This Michelin-rated Chinese restaurant in Alhambra makes a big impression – San Gabriel Valley Tribune

Get a copy of the takeout menu for Jiang Nan Spring and it says at the top, in large red circles, “Michelin 2020” and “Michelin Bib Gourmand 2021”. You will find the same inscriptions on the front and back of the business card.

Drive up to the restaurant and you’ll see a banner out front declaring the benefits of the Michelin Guide. And munching on an order of crispy Shanghai fried shrimp, all Micheliniana This gave me reason to reflect on my attitude towards the Michelin concept. Which is much more sour than the broth in sweet and sour soup.

The Guide was born a century ago, when the Michelin company created a travel book for France, to encourage motorists to burn more rubber as they travel through the countryside. For many years, it dealt exclusively with France, becoming the go-to reference for French guides, with its rankings of one-, two- and three-star restaurants.

For decades, this book was the bible of those who lived on jellied larks’ tongues and baked ortolan. For those of us who ate mussels, marinière and roast chicken with fries on our trips to Paris, it had little reality. It was written for those who ate with their little finger in the air. It was snobbery incarnate.

So much so that a few years ago, after expanding its international offerings, the Guide’s director declared that he would not include Los Angeles, where he found the cuisine less than “serious.” When he left, the new director reinstated Los Angeles and sent his team of tasters, obsessed with anonymity, in search of wonders – starred or simpler – under the Bib Gourmand rubric.

And therein lies my problem. I like to know the tastes of those who write about the dishes I intend to consume. In a book called “The Inspector Sits at the Table,” Pascal Remy, a former Michelin taster, describes his life as a “solitary, underpaid slog… dining alone, under intense pressure to write detailed reports.”

He made it seem like extreme destitution. The pleasure of dining was taken away. The joy of a meal was neutralized. Why should I trust a Michelin review? It’s a mystery.

I don’t know if the inspector who came to Jiang Nan Spring, a Bib Gourmand, has ever eaten Chinese food anywhere other than Panda Express. I don’t know if he enjoyed the dumplings at Mama Lu’s or the spices at Sichuan Impression. I don’t know if he has a weakness for MSG.

What I do know is that what they wrote about the restaurant largely erased any sense of their taste preferences: “Shanghai cuisine doesn’t have the bold, mind-numbing sensations of Sichuan cooking or the boisterous energy of a dim sum restaurant filled with food carts. It has its own style and is celebrated, happily, at Jiang Nan Spring.”

Additionally, “the menu is incredibly long, but the friendly servers are more than eager to show you the regional specialties. Their advice should lead you down the path of sweet vinegars and fresh seafood, most apparent in dishes like tender chicken with a sweet wine sauce and an irresistible platter of tilapia fried in a tempura-like batter flavored with seaweed. The oddly named “hot soup with fresh smoked pork,” which floats with knots of tofu, is a favorite. With its hardwood floors and high ceilings, the airy space suits this elegant cuisine.”

I should mention that the world of dim sum carts is slowly disappearing. The menu, at some 125 items, is no longer than that of many Chinese restaurants in the SG Valley – and shorter than some. The setting is not particularly elegant, compared to newcomers like Array 36 and Mountain House.

And while the food is certainly good, I wouldn’t call it “elegant.” “Elegant” is the tableside presentation of the Peking duck at Array 36. It’s an Instagram classic.