A pan-Asian inspired restaurant, that looks upon Sunrise Mountain in Asheville. Set in an old gas station, restored with a shabby-chic touch blend of old and modern with a liberal sprinkling of genius powder, this place is nothing short of a revelation.
I do not say this because it is the brainchild of a friend of ours, more despite it.
I do not say this as it has plentiful vegetarian options, which it does, kind of by accident.
I say this because the place is a marvel. As near perfect a restaurant as I could imagine, and I am a critical little prick when it comes to these things.
We enter first on a Friday night. They don’t take reservations. The place is heaving, there is a 20 minute wait at the bar or in the little waiting area but we don’t mind. We take our place watching the open kitchen, a brigade of dudes, confident in their work, calmly putting out bowls of curious looking this and that with the smells tickling our taste buds as they do.
We get to our table and are presented the specials by our server, Michael, a lovely dude with balance of friendliness and serviceness spot on.
Conny gets a cocktail and I get the house-made ginger and lemon soda. These are good, delightful even, but then the food comes and the real magic happens. We get a taster of essentially everything vegetarian on the menu, it is both plentiful and delicious. From the mind blowing char and heat of the Gai Lon (Chinese sprouted broccoli with chillies) to the simple delight of a lightly home smoked tofu with a salt and pepper panko crust. The deliciously simple homely dish of kimchi, fermented cabbage done at the restaurant or the hand rolled eggplant and tofu dumplings in a black bean dough all danced like ballerinas in my gob and went a long way to satiate the glutton in me. However the real big guns for this meal were brought out with eggplant dan dan, a sort of egg plant salad with chilli, peanuts, peppers and dusted with golden fried garlic and ginger. But the best of all was the simplest. Tofu, cut and textured somewhere between ricotta and cottage cheese, bundled in a fresh salad of spinach and wonder.
For mains Conny had opted for a smaller plate from the specials board of lamb belly, similar to pork belly in that slow cooked fatty way, but done Asian style with some pickled turnips and such. I had a Thai style curry with tofu, pineapple and sticky rice. Absolutely immense.
The next morning, Patrick was at the local market, demonstrating vegetable ramen (noodle soup) along side some squash and coconut soup. Obligingly I took a cup of both. The ramen, simple tasty, delicious, but the squash soup…oh jolly japers that was some thick golden wonder. Not rocket science, but the combination of coconut and squash is one I hadn’t thought of but works a treat! He prints the recipes for them too and hands them out to the folks of the market, for free! Either terrible, or fantastic business sense I’m not sure, but what a gent!
Then post intellectual lecture theatre, Conny and I darkened the restaurant’s door. This time, the restaurant was quiet but ticking over. Whether full with all 140 places (yes, you read correctly 140 covers, this is no tiny corner joint) or a quiet evening with just a few, I get the impression that this place keeps that relaxed, comfortable vibe required for a place to be a local hit. I would hazard a guess that this is by design as nothing really seems to be happenstance in the most fantastic of ways. The only parts of the restaurant that are closed off are the bathrooms and the potwash. Everything else is right there for you to see, the pantry is open, the kitchen is open, the shelves are loaded with jars of pickles for use in the kitchen that were prepared by the kitchen. Everything is done in house. From the pickling, fermenting and brining to the rolling of the dumpling for the specials. Patrick even has a team of dedicated dumpling rollers that only have one job! The architecture won an award for its re-purposing of a defunct gas station and the hooded area where one would normally fill one’s tank is either outdoor seating in summer, or as it is fall, a tented terrace as an extension of the inside space.
Conny and I opted for lighter options this evening, A plate of pickled veg, mapu doufu (a mushroom and tofu kind of pickley salady delight) plus some seitan for mains for me and Conny had some vegetarian spicy drunken noodles. A Thai based dish with thick sheets of noodle in a broth. The real star though was a delectible bowl of fresh, creamed and lightly spiced Laosian rice, it wasn’t on the menu, but was more something that the kitchen had just improvised when working with a new product, a group of Laosians were growing the rice locally, so naturally they experiment, and given that this rice had a particular creamy texture and high starch release it lent itself wonderously to this dish.
All washed down with for me a revelatory beverage called Kambucha, an odd fermented but unalcoholic concoction of bittersweet liquid pleasure, and Conny went with a few of the beers from Starr Hill brewery. Not only are these beers immensely tasty (I tasted them, so when Conny says they are, I know she is right) but they are brewed under the shepardship of Mr Robbie O’Cain, the brother of Patrick whom I briefly had the pleasure of meeting in Nice once, while he was in Europe to study the art of brewing and to be come a veritable master-brewer in Munich. Turns out, he succeeded, a master indeed.
Gan Shan Station, simply put is the finest restaurant I have eaten in for a very long time. It might not have the pretensiousness of the Grand Hotel in Cap Ferrat, or the up it’s own arse self importance of La Petit Maison or Univers (which I am told is no longer there) in Nice. It is that kind of restaurant that delivers on the important things, like flavour and invention, but in a setting that is amiable and comfortable. The food is exquisite, but the prices are far from lofty. I went to a similar feeling place in New York recently, delicious and wonderful. That place had a Michelin star, but I can honestly say, Gan Shan beat it hands down, and the prices were much better to boot. Most importantly I don’t say that as any detraction to the place in New York, more to emphasize the point with Gan Shan.
I met Patrick’s father whilst I was there. I had to tell him that he must be proud of his son, for there is literally nothing a critical prick like myself could say to fault what they do there. It really is a class apart, Mr O’Cain, obviously is very proud of his son. Conny and I are also proud that the Patrick we know and love from Nice has, in the few years since leaving, performed such a feat.
thelongmosey 