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Written by Brian Freedman
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Classic Chinese done right.
There’s a lot to be said for culinary authenticity. It has, after all,
brought us a much more nuanced appreciation for cuisines that were
always considered somewhat uniform. How many of us, for example, grew
up convinced that all Italian fare was based on overcooked spaghetti,
spongy meatballs, and straw-wrapped bottles of cheap Chianti? Who among
us didn’t believe that French food meant cream sauces, butter sauces,
and, well, more cream sauces?
These days we know better. The culinary buzzword of our time is
regionalism. The food cognoscenti don’t go out for Italian or French.
They go out for Emilia-Romagnan, Tuscan, or Provençal.
And while this is an important development, there’s something to be
said for the kind of food that made us fall in love with a cuisine in
the first place. If it wasn’t good to begin with, we wouldn’t have
continued to explore it.
My meal at Abacus reminded me of what I’ve always loved about Chinese
food. There’s a certain exuberance to pan-Chinese cuisine—a
damn-the-salt-and-oil-content ethos that is exhilarating and, let’s be
honest here, downright delicious.
But what sets Abacus apart, aside from its consistently successful
preparations, are the little twists it offers, the culinary ledges it
tiptoes out to. It takes a certain amount of guts, for example, to
include a curried-chicken dumpling in the assorted dumpling sampler
($7.25).
Sure, the standard pan-fried pork dumplings are included, as are
steamed vegetable and fried crabmeat versions. But the fact that Abacus
throws a bit of a curveball with that curried chicken dumpling is brave
and thoughtful. Many Americans who didn’t grow up eating curry claim to
dislike it, even if they’ve never actually tasted it. But in this case,
because it’s just one of a number of dumplings, guests have the
opportunity to try something they otherwise wouldn’t have ordered.
The hot and sour soup ($2.50 for a small order) was thick and rich, yet
not gooey with the overabundance of cornstarch most restaurants shovel
in. There was also a bracing acidity that I usually don’t find in hot
and sour soup, and a peppery kick that set this version apart from the
generally bland bowls of brown mush that are neither hot nor sour at
most Chinese restaurants.
Peking duck is usually one of the most expensive dishes on the menu.
And, while it’s certainly one of the tastiest when done right, it’s
often hard to justify its exorbitant cost. At Abacus, though, Peking
duck is more than reasonable at $15.50 for half a duck, which is plenty
for two people, and guaranteed to leave you with leftovers. The
preparation was as classic as it gets, though the meat could have been
a bit more moist. Still, the flavors were excellent. Who doesn’t love
that signature juxtaposition of sweetness from the molasses glaze and
the richness from the cooked duck fat?
A side of sautéed Chinese eggplant with garlic sauce was a bit on the
oily side but delicious nonetheless. The eggplant had been cooked just
enough to caramelize the sugars in the garlic sauce, yet not so much
that the slices themselves grew limp.
In fact, the only part of the meal that left me a bit cold—aside from
dessert, a passionless passion fruit sorbet in a chocolate shell
($4.95, though the sorbet constantly changes)—was the spicy seafood
special ($19.95–$22.95, depending upon what’s featured). More tangy
than spicy, more piquant than peppery, the sautéed shrimp were plump
and well-cooked. Certainly, the shrimp were good enough that I was
willing to overlook the fact that the scallops were mealy. And the
accompanying fried rice—subtle and fluffy, as it almost never is—was
remarkable. Those scallops were the only misstep, and the rest of the
meal at Abacus won me over.
I’m a regular visitor to Center City’s Chinatown, and as such I’ve
become a bit of a regional-cuisine snob in recent years. I don’t want
Chinese food. Most of the time I want Sichuan, or Shanghainese, or
Hunan.
But sometimes, I think, we all need a dose of that version of Chinese
food we grew up on. From the service to the food to the ever-changing
specials, Abacus does it beautifully. I just wish they sold that hot
and sour soup by the keg.
Abacus Chinese Restaurant is located at 1551 S. Valley Forge Road,
Lansdale, Pa. 19446 and can be contacted by telephone at (215) 362-2010.
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