Rangzen Tibetan

In which we learn there is more to Tibetan cuisine than momo -- and it is good

by Robert Nadeau

DINING OUT

Rangzen Tibetan (617) 354-8881 24 Pearl Street (Central Square), Cambridge Open Mon-Sat, 11 a.m.-10 p.m. MC, Visa No liquor No smoking Up slight bump from sidewalk level

After visiting the first two Tibetan restaurants in Boston, I was ready to write this cuisine off. I joked that if the only thing the Chinese invaders had done to Tibet was open Szechuan restaurants -- which, unfortunately, is not the case -- then there would be no real argument for international intervention. That joke, I now realize, was wrong. I was expressing a prejudice. After a fuller exploration of the menu at Rangzen, I am admitting here that my opinions were premature. I do not yet claim that Tibetan food is good enough to defeat Chinese cuisine in a culinary Olympiad, but Rangzen's version is certainly delicious and varied enough to host dinners for any and all human-rights organizations that want an alternative, even in these difficult times.

In fact, there is one item, right at the beginning, at Rangzen that is good enough to be on any menu -- French, Tuscan, Chinese, Thai, Japanese, you name it. That is the complementary basket of fresh-fried crispy wafers, like papadums except without all the spices. These things have to be the greatest potato chips going, even if they are made from chickpea flour.

Nor is Rangzen a slouch in the mixed-appetizer department. We had a couple of platters of thunlam tosoe ($6.50), translated eloquently as "combination of 1, 2 & 3." I can just see a couple of MIT types arguing whether that means six or nine. In practice, it seems to mean seven or eight, consisting of four mixed mignyapolo, two or three tsel numtaks, and a big shogo numtak. "Shogo numtak" is apparently Tibetan for "fried football of mashed potato with a little cilantro and ginger thrown in." The tsel numtaks are absolutely fabulous eggplant slices dipped in what I suspect is a thin chickpea batter, and fried. And the mignyapolo are as crunchy as deep-fried wontons, but stuffed with cream-cheese-scallion or shrimp-potato fillings.

With fried dumplings, one must have dips, and Rangzen has two excellent chili dips: the mild one is a kind of stewed salsa; the hot one is a chili purée.

I had earlier pinned my hopes for this cuisine on momo, which are round steamed dumplings. Rangzen has momo in both vegetarian and beef versions. My impression of the steamed vegetarian dumplings ($7) was that they were a little too al dente. However, I was impressed by the bowl of lentil soup that accompanied them. My two previous ventures into Tibetan soup were surprisingly unrewarding, but Rangzen makes the kind of serious soup one would expect from mountain country. Gya thuk ($4.95, $8.50) is a much thicker version of the noodle soups that make for budget meals in Vietnamese and Chinese restaurants. The smaller size is quite enough for anyone who isn't climbing with oxygen that day. Rangzen has five kinds of noodle soups, each with a different pasta. The noodles in gya thuk resemble spaghetti, and the soup is flavored with slices of meat (your option) onion, tomato, and cilantro. It's still more like minestrone than like pho.

Miso soup ($1.50) is a good imitation of the Japanese kind, but twice as big and somehow twice as hearty. Dre thuk ($2.50) is translated as "Tibetan-style rice soup." I'd call it congee, as the rice is cooked to near-gruel consistency, with a roasted taste like that of Minute Rice. Rangzen also has a variety of breads, which, judging from the kind called shogo phaley ($6), are something like Indian breads. This whole-wheat flatbread is similar to nan, and is stuffed with the mashed potato-cilantro mixture of the appetizer shogo numtak.

There is a special list of "Traditional Tibetan Dishes." Unfortunately, they were fresh out of le-phing, translated as "bean flour gelatin, square pieces. Served cold." But the kitchen could satisfy our curiosity about phikpee ($5.50), "over cooked pork with dry red hot pepper, refrigerated, served cold." Might be oven-cooked. What phikpee is, is a bowl of gelatin cubes with some pork meat and a few bones embedded inside, and a telltale red pepper or two -- think highly spiced head cheese. This is surprisingly appetizing on a warm night.

More-orthodox entrées resemble meat-and-potatoes versions of Chinese or Indian food. Phaksha ngopa ($8) features stir-fried pork, leaning toward the Chinese influence, with meat, scallions, and a little ginger. The rice, however, is excellent basmati.

Drinks include lassi and a "lemon juice" ($1.50) that is more like lemonade. You will be tempted by poecha ($1), traditional Tibetan tea. And you will enjoy it if you remember that it is buttered, like our hot buttered rum, only without all those nasty alcohol fumes.

When the Chinese invaders do leave, I want a piece of the first ice-cream stand in Lhasa. This is a cuisine that is not yet attuned to Western ideas about dessert. They get that our desserts are sweet, and that we order them at the end of a meal. But the Tibetan sweet side is a lot like the Tibetan savory side: carbohydrates and butter. Deshi ($3) is warm sweetened rice with butter and a few raisins and cashews. I liked it better than fancier deshi with saffron I've had elsewhere, because I don't much like saffron. Phagtsa mogu ($3) is described as "pieces of dough sautéed with cheese, butter & sugar." You might think "fried dough," but the reality is more like gnocchi or cavatelli, and the cheese sort of holds the butter's coat while the butter gets in there and does the work.

Décor has been important to area Tibetan restaurants. Rangzen is the most restrained of our local three, but one whole wall features a breathtaking mountain vista, with peaks plenty high enough to induce a little Imax vertigo. Our waiter explained that this is the view from where his brother lives in Tibet. A couple of Buddhist pictures and a hanging on the kitchen door complete one's sense of being elsewhere. The room is otherwise a somewhat dark former Chinese restaurant.

Service was excellent, although Rangzen is not yet doing that much business. It is far enough outside of Central Square that it needs a much larger sign, but it will find its fans. This is some politically correct cuisine you can really sink your teeth into.

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

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