The Justice

I have visited three cities in China, and often frequent Chinese food restaurants in the United States. So, I considered myself pretty comfortable with Chinese food and culture. But before last week, I had never stepped foot into Boston's legendary Chinatown, a place of ethnic diversity and complex foods. Last Saturday, though, I attended a play at the Boston Opera House and was coaxed into entering the famed Chinatown region of the city, a short walk away from the Opera House. The lunch possibilities were endless-dozens of Chinese, Japanese and Vietnamese eateries lined streets and cross-streets. My mother, a friend and I wandered, intoxicated by the smells, unable to decide on a lunch restaurant. We passed a fruit stand piled high with papayas, guavas and one fruit unrecognizable even to me, a fervent fructophile.

After several blocks of aimless wandering amidst mutterings of "That place looks good," "Maybe there?" and "Oh, not this one," my mother stopped in her tracks and said, "We are going there." She pointed to a restaurant that looked like all the others, with a big, bright sign in Chinese characters and in English, The Asia Garden.

I did not expect to be so impressed by our randomly selected restaurant. Upon entering, we were hurriedly ushered to a table and handed a steaming pot of tea. As I had experienced in China, the relationship between waiter and patron is quite different than in the United States; waiters do not seem to worry about tips and work quickly and efficiently with few pleasantries. A large, chubby Buddha kept watch over our round table from a perch on the wall, surrounded by green plants and golden statues. Appropriately, the décor mixed modern and ancient, much as Chinese cities do today. Across the room from the brazen Buddha was a flat-screen TV showing a decorative digital image of a palm tree gently swaying on a tropical beach, bringing to mind Tahiti more than Taiwan. A large fish tank graced the adjoining wall.

Continued...

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