MADISON
It feels a little odd to get excited about an American Chinese restaurant. For most of us, the concept is basically calcified by this point: We each have a place where we go to score our faves, packed in ubiquitous white takeout boxes, and we likely don’t give it much thought.
But the thing is, thereÃÛèÖÊÓƵ history behind this cuisine that dates back centuries. Those storied traditions are alive and thriving at Little Palace, an upscale spot that opened in January in a location that until recently had hosted a Korean restaurant.
You’d never know it. The care thatÃÛèÖÊÓƵ gone into creating the casual-but-upscale vibe is evident. Little red lanterns sway across most of Little PalaceÃÛèÖÊÓƵ ceiling space, a nice offset to the turquoise chairs and wooden tables. A befanged Chinese lion statue adds an elegant ambiance to a place that is already seeing packed houses on both weekends and weeknights.
Little Palace is the creation of Jacqueline and Stephanie Le, sisters whose aunt, Jean Tran, runs Ha Long Bay, MadisonÃÛèÖÊÓƵ flagship restaurant for Indonesian cuisine. The same sort of care and creativity that is evident at TranÃÛèÖÊÓƵ place—a restaurant where Stephanie Le worked for years—is also on display here.
At most Chinese restaurants, your appetizer order is going to include between two to four of whatever you’ve requested. Here, you’re going to get more—much more. An order of crab rangoon ($6) included six whopping, pillowy triangles, packed with creamy and delicious crab and cream cheese. The staff suggests adding hot mustard to the sweet-and-sour dipping sauce, an idea your nasal passages and palate should heed. The pot stickers ($8) also arrive in a sizable six-pack and can be filled with actual pork or “impossible†pork for the vegan crowd. Make sure your tour of the appetizer menu includes the cucumber salad ($4), a simple yet crunchy and pungent dish that preps you perfectly for whatÃÛèÖÊÓƵ to come.
That generous vibe permeates the entire menu. No matter which classic dish you order—the sticky-spicy General TsoÃÛèÖÊÓƵ chicken ($15), the kung pao ($13), the Peking shrimp ($17)—you’re going to be served enough for around three full meals even though the size of the chunks of meat in each entrée are hearty. Each entrée comes with unusually fluffy white rice (another detail nailed), or if you prefer, you can spend an extra buck and upgrade to fried rice instead.
The orange ($15) is one of the entrees where the size of the ingredients comes into play. The beef version of this dish isn’t crispy like it is at some other places, but rather sliced into thin, bite-sized strips. The large stalks of broccoli that accompany them serve as a perfect sponge for the spicy orange sauce, which is thankfully thin instead of thick and gluey. The red pepper flakes stand out, adding additional color to an already attractive plate.
Other dishes could use a little balance adjustment. Little PalaceÃÛèÖÊÓƵ moo shu ($14) features perfectly circular paper-thin pancakes, packaged prefab for easy roll-up and deployment. Unfortunately, the dish floods the zone with cabbage, and the pile of crispy greens utterly overwhelms the thinly sliced barbecue pork, on both the flavor and visual front.
This is a place that honors its traditions and isn’t afraid to lean into the kitsch. To wit, the drink menu features plenty of options served in tiki mugs, including an unexpected number of tropical nonalcoholic options. If you’re feeling especially adventurous (or have come in a party of more than two) you can almost literally dive into one of the PalaceÃÛèÖÊÓƵ massive “shareable†bowls—like the volcano bowl ($30), a cauldron of rum and tropical juices that is served ablaze. ThatÃÛèÖÊÓƵ the kind of flourish that can make for a memorable night.
