In this country Chinese restaurants are as common as pizzerias -- or in Rhode Island, as Italian restaurants. Unfortunately, in many, if not most of them, any stray visiting Chinese are likely to look down at their plates like a Parisian over a glass of Gallo. Over accommodation to local ingredients -- a friend swears he once found circles of hot dog in his fried rice -- not to mention the average Americans' Denny's-trained lack of discrimination, has tugged too many Chinese eateries toward mediocrity. (In my first such local experience years ago, I heard the elderly businessman at the next table ask if his dish could come with French fries and cole slaw.)

What a credit, then, to local tastes that the Smith Street institution Little Chopsticks has spread out over the years to West Warwick and then Fall River, Massachusetts. I hadn't been to one of these in years, but a recent visit to the second incarnation reminded me how much I'd taken for granted the quality of Chopsticks' offerings.

The first thing appreciated by our party of four was that smokers were effectively segregated. Visitors enter to face two large signs, the non-smoking one pointing right, to the main dining room, and the other pointing into darkness toward the bar. Curious, I sidled past the bar and saw there were a few unoccupied tables in an unlit room. Take that, Philip Morris.

There's a lot more elbow room in the main area than at the original, tiny Little Chopsticks in the late '80s, when you bowed apprehensively whenever a waiter squeezed behind you with a tray. Booths line the walls; oak-edged green Formica tables have never known tablecloths. In addition to the usual Polynesian specialty drinks there are Margaritas as cheap as the not-bad Sutter Home wine by the glass ($3.50), as well as Tsingtao beer.

It would be easy to fill up on the preliminaries here. The place is popular enough that fried squid is no longer on the menu, which I take to be a sort of declaration of independence, since even many non-Italian restaurants feel compelled to serve the Official State Appetizer. Not to worry. There are 20 appetizers, plus soup. The little fried spring rolls ($3 for two) had slices of mushroom as well as a puree of vegetables. Steamed wontons ($6 for eight) are packed with a spicier variation than the ground pork filling I've come to expect. The dish's cold sesame sauce was tamely spicy but delicious, with matchsticks of cucumber a fitting taste complement.

The hot and sour soup ($2.25) has improved from what I remember, the heat subdued and the pool of sesame oil a welcome addition. It's chock full of ingredients, including sheets of dropped egg and two sorts of mushrooms. My only quibble with the appetizers was the nime chow ($3.25 for two), in which too much lettuce diluted the delicately tasting Thai basil, and the peanut sauce had very little rice vinegar zip. Others might like them, though, since the popular Vietnamese rolls contained plenty of shrimp.

Everybody at the table likes spicy, so three of our main dishes were listed with asterisks on the menu. (But this isn't a Thai restaurant, so don't worry -- those for whom hot means cauterizing need to ask for chili oil on the side.) Each dish had much more going for it than heat, though. Beef and eggplant in garlic sauce ($8.25) wouldn't require more than a Tic Tac afterwards. The eggplant still had some firmness and the sauce delivered an unexpected sweetness I quite liked.

The big sea scallops in the "house special scallop" ($9.25) were sliced, which multiplied them, so practically every bite could include baby corn and a still-crisp pea pod. Also nominally hot was the "Peking style" (spicy) vegetable moo shi ($7.25) that Johnnie had a hankering for. There's nothing like slathering a kitchen-made "pancake" with hoisin sauce and packing it with a wonderful melange of shredded veggies and fungi. The shrimp that I urged my counterpart to include weren't even missed.

We enjoy moo shi so much that I was especially delighted to find the supreme Chinese pancake dish, Peking duck ($14.50 for half, $28 whole), on the menu without having to order it a day in advance, as is usual. The pressed duck is ideal for folks who avoid the bird because it's too fatty. Two crisp drumsticks are served alongside moist slices and squares of crisp skin, convenient to place in the pancakes with a scallion. I like to think I'd consider it an honor, if I were a duck, to give my life for such a well-prepared rendition of this simple but delectable dish. Gotta stop -- I'm tearing up.

There are no desserts available here. No surprise. I can't imagine not eating until bursting at Little Chopsticks.

Bill Rodriguez can be reached at billrod@reporters.net.

Issue Date: January 4 - 10, 2002