South meets East

Foo Wor’s dim sum is the
toast of the South Shore

by GENEVIEVE PAIEMENT

The South Shore is not known for its restaurants. Big-box stores, swingers clubs, yes. But food that’s so good a city dweller will get in her car and schlep over the bridge to get to? Not so much. But, wait, what’s this? It seems an upstart suburban Chinatown has been evolving along Taschereau, where just a few years ago the closest thing to Cantonese you might have come across was a Cage aux Sports “Oriental” chicken salad.

At the strip mall where Foo Wor lives, the banks have Chinese characters on their signs, sprawling Asian grocery store Marché Kim Phat sits at the centre, and along with Jing Hua next door, it caters to Brossard’s ever-growing Chinese population, as well as the odd round eye in search of top-notch dim sum. On a recent visit to Foo Wor, extended Asian families filled up nearly every available seat, toddlers darted in between the tables when not using those trusty training chopsticks with the loop that fits over a small thumb.

The mood is different here than at harried Chinatown dim sum hubs like Kam Fung or Lotte Furama, where service can be brusque and the wait interminable. At Foo War, there are two floors so it’s rare to have to wait, and the trolley ladies actually take the time to smile and joke around with you. Dim sum dishes are fresh, flavourful, and range in price from $3.25–$4.50 so you’d be hard pressed to spend more than $20, and that’s including the traditional Diet Coke to cut through the grease and MSG. I guess the one drawback really is that drive over the bridge.

Delicate, silky rice noodle rolls encircled shrimp and came doused in that tasty salty-sweet soy-based, broth-like sauce. Steamed pork and shrimp siu mai dumplings had moist wonton skins and fillings flecked with chunks of water chestnut. We tucked into round, pillowy, wonton-wrapped dumplings of rice, pork, chives and peanuts. A trio of classic steamed BBQ pork buns really satisfied, their sticky-sweet pork fillings and moist, biscuit-like dough casings done just right.

Brontosaurus-size Pacific rock oysters ($5.50 each), over six-inches in length, would have satisfied Fred Flintstone. We ordered these after spying our neighbours wolfing them down (they’re on the Chinese menu). They came baptized in garlic and black bean sauce and thick as steaks and frankly I found them a little overwhelming. Biting into one, my dining pal discovered a small treasure within: a gleaming white, perfectly spherical pearl. A waiter took a peak at our find. I asked if he thought it would bring good luck. He looked at me incredulously, answering: “No—money!”

We continued feasting. The crispy batter encasing the deep-fried squid was both slightly sweet and peppery, the tentacles surprisingly tender. Our steamed Chinese broccoli was cooked to perfection, the soft leaves retaining their shape and the stems retaining an al dente crunch, and such a pleasure to dip into the dark salty oyster sauce accompanying it. Nearly full to bursting, we couldn’t resist one last savoury addition to the table before switching to the dessert stomach: lovely little nuggets of shrimp paste-stuffed eggplant—shiny-slippery, flavour-packed revelations.

For dessert, we snagged three sweet plates: I asked for mango or coconut pudding and in a few minutes a white gelatinous, coconutty cube with a red jelly topping arrived. A trio of deep-fried sesame balls filled with lotus bean paste (vaguely reminiscent of peanut butter) were subtly sweet, with a lovely interplay between the chewiness and the crunchy seeds. I somehow found room for two of those nearly fluorescent yellow egg tarts. Still warm, with incredibly flakey pastry shells and silken custard centres, they lacked sweetness and so were too eggy (“tastes like scrambled eggs,” was one comment).

Next time I intend to dip more into the chow mein and soup dishes. We were just too stuffed this time around, and that full feeling lasted until a 10 p.m. dinner. But we’ll be back soon, now that we know the schlep’s well worth it.