As time goes by

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.