Packing them in

My BBF and movie buddy Pam and I are crazy for dim sum. She’s the one who gave me the great little book by Carl Chu called “Finding Chinese Food in Los Angeles.” It’s a real gem, with chapters on tea, social customs, alcoholic beverages, desserts, vegetables, banquets and the geographical areas of China. Along the way, he describes individual dishes and recommends his favorite restaurants. We almost always go to one of his top dim sum choices, Ocean Star in Monterey Park.

But, even though it’s just down the road a bit, we’ve been looking for something almost as good but closer to east Pasadena, so we can make the 1:30 shows at our beloved Laemmle 7. Last week I think we found it. Full House, south of Huntington Drive on Golden West Avenue in Arcadia, provides a reasonable facsimile of most of Ocean Star’s more conventional dim sum (more of that later) and cuts our drive time in half.

Dim sum, for the few who haven’t tried it, is the most fun anybody can have in a Chinese restaurant. The midday (usually 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.) feast consists of small plates, each holding a few tid-bits, easily shareable with one or two tablemates. They’re moderately priced so you can order a bunch, and vary widely. Dim sum provides delights for the adventuresome (how about meat and vegetable-wrapped duck or honeycomb tripe?) and comforts for the traditionalist (e.g., egg rolls and roast pork).

The dishes are usually wheeled around on carts by servers who shout out their wares in Chinese. The atmosphere is bustling and crowded. You never know what’s going to show up. If you see something interesting, you hail down the server and point. (In some restaurants, the servers speak little English so you have to guess: a pig in a poke — or pork in a dumpling?) And there can be incredible waits for certain dishes, or even for a table — especially on weekends.

According to Chu “the dim sum ... experience in Los Angeles is leagues above that in other US cities, mainly because the San Gabriel Valley is now home to some of the world’s best dim sum chefs. Many travelers from Hong Kong have even returned to confirm that the dim sum in LA is better than the originals back home. The large dim sum houses ... have deep financial backing to hire the best dim sum chefs. Tasting their innovative dishes is the main attraction.”

I know Ocean Star is in that category; we’ve been awestruck by the number of different and inventive creations that have passed by. But 90 percent of dim sum is pretty standard, and the quality is in the preparation and the service: is the food hot, the dumplings tender, the meat and seafood succulent? When the teapot is empty, does it get refilled quickly? And, even more important, do circulating carts allow diners enough choice? At Full House, the answers to all but the last are yes.

As soon as we sat down, smiling cart-pushers began their tempting and cajoling. “Pork shiu mai? Cha shu bau? Egg roll? It’s good. Try this one. You want this?”  Soon we had a tableful of fried, steamed and baked goodies that we hoped we could devour before they became cold. The printed menu identifies about 70 items, most priced at about $2, with about 10 between $3 and $7.50, depending on size and ingredients. (Full House also has a menu of 180 dishes that can be ordered to supplement the dim sum meal.)

We stuck to the stuff on the carts and spent almost two hours gawking and pointing and tasting and analyzing. In all that time, I bet we didn’t see more than half of what was available. Our biggest complaint was the surfeit of pork at the beginning of our meal; we had to beg the servers to send over a cart with shrimp and scallops. When they did, we were glad we’d saved room.

By the end, we’d downed steamed dumplings with pork, chicken and shrimp; baked buns (the dough was a little sweet for our taste) with pork and with sausage; crispy-skinned roasted pork; rice noodles with seafood; and a big order of broccoli with oyster sauce to assuage our guilt at such a carb- and fat-laden meal. We’d drunk innumerable cups of tea, tapping our fingers as each cup was poured to indicate our gratitude (see Chu’s chapter on “Finger-Tapping at Tea Drinking” for an explanation).

To end our meal, we decided to forego the usual egg custard tarts and sesame buns for some sweets being pushed by the dessert-cart lady. She told us the black rice coconut cake and mango pudding were both good for us and good luck. Both were delicious; and, even if they never bring us more luck, they epitomize our good fortune in finding Full House, where the bill for our two-hour feeding frenzy came to a grand total of $30 including tip, and the locale made making our matinee a snap!