No-fuss Chinese stalwart renews lifeline
Is it irony or kismet? I can’t sort out what suddenly, in these pandemic times, has brought a spate of excitingly varied eating and drinking establishments to my underserved part of Houston, the East End.
All I know is that it feels like a miracle.
On mighty Harrisburg, Street to Kitchen Thai food and wine bar How to Survive on Land & Sea have opened. The latter, the project of 13 Celsius co-founder Mike Sammons, hosts weekend pop-ups by the talented Night Shift cocktail guys and Tlahuac, purveyors of ambitious Central American cuisine made with local ingredients.
I am eagerly awaiting the pizza and pasta spot that’s coming soon from the Nancy’s Hustle brain trust; and the barbecue joint where the great Willow Villarreal will hold forth as pitmaster. On Wayside — my main artery — the advent of a new Doña Tere’s tamale shop has now been followed by a big new location of 888 Chinese, a stalwart on this end of the city for no-fuss renditions of takeout and delivery standards.
For me, it promises to be a lifeline.
I knew that the minute I tasted my old favorite mango chicken in garlic sauce, the out-of-the-box signature dish that first made me an 888 believer way back in the ’90s.
I love the subtropical boost that tart/sweet chunks of mango bring to the chicken stir-fry, with its savory garlic tones and gentle red-chile kick. Navigating the tumble of chicken flaps and broccoli hunks, mined with a crunch of peanut and water chestnut, I actually felt healthyish. And happy.
This mood elevator was brought right to my doorstep by an in-house delivery guy 58
minutes after I had ordered, paid and tipped online at the 888 Wayside website.
They don’t have a curbside setup, and I didn’t feel like going inside for pickup. So I opted for delivery on the grounds that it wasn’t a thirdparty service that takes advantage of both restaurant and driver. Unpretentious Chinese restaurants have had the delivery thing worked out for ages. I forked over an extra cash tip, grateful for the service, and hauled my steaming hot sackfuls of food inside.
The party lasted all weekend. I snacked on reprehensible but endearing cream-cheese-filled wontons with a scary-sweet orange syrup as a side sauce. No matter: I swapped out some Thai sweet chile sauce left over from Street to Kitchen Thai food, alive with fish sauce. The wontons were chewy where
they weren’t crisp, but I cared not. The heart wants what it wants.
I breakfasted on the hot-and
sour soup that was one of my faves when 888 lived farther down the Gulf Freeway at Gulfgate, its original mothership.
The soup remains a tonic for what ails you: shivered with ginger, alive with vinegar, lit by just enough dried red chile and white pepper. It’s got a cornstarch-thickened gleam to the broth, so that it holds in suspension snappy dark ribbons of wood ear, slippery egg-drop flowers and satiny tofu.
I got nearly a quart of this soup for $4.50, and let me tell you that going forward, I always want a quart of it in my refrigerator. Unless, that is, I’ve got a quart of 888’s unassuming wonton soup, which will be my go-to when I am feeling peckish.
The thing I admire about 888 is that while other restaurants may do more refined or galvanic versions of tried-and-true staples like the above, theirs have a steady goodness and affordability that I prize in a neighborhood spot.
I’m fond of the dry-fried green beans with their charry blisters and their cheerful mince of chive and what I’m guessing is a salt-pickled root vegetable. They’re good hot or eaten cold, as a salad. (Or, truth be known, as a midnight snack.)
The tongue-numbing mapo tofu is just hot enough without blasting, the tofu cubes riding on a ballast of chewy minced beef, the whole oily and garlicky and satisfying over sticky white rice. It’s the kind of mood regulator that lets you know you’re alive.
I did not venture into the realms of the fried seafood platters and whole fish that have made 888 wildly popular on my end of town. I didn’t think they’d travel well, and my heart was set on my touchstones of yore.
For information on 888 Chinese’s six locations, visit 888chinesetx.com.