Star Wok Express

A bleary collection of souls gathers around the Northeast corner of 7^th and Market. Solely theirs is the knowledge of who killed their ambitions, what neutered their hope for the future, and why they came here. But here they sit… short of cash and desiring little while lacking purpose and seeking none. Lo, these are the people who loiter in front of, around, and inside of The Starwok Express.
Getting past the panhandlers is easier than it looks. Walk quickly. Eyes straight ahead. Cut a quick turn the moment you’re in front of the entrance and dart through the door. Once inside, you’ll find an utterly bleak dining area flanked by tepid lighting and dingy walls. Two counters sit towards the rear… Chinese food is on the left, and donuts are on the right. A pair of tables sits amidst an empty area that could hold several more, while a narrow ledge to the West gives communal diners a dreary view of 7^th street. If you dine on premises, try to get the table near the south-​east corner; it’s where you’re least likely to be bothered. Avoid sitting at the window ledge. Do so and there’s no telling what manner of humanity you’ll find yourself amongst. Steer clear of the table near center of the East wall or you’ll surely get hard stares from non-​customers while they badger the staff for access to the restroom. At first glance one wonders why so much of the dining area sits empty and without tables… but after a brief look about one begins to sense a struggle… one forever waged between staff and loiterers. It then becomes apparent that Starwok’s management considers seating to be a liability… and *not* an asset.
A combo plate including fried rice, chow mien, and two items-​of-​your-​choice runs $ 5.50. I opted for Broccoli-​Beef and Mongolian beef. Thew chow mien was only *slightly* blander than what I usually get from the average steam-​tray deli, but the fried rice was tasteless to the point of being without flavor. The Mongolian Beef was sweet, short on spice, and had no green onions. The Broccoli dish was long on broccoli and short on beef, while the meat within it seemed similar if not identical to that of it’s Mongolian cousin.
Starwok is nothing more than a miserably drab sheet-​rock enclosure which offers paying customers little more than bland food, minimal seating, and a nervous co-​existence with Market Street denizens. If you’re seeking a quirky blend of urban dysfunction mixed with inner-​city charm, look elsewhere. Herein you’ll find much of the first… and little if any of the second.

I really don’t know what I was thinking going here. I was desperate and needed some lunch. I ordered veggie pad thai and they were perplexed by the order; only shrimp and chicken pad thai are on the menu. Still, they made it happen. While I was waiting, a man came through selling batteries. He would basically scream out the word «batteries!» while running through the restaurant in his meth frenzy. When I looked at him and looked away he screamed «batteries!» and then, as he was leaving, said «how about some dick then?»