Seattlest reviewed Tamarind Tree not so long ago, but we just couldn't help a return visit for the oh-so-tempting "Seven Courses of Beef". We couldn't find much history on Seven Courses of Beef but we did discover that it's a popular Vietnamese meal that involves, well, beef, beef and more beef. The meal generally starts with a beef fondue and ends with a beef soup. In between are beef wraps, beef "sausages", and other crazy, beef-y preparations.

Seattlest arrived at Tamarind Tree full of anticipation. The restaurant wasn't busy, so we were seated right away. That was the good news. The bad news was that we had a newbie waitress--and confusion is the name of the game when you get a waitress-in-training. And so, the "Seven Courses of Beef" adventure begins...

Our first clue that something was off (besides the fact that it took twenty minutes to order drinks) was when Seattlest ordered a bottle of wine. And then the waitress turned to our dining companion and asked him what he'd like to drink. Ahem. Seattlest is an admitted lush, but we prefer it when you pretend that we aren't. We like those kid gloves. They're soft. Put them back on.

After ordering wine, we had to check with the waitress a few times to make sure we were reading the menu properly. The Seven Courses of Beef costs $18.95? For two people? Yep, that's right. This beef fest for two can be yours for the low, low price of $18.95. Just so we're crystal clear, that's roughly $9.50 per person; a little over $1 per course. A steal.

Our first course took thirty minutes to reach our table, but it still managed to come before our wine. Normally this would be wholly unacceptable, but we felt sorry for our waitress--who could barely conceal her rising panic, so we kindly reminded her about the wine. Meanwhile we munched on our first course: a beef salad, piled high with cabbage, carrots, sprouts, shiso and medium-rare slices of beef, topped off with crunchy, roasted peanuts. The salad was good, but with the salty, tangy sauce poured on it was addictive. It was also gigantic. In the back of our mind we were wondering if we should save some room for the next six courses, but we polished off the salad anyway.

Just as we were about to give up on the alcohol, our waitress came back to our table, apologetically and empty-handed. She informed us that the wine we ordered wasn't available by the glass. Sigh. That's why we asked for a bottle.

The waitress rushed off and returned with a more seasoned waiter who demonstrated proper uncorking procedures. We tried to continue our conversation, but were distracted by the wild hand gestures and loud, rapid fire instructions in Vietnamese. It was just like that scene in Lost in Translation where the director is spewing paragraphs in Japanese and the translation comes back as one or two words. How much could there possibly be to say about taking a cork out of a bottle? Okay, probably a lot, but come on. Pour the wine already!

Soon after, the next course came to the table; it was a plate of bright red beef carpaccio. Seattlest dove right it, but we were having difficultly pulling apart the thin layers of beef with chopsticks. Another waitress happened by and let out a gasp of horror. Her eyes got wide; her hands went to her mouth. She squeaked out a breathless "NO!" then sprinted across the room to find our waitress. Even wilder hand gestures ensued. Back at the table, Seattlest was giggling uncontrollably while our dinner companion turned a deep scarlet color, "I thought the beef tasted kind of funny."

Our waitress scurried over with the all important hot-pot. She gestured for us to cook the raw beef in the pungent, boiling vinegar mixture. More accoutrements arrived and we finally understood that this was the do-it-yourself beef summer roll course. The table was littered with plates and bowls containing dry rice paper wrappers, warm water for soaking the wrappers, noodles, sprouts and herbs. Seattlest didn't find the rolls particularly interesting or delicious, but we give it high marks for being entertaining (and potentially death-defying).

The next plate arrived and our waitress announced it was courses three, four and five. Huh? We looked at the plate; it contained six little bundles of beef, each about the size of a sausage link. Seattlest considered a tirade about truth in advertising, but after out first bite we were transported to Beef Heaven. The first pair of bundles ("Beef La-Lot") were a juicy, tender collection of ground beef, wrapped in la-lot leaves. We tasted hints of garlic, honey and ginger commingling with the nice char on the outside. We turned to our dining companion to see if he liked them as much as we did. His face was contorted and his eyes were closed in a pained, constipated look. Our mind raced. Food poisoning can't possibly set in that fast. Finally we realized this was his food bliss face. Seattlest can't exactly make fun though; we happen to be related and know it's probably similar to how we look when enjoying something amazing.

The next pair of bundles were simply titled "Fatty Beef". They had the same tender and juicy filling but were encased in caul fat. The beauty of caul fat (and it is a thing of beauty) is that it can be wrapped around any sort of meat, but when it's cooked it magically melts away. This technique produced a well-basted sausage that was bursting with fatty juice, with a crisp and crunchy outside; a Vietnamese crepinette.

The last of the bundles contained the same beef, but this time wrapped inside Vietnamese bacon. Seattlest doesn't know what makes Vietnamese bacon different from other bacons, but it sure tasted good. This was our favorite of all the sausages because the bacon lent a rich smokiness and an appealing, chewy-crisp texture. After we polished of the plate, we realized we had no qualms whatsoever about courses three through five coming on the same plate. We could have eaten many, many more than just three sausages apiece, but we appreciated the forced restraint. We still had two more courses to go.

Course number six was described as a "Steamed Beef Patty". Sound appealing? Wait until you see it. It was a smallish ball of ground beef that had bits of cellophane noodles running though it--which made it look, for all intents and purposes, like it was infested with worms. Despite its less than perfect looks, Seattlest fell hard for this course. We couldn't quite place the taste but it was captivating. Coconut milk? Nutmeg? Zucchini? And the texture was light and airy, like a coarse mousse. It was by far the most unusual dish we tried, but it was also our favorite.

The last course was a velvety smooth and pepper-laden congee/jook (a mealy rice porridge) that contained small bits of ground beef. It had bright ginger overtones, but it tasted watery and lacked depth. But we're congee snobs of the highest order (and swear by our own jook recipe), so we're admittedly hard on restaurant congee.

At the end of the meal, we were surprised to find that we didn't feel gorged on beef. There was enough contrast and variety in each course that it didn't feel overly beef-y or even heavy. We were however, very full. Seattlest highly recommends Seven Courses of Beef, not only because it's a fun way to eat, but also because it's quite delicious. What we wouldn't recommend is going to Tamarind Tree if you are: in a hurry, low on patience, or expecting great service. But those things should never keep one from Seven Courses of Beef.

Tamarind Tree
1036 S Jackson Street
206.860.1404