Dinner crowds dine with the emperor at Emperor's Palace restaurant in Chesterfield, MO.

Jada Jamison

Along the sidewalk, the evening sun struck two ash-colored flame pits that dwarfed the entrance. Dubbed “Emperor’s Palace” the restaurant, set in the tree-stuffed valley of Chesterfield since 2005, had much to conquer. Luckily for the dinner crowd that marched eagerly inside, it does and then some. Within the softly-illuminated foyer, two attractive Asian women, in pastel camisoles and black sarongs, man the hostess stand. Clearly the establishment’s dynasty motif is left to the décor and not the waiting staff. 

These days, diners expect little from all-you-can-eats. Properly functioning heat lamps and mush-filled bins that somewhat resemble peas are as good as it gets. Here, however, warm and identifiable food was just the tipping point. As I entered the vaulted dining room, I anticipated variety but got whole countries (Japan, Vietnam and Mongolia to be exact).

For about $15, you get a passport to tour every corner of China. The interior, a balance of Asian aesthetics and new-age geometry, was strewn with faux building fronts straight out of the Quig Dynasty. The owner nods to Suzhou Botanical Gardens as his design inspiration. It is the Asian equivalent to Jane Austin’s “Pemberley.”

With plates piled high, tight-faced couples and women in stretch jeans scuttled back to dark walnut tables beneath highly-suspended, crimson-hued spheres. A pebbled waterfall trickled in the background, beside an eye-drawing walk-up pavilion, where a family of four dined from the menu.

At Mongolia, one of several buffet stands in the restaurant, I grabbed a plate and loaded up. In case there was any confusion as to my food’s ethnicity, the word “Mongolia” was stamped in bold orange letters below the façade’s jade bamboo roof.

This was the do-it-yourself part of the restaurant.

At the bar, I dressed my dish with raw meats, vegetables and sauces. It was like taking an experimental pottery class. Only at the end I would eat the finished product, not shrug it off as a gift for Grandma. Once finished, projects were turned into the short order cook, waiting at a huge hot circular grill, behind the counter.

A master, he stirred, flipped and fried my concoction, all while jabbering away on his tiny black cell phone; now that is art. Those who preferred their noodles pre-nuked were not left out. Not far down this sprawling marketplace, rimmed with amber-lit street lamps, stood Marco Polo and Vietnam. Such ready-to-be devoured entrees as sesame chicken in a spicy gelatin, battered shrimp and smooth-textured crab ragoons plumed from below each country’s station; wait time, zero.

A half-hour in and one dish later, I knew I would not get my money’s worth. The atmosphere, chic with a dash of orient charm, deterred the gorging behavior flagrant at such venues as Hometown Buffet and Pizza Street. Most guests limited their buffet visits to about three. Furthermore, the food, even in small quantities, was filling. At one point, I overheard one man accuse the restaurant of lacing its food with appetite suppressants – an interesting theory.

But malpractice aside, it is true some folks will do well to avoid these palace doors: first-time daters for instance, as young women never display the true expanse of their appetites in the beginning; and germaphobes who shudder at the thought of eating meals exhaled on by the masses. These people are usually employed in health professions; dentistry and nursing, to name a few.

To walk away truly satisfied from Emperor’s Palace, be sure your appetite is in rare form. If not, that heavy feeling in your gut that you think is fullness is really just a bad case of buyer’s remorse.
 

Emperor’s Palace; 17360 Chesterfield Airport Road, Chesterfield, MO 63005; (636)537-8188; http://www.theemperorspalace.com/