Admittedly, Munch was a little apprehensive about going to Orient Express. Munch's experiences with train rides and Chinese food in Pittsburgh have not been entirely positive.

There was the time when Grandma Munch stepped off her sleeper car eight hours late and with a bloody nose. There was the time that Munch picked up friends of Munch at the train station after they'd arrived late, drunk and disheveled, presumably because this mode of transport was so tortuous, so awful, that it could only be managed by polishing off a pint of whiskey.

Orient Express is at 4609 Forbes Ave., Oakland; 412-622-7232.

And then there was the time Munch ordered lo mein at a nearby food court. It left much to be desired ... and Munch with a serious tummy ache.

Of course, one could not dismiss Munch's well-founded fears that a killer might be lurking in this restaurant. Munch had read Agatha Christie's "Murder on the Orient Express" cover to cover. (And by cover to cover Munch means Munch read the back cover and the front cover. OK, Munch just read the front cover. ... OK, maybe Munch didn't read, per se, the whole front cover, but Munch looked at the picture ... and it was enough to make Munch fearful.)

But Philosophy Friend of Munch, who has an exceptionally discriminating palate and an encyclopedic knowledge of all matters gastronomical, insisted that this place was actually quite delicious. And, the name belied the fact that the restaurant was not, in fact, on a rail line. In fact, there was nothing train-like at all about the venue, which sits on Forbes Avenue, Oakland. (PFOM was too busy to join Munch to sample the fare, unfortunately.)

And, anyway, Munch-ing is for the intrepid, not for the faint of heart. Munch has braved street tacos in Mexico and tepid sushi from the gas station. So, despite Munch's general aversion to rail and fear of dying at the hands of a train-dwelling murderer, Munch took a deep breath and bravely entered.

The dining room was cafeteria-like and full of boisterous students, the walls decorated with floral paintings. Was this just a clever ruse to disguise the fact that they were harboring a murderer? Lawyer Friend of Munch (LFOM), who pledged his legal services should Munch be injured in an attack, and Business Student Friend of Munch (BSFOM), who was promised free Chinese food in exchange for explaining the financial crisis to Munch, arrived soon afterward.

Starting off the meal, Munch and friends of Munch ordered two vegetable spring rolls ($1.25) in addition to the curry scallion pancake ($2). The spring rolls came out as they should: deep fried and delicious, their cabbage filling bursting with Chinese mustard flavor. The two were more than enough for the three of us. The curry scallion pancake was like a tortilla, except flakier, and came interlaced with scallions and a deep yellow potato curry to serve as a dipping sauce. It was Munch's favorite.

Then came, just minutes after ordering, the feast. Munch ordered the spare rib soup ($1.95), the spicy salt and pepper pork chop ($8.95) and the flounder fish with ginger and scallion ($12.95). BSFOM, calculating the opportunity cost ratio to potential deliciousness, ordered the General Tso's Shrimp ($9.95) and LFOM ordered the Shanghai Lo Mein with beef ($6.95).

It turned out to be so much food that Munch called in Thai Friend of Munch for backup, who commented that the lo mein was perfectly chewy with the perfect amount of sauce. LFOM agreed: "big and gooey and soaked up the saucy deliciousness," he said. Well put, counselor.

The pork chop, shrimp and fish dishes all came breaded and deep-fried. BSFOM, more adept with spreadsheets than with words, summed up his feelings about the General Tso's Shrimp this way: "yummy shrimp." Indeed, the shrimp was perfectly cooked inside its breaded coating, topped with a syrupy sauce that was more sweet than spicy.

The sauce on the fish, topped with scallions and slivers of ginger, perfectly complemented its meaty flesh, once Munch was able to get around the bones.

The pork chops, too, were finger-licking good (fingers because they were required to get the meat off the bones), coated with salt and breaded and deep-fried, then tossed with scallions and tiny jalapenos. All the greasiness was tempered, slightly, by the spare rib soup, which came with a subtle beef broth, tiny chunks of meat and thin translucent noodles.

With bellies full of grease and salt, Munch and Friends of Munch left Orient Express groggy but very much alive and unscathed, although possibly closer to premature heart disease. Whatever, it's a good way to go.