Pearl Villa

Preserved egg can be beautiful

by Robert Nadeau

DINING OUT

Pearl Villa (617) 247-4455 25-27 Tyler Street (Chinatown), Boston Open Sun-Thurs, 11 a.m.-2 a.m.; Fri and Sat, 11 a.m.-3 a.m. AE, Disc, MC, Visa Beer and wine Up eight steps from sidewalk level

I went to Pearl Villa on the rumor that it had inherited some of the Malay dishes as well as the space of the lamented Banana Leaf, the erstwhile Malaysian restaurant. But what I found was one of those vast menus that range from live-tank seafood to a Spam-and-egg sandwich. I didn't try everything. I didn't even try the Spam-and-egg sandwich. But I had enough fine dishes, and saw enough beautiful food served at other tables, to estimate that Pearl Villa does a lot of things very, very well.

Certainly the Malay food is remarkable. You could start with the malaea lobak ($7.95). Lobak is a kind of divine egg roll developed by the Malay wives of Chinese traders; their daughters were known as "nyonyas," and the fusion food of Straits Chinese families became known as nyonya cuisine. The lobak comes on a mixed platter that barely rates the chili-pepper silhouette on the menu. The heat is mostly in the side chili sauce known in this cuisine as "balachan" -- a matter of ground red chilies, ginger, and lime juice, with maybe a hint of anchovy paste. (One of the pleasures of Banana Leaf was that the servers calibrated the chili sauce to the diners so well. On one enthusiastic evening I got three versions, each a little more balachan-ish than the last, and each wonderful.) There is also a little pepper in the pickled cole slaw in the middle of the lobak platter, topped with four delicate slices of preserved egg. I'd always been so distracted by the idea and the flavor of preserved egg (intensely eggy, salty, not all that funky) that I never really looked at one. The yolks are greenish-black and the whites are almost transparent. Preserved eggs, sliced this finely, are very beautiful.

Okay, not everyone is going to eat that, but it's a fraction of the platter, which is really an appetizer for about four people. The bulk of it is the lobak -- two long, flattened spring-roll-like things cut into seven or eight pieces each. The wrappers are incredibly flaky and crunchy, even more so than imported Thai rice skins. I'm going to guess that they are bean-curd skins. The filling is pork, carrot, cabbage, maybe noodles, brilliantly touched up with a sweet hit of five-spice powder. Then there are eight large cubes of fried soft tofu. The flavor isn't remarkable, but the texture -- outsides crispy, insides soft as custard -- is irresistible. Just fork on some of that hot chili sauce. (There is also a duck-sauce dip, but ignore it.)

Speaking of forks, don't be ashamed to use one. The restaurant sets out chopsticks, but servers bring forks with Malay food because it sometimes comes in larger pieces and isn't really designed for chopsticks.

That's not the case with Hainan Chicken ($8.95/$16), which is really from Hainan, as were a subgroup of the Chinese contract workers who came to Malaysia in the 19th century. The present form of Hainan chicken is sliced chicken on the bone that is so exquisitely tender and juicy it seems underdone. This effect is achieved by poaching the chicken without ever bringing the water to a full boil. It requires a superior chicken, since there is no seasoning until you add the balachan, which is the perfect foil.

On one visit the restaurant was sold out of pea tendrils, my favorite, so we looked around at several gorgeous plates of greens and vegetables on other tables, and pointed to what turned out to be an especially good "Buddha Delight" ($7.95). The key was green baby bok choy, with four kinds of mushrooms, bean-thread noodles, bean curd, bean-curd skin, carrots, baby corn, and snow peas -- all in the usual mild white sauce. This, like much of the menu, is Hong Kong cooking, a rich anthology of South Chinese foods.

Live seafood from the tank is an apparent specialty. We had a superb lobster with ginger and scallion (seasonal, recently $13.95). The lobster is hacked into chopstick-ready pieces and deep-fried in the shell, a preparation borrowed from crab (which the Chinese consider more flavorful) that keeps the meat incredibly fresh and sweet, with just a light coating of flavored oil as a kind of universal sauce. No dipping.

Our lobster was followed by a finger bowl of tea with a lemon slice floating in it. This looked good enough to drink, so the waitress explained what it was.

The menu includes whole unexplored continents of clay-pot dishes, Mandarin and Hunan favorites, rice porridges, tourist dishes, a few dim sum, a large list of fruit and bean drinks, noodles in soup, chow mein, and a late-night menu of baked macaroni and sandwiches. I did try a rice plate at lunch, "balachan sliced fish and fish ball with curry sauce" ($4.95). This is a rice plate that truly emphasizes rice, with about twice as much as I've ever eaten at one meal -- beautifully scented jasmine rice, too. The topping, poured over half the rice, is a simple yellow curry with a mild hit of pepper, containing buttery fish balls, slices of fish loaf, red and green bell peppers, and onions.

Malaysia is one of the few countries in East Asia with a lot of desserts. Most of them are drinks, or are served in parfait glasses with enough syrup to look like drinks. Some are smoothies, such as the very attractive mango shake ($3.75) I saw at a table of young Asian-Americans. But there are also bowls of thin puddings, such as the "fresh melon fruit with tapioca pearl or sago" ($3.75). This is an excellent cold cantaloupe soup, with some tapioca in the bottom for heft. On a hot summer night, which I imagine Malaysians have had some practice with, it's perfect.

This is a pretty restaurant, with marble-tile walls, a salmon-colored carpet, green marbleized tabletops, mirrored walls (the disco look that makes Chinatown both stuck in the '70s and right up to date), and large tables. Staff members are very helpful and fully bilingual. On my two visits, they were serving mostly Asian-American customers and were apt to be overly accommodating to people who looked like newcomers. This stops as soon as one orders confidently; there is none of the insulting effort to steer non-Asians away from authentic dishes. But along the way a newbie may get more forks than she or he needs.

Pearl Villa provides further evidence that the strong economy has had excellent effects on the better Chinatown restaurants. There has been a general upgrade in seafood and vegetables in recent years, and technique has also improved, especially deep-frying. The old advice to look around the room before ordering has never produced better results than it does in 1999.

Robert Nadeau can be reached at robtnadeau@aol.com.

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