Kaonashi Ga Suki

My boyfriend T and his brother B grew up in Los Angeles. Like most families, their family had their favorite restaurants that they frequently visited. One was a Chinese restaurant called Mandarin Deli. Located in a Chinatown plaza, Mandarin Deli was nothing more than a dive. It was cramped, a little dirty, and dimly lit. It had at most one cook, one waitress, and 6 tables. But T’s family loved going there because the food was superb. Mandarin Deli served the best potstickers and tofu salad. They gave you heaps of noodles in a giant bowl. T’s family also had a tradition: before or after a Dodger game, they’d stop by the restaurant to grab a bite.

T and B started visiting Mandarin Deli when they were only about 6 and 5 years old, respectively. When they hit their teens the family moved to Houston, and when the boys reached college age they went their separate ways. But every time they found themselves in L.A., they had to visit Mandarin Deli. I myself have been there with T several times. In fact, last summer when T’s parents and brother were in L.A. for a wedding, we caught a Dodger game. Sure enough, after the game we all went to their beloved Mandarin Deli.

Last week B was in town with his girlfriend and called T. B had a hankering for Mandarin Deli, and wanted to show his girlfriend one of his favorite childhood restaurants. We agreed to meet with B and set off for Chinatown.

We got to the plaza, parked at a nearby parking lot, and started walking. We passed by several restaurants and souvenir shops, and found B and his gf standing in front of a darkened restaurant. I figured they were closed, but upon closer inspection inside I found that the place was empty. As in, there were no tables. In fact, even the tiny kitchen -which was visible through the front windows- was gone. Pieces of plaster was on the ground. Light fixtures were missing. Mandarin Deli had been gutted. I looked up to make sure I was in the right place, and sure enough the familiar green and white “Mandarin Deli” sign was still there.

A unified gasp escaped from me and T’s lips. He looked at his brother in confusion to verify the news.

Mandarin Deli had shut down.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe this!” exclaimed B. “This is so sad!”

“Maybe they’re just renovating,” said T hopefully. “We don’t really know what’s going on.”

“I don’t know, dude. If they were renovating, they’d have a sign at the window saying so, wouldn’t they?” I said.

“But…I was so looking forward to this. I can’t believe it. After all these years?” said B.

I looked at T and B and felt bad for them. They just looked so disappointed, especially B. Since T had lived in Redondo Beach and now Pasadena for the past several years, he’d had several chances to go to Mandarin Deli. But B lives in San Francisco and doesn’t get to L.A. often. Mandarin Deli just wasn’t a place with good noodles. T and B have lost a part of their childhood. No longer will they be able to come here with their parents after a Dodger game. No longer will they be able to take their friends and girlfriends to their favorite childhood restaurant and tell them stories of happier times.

I suggested to the guys that we instead try the other Mandarin Deli, which was in Monterey Park. T and I had discovered it about a year ago. It’s newer, twice the size, more brightly lit, cleaner, and has free parking.

Neither of them agreed to it.

“No, it’s not the same,” said T.

(He did consider though, to contact the second Mandarin Deli in case they may be able to shed some light on what happened to their older, sister restaurant.)

T and B looked around the plaza, lost for the first time in 20 years. Where do we eat? They had never bothered trying any of these other places since nothing compared to Mandarin Deli.

Fortunately, the boys had another old standby favorite in Chinatown, a dimsum restaurant called Empress Pavilion. Unlike Mandarin Deli, Empress Pavilion is HUGE, and very popular, and not just with the Chinese community. I’ve seen white people, latinos, and blacks eat at Empress Pavilion. Because of its immense popularity, I don’t see Empress Pavilion going anywhere any time soon. I think that B and T had started visiting Empress Pavilion when they were a little older, so they don’t have as deep as an attachment to it. However, with Mandarin Deli gone, I guess this is the next best thing for them.

Has something like this happened to you? Did you have a restaurant, store, or other place that you loved as a kid, that disappeared one day?

Technorati Tags: Mandarin Deli, Chinese restaurant, Dodger game, Los Angeles, tradition, Empress Pavilion, dimsum