Holy Halley’s Comet! It’s July, and the Mets are better than the Bombers! But they’re still second fiddle to the Yanks when it comes to food. Unlike Yankee Stadium, which is surrounded by blocks of sausage and shish kebab delights, Shea is located in a parking-lot wasteland. Mets faithful must either eat before the game…or munch ballpark franks as slimy as Vincent Gallo.
To thwart such gastronomic misadventures, 7 Train it one stop past Shea to Flushing, NYC’s second-biggest Chinatown. Flushing is lined chockablock with fruit and veggie vendors; its rabbit-warren buildings adorned with mystifying signs. Open a door, and you could meet an illegal mahjong parlor or sublime noodle shop. It’s eating at its most serendipitous.
On a recent weekend, an omnivorous pal and I unleash our food diving rod and enter the dingy Golden mini-mall (aka a fluorescent-lit corridor). Beside a shoe shop and plastic-tchotchke shop, we find the exemplary ShanDong Dumpling.
The couple-table establishment contains a microscopic kitchen, in which three women mince meats and fold the restaurant’s namesake. Pork is paired with oddball fillings like tomatoes, fennel and bitter green melon.
While chefs sing, our dozen zucchini-and-pork dumplings ($3.50) are stuffed and steamed and served on a platter alongside two dainty bowls. The dumplings pop with juicy freshness, the zucchini soft as butter. Dunk ’em in the homemade sesame chili sauce for a fiery zip.
“Oh, you like it spicy,” the counterwoman says approvingly. She beams at us like a proud parent. The veggie dumplings ($3.75 for 10) are mushroom-packed, while the pork and leek (12 for $3.50) are savory, one-bite wonders.
Bearish on more dumplings, we stroll to the elevator-size White Bear. At one of four rickety tables, a man folds wontons with a diamond-cutter’s precision. Nearly a dozen dumplings are available, but we select the wontons with hot sauce ($4.25) that three other customers are munching.
“Can I lick the plate?” my compatriot asks.
No, no, I tell him, though I entertain the same thought. “Let’s save space for Spicy and Tasty.”
He looks at me like I asked him to shave my back. See, last summer, this Sichuan spot was worse than an acid trip. It offers several pages of sinus-clearing, peppercorn-chili concoctions and we thought we could take the heat. But damn those dan dan noodles ($3.95).
Elementally, these noodles are topped with a spicy ground-peanut-and-sesame sauce. They arrived, glistening and seemingly harmless. Several bites later, my sister’s eyes widened.
“Does anyone feel…funny?” she asked.
Unh-uh. Then I ingested more noodles. My lips numbed. My body buzzed. And my head took a trip to Pluto. “Waiter! Waiter!” I shouted. “What…what’s in this?” I pointed to the noodles.
He shrugged and backed away. After 15 minutes—and several pitchers of water—the effects subsided. This visit, we shy far from dan dan. Instead, we munch bird’s nests of cold sesame noodles and noodles with red chili sauce (both $3.95): slow-burning assassins. By now, our bellies are filled, as are our pocketbooks. That’s Flushing’s splendor. Sustenance is cheap, bountiful and served lickety-split. Eat here before or after a game, and you can afford ballpark bobbleheads or, more likely, beer. Sure, the food may surprise, but what’s life without uncertainty? And besides, I think, waddling to the 7 Train, unlike the Mets, these eateries will still excel come October.
ShanDong Dumpling
41-28 Main St. (inside the mall)
718-939-5472
White Bear
135-02 Roosevelt Ave. (at Prince St.)
718-961-2322
Spicy and Tasty
39-07 Prince St. (at 39th St.)
718-359-1601
