Pao’s
Mandarin House
800 Brazos, 482-8100
Open daily,11am-2:30pm; for dinner, 4:30-10pm. (Fri. & Sat. ’til
10:30pm)
Pao’s has won three Chronicle critics’ choice awards over the years and has been the subject
of at least two glowing reviews (this will be the third). Yet the place remains
obscure outside of downtown lunch circles. Several friends, many of them
longtime Austinites who eat out often, had never heard of this unassuming
source of authentic Chinese cuisine. While always packed during weekday lunch,
Pao’s is rarely more than half full in the evenings or during weekend dim
sum.
Part of the problem may be the location; it’s all but hidden in an office
building, with no windows facing the street. Another could be the almost
schizophrenic rupture between its lunch and dinner menus. By day, Pao’s serves
up strip-mall Chinese fare: hot-and-sour soup, chicken with peanuts,
sweet-and-sour pork, moo goo gai pan, etc., all well-enough executed, but done
to death elsewhere. Lunch patrons seem to love it; then again they have little
choice, because during this hectic time, Pao’s won’t let you order from its
more adventurous, and authentic, evening menus.
The mise-en-scéne shifts dramatically at night. Gone are the
daytime men in suits with their ties draped across the shoulders, the din of
their shop talk pleasantly absent from the air. At night, each dining party all
but commandeers an entire section of the restaurant, creating a feeling of
intimacy. If Pao’s doesn’t entirely avoid the clichés of the strip-mall
aesthetic — the napkins and carpet are a garish pink, for example — the muted
lighting and overall restraint of the decor make it a pleasant place to eat a
meal. The service, too, adds to the relaxed feel. Unlike their counterparts at
many restaurants, staffers here don’t use slack business as an opportunity to
slack off. The waiters are attentive almost to the point of fastidiousness, and
the food emerges from the kitchen briskly.
The food, of course, is what makes the restaurant such a darling of the
critics. Pao’s offers nighttime patrons two menus: one a mix of standard
Chinese-American and more traditional fare, the other consisting solely of
Mandarin specialties. Until recently, the staff presented the latter only to
Chinese patrons, giving it to others only on request. Now, in a policy change
that can only help the restaurant’s night business, the staff brings both menus
to everyone.
The scallion pancakes ($1.55 for a hearty portion) alone could engender a
large following. These savory delights are a kind of flat biscuit, the outsides
crisped to a rich brown and the insides moist and flaky. Flecks of scallion
dispersed throughout add just a touch of pungency to offset the richness of the
bread. The dumplings, too, inspire craving for days after a meal. My favorite
are the pan-fried pork dumplings ($3.55). Rice flour-based wrappers are stuffed
with fragrant nuggets of ground pork, steamed and then seared until crisp.
Alongside comes a dipping sauce which suggests soy, ginger, and sesame oil. The
flavors dance on the tongue, and an order of eight, while ample by any
reasonable definition, never seems like enough.
Equally delicious, and even more plentiful, are the hot and spicy wontons
($3.25 for an order of 10). Nothing like their deep-fried and hackneyed
cousins, these are essentially a steamed miniature dumpling served over a pool
of chile-infused oil, just hot enough to tickle the back of your throat.
As for entrées, vegetarians will enjoy the spicy bean curd ($6.25) from
the Mandarin menu. My dining partner found the sauce a bit under-seasoned, but
I enjoyed its delicate complexity. Colored a rich red-orange, the sauce opens
on the palate with the flavors of ginger and star anise, and finishes on a
moderate chile-hot note. As the sole entrée for one person, the dish
lacked variety: a plate of tofu in sauce served with a bowl of rice. It works
much better, I think, as one of many to be shared by a large party, the way
that Chinese families eat in restaurants.
Another dish that would work better in such a context is the tea-smoked duck.
I ordered it dining alone one night, and was mildly disappointed. A pile of
deep auburn, but inelegantly displayed, duck wings and legs sat on one side of
the plate; the other side featured a mound of canned pineapple cubes, under a
parched orange slice, topped by an unhappy-looking cocktail cherry. Pao’s is
far too good a restaurant to present its food in this absurd fashion. But the
meat, for the most part, was tender, juicy, and fragrant of Chinese spice; only
a couple of pieces were too dry for consumption and should have been left off
of the plate. Again, minus the ill-conceived fruit salad, the duck would make a
fine component of a large feast.
For a dish that stands on its own, try the moo shi pork ($6.75). This dish
combines cabbage, mushrooms, and fried eggs with tender shredded pork. One
wraps this pleasing hash of flavors and textures into a paper-thin pancake, and
dips it into a thick plum sauce. The Pao’s version of the sauce is a bit too
thick and sweet for my taste, but overall I like the dish very much.
The way to experience Pao’s is to dine with a large party, load up on
dumplings and pancakes, and explore the entrée menu as a team. When
enough people do this, the restaurant will gain the nighttime success it
deserves, and educate more diners in the pleasures of Chinese food beyond Kung
Pao chicken and fried egg rolls.
This article appears in February 23 • 1996 and February 23 • 1996 (Cover).