China MaMa

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Mulling over what I want to tell you about China MaMa, four things come to mind: The food is fantastic, the prices unreal (in a good way) and the place always empty. And I can’t quit thinking about the steamed juicy pork buns.

Friends had been raving about China MaMa for months, and none of them failed to add that it still seemed undiscovered, which doesn’t make sense with all of the buzz out there, including in the blogosphere. Maybe we just don’t go at the right time, but whatever the case, this is a gem that deserves to be found by a wider audience.

The steamed juicy pork buns ($7.50) have been getting a lot of attention, which aroused my curiosity. I’ve always liked them — always found the combination of pork and ginger and sesame oil very pleasing — so I wondered what it was about this version that made them so special.

Well, I’m still not sure I can pinpoint it, but special they are. If you’re not familiar, these little gems are actually more like dumplings, as opposed to char siu bao/barbecued pork buns, which are nestled within a yeast dough. The filling of seasoned ground pork is wrapped in a wontonlike casing that’s artfully twisted at the top and then steamed. When the steamer arrives — at China MaMa, it contains eight dumplings — you pluck one out and pop it in your mouth. You want to eat these whole, since the "juicy" part refers to the generous amount of broth that also is somehow contained in the dumpling. You can anoint them with the shreds of pickled ginger brought in little dishes on the side, or the condiments — soy sauce, vinegar, etc. — on the table. But before you do, try one plain, to fully appreciate the ambrosialike blend of flavors that contribute to the whole while retaining their own identities.

Friends had raved — and raved, and raved — about the creamy chicken corn soup ($4.50 small, $7.95 large), so we asked for a large bowl, only to be waved off by our waitress. The small is large enough for four, she advised, and sure enough it was. It also was piping hot and supremely satisfying on a windy, chilly evening, a slightly sweet mix of a very creamy egg-drop base with lots of kernels of corn (at least some of which tasted roasted) and lots of clumps of seasoned ground chicken.

The green-onion pancake ($4.75) was another darling of the blogosphere, and since I’ve long liked them, it naturally appealed. Sure enough, a stellar rendition — the thickish crepe cooked with plenty of minced scallions mixed into the batter and cut into wedges. Simple and delicious.

And the beef roll ($6.99), touted by another friend. This one was a Chinese pancake (think muu shu) spread with something that seemed to be primarily hoisin and wrapped around cold sliced beef with a profusion of fresh cilantro, then cut into thick slices. This is one of those cases where it’s perhaps better that you don’t dissect the dish — the cold slice of beef, with its streaks of cold fat, wasn’t the most appetizing thing in the world — but the combination of flavors is something I’d eagerly have again. And since the preparation is quite simple, the dish arrived at our table very quickly, doing much to assuage those initial and inevitable hunger pangs.

All of it was served in a barnlike space that retains signs of its former life as a bank, though the owners have done much with what they have. The walls are a sort of curious pea-green, but it somehow works with the other neutrals and the little red Chinese banners and red light fixtures that look like postmodern versions of the traditional Chinese lantern.

Service throughout was good, our waitress bringing us a nice big pot of hot green tea even before we’d ordered. There was a slight communication problem, but truly slight; China MaMa is user-friendly for Westerners as well.

Which is a good thing, because I don’t speak Mandarin or Cantonese, and those steamed juicy pork buns are beckoning.

Las Vegas Review-Journal reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact Heidi Knapp Rinella at 383-0474 or e-mail her at hrinella@ reviewjournal.com.