Metro Pulse/Restaruant Rover/Lemon Grass Thai

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Lemon Grass Thai Cuisine and Sushi Bar
912 W. Lamar Alexander Pkwy., Maryville
681-8785

by Ally Carte

Before I moved to Knoxville, I was frightened of tofu. My fear, fostered during a bad childhood episode with that gelatinous curd, persisted despite the fact that, before here, I lived in one of the more dietarily-liberal, veggie-lovin' towns in the country. There, tofu seemed to come like a garnish, generously offered even on menus of some of the city's finer steakhouses. That was a town that took their tofu seriously—and now that I am over my fear, I sadly shake my head at all of those lost opportunities.

But no use crying over soybeans not sampled, and I have more than made up for my former suspicions. What broke my tofu intolerance was Tomato Head's humble Cheddar Head. I apprehensively sampled this sandwich more for love of sautéed onions than a desire to break out of my culinary shell. But one bite of the thick slab of the marinated tofu that nestled between those tender wheat buns, and I knew I'd made an important discovery.

Since that enlightening day, I've been on a search and devour mission for good tofu preparations; I've found them, more often than not, in Knoxville's Asian establishments. Which comes as no surprise, really, since the far eastern slice of the globe has been working with this much-maligned foodstuff for millennia—starting in China over 2,000 years ago during the Han dynasty—long before the French even started fiddling with their many, many sauces and the Italians pondered pasta. By the 8th century, tofu had swept throughout the region and finally reached Japan.

Legend has it that Ben Franklin brought tofu to this country. While the historical accuracy of that suggestion seems a bit dubious at best, it's also just likely enough to be true. After all, Franklin was a known food experimenter and his "discovery" of a protein source cheap to produce, easy to digest, and high in calcium and vitamins makes just enough sense to be within the realm of possibility. Tofu also happens to be naturally low in fat and sodium (which old Benny-boy certainly could have used less of, if his portraits are to be believed), making it a fairly ideal candidate for most diets.

Unless, of course, you head down to the Lemon Grass in Maryville and tuck into their fried tofu ($2.50), a lunchtime offering that is a wonderful way to start a dang good meal. Six healthy-sized wedges are lightly battered, lightly fried, and quickly consumed. Served with a side of sweet and sour tamarind sauce, these non-greasy, tasty morsels could make a convert out of any 'fu phobe. While the health benefits may be canceled out with such a treatment, the fried tofu outshone even the spring rolls ($3.25 for an order of two), which are still respectable examples of the form, with crispy shells protecting tender insides full of veggies and rice noodles.

While the Lemon Grass does offer a wide selection of sushi as well as a full dinner menu whose delights I'll have to make a return visit to savor, it is a great place to stop for lunch—available from 11 a.m.-3 p.m. The interior of the place belies its non-descript, cinderblockish exterior (a former Pizza Hut, apparently); the decor consists of warm wood, rice paper screens, and twinkling glassware. The glass-fronted sushi bar and half-dozen stools are set into a small alcove. Behind it, the chef practiced his knife-skills during the lunch rush, carving, finally, what appeared to be a flower from a hapless cucumber. One assumes that he has a bit more to do during the evening, given that a sweltering Friday afternoon doesn't seem to encourage the consumption of raw fish and rice.

Had I known that the appetizer would whet my, um, appetite specifically for more tofu, I probably would not have gotten the pad Thai ($5.50). That isn't to slight this slightly sweet noodle dish in any way—it is a well-made representative of the dish—just that it didn't hit the right spot, tummy-wise. While the shrimp (or "shrimps" as the menu lists them) were cooked just long enough to still be toothsome and not rubbery, the noodles had just enough bite to be fun to eat, and the eggs, peanuts, scallions and bean sprouts added mouth texture and amusement, I had to stop myself from continually picking at my dining companion's spicy basil leaves with tofu ($5.25). The curd had picked up the strong, slightly grassy taste of basil and the whole dish had just the right spicy heat to get your attention. The generous scoop of white rice soaked up any extra sauce, making for membership in the clean plate club.

Asian cuisines are not known for their elaborate and vast post-meal sweet selections. The fried bananas ($3.25), however, were a reserved hit. Thick banana slices are wrapped in spring roll skins, fried, drizzled with a honey-like syrup and sesame seeds, and served with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream. Admittedly, it's not a dish one could really call authentic but it was snarfed up regardless. But not, alas, by me. Bananas—those squishy, smelly, pulpy, phallic fruits—have become the food I now fear the most—and I don't think any amount of caramelized onions could change my opinion.