By New Times
By Robrt L. Pela
By Lauren Saria and Heather Hoch
By Deborah Sussman
By Robrt L. Pela and Amy Silverman
By Kathleen Vanesian
By Eric Schaefer
By Heather Hoch
Harry, our waiter at George & Son's Asian Cuisine, is explaining why no chopsticks are included with the cutlery on the tables of this new restaurant. Too many patrons in the upscale north Scottsdale neighborhood have confessed they're unable to control the slippery sticks, he says, so management decided that to offer them could be dangerous. He's joking, of course.
Still, just a few weeks earlier, I was sitting across the table at another Asian restaurant, accompanied by a friend playing carelessly with his own chopsticks. Mid-sentence, one of the pointed missiles slipped his grip, beaned me in the forehead and, most amazing of all, flipped right back into his hand. Sticks happen.
Operating an Asian restaurant is a tough business. Personal-injury potential aside, it's increasingly difficult to generate excitement among customers confused over a recent glut of this type of cuisine in the Valley. Did you know you can also get sushi at the Italian restaurant Mulberry Street in Phoenix? Or at Tombstone Brewing in Scottsdale? Asian is hot, even when it's not easily categorized.
11291 E. Via Linda, 140
Scottsdale, AZ 85259
Region: North Scottsdale
Spicy fried rice: $5.95
Pork with eggplant: $8.95
Steamed salmon in black bean sauce: $15.95
Singapore chow fun: $8.95
480-661-6336 Hours: Lunch and dinner, daily, 11 a.m. to 9:30 p.m.
George and Son's, which entered the market last fall, doesn't serve sushi. Primarily Chinese, the menu also borrows from Korea, Thailand, Vietnam, Burma and Singapore, however. In another stretch, it features an ambitious wine list for a typical Asian eatery, including a $100 bottle of Meritage Cain 5, a round and smooth red from Napa, California. The restaurant's working to cover all the bases, and luckily for this chopsticks-challenged neighborhood, it does so in fine style.
George and Son's, while sounding more like an English pub, is the creation of George Yang. Harry, our personable server on each visit, isn't one of the sons, but if Yang is smart, he'll write this young gent into the will. Harry's that good.
Harry's standing very close to our table, ready to pour a shrimp dish over a sizzling plate of rice. He pauses in mid-pour, grins and steps back. He's got insurance, he says, and good thing -- the pile of crustaceans and vegetables hits the plate with a crackling splat, popping and hissing over the dried grains with a snap, crackle and pop. When he plates the dish, firm stalks of broccoli, carrot, baby corn, snow peas, zucchini, mushrooms and chubby shrimp rest in a light, vaguely sweet brown sauce that wisely lurks in the background, not overpowering its star ingredients.
Yang should incorporate his recipes into his will, too. They're also that good. While many familiar Chinese choices are offered, without exception, they've been gently treated here, with clean, clever sauces that rely on subtle spicing instead of sugars or thickeners. These are the more authentic preparations, not the cloying, wallpaper-paste varieties introduced to America in the '50s.
Consider the humble spring roll. While so many common egg rolls are taquito-like torpedoes of bean sprouts and meager meat, the models served here are addictive. A single roll, cut in half for easier consumption, is enough to satisfy a diner. The trick is in the wrapper, so lightly slicked with grease, crispy and flaky that it's reminiscent of phyllo. Juiciness comes from a thick stuffing of silver thread noodles and chopped carrot, and in a nod to Vietnamese presentation, rolls come with lettuce leaves, to be wrapped and dipped in a thin, spicy chile sauce. Potstickers are first-rate, too. Four bundles come stuffed with lots of ground pork and scallion, expertly browned and moistened in little bowls of scallion soy sauce.
P.F. Chang's first introduced chicken lettuce wraps to mainstream Chinese dining in 1993, and now, the appetizers are on restaurant menus everywhere -- even non-Asian joints. The more the merrier -- there's something really refreshing about the contrast of fresh, cold curls of the crisp iceberg's inner leaves against mounds of chopped water chestnuts, mushrooms and minced chicken breast. At George and Son's, portions are wrapped up like little burritos and dunked in scallion soy.
Eight mollusks make up the Asian mussels appetizer, and fans of strong-tasting shellfish will appreciate the green lip variety, steamed and served in open shells, topped with leaves of fresh basil. The mussels are good but salty; opaque broth braced with ginger root and lemongrass is terrific. If there were bread on the table, we'd have soaked up every last drop of juice.
Appetizers include crab puffs pudgy with meat and cream cheese; grilled chicken sticks in Thai curry with peanut sauce; and chile-spiked crackling calamari. The biggest surprise, and the dish not to miss, though, is George's seafood pocket. Yang is so proud of this invention, in fact, that as a bonus for ordering it, guests can expect a personal visit and perhaps a friendly pat on the shoulder. The pride is justified. Think potato pancake meets the Orient for this ultra-crisp folded-over pancake studded with scallion and stuffed with finely chopped shrimp, crab, scallops, onion and green pepper. It's excellent, moist, meaty and perfectly balanced, dipped in light soy bobbing with scallion. Here's a perfect example of culinary precision and why it matters so much -- if the pancake were soggy, or the seafood chunked instead of chopped, the dish would be awful.