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Dressed in dark suits, the waiters stand stiffly at attention, then deferentially show you to a table. The somber decor is reminiscent of a funeral parlor viewing room, and your fellow diners converse in hushed tones. Shaped like a seashell, the menu unfolds to reveal the older sort of Chinese-American fare, heavy on Cantonese and seafood. But don't be scared away-the General Tso's chicken is the best you've ever had, while the Fu-chou fried rice reflects a very refined version of that standard: rice topped with delicately gravied ham, chicken, and shrimp.