It was a typical Sunday morning at Star Kitchen, a supersize new dim sum and Cantonese emporium in a dated strip mall just off Federal Boulevard. The dining room - every inch of it - was mobbed with multigenerational Chinese families: wailing newborns, hipster teens, newlyweds, matriarchs and patriarchs.

Every single table - and there are dozens of them - in the high-ceilinged, boxy room was surrounded by diners, slurping, sipping, dim-summing. The wait staff, clad in white shirts and red aprons, circled the vast room, graciously navigating pushcarts stacked with metal-rimmed steamers of pork buns and dumplings; vats of congee; bowls of salt-and-pepper shrimp; plates of chicken feet and rice crepes enveloping minced pork, shrimp or beef; noodles in all guises; and enough desserts and pastries to make Augustus Gloop beg for mercy.

Wearing a white chef's jacket, Jong Ng, Star Kitchen's owner and chef, surveyed the chaos from the back of the restaurant, near the dangling dead ducks and burbling fish tanks full of crabs and lobsters fighting for dominance.

If you're familiar with Super Star Asian, the fantastic dim sum parlor in Alameda Square, then you might recognize Ng; he was the original chef at Super Star before going off on his own to open Star Kitchen with his wife. They, along with a few staff members who joined in the exit, are packing in bodies like sardines.

Televisions, tuned to Chinese soap operas and infomercials hawking vitamins and herbs, hang from the walls. A table next to us, clearly enthralled, was pointing and laughing at the screens. I have to admit, however, that at first glance, I thought they were giggling at our inability to suck the meat off the ducks' tongues ($12.95).

And who could blame them?

As it turns out, we didn't have a clue, but lucky for us, we were adopted by a lovely woman - Ng's wife, I believe - who provided instruction. Forgo the chopsticks, she advised. Hold the slippery little suckers in your hand, pull out the small bone and essentially French kiss the meat. There's not a lot of meat, however, so instead I did a lot of pecking.

Duck tongues resemble little aliens, and for what it's worth, it takes a lot of tongues (like dozens) to make you feel sated. It helps if you have a sense of humor and can nail a Daffy Duck impression.

If ducks' tongues don't thrill you (and, I admit, they didn't thrill me), the dumplings will. A foursome of juicy, pork-studded siu mai dumplings ($2.20) fared the best, though it was difficult to find fault with any of the dumplings that we demolished.

More favorites: pan-fried shrimp and pork dumplings ($3) rife with leeks; jiggling wrappers of chicken and vegetables ($3); and the thin- skinned scallop dumplings ($3).

Beyond the dumplings, the steamed barbecue pork buns ($2.20) filled with crisp-edged and slightly sweet roast pork were irresistible, as were the salt-and-pepper crusted shrimp ($5.75), their delicate shells entirely edible.

Spongy, pan-fried turnip cakes ($2.20) spiked with Chinese sausage; tender spare ribs ($2.20) puddled in black bean sauce; and bouncy, soy sauce-splashed rice crepes ($3.98) hugging barbecued pork filling were equally memorable.

I noticed that as the cart pushers paraded their way through the dining room, they didn't often stop to offer congee ($3.98) to non-Asians. That's a shame, because this Chinese version of rice porridge, fragrant with ginger, is delicious, especially when it's laced with black mushrooms, bites of preserved duck egg and shavings of pork. Toss a spoonful of chile oil, a standard condiment here, into the bowl for a vivid punch.

The menu at Star Kitchen embraces more than 150 dishes, some of them impressively good, while others were familiarly boring. The Szechuan-style shrimp ($11.95), billed as "spicy, spicy, spicy" by our server, wasn't spicy at all, and the barbecued duck ($9.95 half; $18 whole), sliced and fanned across the plate, lacked the crackling skin that you'd expect. I also prefer my duck hot, not cold. Nor did I like the house special crab (market price) slimed with a bland, gelatinous substance.

But I loved the mustard greens ($.8.95) topped with giant abalone mushrooms, even if the mushrooms' silky, unwieldy texture made it all but impossible to grasp them with my chopsticks. Instead, I stabbed them.

And I made a meal for days from the house special pan-fried noodles ($10.95) embellished with fresh vegetables, chicken, pork and shrimp.

Most dim sum dens don't have liquor licenses, but Star Kitchen is the exception, which was welcome news while I was clumsily working my way through the ducks' tongues. I needed a chaser - something other than hot tea - and the Tsingtao ($3.25) saved me.

Star Kitchen

* Grade: B

* Address: 2917 W. Mississippi Ave.

* Hours: 10:30 a.m.-midnight Mon.-Thurs.; 10:30 a.m.-1 a.m. Fri.; 10 a.m.-1 a.m. Sat.; 10 a.m.-midnight Sun.

* Food: Dim sum/Chinese

* How much: $6.95-$32 starters and soups; $6.95-$36 main dishes; $2.20-$5.75 dim sum

* Reservations: Highly recommended on weekends during the dim sum lunch crush

* Noise: Emphatic on weekends; quiet during the week

* Information: 303-936-0089

* Parking: Complimentary lot in front of restaurant

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