The dishes at this suburban strip mall restaurant are straight-ahead Americanized Chinese, which appeases my picky parents, who don't have adventurous palates and always order their fish and meat at temperatures that would set a house ablaze. But while chicken feet, duck blood soup and fried cow stomach lining are absent from the menu, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the food, which is very good, and the service, at least if you're lucky enough to have the gentleman who waited on is, is absolutely hilarious. And I mean that in a good way. I wish more servers had a sense of humor like this guy.
Can you guess where I'm eating?
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