Red Circle Tea

That’s what the sign read. VACATION. Again?  What’s with the no dates of departure and re-opening? No “Be Back Soon”?  Sigh. My favorite bakery in Chinatown is closed again,just when I am planning to serve the perfect egg custard tart this weekend.  Sunday’s Dumplings and Tea Dim Sum style brunch is going to be fabulous,but what would make it perfect would be my favorite egg custard tarts “Dan Dat”from my favorite bakery,which is,of course,closed.

Well then,perfection be damned. Let’s get close to perfection and see what that tastes like. So off to Clement street I went,with three addresses in hand. We’ll call them Bakery A,B and C.

Ok,so bakery A. Bakery A is interesting. I walk in,and the walls are bare,it looks like it was vacated 20 years ago,taken over and re-opened and no one ever bothered to re-decorate.  There are a handful of tables and chairs,and there are 8 people inside,all are Chinese men over 60. Everything is depressing about this place except the people and the pastry case.  Two men are playing Xiangqi,or Chinese chess. Four are sipping coffee and talking politics,and two are sitting in the window just looking out at the street. I wait my turn in line behind another elderly man who is obviously in on the scene,because he’s buying custard tarts. I can’t tell where they’re coming from because they’re not in the display case. My eyes dart over to the baker’s warming rack behind the counter (the secret hiding place of some of the best Chinese pastry in all of SF)  and I scan the racks. They’re not there either. A ha! I spot them under a perspex dome on top of the pastry case for easy access. The baker behind the counter knows I’m next and I get that anxious look that says “this isn’t going to go well because she thinks I speak English and I don’t”–until! Until I break out in what can only be described as music to his ears:“Yut go Dan Dat,m’goi”One custard tart,please. His eyes widen and he pauses (yes sir,you heard me right),I smile,then he smiles. “Yut Go”One please,I repeat,so we’re both clear that in fact I did just speak Cantonese.  He passes me one tart and mutters “seventy something cents”in Cantonese. Extremely pleased that it’s such a bargain,I gladly pay and step outside for my tasting that I conduct on the street. A quick examination of A’s custard tart reveals an ultra flaky crust,a perfectly cooked custard and just a hint of a caramelized top. Not bad,not bad. But how does it measure up against perfection?  Not needing to taste my favorite bakery’s custard tart for reference because the taste is indelibly marked on my memory’s palate forever,I think bakery A’s tart is about 85% of the sweetness and about 90% of the savoryness. It’s close,it’s not perfectly balanced,but it’s very very good. The consistency is firm outside and soft inside without being jelly like. Very good,and I’m tempted to place my order for Sunday right now,but we have two more addresses and let’s see what the rest of Clement street holds before we make our decision.

Bakery B is jolly and bright. Small and well decorated,this a place ladies frequent,as witnessed by grandma who has planted herself in the window with her shopping bags. Bakery B’s custard tarts are hidden too,but that’s because they’re not where they’re supposed to be. The sign that reads “Custard tart”has no tarts behind it. I realize with shock,they’ve just come out of the oven! No! Could it be they’re warm and FRESH? Oh,what luck!  As I look behind the counter to the prep space where the little warm delights are waiting patiently to be adopted by a good home (me),I wonder what kind of lighting this bakery has because there’s kind of an unnatural glow coming from the tarts.  Those are really yellow,I say to myself. Must be the florescent lighting. The lady in front of me is also buying tarts,so again,she’s in on the scene,and I’m feeling good about myself:we are one,we tart-eating Chinese-speaking folk,not quite the borg,but you know,in synch.  So I order my custard tart from a happy,friendly,round-faced woman who is delighted that I’m just-in-time for custard tarts. This tart was 85 cents,a bit more,but still,a great  bargain. Again,I take my tart out to the street to conduct a tasting. In the light of day I unwrap Bakery B’s custard tart and double check that I’m wearing my sun glasses because …my god…this tart…what kind of nuclear by-product do they use to color this thing? It’s brighter than the sun.  I’m a little afraid to put what is obviously a tiny representation of the center of our solar system in my mouth;but I do.  And I taste,and I chew. And I mentally compare tasting notes of the perfect tart and Bakery A’s tart,against this tart and…? And…? Meh.  The crust is less flaky,the center of the custard is too soft,jelly like and a bit watered down.  Where’s the flavor? They obviously kicked ass when it came to coloring it,but there’s no depth,no body,no eggy-savory,no kiss of sweetness. Just a lot of Meh.  Sigh. Off to bakery # 3,Bakery C.

I walk into Bakery C and am greeted by the most grim of all atmospheres –is it dark in here? –and a fragrance I was not expecting to encounter:yesterday’s alcohol.  Really? Yup,Mou Tai. Chinese rice wine. The cheap kind. I wonder for a minute if they serve it in the coffee,and re-focus and think about how to get my custard tart and get back to the light of day and outside- to fresh air. I can’t see what the woman in front of me is ordering,but I do spot the Dan Dat quickly,knowing to look on the top of the pastry case and sure enough:bingo. The woman behind the counter doesn’t give me the “oh no this is not going to go well”look,instead she gives me the “I don’t care what you speak,I might not help you,period”look. But I speak slowly and clearly “Yut go Dan Dat m’goi”and she smiles big and replies “Hai-Le! Dan Dat”and she repeats it,much to her amusement “Dan Dat,Dan Dat,Dan Dat”.  I find her reaction half cute,half psychotic. I can’t remember how much I pay for this tart,as the smell of Mou Tai is starting to overwhelm me,and I take my purchase outside to fresh air. I peek at my custard tart and it looks undercooked at first glance,the crust is more dense,compact,where are the flaky layers? It looks like someone was heavy handed with the crisco,when they should have been light handed with the lard. And my first bite proves it:gooey crust. I can’t even get to the taste of the custard for the gummy paste in my mouth. Euhf. I can’t taste anything but flour. What does Bakery C’s tart taste like? I hate to admit it but it tastes like glue.

So back to Bakery A.  I stride back in with a purpose and the man behind the counter is a bit confused and delighted that I’m back. He smiles,because he realizes I’ve made my choice:yes,these are the best custard tarts on Clement street. But he’s distracted. The afternoon rush is on,and I seem to have found where the Chinese speaking US Postal working population gathers for afternoon tea.  All of them. There is a rush hour for milk tea and pastry,it happens at 3:30 on Clement street.   The man behind the counter is being helped by his daughter -or niece- and this time she takes my order. She speaks English to me and is clearly all business.  Because she’s hard core bi-lingual,my pity Cantonese vocabulary won’t impress her but I use it anyways for emphasis,I justify it to myself by saying “just in case”. ”I’d like 15,sup-m-go,Dan Dat please,for Sunday the 30th,sam-sup-ho. What time do you open in the morning?”“We open early”she replies “7 or 7:30,what time do you want to pick up?”“Bat diem boon”and she writes down 8:30 as my pick up time. I’m not even sure she heard me speak Chinese,she probably didn’t notice.  No win there.

But victory was mine today.  We have 15 flaky,flavorful,eggy-savory,with a kiss-of-sweet custard tarts ready for pick up Sunday morning’s Dumpling and Tea event. I hope you’ll like them as much as I do.