'Tis The Season For Chinese

Oh, puhleeze - I did not eat dog this New Year's Eve! How could you even think that? I might not be a card-carrying member of PETA, but these pooches are way too cute to fry up in a wok. (That said, I am planning to join The Gastronauts soon, so who knows what might land on my plate in the year ahead.)

These lovely, well-dressed bitches belong to two fabulous pals, who hosted a fabulously small NYE get-together while I was up in Boston. Everything at the fete was well-dressed - the roaring fireplace with picture-perfect stockings hung with care up on the mantle; the baby grand piano taking center stage in a front room decked out with original musical theater prints by Al Hirschfeld; a drool-worthy kitchen chockablock with top-of-the-line Bosch appliances; and don't even get me started on the collection of antiques formerly owned by Mrs. Brolin herself - Barbra Streisand.

So sitting in this posh setting, I was surprised - no, shocked - at the celebratory New Year's feast that was brought forth: take-out Chinese.

Now, mind you, I had been promised that this take-out was nothing short of sublime. Well...

Admittedly, the globs of crab-flavored cream cheese encased in deep-fried wonton wrappers, called Crab Rangoon, were bizarrely enticing in a kitschy, 1950's way. But the gooey rendition of Chicken with Cashew Nuts was just plain ick.

And that wasn't the big culinary shocker of the evening...

That's right: dinner rolls. Apparently, every suburban Boston Chinese spot sends you home with dinner rolls instead of the traditional white rice.

For the love of God: WHY??? Do they expect you to make a gooey Chicken with Cashew Nuts Grinder?

My hosts couldn't offer up an explanation. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in Boston, just forget about ordering take-out Chinese, dress up your dogs in couture and skip straight to dessert.