Out comes the rolling cart, the servers auctioning off plate after plate of dumplings and lotus-wrapped sticky rice, the sesame balls, the spare ribs. (Note: if you pass BJ’s twice you’ve gone too far.) There, from 10 till 3 Saturdays and Sundays - and only then - Fortune Wheel, as buttoned-up and blasé as its clientele during the week, dons Hong Kong drag, morphing into a dim sum parlor of fierce divahood. Put another way, you are no more likely to win at Fortune Wheel than “Wheel of Fortune.”įirst, skip the whole sleep-in-on-weekends thing and head to Nassau Mall, looking for a Cantonese eatery surrounded on three sides by a BJ’s Wholesale. What's annoying is the overall effort required to eat well at Fortune Wheel, or any place where just one in three menu items is commendable.

I don’t even mind the fact that you have to put on clothing to get it. The least best wonton soup I’ve had is at Fortune Wheel in Levittown, and the chief sin there is not the broth, like water running through rusty pipes but less flavorful, or the noodles, which have apparently battled a plunger and lost. The very best wonton soup I’ve ever had is at the Chinese takeout place that sits directly beneath my North Shore apartment, and that is because the very best bowl of wonton soup, naturally, is the one you get by walking down a flight of stairs in your pajamas.