1012 W. Anderson Lane, 458-2999
Mon-Thu, 11am-9:30pm, Fri ’til 10pm; Sat, 11:30am-10pm; Sun ’til
9:30pm.
Lunch buffet, $5.99, Dinner buffet, $7.99
Buffet Palace North probably began life as a noble vision — an Asian utopia free from the
constraints of portion control. Multi-course banquets reserved for rites of
passage would be adapted to the nearest American analog: the all-you-can-eat
buffet. An immense wraparound steam table would serve as a palatial centerpiece
— a pan-Asian affair assembling the continent’s great cuisines (Chinese,
Japanese, and Korean) under a single Plexiglas sneeze guard. An epic golden
Buddha would bless and protect the establishment, including its on-premise
sushi bar. Their Buffet Palace would preside over all other Asian buffets in a
benevolent reign that would make Camelot look like the ill-fated Bush
presidency. But somewhere between the conception and execution, something went
wrong. Despite its grand scale and eclectic intentions, the Palace turns out
mediocre fare largely indistinguishable from other buffets throughout non-Asian
America.
Maintaining a sizable buffet spread is no easy task; doubly difficult when the
dishes feature more subtle flavors and textures. In keeping their contents
warm, steam tables slowly cook foods left on display too long, making quick
turnover the key to freshness. Buffet Palace’s 28 daily offerings lean
heavily on indestructible foods common to nearly every Chinese buffet —
bulletproof root vegetables, simple stir-fries, and various deep-fried nuggets
awash in unnaturally bright sauces. Standbys like beef with broccoli can
survive prolonged heat, but vegetable-heavy dishes tend to wilt and discolor
over time. On both our visits, the sturdy bulgoki, a Korean spiced beef
dish, seemed in desperate need of refreshment. Seafood-based dishes, which turn
rubbery when overcooked, are even harder to pull off. The Palace’s spicy squid,
a notable victim of excessive table time, was toughened beyond repair.
The most consistent menu items came from a large griddle in the buffet’s
center, where a cook turned out fresh batches of potsticker-style fried
dumplings and scallion pancakes. While the dumplings weren’t particularly
notable on their own, their freshness set them apart from the rest of the
spread and made them the highlight of the night.
In keeping with the current “multi-bar” trend, Buffet Palace also features
salad and dessert areas to complement their entr�e and soup offerings.
Understandably enough, here’s where the metaphors start to get hopelessly
mixed. The salad bar offers low-end sushi (California rolls and the like) and a
few cold salads alongside traditional steakhouse green salad ingredients. For
dessert, you can mix and match from a section that includes candied bananas,
soft-serve ice cream, synthetic chocolate cupcakes and multicolored jello
cubes. The high point of these secondary bars has to be seeing serving tubs
filled with mint-green wasabe and quarts of pink pickled ginger — a veiled
glimpse into the world of wholesale sashimi.
If they desire, diners craving more complex sushi can order a la carte from the Palace’s sushi bar and have it brought to the dining room. The
different types that we tried seem to have been prepared well enough, but some
of the fish just looked a little, well… off color. In addition, sushi
presented in the Palace’s steakroom ambiance effectively eliminates the
aesthetics of presentation that sushi chefs work so hard to achieve. The
Palace’s sushi bar, where your selection travels to you on plate-sized boats,
would provide a much more suitable atmosphere to sample the Buffet’s sushi
offerings.
Noble visions aside, unlimited servings generally mean lowered standards. By
entering an “eat ’til you bust” restaurant, you usually sacrifice overall food
quality for overall food quantity. Those adhering to the “flat rate, no limits”
school will probably leave the Palace satisfied, while the others will do
better to seek smaller servings elsewhere. — Pableaux
Johnson
This article appears in October 4 • 1996 and October 4 • 1996 (Cover).