Lemongrass Lollipop features lemongrass-glazed beef on sugarcane skewers; it's served with a ginger/mint vinaigrette. Photo by Laura Petrilla.

Plum Pan-Asian Kitchen

5996 Penn Circle South, East Liberty
412/363-7586
plumpanasiankitchen.com

Plum Pan-Asian Kitchen looks toward a fruitful future with a new take on a classy space in the East Side dining district.

Lunch: Mon.-Fri., 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m.; Dinner: Mon.-Thurs., 5-10 p.m.; Fri.-Sat. until 11 p.m.; Sunday Dinner Only: 5-9 p.m.; Soups: $2.50-$8; Salads: $7-$9; Appetizers: $4-$8; Entrees: $12-$18; Sushi: $1-$50; Desserts: $4-$8; Full bar, free parking, major credit cards, wheelchair-accessible including elevator, reservations suggested on weekends, nonsmoking.

 

A Rising Plum

On the corner of Centre Avenue at Highland, at the 3 o'clock position of the outer rim of Penn Circle, in the heart of East Side's nascent dining district, in precisely the space where Richard Chen the restaurant briefly caused the sort of ground-shifting optimism that helps rejuvenate neighborhoods, a dining reinvention has taken place.

The oversized, hanging cylindrical silk lanterns are still there, as are the two coveted round red tables and the twee bar. The place still maintains all of the physical aspects of Richard Chen at its opening, but the marquee reads "PLUM" in bright maroon script. And instead of avant-garde Pan-Asian cuisine with sleek plates and big prices, the food is more familiar, and there are Pittsburgh portions along with prices that match the current economic times.

One new inspiration to the room is a remarkable-looking sushi bar with a handsome red Corian counter and low-slung seating, which places your eye level directly in line with gleaming sushi, jewel-like in its individual glass compartments. Guests engage with chefs while sushi is prepared and plated, as half the fun of sushi is watching the floor show, even if the chef is taciturn and busy.

I won't dwell on Richard Chen here, except to confirm that he has absolutely nothing to do with Plum Pan-Asian Kitchen, the restaurant in the former space that was Richard Chen, the restaurant. That's according to current owner and partner George Lee, who informed me in a matter-of-fact way that should squelch all gossip and rumors. Lee, one of six investors, is the operational partner. This restaurateur, who has been in the business since 1987, owns four Sesame Inns in the Pittsburgh area. "Plum," he relates, "is easy to remember, sounds pristine, Asian." He hopes to reignite the corner's slightly melancholy past and bring it back into good standing, a robust center of the Pittsburgh universe.

Our dinner party had inherited one of the coveted red tables on a Saturday night without even a reservation. A boon or an omen, I wondered.

I am thankful that the Pan-Asian menu is not too big to be digested, considering it covers cuisine ranging from Japanese and Chinese to Southeastern Asian, with touches of Thai, Vietnamese, Malaysian and a dish or two from Singapore. It will continue to respond to customer as well as owner and chef feedback. But shouldn't a menu in this day and age always be evolving? Lee personally seated us and was off, fervently buzzing among the tables. Service was solicitous and caring, with a few blunders that are insignificant in my book.

Left: Dessert offerings include this lemongrass panna cotta served with a sesame-seed financier, tangerine sorbet and a citrus consommé. Photo by Laura Petrilla.

Soon we were eating roti canai, an Indian-style version of the flatbread - light and airy, and served with a sweet, pungent curry dipping sauce that had chicken stock at its core. It turned out to be a favorite, a reminder that something as simple as bread can be delicious. Hot-and-sour soup, with pork and tofu, bamboo shoots, egg and mushroom, held up to my favorites around town; tom yum goong (serves two), a lemony broth full of shrimp and mushrooms, happily grows more complex with each mouthful.

Shrimp and Thai vegetable egg rolls, served steaming hot in crisp wrappers, are more interesting thanks to a trio of spicy mustard, duck sauce and a Malaysian aioli, which looks like French dressing but is actually quite good. Thinly sliced Beijing-style pork and the all-American General Tso's are typical expressions of worried restaurateurs adapting Asian food for American palates.

A "Rice and Noodle" section has some diners' favorites, including my favorite, Chow Fun, which features thick, fat rice noodles that cling to your pleasure of vegetable, chicken, pork or beef. With my serving, I craved a little more noodle, though this was certainly a healthier approach.

Popular items also include a Vietnamese steak kew, marinated filet mignon cut into big chunks and stir-fried with taro chips, and accompanied by mixed greens with a subtle sweet-and-sour fish sauce; and fresh lemongrass shrimp and scallops over Shanghai bok choy with red pepper and mushroom.

Plum uses quality products, including a short grain Tamanishiki rice from a Japanese supplier in New York and Chicago, and an outstanding "big-eye" tuna from Honolulu, with a flavor and texture that puts "ahi" in a lesser category. "Like a quality scotch," offers Lee. "When you taste these things, people can generally tell the difference."

Vegetarians have plenty of options, and there is a section for those of us in favor of grazing and lighter fare. I secretly hope that Lee won't turn down the heat or defang too many dishes with reassuring props like rice and iceberg lettuce. I like the kind of heat that makes your hair stand on end.

Right: The sushi bar is a visual focal point at Plum. Photo by Laura Petrilla.

Now on to the sushi. Friends who just returned from China with tales of locals who carry sacks of fresh fish to their favorite restaurant to have them cooked made me green with envy. Fish that are deveined and disembodied are considered inexpensive, and interpretations that accentuate a creature's natural environment define freshness as the shortest interval between a swimming fish and a fish on a chopstick. So when I noticed sushi chef Jimmy Watanabe in his Pirates cap wielding his knife at the sushi bar, and heard our waitress explain that all orders are immediately translated into Chinese for the 10 chefs in the kitchen, my hopes instantly rose.

The sushi bar is pure fun. California rolls are like nothing we've tasted, similar to a very fresh summer salad, even as we approach winter holidays. Watanabe came to the United States from Japan nearly 20 years ago. George Lee says he was well-liked even as a very young chef in Japan, where the route to sushi chef is strict, and paying your dues involves learning the craft from scratch, starting at the lowest kitchen rung. Watanabe is of the "If you want to do it, do it the right" school of cooking. Owner/partner Kathy Chen agrees. "He is very established, having worked on both coasts and in Japan. He has a wide range of skills, a chef who refuses to cut corners. A master," says Chen.

Some sushi houses use lesser quality rice and fish because when it is sliced and wrapped into pretty rolls, Westerners tend not to know the difference, but Watanabe insists on quality. Try his omakase sashimi, the chef's-choice sashimi platter, to get a feel for his experience and love of purity. He'll use whatever he has that day, working everything from scratch. The result, minimalist to look at, is fresh, extraordinary. Plum's pristine presentations, sans overload on the bells and whistles, are gaining favor.

For the meat lover, I recommend the beef carpaccio, which comprises cubed filet mignon with hot oil and garlic and the unique, delightfully sour Japanese yuzu fruit. It's terrific.

Rather full from all of the gobbling, I ordered a velvety black coffee, which settled me until I spotted the crunchy hazelnut chocolate bar squiggled with gold dust (mixed with vodka) that was a dessert item on the old Richard Chen menu. Then I spotted a homemade ice-cream sundae, served up exactly the way my father used to make it, with candied peanuts and chocolate syrup. "Forget the whipped cream and cherry," said pastry chef Bill Schwerin, who is proud of his front-loading Italian Carpigiani ice cream maker.

After sampling eel, fatty tuna, octopus, squid and flying-fish egg, I had the odd feeling that this dessert had brought me back to where I started - home.

Each month, Deborah McDonald jump-starts appetites with lively restaurant reviews that scrutinize who's cooking what and where. She works anonymously, visiting each restaurant at least twice before writing her column.

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