My family lived in Connecticut for most of my childhood, one of three Chinese families in an America’s-heartland type of town. There were grocery stores aplenty, but none sold produce any of us wanted to cook so we would take a 2-hour trek to Chinatown every other weekend for our food. My core memories of Chinatown are composed of fish fumes and bags spilling over with bushels of bok choy, jade-green Chinese broccoli, and brown nuggets of lotus root and taro.
Chinatown has cleaned up quite a bit since the days of fish-stench streets, but I am relieved to see that the demographic has no dearth of aunties dancing in the park.
The Mandarin - New York, NY
We just miss the last walk-in table at the Golden Diner as we arrive at 9:15 AM and hungrily eye the fully seated counter and tables of those who came mere minutes before. It'll be at least half an hour, says the understandably apathetic hostess, as we look around for a place to wait.
The Mandarin two doors down serves as a mini-retreat of sorts, with not so many marble tables and comfy, velvety booths. The barista makes a mean brew, including this top-notch Guava Matcha with a beautifully fruity flavor that infuses without interfering. There's a Salted Miso Caramel Latte calling my name, and it's exactly what I'm craving. Superbly balanced between salt and sweet and actually coffee, it pairs perfectly with just about anything you could eat.
Our visit is cut short as our counter seats open within minutes, and we scurry down the street with our new plastic cups to go. The Mandarin remains memorable and remarkable despite the mere minutes we spent sitting, and despite having so little time to soak it up, I can still see it as clearly as I feel the need to go back.
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