Bird bird yakitori

I really should apologise for not posting in the last few weeks. But I'm not going to. The Chinese government should be the one saying sorry. Those dicksters bloody hell banned Blogspot recently, making it damn troublesome for me to access my blog, not to mention post on it. So my legions of fans here in Beijing, I'm afraid you won't be able to check out The Forbidden Stomach for some time. Let's hope those dicksters lift the ban soon.

Enough complaining. Let's talk about something happy - Tori Tei, a Japanese yakitori restaurant. Its Chinese name is 鸟亭, which literally means Bird Pavilion. I know it may be childish, but somehow, I find it a really funny name. No self-respecting restaurant in Singapore would be caught dead with "bird" as its name. I think it has something to do with the fact that the Hokkien phrase for "penis" sounds just like the Hokkien word for "bird". So back home, it is quite common for parents, especially those from my parents' generation, to refer to a young boy's missile as "bird bird" (yes, in English!).


Not that I would ever try to tell the Tori Tei boss to change the name. Given how good the business is, I doubt he would really care if his restaurant reminds a cock Singaporean of penis. Check out the packed house.


I have been to Tori Tei three times and this tiny hut was always packed - usually with lots of Japanese men. That, as always, is the surest sign that this joint meets the high standards of the Japanese. You don't see a lot of Japanese at Yoshinoya, do you?

With the BBQ-ing done just next to the tables, smoke truly does get in your eyes if you are seated rather near the pit. But the smoke, the cosiness of the eatery, the loud chattering by the Japanese execs make the restaurant special. In the company of fellow white-collared workers knocking back whiskey and beer, it is the perfect place to unwind after a long day in the office.


The best way to enjoy Tori Tei, in my opinion, is to order a whole variety of yakitori in one go, some bottles of Asahi or Kirin (only 15 yuan per bottle!) and just sit back and enjoy the evening. I would highly recommend the chicken wings (my favouritest), sliced pork belly, chicken balls (tsukune), chicken liver and also the mackerel - superbly well done with a crispy skin and tender meat. But to be honest, everything is good. If you are adventurous, go for the chicken cartilage (nankotsu) too.


I have never ordered any of the noodles or rice, but if you are an old grandmother who must have your carbo, the gyoza is lovely. And rest assured that the ramen is good stuff too. Tori Tei belongs to the same boss as Original Come House (remember??), and you can have your choice of Miso Ramen etc. Isn't this place wonderful?


Budget about 70 yuan per person, including alcohol. For top-notch yakitori, it is a steal. It is not easy to find the place so here's the number 10-6461-4513 to call for directions. Be sure to make a reservation too. But if you really can't get a seat, go to the adjacent Original Come House and order the yakitori from there. The name is just as funny, but it won't be half as fun.

Come Come House

When you could not find a place called Come Come House, then it could only mean two things. One, you need a GPS; or two, Come Come House should be renamed Don't Come House.

After being tipped off about this great Jap ramen place called Lai Lai Ken (来来轩, which literally means Come Come House), I have been on a hopeless hunt for it. I searched for it online, found the numbers but the line was dead. But since it was highly recommended by Orangeclouds, I perservered and actually went looking for it on a winter's day. I failed. Very cold. Shit.

Today, I decided to try again. My idiotic friend (let's call him Mr L) who has been bunking with me for what feels like the last two decades, managed to make a reservation through Fantong - a popular online food review portal that also helps you make reservations (the restaurants pay them a small fee). Yeah! At least it showed that Come Come was still around.

But when I reached the dark alley where it was supposed to be located, it was nowhere to be found. There were lots of Japanese eateries, but no Come Come. There was even a Gen Lai Ken (源来轩, or Original Come House) but where the hell was Come Come House? Frustrated and close to giving up, I finally asked a waiter in a yakitori place what happened to Come Come. Thankfully, he cured my heartache and eased the hunger in my Forbidden Stomach.


Apparently, Come Come has changed owners and has been renamed Original Come. But none of the lousy Beijing city magazines, or Fantong for that matter, bothered to check and update their listings. Lazy buggers. So yes, you read it here first on the Forbidden Stomach: Original Come House is the new name of Come Come House.

I have never been to the original Come Come, but my guess is that Original Come has upheld the standards of its predecessor. The ambience though, was disappointingly bland, with a few black square tables dotting blank walls. A listless shelf of sake bottles was placed next to a small LCD monitor. In many ways, this place failed quite spectacularly on first impressions. It was quite unlike the usual small Japanese eateries you see, whether in Beijing or Tokyo, where it usually felt cosy and comfortable even if it was not splendid or lavish.


But the ramen was excellent. I had the Soy Sauce Ramen (below), which had springy noodles mixed nicely with crunchy bean sprouts. The broth was a tad too thick, but it was definitely tasty. My friends had the Miso Soup Ramen (just 30 yuan, bottom) and I would strongly recommend it. Noodles just as good and the clear soup was done to perfection.


Special mention must be reserved for the selection of yakitori, especially the chicken wings which were so good we ordered a second serving. Sorry no pictures. We ate too fast. Haha.

Original Come was quite empty when I was there, so I guess reservations are not a must. But it is not easy an easy place to find, so to spare you the pain I went through, here's the number 010-6468-5579 so you can get the waitress to give directions to your taxi driver. I am so nice right? It opens from 11am to 2pm and from 5.30 to 10.30pm.

Budget about 60 yuan per person inclusive of beer. The Beijing Beer is only 10 yuan per mug, good value for money. It may not be called Come Come House anymore, but I will definitely be going back.

Gentry sushi bar

After Yotsuba, you can kiss conveyor belt sushi chains good bye. There is no chance in hell that you will ever go back to those days of coloured plates where you ate like an assembly line proletariat. You have stepped into the world of aristocratic sushi.

Like an exclusive country club, Yotsuba makes sure that entry is not taken for granted. I first heard about the restaurant from a friend who said that he tried twice, but failed to get into the tiny 14-seater place. Usually, I hate such pain in the ass establishments who are too much of a pain in the ass. If it takes too much pain to pay to eat, I am taking my stomach somewhere else.

But somehow, I was piqued by Yotsuba and its reputation of fresh seafood air flown daily from Japan and a Japanese sushi chef serving to an exclusive group. Maybe it is because fresh seafood is so hard to come by in Beijing. Seriously, if you want to do the pervy Jap thing of eating sushi off a naked woman here, it is probably easier to find the nude lady than fresh sushi. (Don't be a perv and start looking for one. The ever moralistic Chinese government banned it in 2005, no kidding!)


So I tried - to get a seat at Yotsuba that is. First call to make a reservation found that it is fully booked for a few days. And it is open only for dinner. There are three tw0-hour seatings, starting from 5pm. If you want the prized 7pm slot, you may have to sleep with the sushi chef. I decided not to be a slut and settled for the ungodly experience of having dinner at 5pm.

At first look, Yotsuba didn't inspire much confidence. Shutters were down and it seemed like a restaurant that would prefer not to be seen. But once I stepped in and ordered my first sushi, I knew that there was no need for it to flaunt with neon lights and screaming signboards. Word of mouth alone would be enough.



Sitting by the sushi bar, I placed my orders directly with the chef: "Sushi, unagi, yes." Every piece that I placed into my mouth blew my mind. Yellowtail, tuna, mackeral, it didn't matter what I ordered, they were just awesome. The chef placed a piece in front of me each time he was done with one, and I swallowed them so fast it seemed he had tossed the sushis directly into my mouth. They were so good I decided to take smaller bites with each piece so that I could savour the freshness of the sashimi and the fragrant vinegared rice.


At about 300 yuan per person (not inclusive of alcohol), Yotsuba (10-6467-1837) is not cheap by local standards. But for two hours of absolute sushi bliss, it is a price worth paying.

My feminine Coco

It has been more than a decade, but I still think of Coco. On that fateful first day of bloody darn conscription, she waltzed into the barracks and turned every army boy's head. She had such smooth fair skin, lovely curves and luscious long hair that was a sharp contrast to the shaven heads that me and my new-found buddies had. But an hour later, we realised that we do share some similarities with Coco. She had a penis too.

You see, Coco belonged to that category of almost there, but yet not really. She looked like a hot chick and spoke like one thanks to regular hormone jabs. Unfortunately, she was not yet one. Her identity card said Male, and in Singapore, that means compulsory military service when you are 18. In common speak, she is a transvestite. In Singapore, they are often called derogatory terms like "bapok" or "ah kua". In ancient China, they would be likened to eunuchs. In the Singapore Armed Forces, she was classified as a Pes 302. I never quite figure out why 302 was used and not 123.


I never saw Coco again after those early months of bloody darn conscription and quite frankly, had clean forgotten her (I think she must have snipped off her manhood by now). But this ancient city of Beijing has a strange way of connecting you to your past. In my case, it is usually done through my Forbidden Stomach.

Some weeks back, YF suggested lunch at Coco Curry House. I said yes instantly. I may have a hopelessly weak tummy, but I love curry. I love that fiery monster that leaves me crippled and moaning on the throne the next morning. Muthu's, Apollo, Samy's, you name it, I love them all in Singapore.

But alas, Coco Curry House is as Indian as me - ie, not very. It serves Japanese curry. For those who have never had Japanese curry, just know that it is basically an imposter. It is not spicy, not fiery and certainly won't leave you moaning on the throne with a burning arse. In fact, any other names for that brown paste Japanese thing would be more appropriate than "curry". How about "nibushijiali"? Or "zheyidiandoubuxiangjiali"?


But curry the Japanese called it and Coco Curry House has more than a thousand restaurants all over Japan, China and even LA. Someone must obviously like this weird thing. The outlet we went to at high-end 美美百货 or Maison Mode mall (10-8571-2230) was really very Japanese - clean, neat and complete with oddly-phrased English like "Good Smell, Good Curry". The restaurant was squeaky clean, with crisp table paper mats and overeager wait staff whose wages must depend on how megawatt their smiles can get.


When my beef rice with egg omelette was served, the rice was wrapped up in the omelette with curry swimming around it. Very clean, neat and cute. The curry though, was, well, somewhat effeminate. Easy to eat, but hardly hot stuff. Coco - the Curry House and not my old army mate - has pasta too, but again, I have never been keen on Jap takes on Italian cuisine. YF said their spaghetti was not bad, so I may give it a chance next time. Expect to pay about 40 yuan per head.


For those who like Jap curry, give Coco Curry House a try. For me, one delicate Coco in my life is more than enough.