The Road Thaws Out. China Doll.

[title type="h5"]Friday, January 31, 2014.[/title] The storm of cold has played itself out, and I can drive places again. Such as the radio studio, where I have not been seen for over a week. No problem: there's no work waiting for me there, and even if there were, I still don't have a working computer in my otherwise impressive office. When I can't write, I'm in trouble. So I left shortly after the show ended, and went across the river to the China Doll for a late lunch. I haven't been there in some time, and one of the station's ad reps wants to sell them on my air. [caption id="attachment_41106" align="alignnone" width="480"] China Doll.[/caption] The China Doll has had a good run in Harvey, thirty-five years of pretty consistent popularity. It was one of a new generation of Chinese restaurants that brought a new menu to the city in the mid-to-late 1970s. I always liked it, but in recent years it's fallen victim to a common problem in the restaurant business. When a restaurant gathers to itself a large regular clientele--as China Doll has--those customers tend to order the same few dishes on every visit. If the restaurant changes a dish in response to evolving tastes and ingredients, the regulars get worked up. And heaven help the restaurant that removes a long-standing dish from the menu. All three of the people who get it all the time may well abandon the place and start saying bad things about it. Which, in these days of anonymous posting on wanna-be restaurant-guide websites, can create some problems. The restaurant's only course is to stand stockstill. The evolution of the kitchen's habits changes the dish, but too slowly for the regular customers to notice. And almost always for the worse. [caption id="attachment_41107" align="alignleft" width="320"] Hot and sour soup.[/caption]One of the golden dictums of business is to discover what your customers want, and give it to them. But a restaurant that does only that is condemned to decline. No matter how much the regulars scream, a restaurant must move forward. My meal began as most of my Chinese meals do: with hot and sour soup. No two are alike. This one was served very generously, but with a dull flavor profile. I followed it with lomi-lomi: skewered shrimp wrapped around chunks of pineapple and covered with bacon. It's like something you'd find at the Bali H'ai decades ago. Again with the lack of well-defined flavors. [caption id="attachment_41109" align="alignleft" width="317"] Sizzling go-bar.[/caption]I haven't had a sizzling go-bar dish in decades. The idea is to do a basic stir-fry and then dump the contents on a very hot plate. This sends up a pillar of steam and an exciting sizzle. But nothing else about the dish impressed me. Dozens of small shortcuts have worked their ways into the recipe, which I'm sure the chef will say has never changed in all this time. But it has. I remember past meals too well. So do all the people llined up at the bar to pick up take-pout orders. The tremendous volume that Chinese restaurants serve in food to go is one of the worst developments in the history of that cuisine in New Orleans. A restaurateur must choose either this robust business or cooking in an exacting manner. This is why Chinese restaurants are generally declining in goodness all over town. [title type="h5"]China Doll. Harvey: 830 Manhattan Blvd. 504-366-1111. [/title]