This past weekend, my wife and I attended a wake for a friend's father and went to an 80th birthday party for my wife's aunt. In between, we stopped over to Big Wong for breakfast. I had found out that it was closing, and so wanted to eat a last Cantonese breakfast there. We had beef brisket noodles and a side of friend cruller wrapped in rice noodles. I later found out that the restaurant was closing that same Sunday evening. The staff did not seem to betray this fact when we were there, swiftly packing up orders, scooping up sauces and foil containers for patrons.
My mom and my grandma both used to take me here, a respite from the long haul shopping trips where they picked up groceries for the week before heading back to Staten Island. For me, it was one of the few places that connected me back to Hong Kong, simmering "dishwater" broth with wontons sitting atop of shrimp noodles. It felt the same as when I used to go to the market with my mom, a warm stool amid the bustle and clamor around us. I'd sprinkle white pepper on the noodles, sometimes sneezing from and overly vigorous shake.
Restaurants close all the time in New York, and in time, something will replace it. I hope that the new occupant bridges some fond memories for other visitors in the new space.
Herman Hupfield - As time goes by.
A single young female tourist approached me and my wife yesterday in Dumbo, asking where best to photograph the bridges, and we obliged in taking her around the neighborhood. It was bitterly cold outside, and we walked her through Brooklyn Bridge Park, the wind whipping and thrashing until my head started to ache with numbness. She asked us to take many pictures of her so she could show her family back in Paris what she did on her last day in New York. It was great to see how excited she was, and how awed she was by the views in the neighborhood. It reminded me of how we used to be visitors to the same place, not residents, and likely had the same reaction to the area. We walked her back towards the subway, and parted ways, never getting even her name.
Elliot Smith - Somebody that I used to know.
