Have An Eggroll, Mr. Goldstone

"You do not sew with a fork, so I see no reason that you should eat with knitting needles."
-Miss Piggy

It wasn't until my glamorous house guest arrived in New Orleans that I rediscovered my affinity for Chinese food. Of course, I'm speaking of American-Chinese food. We've been averaging one delivery from Golden Wall on Canal Street a week. After an evening of debauchery and over-indulgence French Quarter style, nothing is better that the sweet, sticky, crunchy, salty promise that awaits you in styrofoam containers from the local Chinese take-away.

Thursday evening, Kevin and I set about the most cherished of alcoholic past-times in the Vieux Carre: The Bar Crawl. We began our evening at home with a pitcher of Sweet Tea cocktails and moved on from there. Several stops on our tour and a few hours later, we arrived at home and patiently awaited the man on a bicycle who would deliver our much anticipated repast of General Tao's Chicken, Vegetable Lo Mein and Crab Rangoon. I had also requested an order of Honey Chicken for something to pick at during the week. It wasn't until I tasted the "Honey" Chicken that I let go of any lingering denial that what we were eating really wasn't that bad for you. It tasted like breakfast. Kevin attributed the golden flavor of the "Honey" Chicken to the undeniable fact that the crispy fried nuggets of boneless chicken thigh were, indeed, practically drowned in pancake syrup. And by pancake syrup I mean artificial maple flavored corn syrup. I was staggered. I've always been aware of the copious amounts of corn syrup used to flavor my favorite Chinese dishes, but this was an affront to everything I believe in. Obviously, no honey is used in this preparation and I have a strict aversion to any type of pancake syrup that isn't marked Pure Grade A Maple Dark Amber. I felt completely deceived and was horrified that I couldn't stop eating what reminded me of sub-par chicken and waffles. Which are, by the way a glorious example of the Soul Kitchen, provided that you ordered chicken and waffles and were expecting chicken and waffles.

Whenever I savor Chinese food, I often think about an all-you-can-eat buffet located in a dingy strip mall, anchored by a Big Lots in St. Petersburg, Florida known as Good Fortune Buffet. My sisters and I used to take the journey to this establishment frequently to have a cheap, tasty meal and a few laughs at what we called Hard Livin' Buffet. Oh, the place was a beautifully appointed palace of over-laden steam tables tumbling over with anything you could possibly want to eat. The standard American-Chinese offerings were your best bet. The Lo Mein was delicious, as were the variety of dumplings, both fried and steamed. This place also featured a carving station, Mongolian BBQ, pizza and spaghetti and a build-your-own sundae bar, all under an enormous, sparkling crystal chandelier that just reeked of class and refinement. All for $10 a head. Can you imagine? I recall the Honey Chicken being exquisite at this place, bathed in real clover honey that was genuinely regurgitated by real bees

The best nights at Hard Livin' Buffet were the ones that offered all you can eat crab legs as part of the buffet. I remember an evening when the salty crustaceans were available, we sat next to a table of absolutely enormous ladies who were prepared to get jiggy with some legs. They had a food-service sized can of Old Bay Seasoning on the table, and it was surrounded by monkey dishes of drawn butter, or artificially butter-flavored grease. I was not surprised when they returned to the table with what appeared to be the entire steam tray of crab legs piled on their plates, because obviously, these women were serious about what they came for. Oh, the indignity they suffered on subsequent visits to the buffet line before the crab legs were replenished! I remember observing one lady who physically grabbed one dining room attendant after another inquiring about the ETA of the next truckload of crab legs. Not receiving a satisfactory response to her inquiry, she noisily sucked her teeth and carefully picked a crisp green bean from a nearby steam table with her four-inch acrylic fingernails.

Later on, this party was joined by a young lady, approximately 13 years of age. I learned that she was a beloved niece to these women. The young girl was painfully thin and looked upon the table with such disgust drawn on her face that I could only imagine that she either didn't care for crab legs, or she was completely appalled by her Aunties eating habits because she refused even a morsel.

So, despite my disappointment in Golden Wall's deceitful practices, I am not throwing in the towel on Chinese food. I'm not even considering giving up on them either. Who else is going to bike a mile into the Faubourg Treme from Canal Street bearing a basket of crunchy, sweet, salty and slurpy goodness? I just won't order the Honey Chicken again. Unless, of course, I am hankering sub-par chicken and waffles. It's nothing that a bottle of Crystal hot sauce won't fix.