Photo by Matt OttoThe most happening scene in Irvine come Friday evening isn't the Spectrum or even Edwards University after a Fahrenheit 9/11screening, but rather the Chinese section of Culver Plaza. This isn't your elementary-school field trip's quaint Chinatown—in the midst of a sprawling parking lot are five gleaming Sino-centric banks, the palatial Sam Woo BBQ and its adjoining takeout cafeteria, and the massive 99 Ranch Market. This asphalt-and-concrete Gobi buzzes with traffic—BMWs and Lexuses abound—and various Chinese dialects intermix with MTV-like teenglish.
But even the most indefatigable of nightlifers yens for the occasional respite, which is where J.J. Bakery makes its thousands. Nearly every Culver Plaza visitor eventually waddles into this clean, well-lit bakery/boba shop, seeking a sugar capper to their day. And the J.J. folks don't disappoint, trotting out trays of pastries, sweet breads and cookies that patrons almost immediately sweep clear.
Don't expect to nibble on highly sugared cavity-causers at J.J., though. Chinese pastry making concentrates on contrasting natural flavors with one another, and J.J. thankfully doesn't stray from this dogma in their confections. Consider the taro pastry, which looks like a purple rosebud ready to bloom, with numerous flour petals surrounding an orb of the nutty root. It could take a good week plucking off each petal, so just plop the small pastry into your mouth and feel taro's dense, earthy consistency melt alongside those airy petals. An even tastier tempest is the almond/date roll—crisp almond slivers sprinkled on top, the roll welded together by a thick, bitterly sweet date paste that reminds you why some scholars think dates were the Forbidden Fruit.
J.J. Bakery also sells bite-sized red-bean cookies, tart egg pudding, and a bizarre bread slice that contains half a mango covered with cream cheese—Philadelphia meets Taipei. But the main reason I haunt J.J. Bakery is for their prepackaged sandwiches, a sort of regal Hot Pockets. No matter the contents—one includes a gigantic, gnarled cut of breaded pork surrounded by green onions; another contains Chinese cabbage slathered in tear-inducing mustard—these sandwiches are big and uniformly delicious, slapped together with a buttery bread that's like a croissant without the flakiness. At 90 cents, J.J.'s sandwiches are the best lunch options since the three-tacos-for-a-buck special at Jack in the Box.
Oh, the rarely available Taiwanese dumplings: wrapping and stuffing a canopy-big tea leaf with rice, tea-smoked pork and a surprising amount of raisins, they're the most flavorfully diverse thing you'll encounter all year. Move aside, Larry Agran, and welcome Irvine's new wonder-midget.
J.J. Bakery, 15333 Culver Dr., Ste. 660, Irvine, (949) 653-1566. Know a place to grub? E-mail Gustavo at ga*******@oc******.com">ga*******@oc******.com. For more food fun, including Orange County's best damn dining guide and the weekly racist Mexican restaurant logo, visit www.ocweekly.com/food.
