This felicitous, albeit self-evident statement fell into our laps, so to speak, at the conclusion of a dinner at China Gate, a surprisingly good Chinese restaurant in Upland. Fear not, however, for this ego- massaging prophecy will not hurl us into the throes of overzealous journalistic disintegrity which have vitiated so many before us.
Then again, what with O.J. Simpson just admitting that he frequented China Gate every time he, Fox Mulder, the Fonz and Rosanne visited Claremont for the annual extra-terrestrial two-for-one sale at Powell Hardware, formerly a front for the CIA paramilitary industrial electropsychotherapy re-educational center, the potential for paltry sensationalism is certainly not be taken lightly.
Instead of throwing darts at the Yellow Pages as we usually do, this week we allowed the enthusiastic recommendation of an avid reader to simplify the restaurant selection process. Lured by the prospect -- unlikely at best, recommendation notwithstanding -- of good Chinese food within five miles of the 5-C scene, we entered Upland with cautiously optimistic palates.
Setting off in search of the establishment in question, our hopes crashed through the balsa floors of so many abelian bell towers as we realized that our destination fell mawkishly within the locally dominant architectural paradigm; alas, while cruising down Mountain Avenue the desperately scanning eye found no succor from the besieging legion of mundane strip malls.
Sandwiched between a Denny's, Edwards Cinema, and Somme Ole Boot Shoppe, China Gate immediately appeared to be more of an accomplice to aesthetic misfortune than a den of higher metabolism. Undaunted, we agreed to overlook this portent, still anticipating a fine meal in exchange for our artistic tolerance.
And for our patience, duly rewarded we were. The appetizer round, consisting of a zesty hot and sour soup and some mighty fine potstickers, renewed our hope that good Chinese cuisine did indeed have a home in Upland. The entrees, when brought to our table, unequivocally validated that hope in a graceful flurry of pan-frying wizardry.
The Kung Pao chicken was agreeable, though not the best we'd ever tasted, the sauteed broccoli was sublime, and the pan-fried noodle chef's special was excellent, flashy, and popular, to boot. Indeed, we witnessed no less than five other parties enjoy the euphonic honor of table-side preparation of this rather noisy dish.
We left a healthy 15 percent tip because our waiter kept a keen eye on our water glasses, evenly distributed the chopsticks we requested, and did not once whack us in the back of the head with a rubber hose.
The highlight of the evening, however, occurred during the most typically mundane act of a Chinese meal. As fate would have it, we opted to partake of the bill-adorning fortune cookies which we usually pass up. As a result, in what was perhaps the most prophetically accurate fortune ever to grace an obligingly molded cookie, we found a truth almost too obvious to be articulated. Never mind the fact that only a handful of Collage readers will actually get this far in one of our articles; the fine folks at the Peking Noodle Company clearly know who they're dealing with.
To flirt with a breach of modesty, we feel inclined to point out that our mirth in culinary criticism had once before been pointedly validated that evening, even prior to the visionary dessert's arrival at our table. As we were eating we overheard the patrons one table over, obviously recognizing the greatness in which they basked, asking the waiter what we had ordered and subsequently placing a similar request in xerox. Although we didn't stick around long enough to see for sure, we're confident that their fortune cookies ultimately confirmed their ordering tactics with some superlative remark such as, "You just copied the order of two fine connoisseurs of food and drink."
When all was said and undead, we were out about $12 per person, including tax and tip, having limited ourselves to water and hot tea. On the up side, we pleasantly surprised about finally finding a decent Chinese restaurant within fifteen minutes of home. Upland -- who would have guessed?
China Gate opens to eager patrons at 365 S. Mountain Ave., in Upland's Mountain Green Center. Take-out orders and the answers to all your personal questions are handled at (909) 982-2449.