COLOR ME LOVESTRUCK

Nelson eats up Rainbow Chinese Restaurant

One of the perks of being a restaurant critic — and sorry to rub it in, folks, but there are quite a few — is that you get to dine out a lot. For free. Trouble is, while I visit a zillion different places over the course of a year, I actually frequent very few. But I've found one where I plan to become a fixture: Rainbow Chinese Restaurant.

The linchpin of what has evolved into a teeming Asian commercial center on South Nicollet Avenue in Minneapolis' Whittier neighborhood, the Rainbow exemplified the adage that there are Chinese restaurants and then there are Chinese restaurants. Like most chow mein houses, Rainbow's portions are generous and prices very affordable: Beef, chicken, pork and seafood entree average $9, vegetarian entree are in the $6 ballpark, rice and noodle dishes run around $5 and appetizers cost about $4. But that's where any resemblance to the garden-variety Chinese restaurant ends; the food at the Rainbow is great, a fact underscored by the restaurant's devoted clientele. "I know people who eat here three times a week," said one companion, slurping a sesame noodle. "And they live all the way out in Wayzata, for God's sake."

Typically "Chinese items (fried rice, egg rolls, moo goo gai pan) can be found on the seven-page menu, and they're perfectly fine, but why bother? You're sitting in a top-notch restaurant, so break out of your old culinary habits. We did, and our adventurous spirit paid off, time and again.

The food is often as pretty as it is delicious. An enormous pile of big, meaty prawns are lightly fried in tempera batter, tarted up with tasty red curry sauce and artfully surrounded by a wreath of steamed broccoli. Chicken with mangoes becomes a late de Kooning on a plate; a playful swirl of yellow mangoes, carrots and green onions. Mixed vegetables with noodles and a fiery black bean sauce were a sight for snow-weary eyes, a colorful serving of whimsically cut veggies laid over crisp noodles. A neighboring table orders the evening's fish special. When it makes its dining room debut, it's as if Jessica Lange just walked in the door: Every head in the restaurant turns and takes in a monster fish, steamed whole and dressed in red sauce and scallions. The party of four makes quick work of it; their smiles speak volumes.

Less attention-getting but certainly no less tasty was the moo shu pork, served with fragile rice crepes and a pretty spectacular sauce. Another treat was scorching Szechuan shrimp with spiced pepper, made with fresh and very plump shrimp. Our table couldn't get enough of the double sauteed sliced pork, a heaping serving of tender pork stir-fried with cabbage, mushrooms and green peppers. The chicken with walnuts, cashews and peanuts is not to be missed. And it was a fight to the finish for the last taste of teh marvelous slices of roast beef served with the kitchen's own preserved mustard greens.

Just ordering a wave of appetizers would satisfy most grazers. The hot-hot-hot pork and shrimp Szechuan wontons, served with green onions, were amazing and additive. Ditto the light, flavorful fried vegetable dumplings and delicate steamed dumplings stuffed with pork. "I worship this barbeque pork," exclaimed one companion as he filled his plate with spicy but slightly sweet shavings of tender, perfectly cooked pork. Turnip cakes were a cross between hash browns and the fried-egg sanwiches we ate at the lake when I was a kid (a happy sense memory indeed), and the big bowl of spicy sesame noodles (or "peanut butter spaghetti," as one of my lowbrow companions described it) made all thoughts of bitter subzero temperatures drift completely out of our minds.

Soups garnered similar raves. The vegetarian soup swam with crisp, fresh veggies in a fragrant broth; chicken with creamed corn soup had a thicker, heartier stock and lots of chicken; and the hot and sour soup's kick would clear the stuffiest sinuses. The "noodles in soup" are served in glass saucers the size of mixing bowls and can be made a choice of rice stick noodles, egg noodles or fine rice noodles. We tried the aromatic, delicious version of wontons with ginger scallions and rice stick noodles; it could have fed two to three people.

Unlike many Chinese restaurants, there's beer and wine, modestly priced, although the lables (Ernest and Julio Gallo, Robert Mondavi, Michelob) don't match the food's sophistication. We;re hoping that some enterprising liquor distributor calls on the Wong family (the restaurant's proprietors) and beefs up the list. The Rainbow offers a slim dessert menu, too, the crown jewel of which is "Eight Treasure Rice Pudding," a steaming mold of mung beans, covered in rice cooked in coconut milk and then crowned with dates, golden raisins, cherries, apricots and dried apples.

Located at the end of a rather forlorn 1970s strip mall, the Rainbow has an unceremonious but comfortable interior, and on a Saturday night visit the crowded room was alive with crackling energy. The restaurant is a family operation, and it shows, all the way from attention to detail tot he congenial, service-oriented atmosphere. If you're lucky, you'll get a peek at Tammy Wong's adorable toddlers — Euyon and Eu-K — as they play informal host while their mother keeps a watchful eye on her customers. One complaint, though: The space isn't adequately divided to separate smokers from non.

"Do me a favor," pleaded one friend, as he grinned at Eu-K and spooned some of the kitchen's rich hoisin sauce onto a crepe laden with moo shu pork. "Skip the review and let's keep this place our little secret." I have to admit the thought crossed my mind.