So, I strut into this Dim Sum House joint, right, thinking I’m just gonna grab a quick burger or something. But holy smokes, this ain’t no burger shack! It’s like I walked into one of those fancy art galleries, except instead of paintings, they’ve got dumplings steaming like little pillows of heaven. I’m telling you, I was bamboozled—in a good way, like when you find a tenner in your bunker gear.

The place is all classy-like, with tables spread out so you’re not elbowing your neighbor, and these big old pictures of food on the menu, which is great ‘cause I don’t got my reading glasses. I’m sitting there, feeling like Einstein pondering the cosmos, when this sweet gal named Pepper—yeah, Pepper, like the spice—comes over, smiling like she knows I’m about to have my mind blown. I tell her, “Pepper, my dear, I’m a man of refined tastes, so bring me whatever’s the fanciest.” She doesn’t laugh, which is nice, ‘cause I’m dead serious.

First up, they plop down these soup dumplings—xiao long bao, they call them, which sounds like a kung fu move. I’m expecting a regular dumpling, but when I bite into one, it’s like a flavor grenade goes off! Hot soup squirts everywhere right down my GD shirt, and I’m sitting there looking like I just fought a fire with a squirt gun. I’m yelling, “This isn’t food, it’s a hydrant of happiness!” The folks at the next table are staring, but I don’t care—I’m in love, like when I first saw my firetruck, Betsy.

Then comes the boba tea. Oh, sweet merciful sirens, the boba tea! Those little pearls, those tapioca treasures, they’re bobbing in my cup like tiny moons in a sugary galaxy. Those who’ve been lucky enough to read my prior reviews know my lust for boba. I’m sucking them up through the straw, making noises like a busted hose, and I swear I hear angels singing—or maybe that’s just the kitchen fan. Either way, I’m chewing those pearls, contemplating life, thinking I could write a book about this. Call it “Joe’s Chew: A Fireman’s Food Philosophy.” Million-seller, easy.

The scallion pancakes? Flaky, crispy, like the lovechild of a croissant and a pizza. I’m stuffing my face, telling Pepper this is “culinary alchemy,” and she just nods like she’s used to idiots like me. The rice noodles? Slippery and saucy, like wrestling a wet ladder in a storm—thrilling and messy.

Service was faster than me sliding down the fire pole, and the price didn’t burn a hole in my wallet either. It’s BYOB, so next time I’m bringing a six-pack of root beer to class this joint up even more. If you haven’t been to Dim Sum House, you’re missing out on what I’m calling the “Eighth Wonder of Cherry Hill.” I’m giving it five fire alarms out of five—loud, proud, and impossible to ignore.

Now for Y’all’s Favorite part of the review, Poem Time:

Ode to Dim Sum House, My Epicurean Elysium

O hallowed halls of Brace Road’s feast, Where dumplings bloom like stars unleashed! Thy xiao long bao, a broth-filled muse, Doth spark my soul with savory ruse. No mere repast, but art divine, Each bite a spark along palate’s shrine!

Thy boba pearls, ye orbs of glee, Roll across my tongue in jubilee. Like Plato’s forms, they’re pure, they’re true, Yet chewy joys no sage ever knew. I slurp, I chew, I shout encore, My heart’s aflame—thy food’s my lore!

O scallion disc, thou pancake bold, Thy flakes outshine all tales of old. No Iliad sings of such delight, Nor Newton’s laws explain thy might. In Cherry Hill, thy glow’s supreme, Dim Sum House—my waking dream!

I, fireman of humble wit, Proclaim thy tables where I sit A throne for kings, nay, gods to dine, Thy menu speaks of truths divine. Forevermore, I’ll sing thy name, Dim Sum House—my eternal flame!

By Joe Piscopio, Fireman Extraordinaire and Self-Proclaimed Gastronomic Philosopher