Chowing down poolside

China meets South Beach at Mahjongg
Bistro in Ruby Foo’s Hotel

by GENEVIEVE PAIEMENT

Mahjongg Bistro within the new-ish Ruby Foo’s is the kind of place my Cadillac-driving grandfather would have loved in the ’70s. After an afternoon spent at Blue Bonnets racecourse, he could have careened his ol’ gas guzzler across the Decarie expressway, chowed down on some garlic spareribs and egg rolls, flirted with the waitress in the frosted eye shadow, downed a few highballs, smoked a cigarette, then gotten that all-important validated parking and driven home a satisfied camper.

At least that’s how I imagine the scene at Ruby Foo’s in the ’70s, which was a bit of an institution back then. Mahjongg, with its boutique hotel aesthetic, is an updated version but more than a whiff of old school-ness remains.

I found myself lured out to Decarie, easily the most depressing thoroughfare in the city, by a particularly puzzling press release: it promised “dishes from the five regions of China” served in a “spacious poolside dining oasis...inspired by South Beach, Florida,” across the way from that citrus beacon, the Orange Julep dome. What could be a more natural confluence of cultural and culinary elements?

It sounded too weird to pass up, so in the spirit of the Olympics and given the fact that this summer’s been so sorely lacking in sun, it seemed fitting to want to catch some rays while eating poolside Chinese. And so it was that some pals and I found ourselves in a white cabana one recent golden Sunday at Mahjongg Bistro in Hotel Ruby Foo’s, with its vaguely ’80s décor and black, red and white colour scheme.

As we sat listening to the piped in, vaguely medieval classical music, kids splashed about in the water, the faint sound of cars whizzing by was almost reminiscent of crashing waves in the distance (or was that me trying a little too hard to conjure that elusive South Beach vibe?).

My memories of South Beach involve bad house music and conspicuously displayed breast implants, but the Ruby Foo’s pool was decidedly more family oriented, with orthodox Jewish moms wading in the water in long skirts and t-shirts. Taking in the scene, we all agreed modesty’s cooler than fake mammaries anyway.

Sifting through the 10-page menu with its three specialty sections (Ruby Foo’s specialties, Mahjongg’s and those of a mythical chap named Precious Flower Chang), we tried not to feel overwhelmed by the choices. To start: the Hunan dumplings ($9.95), whose floppy-fresh wonton noodles were nice and slippery, and the supposedly spicy peanut sauce betrayed not even a hint of heat but plenty of sweetness, with the small pork centres tender as they ought to be.

The Beijing dim sum dumpling basket ($9.95) fared less well, with four bland shrimp and pork options and one containing pulverized pork with scallions and ginger, all in noodle casings on their way to drying out. The dry spicy spare ribs with Szechuan spices ($12.50) were of the battered variety, served with a salty, mildly spicy mélange of black beans, chopped peppers and onions. Here the meat lacked a little tenderness, but otherwise the piquant flavour medley worked and even the oily batter satisfied.

The glistening steamed sea bass ($15.50) came bathed in an alluring sesame oil and ginger-scallion sauce, which proved a perfect companion to the delicate fish, my one complaint being the texture, which verged on mushy.

The black garlic beef ($14.95) featured small cubes of stir-fried steak and celery in an overly mellow black bean sauce, and the scallops with Chinese broccoli ($18.95) provoked two gripes: the starchy translucent sauce could use more punch, and the greens could have been fresher. Still, the bivalves themselves were plentiful and fresh.

The velvety eggplant in spicy garlic soy sauce ($11.50) was a hit with its deep-fried flavour and garlicky-soy sauce, chopped peppers, water chestnuts and black fungi.

“It looks like Swiss Chalet’s dessert menu,” my friend commented apropos the sweet list provided, with its emphasis on sundaes, cheesecakes and other North American faves. So we contented ourselves with munching on the surprisingly tasty and crispy almond cookies provided gratis and settled the bill—but not before asking the waitress to validate our parking ticket.