When the mighty fall it's always sad. Or, do big city restaurants just change hands and the food quality changes as does the staff?
Chris and I went to Chinatown last night. Of all the crappy Chinese buffets in town, Chinatown was Chris' fave. I guess it had been a year or two since he had been there because when we got there last night about 6:30 the parking lot was nearly empty. We had misgivings but we were there. We went in.
I knew we were in trouble because they were playing lounge music which was so bad as to be indescribableablle. I heard "My Way" for the first time since 1990 when these two morning DJ's in LA, called Mark and Brian, used to play the version by Jim Nabors whenever they had some quest. The version I heard last night was not even as good as the version Mr. Nabors massacred.
Since the place was empty, the food was old. The sesame chicken was, as Chris stated to our camarera, "hard as a rock" which is an OK AC/DC song but not how you want your sesame chicken. I filled up on spring rolls which were fine. We all know that these Chinese buffet places are all crap. The food all comes out of the same bag. But this food was especially bad and Chris got mad. So mad his eyebrows started sweating (just kidding, Chris). He was anger on two legs, as Michael just said. He almost complained but they brought fresh sesame chicken when he asked and all was mediocre once again and we filled up and got the hell out of there.
All this because there was a street festival in front of the Penguin. Damn revelers.