You know those films that you'd never watch unless you're on a eleven-hour flight? It's like you're willing to give Jennifer Aniston a chance only because you're stuck alternating between trying to sleep and periodically standing up to fight off deep vein thrombosis. Let's call them "airplane movies". You're compromising. The restaurant equivalent would be a reasonable, but otherwise forgettable place that might be serviceable if a block from your home, or if you're too lazy to figure out another option. Enter Chuan Tang. Located in that tricky, highly competitive neighborhood of Chunxiulu/Xingfucun, Chuan Tang is flanked on all sides by foreign restaurants and a few noisy, seemingly popular noodle joints. It's smack dab in between The Corner Melt and BBC. My favorite part of this place is the exterior. The name, “串堂,” is emblazoned in glowing lights flanked by an additional, minimalist chuan sign in case you missed the first one. In English, it's “The Hall of Kabobs” or something equally presumptuous. Overall, it's garish, but attractive. The interior, however, has feminine silk floral baskets, a misspelled birthday banner and an eerie amount of stuffed animals. All incongruous to meat sticks. Service was A+, with a cheerful and attentive English speaking laoban and his partner. Also quite impressive is the “visual menu” of a bamboo tea sifter loaded with all the possible morsels they can fire up for you. It's a variety of animal and vegetable standards, and, with the exception of mantou slices, violently bereft of carbohydrates. A decent fried rice would have been welcomed, but it apparently wasn't invited. We got to business immediately with 15rmb room temperature piss beer. I'm aware that it's winter, but that's even more reason to put a fucking case of Tsingdao on the steps outside. The food. Taste-wise, it's elevated, but ultimately standard fare. Good grill marks and that lovely carcinogenic charcoal taste with a ubiquitous dusting of red chili and cumin. Really enjoyed the chicken cartilage. But for the area, it needs to step up it's game. A chimichuri of green onion, cilantro, rice vinegar and garlic would be exciting and welcomed. Chuan places should discover blenders. Surprisingly impressive is the roasted corn at 10rmb for 10 sticks. The Zen effort of threading individual kernels allows for a lavish amount grill attention on each one, making it all the more succulent. So the takeaway: nothing too special, but will work if you're in the area and for some reason all possible competition is closed for the night. Just remember to carb-up beforehand. *** Chuan Tang is on Xingfucun Zhonglu between The Corner Melt & BBC.