The "coming soon" sign for P.F. Chang's China Bistro seemed to hang forever in the window of the vacated Good Guys space at Corte Madera Town Center. A seemingly endless retooling has slowly but definitively created a new life for a shopping area that was, perhaps 10 years ago, beginning to seem moribund. Without a mega-retail anchor at the level of Macy's or Nordstrom, the smaller mall west of 101 began concentrating on its central outdoor space, creating a kind of European plaza lined with smaller shops, bakeries and takeout delis. One by one the discount shoe, linen and clothing chains gave way to tonier establishments. Z Gallerie moved in, then REI, then Sur La Table, or maybe it was the other way around. Safeway, Rite Aid, Radio Shack and McDonald's are still there, but they're virtually invisible from the interior, which is kind of a nifty architectural feat. There are medical offices on the south end, and a gym and health club on the north, along with the long-lived Il Fornaio restaurant and coffee bar. Whatever your feelings about the loss of Marshall's to the big Barnes and Noble, it's undeniable that a person can now accomplish a wide variety of chores in this revitalized mall.I had reason to be in an office above the construction zone fairly regularly last fall, and listened to the constant pounding and crashing of what sounded like a massive remodel below. When I drove in one day in early November and saw the giant stone Chinese horse standing sentinel at the entrance (and could no longer find a parking place on the south end of the center), I knew that P.F. Chang's must have opened at last. And it was already successfully filling its niche.
The décor inside signals a marriage of the traditional and modern in Chinese culture. Black wood-plank floor, polished teak tables, replicas of the terra-cotta warriors and a painted mural of Chinese country life are subtly lit with lantern wall sconces and a dramatic ceiling of glowing moon discs. These create a sense of calm, which is a good thing, because the atmosphere on the night of our visit bordered on pandemonium--including crockery crashing twice to the floor from a nearby table, amplified by the loud, annoying rock and roll on the music system. There are banquettes against the far wall, and a sparkling, attractive bar area near the entrance. On the evening of our visit, the dining room was filled with children. Is it just the holiday season that has so many families out for dinner, or are we in a baby boom?
The P.F. Chang's chain, which opened its first restaurant in Scottsdale, Arizona, in 1993, is the creation of Paul Fleming and Phillip Chang, and now includes somewhere between 50 and 60 restaurants in various parts of the world, all company owned and managed. Chang is the son of Belvedere resident Cecilia Chang, doyenne of the Mandarin Restaurant in Ghirardelli Square, which reigned during the '70s as the most upscale and innovative venue in San Francisco for Chinese cuisine. Barbara Tropp, whose Sutter Street storefront, China Moon Bistro, took the genre a step further in the '80s and '90s, helped design the menu, which is intended to further the blending of traditional and contemporary elements of Chinese and Southeast Asian cuisines.
We arrived perhaps two minutes early for a 6:30 reservation, and were told that we would be seated shortly. When I asked what that meant, I was told 15 or 20 minutes. When I questioned why we should have to wait when we had a reservation, we were whisked immediately to a table. I wondered what would have happened if I had simply acquiesced. P.F. Chang's only recently started taking reservations at all. I'm glad for that change. I think a reservation policy that expects hungry people to wait a couple of hours for the privilege of dining is uncivilized.
The menu is a smart little flip-top book, with thick pages of starters, noodles, vegetable dishes, plus meat, seafood and poultry entrées. I thought the design attractive, but wished I could see more than one category at once. We had fun ordering anyway, because everything sounded absolutely delicious.
There's a separate card describing grilled entrées, and another book of wines, sakes, beers and cocktails. I hesitated over the exotic drinks, one of which included vodka and green tea, but most of them sounded too sweet. The new trend in designer cocktails seems to lean heavily on sweet liqueurs and syrups. This seems counterintuitive with Asian food, which is itself likely to veer in a sweet direction.
The wine list is divided into flavor categories, such as "apples and citrus," or "peaches and melon." Most wines are offered by the glass; all glasses are under $10, and you can order a flight of 2-ounce pours of any three for $10. Trying different white wines with Chinese food seemed like a good idea to me. But of the three wines I asked to sample, only one was actually available. Perhaps as an apology for that, the three glasses our server brought to the table contained a good 6 ounces of wine each. That was enough for three of us to savor through our entire meal.
Our server was friendly and helpful, but clearly still learning his job. Before he served us water, he brought a lacquered tray of three cruets and three small pots. The cruets contained soy sauce, vinegar and chili oil. The pots were filled with Chinese mustard, a soy-and-sugar mix and chili paste. He offered to mix a sauce to our specifications, but we found this confusing when we hadn't ordered yet, so asked to just mix our own. As it turned out, everything we ordered was fully seasoned anyway, so the pots and cruets stood unused.
First of our choices to arrive were crab wontons ($7), six little fried pinwheels filled with delicately seasoned crab, accompanied by an addictive spicy plum sauce and a marinated haystack of julienne carrot and cucumber. The vegetables tasted bland and limp, but the wontons were crisp, virtually greaseless and utterly divine. I do think, however, that the menu should indicate that they are fried. I was imagining steamed dumplings, and would not have ordered salt and pepper calamari ($7) had I known I was ordering two fried appetizers.
Cut in the shape of squat french fries, the squid were crisped in a pale but flavorful batter, scattered with shards of scallion and laid over a bed of flash-fried rice sticks. Tiny bowls of salt and pepper, and a garlicky hoisin-based sauce completed the dish. Although they were tasty, I found them too greasy, which was not helped by the noodles underneath, also glistening with frying oil.
Our third starter was Chang's chicken in soothing lettuce wraps ($8). One plate held a green mound of iceberg lettuce, and another, a scattering of sautéed chicken breast meat spiked with chili, garlic and soy over a larger mound of fried rice noodles. I know rice noodles are traditional in this dish, but there were simply too many of them in relation to the amount of chicken. The cool, crisp lettuce served to cut the resulting oiliness, but the wraps would have been more flavorful without the extra grease and starch.
From the grill, we ordered lemongrass prawns with garlic noodles ($16). Four butterflied crustaceans, brushed with garlic, lemongrass, chives and chile flakes, then lightly grilled, rested against a bed of chewy Chinese wheat noodles. The shrimp were perfect, and the noodles, infused with lemon and garlic, a rich foil. As they cooled, they too began to seem too oily. I resolved that if I order this again, I'll request minimal oil on my noodles.
Chengdu spiced lamb ($14), caramelized with cumin, mint, tomatoes and onion, showed me perhaps by accident what wonders a little restraint in the kitchen could work. The lamb had been sliced and tossed in the wok with the spices and something sugary, but one or two of my pieces had somehow evaded the resulting caramel crust that enveloped most of them. The sweet, crusty ones were OK, but they masked the flavor of the lamb. The two more naked slices were sublime: tender, rosy pink and just kissed with notes of cumin and mint. It's another dish I would try ordering with the request for a lighter touch.
Our last entrée, Oolong marinated sea bass ($21), confirmed the wisdom of that idea. Seemingly oil-free, the snowy fillet had been simply broiled, sliced and fanned over a bed of raw baby spinach tossed with ginger and soy. Each bite was exquisitely clean, with a haunting tang of smoke from the tea.
All but one of the dessert options described by our server seemed too heavy and too Western for the menu concept. But the most attractive one was also the most fun. A tray of shot glasses filled with small desserts is brought to the table, like a miniaturized pastry tray. Each costs $2, and you choose as many as you want. We chose a lemon mousse with a cookie crust, a tiramisu and a small portion of the bistro's signature Great Wall of Chocolate layer cake ($8 for the big portion). We liked the not-too-sweet tiramisu best. These little glasses were perfect portions after such a rich meal.
Our tab came to $103 for dinner for three, without adding in the tip. I'm not averse to paying a little more for innovative ingredients and sleek décor. Part of the point of P.F. Chang's is to reinvent the concept of Chinese cuisine into a less pedestrian experience than that of a casual family restaurant. But the loud atmosphere and somewhat slapdash service here place it somewhere between a meal for a special occasion and one I would order on a night when I'm too tired to cook. I don't know yet how it will fit into my life, but I love Asian food, and I'm equal to the task of going back to figure it out.
