Wild Ginger is noisy and busy for lunch (and dinner), but it’s an absolute breeze–and delicious–with the $15 lunch deal that’s part of the March edition of 25 for $25 [mb]. Since the prix fixe menu is limited and in high demand, the food arrives almost instaneously upon ordering. (In fact, the entree was perhaps a bit too speedy, given that the first potsticker hadn’t even left my chopsticks yet, but that’s entirely forgivable during the lunch rush.) A three-course meal sounds extravagant and rather intimidating for the noon hour, but Wild Ginger edits the portions to manageable midday sizes.

For the first course I received three delicate chicken potstickers, which honestly I have been fantastizing about ever since. The chicken was flavorful but not overly assertive, and the shells were soft with nicely browned bottoms. Paired with a salty yet complex soy-based sauce, this was everything an appetizer should be: a teasing start to a meal that leaves you wanting more and more. And really, those damn potstickers have made me feel like I’m going to turn into a potsticker Godzilla at any moment, knocking over the Space Needle and the WaMu tower while grabbing dozen after dozen of the little things. (My companion had two perfectly flaky summer rolls; no word yet on similar Godzilla-like urges.)

The main did not live up to the high bar set by the appetizer, but I can’t say that’s surprising. The chicken malacca was, however, quite good in its own right. If I were eating this dish alone for lunch, it would be rather monotonous, since it’s really nothing but stir-fried chicken with jasmine rice. Really. That’s it. But as part of a prix fixe menu, the variety provided by the other courses compensates for its plainness and makes it instead appealingly simple. Although the menu marks it as spicy it’s not overly so, even for a spice wimp like me. My companion’s beef rendang was similarly simple, but less spicy. Given a second try, I would likely opt for the beef, but so it goes.

Finally, I ended with the blackberry vanilla ice cream. Like the appetizer, the dessert was ideally lunch-sized, with a single scoop cradled elegantly in a small bowl. The ice cream itself, though, was kind of a crappy end to an otherwise very good meal. Whoever made this stuff has a very different definition of “swirl” from my own–their definition, apparently, is something along the lines of “dump a jar of blackberry jam into a bowl, add a spoonful of vanilla ice cream, and then freeze until filled with icky ice crystals.” Now, if you love blackberries and don’t mind the evil ice crystals, then this would be great for you. But for me, well, I was done after a couple spoonfuls. My companion’s mango sorbet was much better but still a victim of the ice crystals. What can I say. I hate ice crystals. But I love potstickers.