So there's this pretentious option in Newark, a secret
restaurant called Classified, which has no sign, where
you go through another restaurant, which has a sign (but
they won't tell you which unless you have an invitation)
and snake around in a path that looks sort of like a
question mark (not kidding), and then there's this
private room, where you eat the same food as in the
restaurant at the same price, only it's so so
exclusive. The good thing is it's quiet. That's for
the would-be upper crust, such as myself. Now for
the truly uber-elite, there's another place, where the
rich get fatter and the poor, well, they wait on tables.
It is right there in your face, taking up I'd say
tens of thousands of square feet (looked it up, it's
27099 sq ft) where the club, MY club, used to be, with
big signs all over the place. Classified sort of
whispers you can't get in here; Polaris shouts YOU
CAN'T GET IN HERE, NYAH NYAH.

Facilities include a sit-down restaurant where everything
is free, a buffet ditto, showers, offices the size of
work cubicles but with big leather chairs, and the bar,
where of the things I checked, the wines are middle-shelf
- the Cabernet is Rodney Strong, Malbec is Norton Reserva,
stuff like that.

The Riesling is Schloss Johannisberg Gelback Riesling
Trocken 17, a quite respectable lower-level offering
from the most famous Riesling manufacturer in the world.
Lively zing, pineapple and tropical fruit, a little
herbaceous on the finish. Somewhat lean palate, which I
disprefer, thinking it misses the point of making wine
out of Riesling in the first place. Went well with most
of my meal (I went with the buffet so as to be able to
taste more things, the better to make a first judgment).

A classic school cafeteria chicken parm, not bad for
that, came with a very nice red sauce but no pasta to
put it on (there was rice that was meant for the curry,
almost as good).

An aloo gobi mattar was wonderfully flavored though
possibly too hot peppery for some; this meant that it
was of a nice heat for me. Oddly, they managed to
overcook the cauliflower and undercook the potatoes.
Peas were an interesting addition. The coconut curry
sauce was superbly executed, and I'm pretty sure there
must be some kind of Indian in the kitchen.

I also decided to try the cheese ravioli in alfredo sauce
for research purposes and was glad I did - perfectly
cooked pasta, good cheese, another excellent sauce that
probably came from Barilla.

Strangely scanty desserts. Dry-looking cookies and jelly
doughnuts that tasted as if they had been saved from
Hanukkah. No ice cream; I considered going to the
restaurant area to see if they had any, but time was
getting short, so next time, if there is a next time.

==
I've been two or three times to Kam's Roast, the Singapore
offshoot of the Michelin-starred Kam's Roast Goose; the
southern version is decent, but eventually I needed to
see what the real thing was about. As did fifty to a
hundred other people, in the middle of the afternoon.
The line was long but moved fairly speedily.

We didn't have time for the ATM beforehand and had spent a
chunk on senior citizen subway cards, which are not buyable
with credit (which kind of makes sense). The number we took
had a printed note - no noodle plateses, no rice plates -
which constricted life a bit, with the problem compounded
by the Internet offering no unanimity on whether the place
takes credit cards (it does not, but on Trip Advisor half
of the people lie, seems like). So my plan B was to go with
one goose on rice plate and one suckling pig platter, that
would satisfy the both of us and just about spend my cash
balance down to zero.

So plan B it was. I counted my pennies; asked for the upper
(breast) quarter goose, not generally my favorite as leaner
and less luxurious, but this way I could eat more, plus it
cost $40 less. Hah. The pleasant, sympathetic, but unable
to do anything about it waitress informed us that they were
offering only lower (leg) quarters, which would put me over
budget by pocket change.

A quick plan C, my preferred lower quarter paired with
regular roast pork, which goes for a lot less than
suckling pig. We had enough left over for a bowl of
rice, two Cokes, and even a taxi home should we choose.

The goose was luxurious, fatty, delicious in its soy
sauce and star anise-based glaze, the skin lean but not
crispy, but that yen was taken care of by the other dish.
It was served over a small scoop of sweet baked soybeans,
much better than the peanuts that Yung Kee in its survival
struggles substituted. The crispy roast pork belly was
pretty delicious although massively salty the way it
usually is, which meant I could take only a couple pieces
of it, which left Lilli with quite a bit to eat. We gave
a couple pieces to the pleasant young couple seated to my
left, which tided them over until their order came, and
offered a couple pieces to the pleasant young couple to
my right, who had already eaten well and thus refused. It
broke my heart, but we left four squares of luxurious fatty
roast pig on the plate.

It threatened to rain but held off until we got to the
MTR station, so we didn't need to take a taxi back to
the hotel ($1.90 vs. maybe 25). From Admiralty station
one walks through Pacific Place mall and right into
the hotel elevator, rather neat.
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