I should have known when I saw the new lighting fixtures.
I’ve been going to New York Noodletown for over thirty years. It’s a dive of a place in New York City’s Chinatown. It’s small, unpretentious and the food is consistently delicious and cheap.
The place does not serve traditional dishes, the kind you go to a typical Chinese restaurant for. They’re known for their noodles, yes, but also for their various embodiments of wonton soup. I would often ride my bicycle down from Greenwich Village where I lived early on a Saturday or Sunday morning. Especially in the winter, there were few New York experiences as uplifting as entering New York Noodletown on a chill day, my body surrounded by cold, greeted by inside warmth and the smell of rich, heady broth. Hunger was satisfied there. And many other emotions, including wonder. I would walk out, belly full, spirits rising, state of mind, optimistic.
When I came during the day I would often have one of their rice dishes, usually pork or duck over rice. The dish would arrive, meat crisp and warm, rice steaming. The fowl and pork hung by hooks near the windows, having been roasted and cured in the kitchen. Also near the front, a worker wielded a cleaver with precision and force, arm raised high and then descending onto the duck or pork, chopping it into portions to be placed over the rice. Next to him, were three or four large containers of broth into which the worker placed the wonton dumplings to make the soup. You could see it all happening as you ate at one of the circular tables you often shared with other diners, often Chinese.
The last time I was there, it was closed for renovations. I was disappointed, but relieved it wasn’t closed for good. In the meantime, I had been telling my girlfriend about New York Noodletown for months. I was excited to take her there. It’s always exciting to take someone you care about to a place where you love to eat.
Now, here we were. We sat down and each ordered one of the rice dishes. She, duck. Me, pork. I was anticipating her joy and sublime pleasure in eating this food. Plates arrived. Forks raised. Then…what? The meat was cold. Yes, cold. COLD. Not only that, but my pork was all fat, no meat. The rice was lukewarm. I felt downcast that I had created so much anticipation. It was then that I looked around and saw the changes in the restaurant. The so-called renovations.
I should have known when I saw the new lighting fixtures. They were gaudy and out of place for a dive, better suited for a chain. I should have known when I didn’t recognize anyone who worked there. I should have known when the area where the worker cleaved the duck and pork was now obscured by a barrier.
Why was I so disappointed? It was just a meal. Why did I feel so deeply disappointed about the transformation of a great place into a mediocre place? Clearly, the restaurant had changed hands. Clearly, the standards had plummeted. So what? As I said, it was just a meal.
No, not really. No, it’s not just a meal. A restaurant you love and frequent loyally, especially one that is not pretentious and doesn’t make a ton of money, becomes part of your life. You embrace it, feel close to it, treat it like a friend, defend it, believe in it, feel protective of it. When, all of a sudden, it changes and no longer gives the best it can, you feel betrayed. You have been their ally. You have carried them in your heart. What you have for them is love, not just an appetite. How could they?
I left, knowing I wouldn’t return. That love affair is over. Now, funny as it may seem, I’m in mourning.
Richard, what a letdown! Beautiful writing about the simple, but so meaningful routines and attachment to places you develop when living in a big city. I was on that bike with you! We want these places to stay exactly the same for ever. And when we find that some have disappeared we feel robbed.
It's also frightening, when it seems to be happening all around us! Rising prices and diminishing quality. Artisanal flare replaced by soulless corporate culture? What does it mean? Economic crisis? Rising scarcity? Imminent apocalypse? Impending doom?
Welcome to late-stage capitalism! It reminds me of the Ouroboros, the snake that eats its own tail. In Norse mythology, it grows so large that it encircles the world and grasps its tail in its teeth. It'll consume the world, and then consume itself. Then comes the fun part... Rebirth!
I wonder what life will create next?
Yeah Richard, you should've known when you saw the light fixtures...