Back in the city, new Gangchen is delivering a similarly likable, affordable package, although in a completely different idiom, at a completely different price point, to a completely different community.
The first few times I went to Gangchen I thought it was a Tibetan restaurant; after all, that's what the menu says, and the restaurant is the second project from the people who brought us the short-lived Uptown restaurant Tibet's Corner. However, if you thought as I did, you would be wrong: The 60-something-item menu has only a very few Tibetan dishes, and otherwise serves a hodge-podge of Chinese, Vietnamese, and Thai home cooking.
Even more difficult for anyone seeking to characterize Gangchen: It seems to take strong drinks of inspiration from neighborhood booze-heavy successes Red Dragon (Gangchen offers super-potent cocktails and frequent two-for-one happy hours) and Azia (Gangchen has Azia's signature cranberry curry and cranberry cream-cheese puffs). So what is this place: fish, fowl, Thai, neighborhood mimic, or what? After a bunch of visits, I decided that it really is a rare bird: It's a home-cooking, small-town kind of good, unassuming restaurant that happens to make tom yum and sweet-and-sour soup instead of chicken-and-dumpling and beer-cheese soup. Does that make any sense? I hope so.
The idiosyncrasy in Gangchen's offerings stems from the fact that the chef at Gangchen is not the old one from Tibet's Corner, but was hired away from Azia's sister restaurant Kinh-Do. Which means that the cranberry curry ($8.99 with tofu or mock duck; $9.99 with shrimp, scallops, squid, or chicken) is a standup version—sweet, tart, a little fiery, and, next to some two-for-one beers (before 7:00 p.m. every night, or after 10:00 p.m.), a complete crowd-pleaser.
I usually don't care too much about generic Chinese food, but I thought certain versions of certain dishes at Gangchen were very good: The egg drop soup, for instance ($2.99 for a dinner-sized bowl, $4.99 for a tureen), was fresh and almost ethereally light, brightened with fresh scallions, and deepened with a bit of ground chicken. I've already instructed my loved ones that the next time I get sick, that's the takeout for me.
The Chinese hot-and-sour soup ($2.99/$4.99) is made with lots of fresh and dried mushrooms and plenty of tofu; when I had it, it tasted homemade, robust, and not at all too tart or fiery. I really, really wished I knew how to make it. A chicken tom yum soup ($3.99/$6.99) was likewise fresh, clean, and good; it lacked the subtlety of the greatest versions in Minneapolis, but it also costs less, and is served in such a mellow, unhurried, chill neighborhood spot that I'm sure it's going to become a favorite of everyone in Stevens Square and Loring Heights.
There is one dish worth traveling to Gangchen for, namely, the momo ($8.99), those traditional steamed Tibetan dumplings. They offer three different versions of momo here: pork, beef, and chicken. I actually like the chicken best; for these, chewy half-moons of pasta are folded around lightly oniony and herbal ground chicken, the crescents steamed till they glisten. The beef ones are fierce and gamy, and stand up well to the red-chile oil that comes with them. The pork ones are sweet and chubby, and as good as any pot sticker in town. Every version of the momo is hearty, chewy, rib-sticking, and good; they're all served with a simple carrot-cabbage pickled salad. Any fan of Ukrainian, Polish, or Russian food is particularly instructed to try these momo; you'll be amazed at the thread connecting Tibetan food with those seemingly unrelated cuisines.
The Tibetan special Tenthu is another remarkably Slavic-seeming dish that is delicious: Thick, handmade wheat noodles are combined with broth, cabbage, greens, and your choice of tofu, seafood, or meat ($7.99 to $9.99); the result is homespun, hearty, and good. Too bad no one knows about the restaurant but me: On two of my visits to Gangchen, my guests and I were the only people in the place. "Do you think people would come here instead of the Red Dragon if they knew how solid the food is?" I asked one of my friends. "I think a nuclear bomb could drop on the Red Dragon and people would drive in from Dinkytown to drink Fog Cutters in the glassy crater," he answered. Oh, right.
Well, someone out there has to like this place. Competency, good food, and value are not so easily done that we can afford to squander them when we find them in our midst.

By Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl