Adam & Eats: Chinese Kitchen Super Buffet

Editor’s note: Adam Brandt is a graduate from the Cobra Kai School of Culinary Callousness, where he received their highest award, the Red Apron of Merciless Eating. Aside from eating and talking about eating, he makes pots, paintings, prints, books, photographs, and generally, a big mess. He has been the studio assistant at Mudpuppy Pottery for almost nine years and is attending a local university in a desperate attempt to earn a biology degree.

The Chinese Kitchen Super Buffet has been a staple of the River Valley’s all you can gorge Americanized-Asian food scene for a very long time. The questions I kept asking myself after eating there recently are: Why has it stuck around as long as it has? and Why is my belly making that sound? For those of you who like the Chinese Kitchen Super Buffet, you can stop reading now, for I am about to poo poo all over them.

Located on the corner of South 19th Street and Rogers Avenue is the infamous Chinese Kitchen Super Buffet. Come lunchtime on any day of the week, you’ll find their parking lot bustling with excitement. Over what, I haven’t the faintest.

This is the part of the article where I normally talk about the décor of a restaurant, and say nice things about the waitstaff, so that the next time I eat there they won’t spit in my food. I don’t have to worry about them spitting in my food next time, because I am never going back.

The interior of Chinese Kitchen is, how shall I put this, well worn-in. It looks like they haven’t updated anything except light bulbs since they first opened. The staff of the Super Buffet seem worn down and jaded from serving the bastardized food, that in no way represents the beauty and splendor that their culture has to offer, for year after year.  The grain of salt they visibly take every time a customer walks through the door is heartbreaking. Sure, they are nice people, but the smiling face they wear is a paper-thin mask that anyone who takes the time to look up from their plate can see right through.

Oh, the food, the food. Where do I begin? Let’s start with the sweet and sour chicken/pork/shrimp that you can barely perceive the distinction between. Aren’t chicken and shrimp supposed to taste differently? I thought so. The tail sticking out of the one was just about the only clue telling me which one was shrimp.

Oh, and then there was the dirty river aftertaste that not even the wonderfully strong tea could get rid of. The General Tso’s chicken was mushy and bland. The egg drop soup was like eating salty gelatin with yellow food coloring added for effect. The egg rolls are all right, but I’ve had better out of the WalMart* freezer section. The only thing that I did manage to stomach more than one bite of was the fried broccoli. Do I need to go on or have you gotten the point yet?

Let me review my math so far to make sure that I haven’t made any errors: Creepy interior + Jaded waitstaff + Bad food = Awful eating experience

Yep, that pretty much covers it.

Please let this review act as it is intended, as a metaphorical grabbing of the shoulders and shaking of the people who run Chinese Kitchen. Please do something. I do not wish anything bad on you or your livelihood, but step up for goodness sake. It will make everyone happier. It will do wonders for your spirits to not have to schlep out food that you are obviously not proud of. It will also ease the epidemic of gastrointestinal disorders terrorizing the people who choose to eat their lunch there.

Feedback
When he’s not beating his eggs, Adam makes time to respond to e-mails that get past his hard-ass spam filter. You can try to reach him at [email protected]

Adam also has this thing called Sandwich Control.