I lived in New York City for the better part of fifty years. On the Upper East Side, between 80th and 81st Street on Second Avenue, there was a Chinese restaurant called Szechuan East. My mother was the first one to take me there, with her friends Egmont and Margaret, and it was a place that was the wallpaper of my family gatherings. Over the years, as I introduced my two husbands and numerous friends, it became our local haunt. Sometimes we ordered in, but mostly we all met there. Louis, a partial owner who was always there to greet everyone who came through his doors, gave us the back table in the small dining room, which was usually full but that table was always waiting for us, whether or not we let him know we were coming.
How fabulous to have such memories--there is something so special about being a 'city kid'. To have such a big 'neighborhood', i.e. the whole city, and so many extraordinary options for culture, food, music, fashion, intellect at your fingertips--wow. We lived just an hour away but it was a completely different lifestyle, and going to the city was a huge deal. Loved the story about Louis sharing 'just enough' of the recipe and leaving a secret ingredient out. Family recipes are sacred! Will try these noodles-recipe looks amazing!
When we next get together, you can make your noodles and Liana can make her dumplings (boiled or fried), and memories old and new will percolate to the surface.
How fabulous to have such memories--there is something so special about being a 'city kid'. To have such a big 'neighborhood', i.e. the whole city, and so many extraordinary options for culture, food, music, fashion, intellect at your fingertips--wow. We lived just an hour away but it was a completely different lifestyle, and going to the city was a huge deal. Loved the story about Louis sharing 'just enough' of the recipe and leaving a secret ingredient out. Family recipes are sacred! Will try these noodles-recipe looks amazing!
When we next get together, you can make your noodles and Liana can make her dumplings (boiled or fried), and memories old and new will percolate to the surface.