Looking back:
Pebbles Asian Fusion serves food true to roots of chef’s native Taiwan
Recalling some of the myriad memorable musical events that blessed our region in the past year.
When I order the crispy marinated pig intestine at Pebbles Asian Fusion, our server pauses before writing it down. It’s one among several Taiwanese dishes we choose from a page titled “Kevin’s Specialties.” And soon after our order is in, chef-owner Kevin Hsu dispatches his wife, Jessica, to confirm we know what we’ve ordered: I’m the first non-native Chinese to order the crispy pig intestines in the 30 years that Kevin has been a chef.
The intestines are spectacular: A thick, crackling bark the color of oxblood lined with unctuous soft fat and a scallion snaked through the middle. They take 20 hours to clean, soak, marinate, boil, dry and quickly deep fry. Later, Jessica tells Kevin she saw us eat it all, pushing crisp bites into his plum-based hoisin, and that it was my favorite dish. She had been hesitant to translate the specialties menu, with its pig kidneys and trotters, some requiring advance reservations; I played a small part in the formal translation, having hounded a colleague to ask them for a copy or translation of the Chinese list. Instead, Jessica translated it for all. And it’s everyone’s shared luck for that score.
Menu sections for pad thai, chow fun and Japanese udon noodles bear out the restaurant name’s promise of pan-asian fusion. I can quickly tell you the sushi is excellent: silky, impeccably fresh fish delivered daily from Vermont’s Earth & Sea; the toothsome, smooth grains of sushi rice and fish are in artistic arrangements by a New York City sushi chef who apprenticed with a Japanese master for 10 years.
Those hoping for popular American Chinese classics like beef with broccoli, or meat stir-fried with regional Szechuan, Hunan or sweet-and-sour sauce, will be happy. Kevin is passionate about clear, clean flavors and tracking down the best ingredients from sustainable sources in Vermont, where the Hsus live. Everything is freshly made; kitchen woks and cutting boards are divided by use for vegan or meat dishes, fryer oil is frequently changed, and fryers are dedicated to meat or fish. It’s just the tip of their self-named “pebblution.”
Jess’ father makes the fresh dumplings daily, using oversized wontons that shrinkwrap into clingy skins around seasoned pork from the Vermont Butcher Shop in Londonderry. We race through our order of Szechuan dumplings, swabbing parcels in a peanut sauce mantle with orangegold spicy chile oil running in rivulets on top. From the regular menu, we choose a random noodle dish. Glassy mai fun rice noodles with sautéed cabbage, egg and onion is as comforting as any takeout in a folded white box.
It should be clear Pebbles is not your average takeout, rather a restaurant with a back story and a trained chef dedicated to his craft. Kevin attended culinary school in his native Taiwan, served in the army as a chef, immigrated to Vermont with his family and met his Chinese wife, an award-winning Vermont schoolteacher and dynamic front-of-house personality, in Nebraska while he was helping run a relative’s restaurant and she was completing her PH.D.
Kevin’s fan base originated at his first restaurant, Lilac Blossom in Guilderland, and has grown through word of mouth among the f lourishing native Chinese population. A combination of repeat business and the focus on fresh ingredients has spawned Wechat, a members group for those wanting insider news of limited specials via text. When Kevin makes bone broth, his recipe yields exactly 40 portions, and they hold a few for their young family, so the 370-plus members must act fast to reserve a share. The upside is that there is no waste. Wechat regulars can also order the “Whatever,” a $30, three-course, chef’s-choice dinner tailored to members’ dietary profiles. Now you know. (People wishing to be added to the Wechat group should call the restaurant.)
We choose Taiwanese classics: basil chicken with whole branches suffusing the sauce with aniseed and chunks of garlic and ginger, common Chinese aromatics for meat that strike potent notes. Taiwan is known for salt-and-pepper-seasoned street foods, and Pebbles’ king oyster mushroom, recommended to us partway through dinner, is exceptional. Cut to resemble thick, pale fries, the mushrooms’ unseasoned batter forms a thin, crisp skin over the meaty wedges before they’re coated with salt and pepper and tossed in a wok to distribute the f lavors evenly. I’m salivating
at the thought.
Spare ribs cut into knuckle-sized chunks are crumbed and powerfully seasoned with freshground pepper and salt. Find any polite way to spit out the bones (your paper napkin isn’t long up to the task).
Crispy fish, tilapia on our visit, is sliced and splayed out in a twist of octopus-like curls so the chewy, dark batter cooks crisply and flesh stays moist; it sits regally upright in a sweet-and-sour sauce bopping with peas and finely diced veg. Diced silken tofu beautifully holds its form in ma po tofu, well enough to grasp with chopsticks. Pebbles offers it as a vegan dish, but the traditional way is with ground pork, which we add. It’s one of the few tinglingly spiced sauces in which seasoned black beans, red peppers and chile oil deliver color and heat. Ask for any dish to be spiced to native levels and they’ll oblige.
I have the sense a section left mostly in Chinese characters says more than the translation to “varieties of noodles and fried rice.” It’s here I hope to find the famed Taiwanese lu rou fan (braised pork belly with rice), but it’s an occasional special, and one worth jumping on given the Taiwanese expression, “Where there’s a wisp of smoke, there’s braised fatty pork with rice.”
And though you won’t find Taiwanese cheesetopped coffee on the menu, Pebbles now has wine, beer and a nice selection of sake, including the unfiltered Snow Beauty nigori sake that’s enough to share.
Our meal ends with Jessica enthusiastically spooning samples from their end-of-service family meal onto our plates: shrimp with tofu in a mild, translucent sauce, and egg and tomatoes — “the most common dish in China” — defined by “mom’s flavor” in individual homes. Her pride in Kevin’s culinary talent is so palpable that before we finish we’re collecting recommendations for next time: the fiery hot and spicy pig intestine, sauteed pig kidney, meltingly braised pig trotters, Shanghai greens, flashfried sweet potato balls, a Cantonese sweet dim sum. While servers attend to tables, Jessica’s effortless hospitality includes handing out her business card so customers can text advance orders.
The short review is simple: While fusion restaurants so often stumble, Pebbles is delicious whether you prefer General Tso’s or the authentic, primal odd bits. For a dedicated trip, assuming you have a favorite neighborhood sushi or Chinese, Kevin’s Specialties are the elevated tastes of home.
With customers asking so often, Jessica hopes he’ll jar and sell his sauces instead of showing how they’re made. Mondays, his day off, are spent in the kitchen starting laborintensive dishes. “Above all else,” Jessica explains, “Kevin is a chef.”
Dinner for two — with two appetizers, three specialties and wine or beer — will cost around $80 with tax, before tip.
Susie Davidson Powell is a British freelance food writer in upstate
New York. Follow her on Twitter, @Susiedp. To comment on this review, visit the Table Hopping blog, blog.timesunion.com/