Dim Sum Palace

First of all, I love that "Dim Sum" flies under spellchecker's radar because "dim" and "sum" are real English words!  Second of all, I had a bad run-in with a tree care crew and a loud stump grinder this morning, so you should take yourself to a second-rate cooking blog if you don't like f-bombs, 'cause there's like an eighty-five percent chance that I'm gonna drop one right now.  FUCK ME!  Look at all those people!  I wonder how many of them are eating fish heads?

Ok.  I think I've calmed down.  If you are in Manhattan's China Town, this dim sum palace is awesome.  You ride an escalator two flights and then boo-ya! you land in this stadium-sized dining room full of slurpers, gnawers and chewers, all of them enjoying themselves under the kind of ridiculously garish and tacky chandeliers that can only be found in China Town lighting stores and dim sum palaces like this one.  

Ok, I just chowed down the spare, cold burrito I made last night and now I am back at my desk and ready to talk trash.  Like a bunch of bozos, to go with our piles of dumplings and plates of "oil vegetable," we ordered some of the worst fish on the planet.  The fish in China town looks beautiful, all perfectly arrayed on cascading tiers of ice, each eyeball and scale arranged to attract hagglers and barterers like a bunch of flies, but I'm not so sure the fish is fresh.  Have you ever smelled that shit?  Smells fishy.  These babies tasted like a cross between a french fry and a bad street odor.

Let's have a last look at the stadium of chewers and digesters.  Look at all that beautiful color radiating out from that giant glowing snow-cone!  Awesome.  Too bad about the dopey looking guy in the blue t-shirt and baseball hat.  I had a blast anyway.  How could you not have a blast around all that glittery gold and red vinyl?  I will now leave you with an old Chinese proverb: overpower them with a lot of cheap sparkly shit and they will love everything.  Even stinky fish.