Audio By Carbonatix
3355 Trinity Mills
972-307-7788
Promised delivery time: 40 minutes
Delivered in: almost precisely 40 minutes
The Score
Promptness: 50
Degree of difficulty: 3
Phone psych-out attempt: -25 (for attempt), +25 (because it
worked)
Nods to Charlie Chan era stereotyping: 15
Probably unwarranted hygiene concerns: -8
Food quality (in terms of poundage): 37
Food quality (in terms of food quality): -9
Environmental friendliness: -20
Potential for hangover relief: 10
Total: 68
Overall Standings
1. Picasso’s Pizza and Grill 85.5
2. Angelo & Vito’s 77
3. Bangkok City (on Greenville) 734. Chef Chu (North Dallas) 68
Every once in awhile you need General Tsao’s chicken.
How you spell it or if you even know the exploits of this
fabled 19th century leader (that’s him in the illustration) and can answer the question of why he
waited until the 1970s to invent the dish, doesn’t matter. The Savior of Hunan
understood home delivery and the basic human craving for fried chicken covered
in sticky sweet, spicy sauces.
Now, General Tsao’s is an American institution making its
way far too slowly into other markets. I was forced to abstain during my stint
overseas, so upon my return I phoned Chef Chu for a dinner-sized portion. My
second call, some days later, met with laconic suggestive selling: “you want
fried wonton, too?”
Hell, a one-time customer and already they’re tracking my
orders, building a profile.
Not willing to be plotted on some marketing graph, I double
crossed the phone guy with a clever “no, hot and sour soup.” I really wanted
fried wonton but his obvious ploy called for a bold, unexpected move to snatch
the initiative away from Chef Chu and their customer modeling efforts. The
surprised order taker never saw it coming.
Of course, I was stuck with a Styrofoam cup of brownish-black
stuff. But maintaining one’s personal swagger is more important.
They delivered almost to the minute–a nice trick,
considering the vicissitudes of north
traffic. Their version of General Tsao’s famous chicken, however, turned soggy
during the trip (although the vegetables somehow remained crisp) and presented
a monomaniacal flavor similar to spoiled sugar, if such a thing were possible.
The only highlight was the delivery itself–or, rather, the
delivery driver: a young man of Asian ancestry sporting long, pointed
fingernails. It’s the type of thing you’d expect from Film Noir era depictions,
when patient, inscrutable, curiously bearded and manicured Chinese opium kingpins
failed time and again to foil streetwise private eyes. While the reminder of
stereotypes past was interesting (and point-worthy), less appetizing thoughts
ensued.
Oh, well–the food wasn’t good, but at least there was a lot
of it.
