There is a particular kind of Chinese restaurant that has nothing to do with the food. The menu is secondary. What you come for is the aunties.

有一種中餐館，跟食物本身沒什麼關係。菜單是次要的。你來，是為了阿姨們。

The women who run this place wanted to know where I was from, which part of Asia, what my Chinese zodiac was. My grandparents are from mainland China, my parents grew up in Taiwan, I was born in California. They processed this the way only a certain generation can, with delight and a kind of proprietary pride, as if they had known my family before I did.

這裡的女人們想知道我從哪裡來，亞洲哪個地方，屬什麼生肖。我的祖父母來自中國大陸，父母在臺灣長大，我在美國出生。她們以只有那個世代才有的方式消化這一切，帶著喜悅和一種莫名的自豪感，彷彿她們早在我之前就已認識我的家人。

The beef noodle soup is nothing like the Taiwanese version I grew up with. Where that one is clear and precise, this one is deep and almost aggressively flavored, a broth that announces itself. The xiao long bao are not what I know either, thick skinned and stuffed with more meat than delicacy, closer to a bao than a dumpling. Honest food, the kind that doesn't ask permission.

這裡的牛肉麵和我從小吃慣的臺式版本截然不同。臺式的清澈精準，這裡的卻深沉濃烈，是一碗會主動宣告自己存在的湯。小籠包也不是我認識的那種，皮厚、餡多，更接近包子而非餃子。實在的食物，那種不需要解釋自己的食物。

But that is not why you come. You come because somewhere between the zodiac questions and the soup arriving and the way they watched to see if you approved, you realize you are not eating at a restaurant. You are eating at someone's home. You just hadn't met them yet.

但這不是你來的原因。你來，是因為在問生肖、上湯、她們看著你等待你點頭的某個瞬間之間，你意識到你不是在餐廳吃飯。你是在某人家裡吃飯。只是你之前還沒認識他們。