Fusion?

So why is it that when an expensive restaurant invents a new dish or blends two cuisines, it's "fusion," whereas when a cheap one does it it's "inauthentic"? I'll leave y'all to ponder that while I get down to brass tacks regarding Joe's Ginger.

Joe's Ginger (113 Mott St., next to New Chao Chow, twixt Hester and Canal) is, the papers tell us, the latest outpost of the ever- (perhaps too-) popular Joe's Shanghai family. Foodies celebrate it for its uncrowdedness and under-the-radar status as much as its food, as the big Joe's Shanghai down the street frequently boasts hour-long lines, legendarily pissy waiters and an abundance of tourists in addition to its legendary shao lon bao (soup dumplings).

Walking up, it's clear that this is no fly-by-night ordinary operation - the facade is carved entirely of marble, and since the marble is the color of fresh ginger root, I'd bet that it was put up specifically for Joe's Ginger. So a classy joint - and the patronizing intruder wonders how good the food can be (or how authentic) if the place looks so nice and refined.

Well, everybody lauds the soup dumplings, but I'm no fan of even the best, so I gave those a miss and sampled the "Shredded Pork & Dried Bean Curd with Jalapeno Pepper Over Rice" with the free Hot and Sour Soup that the menu promised, as well as an order of pan-fried "mini buns," the result of a misunderstanding on my part.

Okay. The Shredded Pork etc. was spectacular, mostly shreds of dried bean curd with a few pieces of flavorful pork here and there, and big, juicy chunks of fresh jalapeno pepper, all under a moistening (no more) of a slightly smoky and deeply savory sauce. Jalapenos, it should be pointed out, are non-traditional in Chinese cuisine - but they worked, in their distinctive jalapeno-ness, and added a new dimension of flavor. Hence, I hereby declare it officially "fusion cuisine" (sino-mexican) despite its moderate ($3.95) price tag, and everybody else can kiss my ass.

The Hot and Sour Soup was great also, though very different stylisticaly from Chanoodle's definitive version mentioned above. The pronounced and nuanced flavor of black pepper (as opposed to chili pepper) really shone through, with only the merest suggestion of tartness, a rich broth, and satisfyingly crunchy veggies. The best thing about it? What had originally appeared to be noodles floating around in the soup turned out to be tiny, wispy enoki mushrooms. Yum.

The mini-buns were my fault - I had assumed that this was another way of describing some form of dumpling or other. Nope. They were deep fried dough balls. That, in and of itself, is not a bad thing unless you're an artery, but these were porous and oily, and came with a cup of suspicious-looking (white) liquid. Oh well.

So all in all, Joe's Ginger seems worthy of further serious exploration, which I shall undertake next week. And it happily thumbs its nose at the notion of "authenticity" as the sole criterion on which to judge Chinatown places. Huzzah.