A Journey of 1,000 Egg Rolls Begins with a Single Bite

I like Chinese food. I’ve been eating it since my embryonic days in the form of fried rice, chop suey and all its many deviations, egg drop soup, barbecue pork, underrated lotus paste buns (a more recent addition), and of course, the quintessential egg roll. Often a meal would consist of naught but a steaming high plate of deeply browned fried rice (veggie or pork was the way to go) and at least two egg rolls. My mother brought me up on these pleasures, and a trip to grandma’s always meant a fine spread of Mandarin take-out from Lin’s Garden on the northwest side of Chicago. At least it did in the good ol’ days. Long lamented, Lin’s had gone to restaurant heaven after 36 years of service, 20 of them spent serving me.

The grub was good at Lin’s, but it was the egg rolls that brought me back time after time. I eventually moved to an apartment less than 3 blocks away, giving me almost instant egg roll gratification. Despite frequenting numerous other establishments over the years, I have yet to discover a roll as grand. They were plump, all at once crispy and oily (leaving a nice puddle in the bottom of those old-fashioned paper take-out cartons), every pore crammed with not only the traditional cabbage, but baby shrimp, spinach, and juicy nuggets of pork, delicately spiced and served in golden, glistening pairs with a convenient little dish of cherry red sweet & sour sauce for dipping.

However, only the uninspired actually dip. I invented my own way of devouring these treats—split them in half crosswise, dig out all the innards with a fork, and take turns eating the carnage: guts, shell, guts, shell, until the plate is picked clean. That way, both delicious elements can be experienced independently.

Two years have passed since the shuttering of Lin’s, and since my pleas for the recipe have fallen on deaf ears and the owners apparently like their new digs in the old country, I think it’s time to move on and find a replacement for the egg roll I once loved. But who else makes them anywhere nearly as delicious? Who stuffs their wrappers with such a diverse array of fillings? Thus begins my quest to find the perfect egg roll.

*China Chef, 5920 N. Lincoln Ave., Morton Grove.

China Chef is a fine little restaurant with lots of wood paneling to resemble bamboo. As a side dish to the egg roll, I ordered the barbecue pork wonton soup that was tasty in its own right. The egg roll, a bubbly, drier version of Lin’s, arrived sans fork so I had to forgo my unusual yet incredibly satisfying eating ritual, taking a dainty bite. It was so hot it nearly made me cry, at which point I noticed the over-attentiveness of the staff. Two waiters were milling about in close proximity, and when one noticed me wincing in pain and guzzling water, he ordered the other waiter (in Chinese) to get me a fork. But now the mutilation has been tainted so I continued the bite-and-chew method, being sure to pay close attention to the filling. There was pork, and loads of it; the pieces were so large they were almost a meal in themselves. Although I must admit the overall flavor was close to Lin’s, with no shrimp and no spinach, the search continues.