Queens Restaurant Round-Up (Part I)

Himalayan Tearoom (33-17 31st Avenue, Astoria, New York; 718-777-7450)
Minangasli (86-10 Whitney Avenue (Macnish Street), Elmhurst, Queens; 718-429-8207)

With only four Indonesian eateries in the greater New York area, Susan McKeever and I were more than willing to brave single-digit temperatures and the confusing street maze that is Elmhurst to sample the authentic fare at Minangasli. Still shivering inside despite space heaters and instantly delivered glasses of hot tea, we glanced around the dining room hoping to warm at least to the decor. Far from tropically decorated, Minangasli's interiors belong firmly to the Eastern Bloc Communist Era school of design, awash with flurescent lights, linoleum flooring and hospital-white walls. The tiny kitchen sits in the far corner, and luckily the food turned out there compensates for the functional but bleak ambiance.

The menu is large and varied, with many an item unfamiliar to all but devotees of Indonesian cuisine. Happily the more well-known dishes are also present - satays featuring beef, chicken or lamb and gado gado, the country's official national dish (a comosed salad of rice, vegetables and egg topped with the ubiquitous peanut sauce). We began our meal with the satay combination ($5.95) - an appetizer-sized portion of mixed kebabs, all doused with a spicy and sweet peanut sauce. Also sampled as a first course was an intriguing mixture of chewy fish balls, also covered with peanut sauce and sitting amidst pools of soy sauce and shredded hard-boiled egg ($4.95). Less enticing was a side order of house-made sambal ($2.95), a spicy condiment paste redolent of anchoives and chilis. Sambal when properly mixed is a powerful but lucious accompaniment to the generally sweet flavors of Indonesia; Minangasli's version tends to be too powerfully fermented in both aroma and taste (though it would appeal certainly to fans of natto and Chinese black bean sauce).

As the entrees arrived our table began to groan under the weight of so much grub. Minangasli's prices give no hint of the generous portions. A "platter" of fried kingfish ($7.95) was lovely in its variations and harmonious flavors - fried bone-in fish sits happily next to rice cubes (white rice that has been cooked to a paste, chilled and then crafted into tiny squares; visually, they suggest nothing less than vanilla Jello) topped with more peanut sauce and separate dousings of sweetened soy sauce. Jackfruit occupies the rest of the plate and is a brilliant discovery in itself ( we also ordered a side of the vegetable, braised with coconut milk and citrus juices). Not a fruit at all, but a tropical vegetable that breaks the rule of most - it isn't starchy or bland in the least, and could almost be mistaken for an artichoke heart. Kale stewed with coconut and chiles ($4.95), supposedly a stunner of a side dish, never made it to the table, as the kitchen had run out by 1:00pm!

Farther east in Queens, on a lonely stretch of 31st Avenue, sits a neighborhood anomaly - Himalayan Teahouse. In a misguided and unneccesary attempt to fit into the Starbucks' genre of soulless coffee shop, inside you'll find blue pleather banquettes, matching glass lamps and tiny tables arranged along one wall. While patrons obviously come here for the vast array of teas offered ( a 5-page menu with helpful, if flowery, descriptions), the atmosphere does not encourage lingering. In fact, Octavio and I beat a hasty retreat after the last swallow, opting for the multicultural splendour of Astoria a few blocks away. We're not true tea afficiandos at Cafe Drake, and enjoy a cup now and then, but lack the fetish required to have an ecstatic experience at this sort of niche venue. So speaking as amateur reviewers, we found the two types sampled to be bland; Forever Spring had hints of peach under a simple Oolong base, while Provence was technically a tisane, infused with rose and flowery herbs (all cups democratically priced at $2.25).

To the tearoom's credit each serving arrives in a mini french press, and refills of hot water are offered gratis. So bland was my blend that I noticed no difference between the first and second steepings. Food? What's food? Or so Himalayan Teahouse would seem to ask. With a total of 5 dishes up for grabs, it's no surprise we both chose dumplings (3 of the 5 options). Portions were quite large however, and could easily serve as a light dinner. Octavio's vegetable version ($7.95) was uniquely crafted like a tiny beehive, and chocked full of grated veggies. The beef dumplings ($8.95) were traditionally shaped, and filled with a mini-meatball as opposed to ground. Subtly spiked with garlic and chives, these were tasty enough, though still close cousins to the frozen supermarket variety. The only choice of preparation is steamed; presumably frying is too unhealthy for Himalayan Teahouse, which smacks of a puritanical approach to clean living throughout the establishment (annoying!) Homemade hot sauce and a small salad of sesame seeds and cabbage both excellent however, leaving one to wonder what the chef might do if given the chance to whip out more than tea leaves and hot water.