Getting my friends to come on food adventures in Flushing is like pulling teeth. Most of them live in Manhattan or Brooklyn, and are very proud of the fact.
"I don't do outer boroughs," says one.
"I don't leave the Upper West Side," says another.
"Why take the train for Chinese food when you can just get it delivered?" asks a third.
Since my life revolves around food, I probably have a distorted view of how far the average person should go for an ideal bowl of noodles or enlightening dim sum. (Queens residents, you're lucky.) Most of my trips on the 7 train are spent all by my lonesome, catching up on the New Yorker or, in the absence of reading material, fastidiously checking email on my phone. So I was pretty excited when Kian of Red Cook suggested we head out to Flushing in search of some restaurant a Taiwanese friend recommended that may or may not have an English name. Sold!
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