Restaurant: Panda Veg
Dish: Double Flavored Peking Duck
Price: $13.95
Menu Description: A fillet of mock duck split in two: Half is served on a bed of vegetables in a home-made plum sauce, and the other half is served with moo shu pancakes and scallions. (Chef..s Special .. served with brown or white rice)


Solar eclipses can occur between four and seven times a year and nothing is more fascinating than seeing your sunshiny day turn to either partial or full blackness for a few seconds or even a few minutes; yet for some reason it..s the general understanding that this can only be witnessed outside as there are lights inside, but in my case a massive 1 ½ x 1 ½ plate eclipsed the light above me and nearly eclipsed my tiny two person table at Panda Veg. It was a fresh plate of Double Flavored Peking Duck straight off of the rarely ordered from (at least in my company) Chef..s Special.

When I first ordered this plate I had no idea what I was getting into. I asked the waitress what she thought of the dish and she replied with something along the lines of, ..Are you serious? The Chef..s Special?.. I inquired if that was a bad idea, but she immediately responded with how good it was but how rarely it was ordered. She reassured me again that the food was good, yet I was hesitant now. My girlfriend and I had $40 to blow so we decided to go all out. The wait took a tad longer than usual, but little did I know what was coming.

The plate itself seemed to be a metaphor for some typical suburban neighborhood (think ..Bewitched..) or possibly the Cold War setup of Europe; as one side had lusciously sauced, mesmerizing magical mock duck with an assortment of steamed vegetables (the bewitching Samantha Stephens-ish side.. or NATO side of Europe) mixed in what took up half the plate. Your typical backyard fence, or Iron Curtain, was in place in the dead center of the plate (made of half-cut orange slices standing perfectly upright), protecting the more whimsical side of my plate from the dry mock duck and plain scallions that lay on the other side (the side I haved dubbed ..Gladys Kravitz.. or the Soviet Union). Several tortillas and about 1/3 a cup of their (at least advertised as) homemade plum sauce with the sole intention of being basted upon my naked mock duck.

Upon my first attempt of wrapping my Gladys Kravitz / Warsaw Pact-loving USSR for ritual sacrifice, I had issues with my plum sauce falling all over the place (oh, what a sweet, tart taste that continuously tortured my cold sore at the time). With my first delectable bite it was hard to pause for but so long without devouring the remainder of my self-made wrap; I am a vegetarian and have never tasted actual duck, but with this as my formulated first impression I don..t think I could even go back to meat. The Samantha Stephens portion of my food was delicious as well and a nice change of taste from my Gladys side; essentially it was two meals on one plate, the only thing being in common was the mock duck.

The only issue for the consumer is debating whether the hefty $13.95 is worth it for the plate, but in all honesty this could be shared with another one or two people, I had leftovers for another meal and a half. So if you..re an herbivore, omnivore, carnivore, [pretentious] scenester, or your average Joe then stop on by; there..s plenty more mock meats to choose from if fake duck isn..t your thing.

- Josiah H.

A lot of folks were birds in their former life.  They enjoyed the luxuries of being able to glide through the wind and crap on people's Buicks.  In my former life, I had the super abilities of getting someone tipsy, clearing his or her sinuses, and satiating his/her sweet tooth for a small fee of six bucks.  No, I wasn't Jesus; I was a sizable hunk Mamma 'Zu tiramisu ($6).

Mamma 'Zu is an Oregon Hill eatery supposedly notorious for ridiculously long waits for tables, crude service, trainwreck decor and upkeep, yet unparalled and simply-prepared Italian dishes.  Regardless of whereever some of this undeserved flak originates, there are two itenerary prequisites for one who plans on dining any night at Mamma 'Zu:
1) Have atleast two hours to burn.  Maybe you'll be seated immediately, but  you may be standing around scrutinizing the chalkboard menu for 10 minutes to eventually resign yourself to the bench where you read Style Weekly or something.
2) You're going to order dessert, and tiramisu to boot... actually, this should be number one, so I'm going to edit this weblog entry before I post it... okay, I'll do it in, like, four seconds.

Without these two key elements metally inserted, one may leave the premises annoyed with the wait or having eaten their entire order of Eggplant Parmagiana with no room to even share a Cannoli ($3)*.  But I digress.  Any ol' scum can go into any ol' scum 'Italian', and probably American, restaurant and get some cheap tiramisu, but if the first bite didn't burn the esophagus, then it wasn't Mamma 'Zu tiramisu.  The tiramisu of Mamma 'Zu is masterpeice concoction layered with ingredients such as soaked ladyfinger sponge cake, sweet mascarpone cheese, cocoa, cream, espresso, and most significantly rum.  The dessert's delightful union of lightness and richness will appeal to all.  Each spoonful that reaches the mouth will arouse a certain appreciation for its intricate gastronomic details.  However, the almost ridiculous strength of the alcohol in the dish occasionally leaves some diners with their noses literally turned up. 

If being sent to an AA meeting as a result eating a sublime dessert doesn't sound appealing, order the cannoli and send the rest of the tiramisu my way.  I never visit the corner of Pine and Spring Streets without anticipation of eating a square hunk of Mamma Zu's tiramisu.

*Apparently, some folks can engulf a full order caprese ($8), an entire eggplant parmagiana ($12), and still have room for a tiramisu and a half.