The actual name of the restaurant escapes me. I simply call it the Chinese trough. It is one of those all-you-eat places where they ought to supply wheelchairs to get you to your vehicle afterwards. Yes, yes, I know that gluttony is a terrible sin. I’m just saying. This food is GOOD!

I’ve never understood that old saw about the problem with Chinese food is that, an hour later, you’re hungry again. Perhaps that’s true for Chinese women; an hour later, you’re horny again. But I would consider that a tribute to Chinese women, not a slur. If something is good, if something is fulfilling, you want more of it, and you don’t want to wait too long to have it again.

So anyway, at this place the food is plentiful, filling, and delicious. Plus, they have a grand sushi bar. I like to fill a plate with everything from teriyaki chicken on a skewer to orange chicken to Chinese pork to fried rice, then get a plate of sushi to enjoy as an accompaniment. I am informed by my daughter, who turned me on to sushi years back, that the ginger is supposed to be used to cleanse the palate between bites of different things. But being the self-indulgent gastronome that I am, I prefer to take my slivers of ginger with each individual mouthful of rice-rolled sushi. I enjoy the soft crunch, along with the flavor, added to the joy of tasting the sushi itself.

Okay, so maybe I have more heathen than gourmand in my DNA. I plead no contest, whatever. I only make three trips up to get food when I’m at the trough: two for “food,” a third for “dessert.” When I leave, I always wink at that cute little Chinese gal bussing the table.