Asian food in McCook?

As consumers, we purchase Chinese household goods, Japanese cars, and Korean electronics without as much as a blink, so why can’t we maintain an Asian restaurant in McCook? When I landed on these shores in the mid-1990s, we had one Chinese-style restaurant on West 10th calling itself, “Goodlife.” In retrospect, I didn’t appreciate it enough. They didn’t have heavy sauces and fun dishes like moo-shoo or dim sum. It wasn’t at all exotic.

What they had was honest, fresh, and not-too-heavy stir fry. Their fare was healthier than what I thought I was looking for, and if nothing else, the fried wonton strips in the soup were a novel experience. I haven’t seen that anywhere else before or since.

I had been spoiled from living in downtown Denver, having a traditional Japanese restaurant, a high-end Chinese restaurant, and a fast-food Tempura dive within walking distance of my apartment. I would have to hop the mall shuttle for Mongolian, or drive a mile or two for Thai, Vietnamese, or to the most artfully named Korean restaurant ever, “Seoul Food.”

As for McCook, I don’t want to overlook our grocery store sushi counter. It’s a wonderful thing to have. I wish they would stock hamachi and prep sashimi more often, but I’ll not complain. Sushi is pricey stuff, but I buy when I can, rationalizing my self-indulgence by thinking that I am supporting our last-standing Asian food experience, but let’s not kid ourselves. I’m looking for lean protein and a wasabi buzz.

With our nearest Asian-style restaurant 70 miles away, I find myself having to improvise, and a great deal of imagination is required. Currently, I’m finding that the “Fajitas Mexicanas” dish at Tequilas is about the closest experience I can find. The peppers are jalapeño rather than Sezchuan, and chorizo is a long way from ginger, but it’s stir-fried meat and veggies, and it has a kick.

Lately, I have been indulging in an even more sacrilegious improvisation. The N-Stant convenience center on the west side of town carries frozen Rocket Pizzas (which is a wonderful thing in itself) and as a function of doing so, they also carry fifty-cent cups of Rocket Hot Sauce. A bit of Rocket Hot Sauce turns store-bought frozen potstickers into an entirely different experience. It’s a long way from being Asian, but as the old mariner says, any port in a storm….

The question that naturally follows is, “Hey Mike, why don’t you get off your six and cook?” Well, I have certainly given it a try. I found a recipe for pad thai and had to lean on my Hispanic market for tamarind. It turned out OK, but it was not the real deal. I have done the same with bulgogi, dumplings, and kimchi. My kimchi wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t authentic either. I like my cabbage to have a bit of crunch to it, which is not the way Omma used to make it.

I also do well with foo-young. Besides being among the greater hangover foods known to man, the family always went for it because it reminded them of chicken fried steak, and that’s something my Nebraska-born children could understand. Tempura and egg rolls weren’t too bad either, but in a household that doesn’t fry food very often, those are a big mess.

The good news is that ingredients are easier to obtain now. Amazon has always been a great source for non-perishables, as well as an online Asian food store called “Weee.” They’re so hip that they have a phone app that allows you to shop for Asian supplies while sitting in your doctor’s waiting room.

Local sourcing is also on the upswing. Mike at Knowlen and Yates stocks wasabi, and some great udon noodles and he now has gochujang. That’s another way that I appease my Asian jones. I’ll put gochujang on just about anything. I also haunt Carniceria CB on C street for tamarind, star anise, and anything else I can force to swing Asian. Proteins and fresh veggies, via farmer’s market or Klooz, are locally sourced as they should be.

If you have read this far, you may be missing Asian food too. Granted, our last purveyors were not a home run. The food was ok, but they were cagey about their origins and the mom was a bit too aggressive with the upsell for local sensibilities. I also had stopped being a fan of buffets long before covid, and they didn’t want to whip up anything fresh unless I purchased something that was on the menu but not on the buffet. As bad as they were, they served a respectable lo mein, and with a bit of strategic thinking, I figured out how to beat the upsell.

My favorite incarnation over the years was the nice family who occupied the old KFC before it became a bank. I thought their food was great when purchased fresh (again, not a fan of the buffet), and I had them on speed dial. I’m guessing that about ten pounds of the current me are attributable to that restaurant, but even they couldn’t make a go of it in McCook.

Whatever the case, we manage to support a multitude of great Hispanic eateries, a few pizza purveyors, and a couple of nice places like the Coppermill (who dabble in Asian on Wednesdays) and Citta deli, where I have been landing quite a bit lately. What seems to be viable here are those horrifically overpriced and over-portioned places that shove fat, salt, and sugar through tiny windows so we don’t have to get our fat butts out of the car to pack on a few more calories.

Mac’s and Taco John’s get a pass because they are local. If I must resort to fast food, I at least make it one of those two. By the way, if you fast food fans are looking for a crispy chicken sandwich, please allow me to direct you to Citta Deli. Once you try theirs (asiago and bacon or cordon bleu) there’s no going back to fast food attempts.

So that’s my rant, and it has been brewing for a couple of years. Shouldn’t a community with a fancy swimming pool and a 100-year ballpark have an Asian restaurant? I certainly hope so, and I hope you will join me in supporting it when we eventually get one.