuts, sesame seeds, crisp-fried garlic slices, dried shrimp, julienned iceberg lettuce, and sesame oil, garnished with unnecessary and tasteless pale tomatoes. The salad should be served with a lime wedge, to provide an essential tart note; if you don't get one, ask.
While to American taste buds this seems like a dish to eat at the beginning of a meal, in Burma it's served at the end. That's because it plays the role coffee does here: Burmese eat tea leaf salad any time they want a pick-me-up. The caffeine content is high enough that it will keep some people awake at night if eaten too late in the day. For a caffeine-free alternative, try the gin dok (ginger salad), essentially the same dish made from pickled ginger instead of tea leaves. The ginger's like a drier, saltier, shredded version of what you get with sushi, and has a nice tart/sour flavor (no lime needed). Whichever salad you order, eat it promptly: If it sits around, the peas, garlic, and lettuce lose their crunch and get mushy.
The menu translates Burma's national dish, moh hinga, as "fish chowder," but that's a bit misleading. By the time it's served, the flaky white fish has completely melted into the rich, assertively fishy broth, which is spooned over thin rice noodles and garnished with pieces of crunchy yellow-split-pea fritters. If you like strong fish flavors, you'll love this; if you don't, try the chicken coconut soup. It's rich and mild, similar to Thai tom ka gai, but not as spicy as you'd expect from the dots of red oil floating on top, with lots of thick, round noodles. Both these soups really need the traditional accompaniment of limes and cilantro to provide a fresh, bright element; again, ask if you don't get 'em.
A daily special of noodles with dried shrimp was simple but good: thick, chewy noodles with a strong-flavored, distinctly spicy sauce.
The steam-table dishes are mostly what Burmese call sepyan, curry-like dishes flavored with a mortar-pounded paste of mostly fresh ingredients. "Eggs with special sauce," for example, was perfectly hard-boiled eggs in a sauce of (I think) chilis, onions, garlic, ginger, and turmeric, much like a Cambodian sambal this may not sound exciting, but it was really, really good. "Fish cake in special sauce" had a ham-like flavor, like the fish might have been smoked or somehow cured like ham, in a sauce much like the egg dish. Pork curry was similar to Indonesian rendang: Chunks of meat were simmered until they'd thoroughly absorbed the flavor of the very spicy sauce. Fish with tamarind was an exception to the curry trend: Small fillets were simmered in a tart oily orange sauce with relatively delicate hints of onion and chili.