Soup Friday: Panda (Capital City Mall) - Wonton Soup
My Soup Friday travels brought me to a place that was once considered the hub of American culture. It combined our capitalist love of buying goods we didn’t need and devouring food that’s was not healthy for us. Of course, this is none other than the shopping mall food court. I made my first trip to the Capital City Mall food court in years. I noticed several new occupants within the walls of the food court that included establishments such as Shawarma House & Grill and a Korean fried chicken restaurant named Bonchon. They’ve also added a massage spa to the food court because mallgoers apparently desire to have a place to be rubbed after eating an 800-calorie item from Cinnabon. Fortunately, the food court classics were there to comfort me as I became overstimulated by all the new options. Everyone’s favorite place for a traditional New York slice, Sbarro, greeted me with an up-close view of its greasy pies and mediocre-at-best pasta. Somehow from the middle of the mall, the smell of Auntie Anne’s called to me and tried to tempt me with the smell of her warm, delectable pretzels. After finding the strength to resist the pretzel aroma, I walked over to my planned destination, Panda.
One day, they’ll appreciate your genius, Pandy Warhol.
A staple of the Capital City food court for as long as I can remember, this Chinese restaurant has served my family well on many shopping occasions. They’d probably still recognize my one sister, who strangely gets remembered at most Chinese restaurants she goes to even after a decade or so since her last visit. I picked Panda not only because of the setting, but because my lowest-ever Soup Friday score (something like a 3.0 or lower, forgive me, it’s been a while and I’ve wanted to forget about this soup) came at the expense of an abysmal attempt at wonton soup from China Palace Monroeville. While I’ve never tried it from Panda, I’ve always been an appreciator of wonton soup, so I wanted to give this type of soup a fair chance at redemption. I placed my order and was shocked by what transpired over the next ninety seconds. After the employee, who was watching a YouTube video on his phone, finally heard what I wanted, he went straight to the fridge on the front half of the restaurant. There, he grabbed a styrofoam bowl with dumplings inside of it and went back to the far end of the stand to add broth to it. Then right in front of me, he placed the bowl in a microwave and set the timer for a minute. I appreciate the transparency, but I would have felt better or probably not even cared about the “cooking process” if he had just heated it up in the back area that is hidden by a brick wall.
Following an awkward payment exchange where I couldn’t get my tap to work, I walked over to an empty table to enjoy my first cup of wonton soup in a couple of years. My soup was still a bit hot from the microwave, so I decided to wait a couple of minutes as the temperature and radiation levels decreased. I began to take in my surroundings further. Like the DMV or a discount superstore, the food court’s amalgamation of people from a variety of different backgrounds generates elite people watching experiences. Today, I got the privilege to witness a man wearing Oscar the Grouch pajama bottoms scarf down a cheesesteak in less than three minutes. Then a white trash family provided entertainment for all the diners in the food court with a shouting match over a trivial matter that appeared to end in a stalemate. Disappointment emerged within me when I noticed some teenagers reveling in their recent anime merchandise purchase from Hot Topic. While I wasn’t upset about missing a sale on Sailor Moon tees, I did feel like I missed out on an era of malls being a teenager sanctuary Despite not being as prevalent in the zeitgeist as earlier decades, 2000s pop culture still heavily featured shopping malls as the cool place to go with your friends after school. By the 2010s, when I was finally a teenager with driving capabilities, the essence of the mall deteriorated into primarily being a location for parents to buy clothing for their kids and distract those same kids at places that either wore them out playing or distracted them with an activity as their parents got a few minutes of rest. In an effort to think of more positive things, I looked back at my soup. It didn’t help.
The dumplings swam alone in the broth as no other ingredient came to its Soup Friday pool party. Just a few scallions could have enhanced the appearance and more importantly, the flavor of the soup. Instead, I sipped on broth that reminded me of tea or heated-up kombucha with an overpowering amount of turmeric added to it. Hopefully, I at least obtained an added health benefit from this broth because I certainly did not get any palate satisfaction from it. In contrast, the dumplings were quite delightful. The pork surprisingly came out tender and showcased its flavor well. The dough provided a soft balance that miraculously unified the pork and broth together. Disappointingly, the soup’s cohesiveness was ephemeral as it only contained two small dumplings that were both consumed quickly. Broth filled up the remaining third of the bowl. After two more spoonfuls of just the broth, I began to feel a slight kick of its unwelcome flavor lingering on the back of my throat. At that moment, I decided to drink the rest of it like a shot. Thankfully, I still had chasers in the forms of fried noodles and pink lemonade.
While I left the mall unsatisfied with the today’s result, I remembered once again the last time I purchased this type of soup. To its credit, Panda’s wonton soup marked a step in the right direction compared to my previous order in Monroeville. Unfortunately for this soup reviewer, the progress was minimal.