A breath of fresh food
Nourishment is medicine for the body and soul at AUN Deli Café
By Erica Wayne 01/17/2008
To paraphrase their menu, “AUN” means breath. In the Japanese alphabet, A is the first letter and N is the last. From birth until death we need breath and good nutrition. In theory, I concur. So, after two months of pre-holiday, holiday and post-holiday celebrating (translation: gorging), I’m due for a little good nutrition and (again from the menu) “Zen” cuisine.
But, even if I’m ready for a less-is-more reversal of eating habits, at least temporarily, I’m not certain I’m the best person to review AUN Deli Cafe, especially while I’m still mourning the cryogenic interment of my plum pudding and hard sauce remains last week and patiently awaiting the time of their resurrection.
AUN Deli Café
40 N. Mentor Ave., Pasadena
(626) 568-4959
Beer and wine/Major cards
AUN prides itself in following a traditional Asian idea (nourishment is medicine), carefully designing each dish for calorie count and vitamin content. And, glancing at the bill of fare online, I see mentions of tofu, kelp, green tea, roots and berries. Hmmm — how the hell am I going to sell that to my husband, who thinks Atkins with extra cheese is the way to go for health and happiness?
In the end, I decide it’s better if he doesn’t go with me. I’ll just drop in and order some stuff to carry out. Unfortunately, eating it at home doesn’t allow us the pleasure of the light and bright little dining room and gracious service. But it does mean that he won’t see the words “seasoned green tea rice soup.”
I drive to the restaurant just at opening time. As I order, a young woman lugs fresh fish and vegetables from her car to the kitchen. Teriyaki yellowtail ($13) comes with brown rice, miso soup and a choice of two of the brightly colored deli items displayed in the case at the rear of the restaurant. I pick kinpira (a root vegetable salad) and hijiki edamame (a melange of mixed vegetables, most of which I recognize).
For my mate, I order spicy chicken with fried soba noodles ($7.50) with miso (included) and a side of avocado fruit salad ($5). I figure that most of the words in this order are ones Alan recognizes and, since the words spicy, chicken, fried, noodles, avocado and fruit are all winners, the only possible problem will be soba (buckwheat).
Just to say I did it, I also order grilled chicken ocha-zuke (that green tea rice soup — $6.95). It includes a side as well. The cous-cous with veggies looked especially fetching, so I chose it. It’s hard to resist the organic teas offered on a separate page, but since I’m taking the order home, I figure Lipton will do. But I do ask for a bright orange carotene pudding (with pumpkin — $3.50) that beckons from behind the glass.
While I wait, I read a blurb posted at each table about an upcoming event. On Monday, Jan. 28, there will be a “Make My Chopsticks” workshop. From 5 to 6:30 p.m., participants will be shown how to fashion a pair of chopsticks they can reuse in an effort (practical or symbolic?) to curtail the destruction of trees. At 6:30, dinner will be provided. The cost a mere $35.
By the time my order is ready I’m feeling a great deal of guilt. The food is packed in Styrofoam boxes and cups with plastic tops, with plastic utensils and napkins, all stashed in plastic bags. I’m appalled at my rapidly increasing carbon footprint and wish I’d brought my own containers and bags. Bad karma, but we’ll make it up later by eating in the dark.
At home, I unpack and call my husband to table. He goes straight for the noodles. They look unthreatening: thin and white — I don’t mention buckwheat. The chicken is plentiful, with stir-fried cabbage, carrot and onion as well. He nibbles at the fruit, with only a shrug of his shoulders at the oddity of avocado.
I taste his pasta — not spicy, but tasty — and turn to my yellowtail, a broadside slice, with the strong flavor typical of the breed. It’s piled on a sauté of cabbage and onion with a huge scoop of rice. The kinpira is wonderful — slices of lotus root, shreds of burdock (gobo) and a fragrant sesame oil dressing. The edamame salad, in contrast, is bathed in perky vinaigrette.
We both adore the miso. Most restaurants serve it with a few cubes of tofu and a sprinkling of scallions. AUN’s has big chunks of vegetables — potato, shiitake mushrooms and various root vegetables as well; it’s a Japanese equivalent of minestrone, a fine starter but hearty enough to make an entire meal.
Only the ocha-zuke disappoints. When we open the tri-part container, we find a few (very few) morsels of grilled chicken in one, a scoop of unadorned brown rice in another and some thin shreds of nori (seaweed) with a couple of sprigs of cilantro in the third. And there’s a container of liquid that may be seasoned green tea soup; it tastes a lot like the miso without vegetables and we don’t know what to do with it.
By dessert time, my husband seems satisfied and I am cleansed and refreshed — or at least full. We turn to the pudding with high expectations. It’s a bit bland, but once we’ve added a dash of cinnamon, the flavor matches the color in vibrancy. We are now restored in body and spirit and hardly recall the stashes of Christmas candy still remaining in our pantry. Thanks AUN, for a good start to the New Year! Ommmmmmmmmmm.
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