Authentic Chinese -- Harbor City Restaurant Is For The Adventuresome

"I've got to take you to a Chinese restaurant," a friend said, "that is so ethnically authentic that I have almost never seen a Caucasian there."

"What is it," I asked, "and where?"

"The Harbor City Barbecue & Restaurant," he said, "and it's in Chinatown."

The tip came several months ago, and in recent visits to the Harbor City, every now and then a new Anglo face shows up. But my earlier visits were indeed very Asian. In fact, on that first excursion down to 707 S. King St., Assunta Ng, publisher of the Seattle Chinese Post, was among the nearby diners.

The Harbor City is not ornate. The tile floors are clean but they are bare. The light-blue tables are unadorned but functional. There's attractive art work here and there - and along the west wall near the front door, the main attractions are the fish tanks. But no gaudy tropical fish flit in spot-lighted luxury there. The fish are carp, catfish and rock bass. They are present for consumption, not for ceremony.

Fresh crabs scramble in another tank. A giant snapping turtle occupies a cell next to the door. A sign warns passing diners that the animal bites.

What is most impressive about the Harbor City is the size of its kitchen and smoking ovens. The workspace, in relation to the size of the dining room, is vast. The smoker easily accommodates a whole pig and assorted chickens and ducks.

The owner and overseer is a thin, animated and congenial man named Chong Ngo.

Frankly, on most occasions, I think it's best to leave the ordering to him. The last time a couple of us dropped in, I ordered somewhat imprecisely - without nailing down exactly what I wanted - and the results were unexpected.

I thought I was ordering Szechwan Prawns.

"Spicy?" asked Ngo.

"Right, spicy," I said.

Spicy Prawns (another menu item) is what I got. It turns out that although all Szechwan Prawns are spicy, not all spicy prawns are Szechwanese.

The prawns arrived fully clothed (i.e., unpeeled), in a light golden batter, and deep-fried: heads, exoskeleton and all.

A friend and I each picked up a fragrant specimen - and speculated.

"Are you supposed to peel them before you eat them?" she asked.

"I think so," I said. "But I'm not sure. All the batter and flavoring is on the outside. If you take it off and throw it away, what's left?"

"What about the head?" she asked.

"I think you are supposed to eat that too," I said. "In fact, I think you are supposed to break the head off, put it in your mouth and suck the insides out."

She thought about that ethnic epicureanism for a moment, and declined.

Chong Ngo was nearby. I waved him over.

"How are you supposed to eat these?" I asked.

"You put them in your mouth and take off the peels with your teeth," he said.

Unskilled at such, it was slow going - but delicious.

Next we had ordered pork and tofu roasted in a clay pot (or sand pot). We both liked tofu; we both liked pork. What could go amiss?

The sizzling covered pot arrived and was sans lid. Wondrous aromas sailed out.

I dipped in a serving spoon and pulled out ... a fatty chunk of skin with a half-inch layer of subcutaneous tissue attached to about another half-inch of lean meat. This wasn't accidental, nor an aberration, nor anything to be concerned about. It was simply the way the dish was intended. The flavor the various layers of pig gave to the broth was ambrosial. We mopped up most of the broth and all of the tofu but left a lot of trimmings.

Sometimes "authentic" is not what the uninitiated palate keenly desires.

The Harbor House does seafood swimmingly. The constant slurp and gurgle of nearby tanks assures you that the victim will be totally fresh. The turtle appears to be a long-lived resident, who is not only quite alive but possessed of an attitude.

The various fried-rice dishes are monumental and excellent. I doubted that one individual could consume a complete order, but a quietly munching man nearby did.

I think my favorite dish in the place is the Singapore-style noodles ($5.25), curry-accented, vermicelli rice noodles with a mix of fried pork, green onions, etc. It's a stir-fried dish, gleaming yellow, dotted through with accents of color and contrasting flavors.

In these recessionary times - anxious times for some, hard times for others - the Harbor City is a beacon of economic respite.

Prices are low. A generous platter of "seasonal" vegetables (baby bok choy, mustard greens, Chinese broccoli, etc.) with oyster sauce costs $2.50. Complete dinners on one plate cost about $5. Some examples: Curry Beef Brisket with Rice, $4.95; Pork Chop with Onion and Rice, $4.95; Shrimp Omelet with Rice, $5.50, and Beef with Black Bean Sauce and Rice, $5.25.

Mixed noodle dishes (chow mein) are even less expensive. There are nine of them priced from $2.75 to $4.25, with such complements as barbecued pork, roast duck and soy chicken.

The Seafood Stuffed Tofu ($6.25) is delicate and mellow. The Mah Po Tofu ($6) is also quite good - but not as briskly flavored as the versions at the nearby Green Village (721 S. King St.) or the Szechwan Gardens, 88 Yesler Way).

This is very much a family restaurant, with three generations commonly seen sharing one of the large round tables at the rear of the dining room. Service is warmly congenial and prompt, with constant refills of tea poured into large, white mugs.

Elegant it is not, but it is a trip into Seattle's rich, ethnic diversity. And for rich diversity, it's a cheap trip.

# # Harbor City Barbecue & Restaurant, 707 S. King St. Cantonese Chinese. Lunch and dinner ($4 to $9) 10:30 a.m. to 9 p.m. daily Tuesday through Sunday. Closed Monday. No alcohol. No credit cards. Smoking permitted. Reservations and takeout: 621-2228.