The Elusive Mingalaba: Still Waiting for a Table

We've known each other now for a few months; maybe it's time I tell you a little bit more about myself. Why I do what I do, why I like what I like, what makes me tick, what ticks me off. To sum it up: food (seriously).

When I'm not eating it, I'm writing about it. When I'm not writing about it, I'm reading about it. When I'm not reading about it, I'm researching it. When I'm not researching it, I'm thinking about it.

I will try anything, even if I know it contains the two things I would rather do without (salmon cooked any way – however raw is delicious – and cucumbers). I love every last crumb of Italian cuisine, as well as anything really, really spicy (which of course umbrellas many different cuisines). Aside from sushi and , I'd say I most frequently crave spicy noodles from any part of the world.

 On a random Wednesday evening a couple of weeks ago, my parents and I decided to go to dinner on Burlingame Avenue. Having thought about dinner since 11 a.m. that day (true story), I decided it was just a do-or-die spicy noodle evening. First place to come to mind? . And so began my quest to taste the cuisine at this consistently packed restaurant. 

 Naturally, I was running late, but knowing is frequently busting at the seams, it appeared my tardiness was advantageous. Stepping inside the restaurant, we notice every table was full and surrounded by smiling, happy, well-fed people. Everyone appeared to be as comfortable as if they were in their own home, enjoying the steaming plates of curry and perfect bowls of rice.

With no one else in the itty bitty waiting area, we figured our chances were pretty good of getting a table sooner rather than later at the high-demand eatery. We put our name on the wait list and a gorgeous and graceful woman in traditional attire approached us with a smile and ensured us our table would be available soon. (I should have also mentioned above that I've been known to be on the impatient side, and I definitely err on the side of stubborn).

With my stomach slowly eating itself and my saliva glands working overtime, I took a gander at the folded menus by the door.

After a quick contemplation to eat the actual menu, I had decided what I wanted to order, noting that the Burmese specialties (and spicy dishes!) were highlighted, separating them from the rest of the Mandarin dishes: Paratha (Burmese crispy pancake with curry dipping sauce) and the Ong Noh Kaw Soi (Burmese style coconut chicken soup with onions, egg, cilantro and lemon) to start, the Rangoon Beef (stir fried beef with roma tomatoes, onions, bell peppers and green chiles) and the Shan Noodle (rice noodles in a spicy tomato sauce, pickled radish, cilantro, sesame seeds and peanuts) for an entree, and the Snow Peas Tofu with Water Chestnuts for good measure (and because I find water chestnuts quite delightful to eat).

 And then it hit me: I now no longer wanted to eat, I needed to eat. Unable to wait any longer, we took a quick vote among the three of us and headed down the street to Urban Bistro, a new spot on Lorton Avenue.

 A week later, my father and I planned a father-daughter dinner date, and since we will both eat just about anything - and both will do many a crazy thing for a bowl of noodles – we decided to give a second try (and because now I was just determined to eat there come hell or high water).

Yet again, I was running even later than last time, so both my dad and I agreed we would have no problem getting into Mingalaba on a Thursday at 8:30p.m., especially being just two of us. Most of the tables in the restaurant are for two, with some pushed together to accommodate parties of three or four.

 Already planning our order, we moved through the crowded doorway and walked up to the wait list...dang! There were at least five parties ahead of us. Again, too starving to make it, we ran up the street to for our favorite, surefire dinner.  

 So, I am sad to say, I have still not yet been to Mingalaba, but I will say that I am thoroughly impressed with its ability to pack the house any given night of the week. I hear only wonderful things about the restaurant, and I am beyond anxious to crack the code and get a table. So, here's to persistence and perseverance. Afterall, third time's the charm, right?