As you probably do not recall, we had intended once before to investigate this most promising enterprise. However, upon making our appearance we were promptly inclined to disappear, as we realized that we were in severe violation of the requisite dress code, leaving the assiduous proprietor in a knee-locked stance of aborted greeting.
This week, after donning our spiffy Collage-issued gray trousers and complementing neckties, we revisited this self-purported nutritional utopia. Being the fearless vanguard we are, we sauntered determinedly past the still-seated maitre'd, commandeered a corner table, and ordered dinner with the resolve of so many knotted pretzel benders.
Comprising the cheap vanguard we do, we ordered two items a la carte and some water. Bread was complimentary.
Nirvana, indeed. Although our dining was sparse, for twenty dollars we were treated to a delicious Indian meal that exceeded every expectation will all the blind regalia of so many diligent chlorofluorocarbons.
Pleased as we were by this remarkable meal, and speaking of blind regalia, we were felicitiously joined by the elite faction of the Pitzer Posse -- the Mathematics Department.
Discussing the merits of dining tables and other orientable subspaces, and lamenting the discontinuous nature of so many knotted pretzel spaces, they seated themselves a respectable distance from us and began the arduous process of optimizing their selection algorithm. Judy Grabiner was there. She said hello to us. We were pleased. Flattered.
Despite the overwhelming mathematical prowess in the room, we were unable to reconcile a mysterious discount that appeared on our check. Next to one entree was inscribed "50%," and the tab for what would have been a modest twenty dollar meal, sans tip, became an appropriately and guiltlessly gratuitized expense neatly covered by a single ATM unit.
Competent as we are not, and valuing parsimony over professionalism, we failed to inquire as to the nature of this rather generous discount, for fear of exposing ourselves as the unwitting beneficiaries of an accounting mishap. On one hand, perhaps this is standard practice for student diners. On the other, perhaps Judy tipped them off as to who we were. Sure.
Anyway, if you go there yourself, you can find out for us and the rest of the Claremont community. Let us know.
Royal China is located at 8851 Central Ave., in Montclair. But that's not where we went this week. Your objective is right next door. Seek it.