NEWSFLASH!  "BEST NUMBER 7 IN TOWN" IS ALIVE AND SOMEWHAT WELL!


Let's advance the film almost three years ahead (to present day March, 2014)... as I sit here on a Tuesday afternoon trying to clean up some of my Favorites pages, I suddenly stumble across the once glorious blog BEST NUMBER 7 IN TOWN.


I feel nothing but sadness for my failure.  When I started out, the goal was to eat seven NUMBER 7s over the course of seven consecutive nights... and I fell short... only completing four.  The embarrassing truth:  Hung Far Low damn near killed me.  Well, that may be an exaggeration, but it certainly killed my spirit.  I couldn't hang... couldn't deal with the scientific process of determining meat origins, vegetable types and sauce ingredients.  And frankly, I was feeling pretty damn sick at that point.  My idealistic pursuit was an outright failure, and I failed my readers by neglecting to announce my defeat.


My sincere apologies.


Happily, I can announce now that I have renewed enthusiasm for this project... but will have to scale back any spectacularly misguided ambitions, such as eating NUMBER 7s for seven consecutive nights.


But here's where the fun comes in!  I will formally now invite YOU, dear reader, to submit your own BEST NUMBER 7 IN TOWN reviews... and will post them herein, and happily credit your ambitions.


You can see by the previous posts the basic drill... eat a Number 7, take some photos, weigh it if you can, calculate the cost per ounce if you want, show us your fortune, etc. 


Submit your offerings to bestnumber7intown@gmail.com


Please be sure to include the name and location of the restaurant (city name is enough) and write, write, write like the wind!  I will then do my best to promptly get your adventures in Number 7 Land uploaded for all to ponder.


Think of the glory!  Think of the pageantry! Think of how downright AWESOME you will become in the eyes of your peers and the esteem you have earned in their hearts.


Someday I may become technologically advanced enough to allow direct user input - and I'll keep you posted on that as we go along... but for now, I'll just have to input myself manually on this typewriter/video interface device type thingy.


So I command to thee GO FORTH AND EAT!  Get creative - don't limit yourself to Chinese Number 7s.. heck, if you're at a French Bistro and they offer a Number 7 (yah, right) EAT IT... and send me your findings.


Cheers -


Eddie Trojan

Hung Far Low - Portland, OR... Seriously, I ate there.

That was the neon beacon drawing us merry drunken moths with the siren's promise.  Hung Far Low was an alcohol filled womb, serving as both the starting and ending points of many a lost night.  I don't recall ever eating there, but if I did I'm claiming my "born again virgin" rights.  If Luann can do it on King of the Hill, then so can I. 

As far as I know, Hung Far Low was never known for its food.  It survived on two things - the name, and the strength of the drinks.  Warren Miller is an outdoor filmmaker and author, primarily focusing on the skiing exploits of his self and others.  He has a keen narrative voice and a wry sense of timing and delivery.  While attending a live presentation of his latest book and movie at the Paramount Theatre back in the 8th grade, he described a particular ski run thus:  “It started off about as steep as your kitchen wall, and got progressively steeper as you went downhill.”  This is the most analogous thing I could think of when describing Hung Far Low’s drinks.  Just substitute “stiff” for “steep” and “pure vodka” for “kitchen wall” and you get the idea. 

Anyhow, the sign remains in old town, and was even restored to its former glory a few years back - but the iconic restaurant beneath the glow has long since moved out to 82nd Avenue in Southeast. 

I was really debating on if I should come here at all, but the place came up in conversation with Carlos and Sarrah the night before - so it seemed like providence.  I did however break down and cheat on one of my unwritten rules - which was to order the #7 cold, with no knowledge of its contents.  I was so dodgy about going here that I had to look up the menu first.  Imagine my surprise when I found that it contained no fewer than six items!  Things may be looking up!  THIS is what a #7 is all about!

It just doesn't get any more inviting than this folks!  The only thing that would make it even remotely worse is to put it on the absolute shittiest corner on the strip - an aspiration which they have arguably achieved.  There were patrons at three or four tables when I went inside to pick up my #7, and I would have shot a picture if I wasn't in fear standing out as the "fancy man with the magic cordless phone."  No, I took my bag of stuff and got the hell out.

The bag felt heavy in my hand, and it scaled out to a whopping 3 lbs. 5.6 ounces.  This is the biggest #7 to date - by far!



As you can see from the above shot, there were only four boxes for the promised six items.  I was pretty bummed until I opened them up and realized that the pork, shrimp and egg roll were all cohabiting. 

Nothing really smelled offensive, so that was good.  In fact the General Tso's Chicken actually smelled pretty good.  I should have stopped there.

The Good:  My golf clubs didn't get stolen from the parking lot.

The Mediocre:  The Pork Fried Rice was OK.  Obviously crafted by the hand of a minimalist, but at least it didn't fall into the category of Soy Sauce Rice, as many do.  The Subgum Chicken Chow Mein was also OK.  I don't know what Subgum means, but I'm thinking it translates to "not much chicken."  But the standard assortment of vegetables weren't overcooked at least - and the sauce wasn't too salty or anything.  I'll give it a pass.

The Bad:  I really wanted to put the General Tso's Chicken into the Mediocre category, but alas I couldn't do it.  When the General whips up a batch of chicken for me, I expect the breading to have a bit of crispness to it - and this was just shy of mushy.  Unfortunate.  I think they actually almost tried to make this dish good, as it had a lot of fresh garlic and ginger in the sauce.  I guess you could say that I actually liked the flavor, but the texture of the chicken just blew.   

The Abysmal:  We had to create a new category for the rest.  Lucky me!  The four pieces of BBQ Pork looked and tasted like they were half way to becoming jerky.  DRY. DRY. DRY.  The shrimp that are always supposed to be in the mediocre category clearly didn't step up to the plate.  To begin with, they didn't look like shrimp.  They looked like tempura battered jellyfish or something.  (sidenote:  I actually really like jellyfish.  If you haven't tried it, you should.)  Upon eating, it was obvious that the grease in the deep fryer was desperately in need of freshening.  On top of that, the batter had puffed up and away from the (presumed) shrimp inside, and had become soggy to boot.  Horrid.  Which brings us to the Spring Roll.  Ah, the Spring Roll...  Truth in advertising - it tasted like it had been soaking in grease since last spring.  The ingredients inside were incomprehensible - just grease and mystery solids.  Nasty.  Bad.  Disgusting. 

Hung Far Low

Items:  Pork Fried Rice, Subgum Chicken Chow Mein, BBQ Pork, Spring Roll, General Tso's Chicken, Fried Shrimp

Cost:  $9.50

Weight:  53.6 ounces

Cost per Ounce:  $.18

Accoutrements:   2 soy sauces, hot Mustard, red sauce, fortune cookie

Fortune:

Rating:  A reluctant 1 star 

Hong Kong '97 - Milwaukie, OR

This bachelor stuff gets kind of boring to be honest.  I have a huge list of stuff to get done today:  1)  mow the lawn, 2)  get dog food, 3)  take the dog to the park, 4)  eat a #7, 5) write about it.  That pretty much sums it up. 

Before any of that happens, I thought it would be best to get caught up on the blogging thing - so here goes:

I know I've seen Hong Kong '97 at least a hundred times before, but no matter how hard I tried I could never quite place exactly where it was.  After steeling myself with a few pints at Winestock, I jumped in the car and called HK'97 to order my #7.  The lady told me ten minutes, like they knew I was coming.  Street address in hand, I ventured down McLoughlin Blvd in search of nourishment.  As it turns out, Hong Kong '97 is in a tucked away mini-mall right next door to a head shop called The Stash.  One stop shopping for some I'd imagine.

You can see a guy there in the photo sitting down, but he didn't appear to be drunk - just smoking and talking on the phone.  Nothing nefarious going on here folks.  In fact, HK'97 doesn't even have the omnipresent bar attached next door.  This is a bold move.  They appear to be proud enough to stand on the quality of their food alone (and Oregon Lottery revenues.)  We'll see about that.  This place does come highly recommended by my friend Tyleen though.

Damn blurry photo.  As you can see, HK'97s #7 only comes with three items - which is pretty disappointing to begin with.  I'm pretty bummed at this point - noting that their menu goes all the way to a #12, which really tends to scale down the lower numbers I guess.  Oh well.  If a #7 is usually the "ultimate" combination meal, simple math tells me that what I'm actually ordering is a #4.08 here at HK'97.

The Weigh In:  Here it is, at a whopping 2 lbs. 4.9 ounces.  It feels a bit light in the bag.

Right off the bat, I want to say this both looked and smelled really good.  I was also glad to see that they kept the mustard separate from the red (whatever) sauce, and gave you plenty of it.

The Good:  The Pork Fried Rice was actually really good.  Not too much soy sauce, with a fair amount of pork, peas, carrots and whatnot.  It was fresh and hot, and a pleasant surprise.  Certainly the best I've had so far.  The Kung Pao Chicken was also really good, and I thoroughly enjoyed eating it.  Note the * in the photo of the menu next to Kung Pao Chicken.  This means it's supposed to be spicy.  I think for the first time ever in a Chinese-American restaurant, the asterisk didn't lie.  Don't get me wrong - it wasn't "hot" or anything, but it had a nice little peppery bite to it - quite pleasing.  The sauce was well developed and not overbearing, allowing the flavor of the chicken, peanuts and assorted vegetables (I saw mushrooms, celery, peas and maybe green onions) to express themselves without getting lost in the mix.  Lots of peanuts too.  Totally solid.

 
That's Linc, from famed 70s TV show The Mod Squad.  He was known to express his approval by saying, "Solid" and making a fist.  I couldn't find a picture of him actually doing that, so I have to settle for this instead.  It's almost as if he's saying, "Hey, can I have a bite of that?  The fork you've already loaded up is fine by me."  You can tell he's sitting down as he says this, and I'm standing in front of him.

Before we get into the ratings, I'll mention that the name Hong Kong '97 is in reference to the year that Hong Kong was given back to China... but you already knew that unless you are currently in high school or have just recently graduated from college within the last five years. 

Is that a slam against the current state of education in this great country?  Yes.

The Mediocre:  I've previously said that all shrimp will likely be judged as mediocre.  Shrimp don't lie.

The Bad:  Absolutely nothing.  OK, I guess it could have been bigger, but judging solely on the quality and craftsmanship of the food, I have zero complaints.

Hong Kong '97 #7
Items:  Pork Fried Rice, Fried Shrimp, Kung Pao Chicken
Cost:  $8.75
Weight:  36.9 ounces
Cost per ounce:  $.24
Accoutrements:  One red sauce, one hot mustard, two off-brand soy packets
Fortune:  Things are not always what they seem.  It's not that bad! (in bed)
Rating:  3-1/2 Stars.

Mai Wah - Egg Foo WTF?

John keeps creeping into this narrative. 

It was dinner time, and the last thing I wanted to do was order a #7.  This is strange for me, because (as my wife can attest) I generally don't have a problem eating the same thing over and over again.  When I used to work downtown I would pack my lunches every day - and it was the same thing, without fail:  microwave burrito and a Cup-O-Soup.  Since the burritos came in a "variety box" of three different flavors, and you could generally get about the same number of different Cup-O-Soups, I guess I wasn't technically eating the same thing every day.  To be exact, there are nine different permutations of that particular meal.

Anyhow, like I said... it was only day two, and I was already (possibly) burnt out on #7s, as I'd eaten the previous night's leftovers for lunch.  Is it too late now to make this all go away?  I needed to steel my nerves and press on, no matter what - as it now appears I'd scored somewhere upwards of ten readers - and I'm generally not one to disappoint.  I needed something close... a no-brainer... and then I had a flashback of what John had said the night before about the #7 at Mai Wah.  That was my third flashback of the day, but the other two didn't have much to do with Chinese food.

I whipped out my unit (blackberry) and dialed up the digits for 411, then before you knew it I was on my way to Mai Wah to pick up my #7.  That's how I roll sometimes.  Bad ass.

 
A few scant seconds after I snapped this pic (thank you blackberry) I noticed a kindly looking older gentleman outside the door to the (omnipresent) adjoining bar.  He was thin and frail - perhaps pushing the high side of 75 years old - and dressed in a pair of robin egg blue shorts, an off-white golf polo (tucked in... of course,) high brown socks, tan tennis shoes, and what can only be described as a "jaunty chapeau."  The jaunty chapeau was brown.  And it became apparent that he was chapeau-deep in the severe throes of a gravity attack.  Time slows as he first fights the deck of a violently pitching ship to the right, and then speeds a bit as he goes left.  Me, I'm quickening my pace and reaching out my arms... saying something like, "Whoa... dude!"  But I don't remember what I said exactly.  Anyhow, gravity bested its opponent before I could get to him, and he hit the deck with a lilting thud.  It should be noted that lilting thuds rarely occur in the U.S., as they can only be properly executed by persons who don't weigh very much.

This is where my choice of college comes into play, oddly enough.  If I had gone to study photojournalism, I would have snapped off a pic before attending to this gentleman's needs... but no, I had to go to college to learn how to drive ships - so I tossed my camera into the nearest flower bed and got on with helping the guy up.  So by choosing my #2 option (boat drivin' college) instead of my #3 option (camera guy school) it is you (my dear reader) that misses out on the pic.  Sorry about that.

After doing the cursory health check (Can you move your toes?  Do you have a colostomy bag?) I helped the gentleman to his feet and inquired as to where he was off to.  Shockingly, he was heading back into the bar attached to Mai Wah, and he just needed to find his wife.  Remember what John said about Chinese restaurants, attached bars and revenue streams?  It took him 30 seconds to get through the door I was holding open for him, and it would have taken longer if I wasn't holding him up by the arm.  As he vanished through the saloon style doors into the bar, I turned to get back on track to fetch my #7 and a strange smile crept across my face.  I had this keen sense of what I can only guess to be something like "pre-deja-vu" or "sub-deja-vu"... a knowing that something like this has never happened to me before, but a feeling that it sure as hell should have and it probably will again.

The Weigh-In:  So here she is in all her glory, weighing in at 2 lbs. 9.2 ounces, I present to you (my dear reader) THE MAI WAH #7.  Dah-dah-dummmm!  Yes, #7s are "shes" - just like a boat.

My apologies for the crappy picture above.  I thought you'd maybe be able to see the menu listing, but you can't... so the Mai Wah #7 comes with Pork Fried Rice, Sweet & Sour Chicken, Egg Foo Yung and Fried Shrimp.

The Good:  Yup... so, moving along...

The Mediocre:  Gotta say that I grant the shrimp a solid "mediocre."  I suspect all shrimp from this point on will be labeled as mediocre.  They all basically taste the same, which would mean that they all fall into the same category somewhere between awesome and awful, so if my high school Home-Ec teacher was grading this (yes, I took Home-Economics... great way to meet freshman girls if you're a senior guy) she'd ultimate grant a C - which is mediocre.  The Sweet and Sour Chicken was mediocre as well.  I won't wax poetically about it (you're welcome) but I will show you a picture of something that most closely resembles the color of the sauce.



Nuclear pink.  The food shot didn't properly depict this color on my camera.  You'll have to use your imagination.  Make the chair melt, like a Dali painting, then put deep fried nondescript chicken chunks under it.  That's a good start.

The sub-Mediocre, But Not Quite Awful:  The Pork Fried Rice should have (again) been named Soy Sauce Rice.  Rice, soy sauce, and a few flakes of pork thrown on top.  I saw one or two globs of what was hopefully scrambled egg in there as well.  Mmmmm.

The Awful:  Yup... moving along...

Egg Foo WTF?:  I'm not quite sure how to go about this one.  To begin with, I'll draw your attention to the fact that it's actually listed below "Awful" which should give you some idea.  To be fair, I've never actually had Egg Foo Yung before.  All (I think) I know about Egg Foo Yung is that it was invented down in San Francisco during the gold rush days, and its instant popularity could somehow be considered the genesis of modern Chinese-American cuisine.  History Channel RULES!!!  

As far as I can tell, Egg Foo Yung is basically a Chinese-American garden burger covered in KFC gravy.  It's somehow lighter than a garden burger, and a bit more spongy.  The problem is that no matter how much scrutiny I applied, I couldn't make out a single ingredient.

   

You think this photo is blown out and out of focus, right?  Let me assure you, it's not.  No matter how hard I tried, my eyes couldn't get a grasp of this... and after six failed attempts to capture it on film, I feel confident in making the scientific observation that my camera couldn't focus on it either.  Remember those "back in the day" high school physics books that showed a fuzzy something-er-other that was supposed to be an atom?  They would have some perplexing caption below like, "We don't know what's in it... only what isn't." or "We can't say where it was... only where it wasn't."  Well, the same goes for Egg Foo Yung at Mai Wah.  It's just a roughly burger shaped and moderately massed miasma of something covered in gravy.  It's so freaky that even the guy on the TV in the background is lost...

Don't get me wrong - I ate it.  And then I got out a spoon and scraped the rest of the KFC gravy out of the damn box.  I love that shit.      

Mai Wah #7

Items:  Pork Fried Rice, Fried Shrimp, Sweet and Sour Chicken, Egg Foo Yung
Cost:  $9.15
Weight:  41.2 ounces
Cost per ounce: $ .22 
Accoutrements:   Red sauce and hot mustard mixed together, soy sauce x 2
Fortune:  He who laughs at himself never runs out of things to laugh at (in bed) 
Slightly less subjective score:  1-1/2 Stars.

One in the Bag - New Hings in Detox (that's Downtown Oregon City if you're not paying attention)

New Hings is on the southernmost end of Main Street, near the now defunct paper mill.  It's bookended to the left by two of the divey-est dive bars you could ever want to patronize, and then on the right by its own dive bar that is attached to the restaurant.  John noted that most Chinese food places don't actually make money on their food, but rather on their notoriously strong drinks from the omnipresent attached bars.  That's actually John standing there to the left of the door in the picture.  He's a pretty wise feller.  I have reason to believe he's involved somehow in the Witness Protection Program, so if a mobster should ask you if you've seen a guy named John lurking about Oregon City and Portland, just tell him no. 

After being seated and getting our drink order in (I with a Fat Tire and John with a Gin & Tonic), the purist in me demanded that I order the #7 with no consultation of the menu whatsoever.  I tried to resist, but ultimately knew that I had to know what was "supposed" to be on the #7 and how much it cost, so I could responsibly create and present to you (my dear reader) a reasonably informed blog. 

And here it is, I give to you the formal description of New Hings #7:

As a bonus, all numbered combinations are served with your choice of either Egg Flour Soup or Hot and Sour soup.  Personally, I'm a whore for Hot and Sour soup.  If my wife ever reads this and wants to know how to get me to do all the really weird stuff... well, there it is.

SIDEBAR:  As I originally envisioned this undertaking, I was never going to actually eat in a restaurant.  It was supposed to all be to-go, as I didn't plan to have any dinner guests.  This approach would serve two purposes:  1) I could subject the #7 in question to a vast array of scientific instruments and tools (OK, I could weigh them with my digital scale) in order to form a less subjective opinion of the dish, and 2) It would save me the embarrassment of eating alone in a Chinese restaurant.  End SIDEBAR.

And here it is.  From my prior experience with #7s, I must say that it's rare to find one that includes both Fried Shrimp AND BBQ Pork.  Score!

We'll start with the good:  The BBQ Pork and the shrimp were both solid - the pork being moist and tender, and the shrimp exactly what you'd expect.  How hard can it be to cook shrimp like that anyway?  The meal was hot and timely, maybe served ten minutes after ordering... giving me just enough time to almost finish my Hot and Sour soup.

The mediocre:  The Hot and Sour soup.  My personal hierarchy of soups goes like this:  1)  Hot and Sour, 2) Clam Chowder, 3) Everything else.  On more than one occasion I've made the request to have my casket filled with Hot and Sour soup before I'm lowered into the ground.  My friends (and even my wife) think I'm kidding.  So what was wrong with it?  Well... the hot wasn't hot, the sour wasn't sour and the meat was lacking in texture.  Aside from that, I'd still gladly accept this to accompany me to the sweet hereafter if it was the only brand available in close proximity and at a reasonable price.

The sub-mediocre, but not quite bad:  The Pork Fried Rice was more like Soy Sauce Rice.  The fact that I added more soy sauce to it only exacerbated the problem.

The bad:  The Beef with Vegetables was totally lacking.  If I were to unpack my adjectives to describe the beef, I'd come up with the following:  Limp, pale, shiny.  To be fair, if I saw that this #7 was honestly billed as Limp Pale and Shiny Beef with Vegetables I probably would have just moved on.  You know how it is when you're eating Krab?  It kinda looks like crab.  It sort of tastes like crab... but you know it's not really crab.  I'm not saying this wasn't really beef, but....
So, in summary:

New Hings #7
Items:  Beef with Vegetables, Pork Fried Rice, Fried Shrimp, BBQ Pork, Hot and Sour soup
Cost:  $8.25
Weight:  n/a
Cost per ounce:  n/a
Accoutrements:  Soy sauce, sweet red sauce with hot mustard and sesame seeds, napkin, fork
Fortune:  You will have an interesting sports proposal in the near future (in bed)
Really subjective culinary score, on a scale of one to five stars:  Two stars

Redemption, and a plan less foiled...

Out of luck for ordering a #7 before my tee time at 5:30, I found myself wondering if this project would ever come to fruition.  According to my meter thingy at the bottom of the page, I'd only racked up about 8 hits and I suspect at least three or four of those were my own.  Can I kill it?  Can I just make it vanish like it never happened?  Oh, the shame.

While walking the course in the process of playing the worst 9 holes of golf that have ever been recorded, I struck up a conversation with one of my companions, John.  I could tell he was kinda into the project, but then I thought he might have just been making kind conversation to steer the talk away from my errant tee shots.  When all was said and done, he suggested that he could maybe join me at Mai Wai for a #7 after the round - and in fact he himself was a huge fan of their #7, as it came with Egg Foo Yung.  I considered this proposal, but after consulting the list I realized that Mai Wah was not on the itinerary. 

You see, in the days before I was to undertake this wee project I consulted http://www.allmenus.com/ and did a geographic search for Chinese restaurants around my zip code.  As you can look up their menus (as the clever domain name implies) I came up with a list of about ten places that I could hit up for a #7, along with another place that didn't have a #7 but did have something called a "Pu Pu Tray."  The 7 year old boy in me forced my hand and guided the pen as I wrote it down.

I was hot and tired, and honestly I needed a beer more than I needed a #7.  Looking for the closest place, I came up with New Hings in Downtown Oregon City (I like to call Downtown Oregon City "Detox" and I'm trying to make it catch on in my circle of friends, but it really hasn't yet.)

We're Off and Running... and falling flat on our faces.

The revised plan was that I'd need to go to a Chinese restaurant that I'd been to before so I could establish the benchmark #7 by which all following #7s would be judged.  The benchmark would automatically earn 2-1/2 stars.  I had just the right place in mind... Happy Restaurant in Gladstone.  I've been going here since I was in the 5th grade, and I can say with great certainty that they haven't lifted a paintbrush or re-upholstered a bench seat since that time.  When discussing my planned benchmark with my friend John, he ventured that they hadn't lifted a mop in that time frame either - but I'm not going to go there.  Happy has been a staple in my Americanized Chinese food stable - in fact it's probably the only one that I regularly go to (by regularly, I mean like twice a year perhaps.)  They offer their patrons a dining experience that could only be described as "timeless" - or at least timeless over the span of the last 30+ years that I'd been going there.  Nothing has changed.  Nothing will ever change at Happy.  While I have no way of verifying this without seeming like some type of a weirdo or something, I strongly suspect that the EXACT SAME waitresses have worked there since I was a kid.  And they haven't gotten any older - at all.  Trippy.

Anyhow, you can imagine my horror when I went to call in my order yesterday afternoon, only to be met with the following message on their answering machine:  THANK YOU FOR CALLING HAPPY RESTAURANT IN GLADSTONE.  WE WILL BE CLOSED JULY 22nd THROUGH AUGUST 8th.  PLEASE LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE BEEP.

So I'm immediately thrown to the winds of turmoil.  I was really looking forward to bringing home a fat sack of #7 from Happy and throwing it onto my digital food scale (yes, I'm a food geek and that's why I own a digital food scale.)  From previous experience, their "to-go" #7 likely would weigh in at close to 5 lbs. 

Take the #7 Challenge!

So here's the skinny... it's summer and my wife and daughter have just flown off to Hawaii for a week.  Since it's July, we've had lots of opportunities to spend time with friends - enjoying BBQ or beers or Bloody Marys depending on the time of day and the phase of the moon.  Invariably the topic of the pending trip would come up and my wife and daughter would excitedly run through the itinerary, regaling their captive audience with ambitions of fair weather, lazy days on the beach, zip lines through forest canopies, and drinks served with yellow umbrellas and reckless abandon.  My daughter is five.  Her drinks will likely be served with yellow umbrellas and a more mindful form of abandon... barefoot abandon perhaps?  Anyhow, after the basic narrative was over, there would always be a big pause as the audience sat glossy eyed and wistful - and then someone would eventually turn to me and say, "So what are you going to do?"

The mind races... the heart bumps up just a bit in contemplation of the blank slate of potential self-guided hijinks ahead... and then I'd just say, "I dunno... maybe get some yard work done?"  The look of disappointment on their collective faces was immediate, but then followed shortly thereafter with those accusatory sideways glances of "yah... right!"  My friends... just who do they think I am?

So then one time I answered, "I'm going to find THE BEST #7 IN TOWN."  That immediately caught their attention and shut them up.  And now I had an audience of my own in which to regale with tales of grandiose ambition.  Off the cuff, I further elaborated that I would spend seven nights in a row ordering the #7 from random Chinese restaurants that I'd never been to before, and then maybe blog about it or something.  This seemed like a good plan.  I could tell by the way they were looking at me.

As this culinary adventure developed in my skull, I came to a few realizations:  1)  I'd have to start by going to a Chinese restaurant that I'd been to before and order a #7 that I'd already eaten so I could have a benchmark, and  2)  By the end of the week, it's highly likely that my entire diet will have consisted of nothing but, a) whatever comes in the #7s that I order, b) beer, and c) coffee.  That doesn't really sound like such a bad diet to me, but my wife remains skeptical.

Why you so good #7?

Ah, the ubiquitous #7... a staple of any Americanized Chinese food restaurant that possesses culinary creativity beyond the #6.  As you walk into the room and have a quick look around, you can pretty much tell who is who by the food on their plate.  That little girl sitting with her folks?  She's venturing into #1 territory for the first time and will poo out some bunny pellets for the next few days.  That Nancy Boy over there in the corner with the Bieber-do, skinny jeans and green Chuck Taylors?  He's nibbling at his #3 and will likely take the leftovers home to feed himself and his parrot for the rest of the week.  Those seniors just blew their monthly entertainment budget splitting a #4 - but the #4 on this occasion came with tempura shrimp and enough grease of questionable origins to give them a week's worth restroom visits - so it was worth it.

Me?  I'm a #7 guy.  And I'm damn proud of it.  Admittedly, I used to dabble in the lower regions - the fives and sixes primarily - but that was back in middle school, before I joined the football team.  No, I've been a #7 guy for going on 30 years now I suppose.

What has to be included in a #7?  Everything and nothing.  The more the merrier - fried rice, white rice, shrimp, BBQ pork, chicken chow mein, pork chow mein, sweet and sour pork or chicken... it doesn't matter.  Chow Yuk?  Sure, throw it in there.  Pan fried noodles?  Why not?  Subgum Chicken?  WTF is THAT?  Ok... I'll eat it if it's included.