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"If you can get past the House of Pancakes design", supporters swear the "exceptional food and service" at this Central Connecticut Chinese will do the rest; touting the "big portions" and "nice presentation", diehards "wonder why anybody would go anywhere else." |
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| In the 19th century, General Tso led the forces of China's final imperial dynasty, the Qing (pronounced Ching) Dynasty, to victory in the Border Wars. His secret weapon: an ancient family recipe for chicken. "General Tso's chicken helped win battles and ward off evil," says Ling Kwok, whose father, Kam Kwok, owns Great Taste. Ling helps run the business on weekends, and has taken to sending customers monthly postcards describing the history of the dishes Great Taste serves. Aside from warm customer service and a premiere Peking Duck, Ling says Great Taste succeeds because the cooking staff has been there for years and knows how to prepare Kam's secret family sauces -- which mix influences of Fujinese cooking from the Kwok home in southeastern China to traditional Western flavors, all without preservatives such as MSG. "It's an addictive sauce," Ling says. "For those who taste it for the first time, some may say it is a little strong and potent, but it is a taste you always come back for more." Apparently Advocate readers agree. |
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| Let's face it, New Britain just isn't one of the three or four hippest towns in Connecticut. It has its charms as both an architectural and ethnic melting pot, but it's not really a locale a demographer would pick for one of the best Chinese restaurants in the state. Yet Great Taste does indeed fall into that elite culinary category. Although I had been hearing talk of this terrific Chinese restaurant--with its uninspired name--in New Britain for almost 10 years, I had assumed the hype stemmed from hazy, plum wine-induced memories. Even after two high-ranking state officials offered separate assurances only a few weeks ago that this reputation was desevered, it was still no reason to believe them. Politicos are often notoriously inaccurate in making gustatory evaluations. But after several urbane Chinese businessmen waxed enthusiastic about Great Taste--they called it "easily the finest" they had sampled on numerous trips to the U.S.--I couldn't resist a trip to the site of what had once been an Interna-tional House of Pancakes. |
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| Rick and I have been working long hours, which has driven a wedge in our relation-ship and has made cleaning, washing and other random domestic chores a nuisance. And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, Rick's brother, Dave, paid us an unexpected visit. Not that I don't like Dave. It's just that I had planned to beg Rick for a quiet evening at home, but instead found myself in the backseat of the Range Rover. It took every bit of energy I had left to be polite.
We headed to Great Taste, a Chinese restaurant, in "Hard Hittin' New Britain." We hadn't been there in about four years so I was curious to see what, if anything, had happened to the restaurant we used to think of as the "diamond in the rough." As I struggled to open the heavy wood doors I was immediately struck with the light-and-airy feel, unusual for a Chinese restaurant and not quite how I remembered it. The entranceway ended at a glass door painted with a sign saying something about proper attire. I was sure the sign hadn't been there before. I looked at Dave in his jeans and polo shirt then figured I was dressed well enough, in my Ann Taylor suit, for the three of us. |
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