Cook Monkeys

“Why are all these American people staring at us?” I whisper to my sister.“Because we’re Chinese.”

Our family sits in a new restaurant, one we had never been to before. It was originally located in Chinatown under the name New Shanghai; now it’s located in a suburb called Wellesley just off of Route 9 bearing the name CK Shanghai. Aside from the employees, there are almost no other Chinese people. The ones I saw earlier have left, and the mass of people at the entrance continue to grow due to lack of waiting space.

Employees are bustling about delivering their dishes to tables, taking orders, retrieving empty plates, and refilling glasses. I take a sip of my water while eyeing the environment. The yellow wallpaper, the hanging ceiling lights, and the small bar make me feel like I’m in a different restaurant. This doesn’t feel typical for a Chinese restaurant, at least the ones I’ve been in, but the random adornments around the wall make up for the contemporary look.

Napkin placed on lap, chopsticks in hand. The first set of dishes arrive at our table. We dig in. Chopsticks reach across the table. Plates are passed to help gather food into a meal. A communal sharing of what lies before us. This is how we eat. This is what “family style” eating is.

I make a quick glance to the neighbouring tables. The people on my left are talking about colleges with some mention of MIT and patents. The two tables to our right keep staring in our direction. I don’t know if they’re staring at us, our food, or at something else. Paranoia sets in, and I keep my head focused on my plate. Yet all I can think about is how damn good the food is.

More dishes arrive, and my family continues to eat. People at the big, round table on our right continue to look at us like we’re foreign aliens. To me, the way everyone else is eating is foreign. They are ordering single dishes as their own. Real Chinese restaurants aren’t like that. Chinese food isn’t the single-serving combo that you get at the small, dirty-looking, local place on the corner where you go when you’re too lazy to cook. To them, the way we eat is different despite the fact that this is normal, instinctive, and second nature for us.

That’s not to say that people couldn’t order their own dishes like they typically would in other restaurants. They just don’t get any real perspective of what Chinese food culture is like. I’m not saying it’s bad that non-Chinese people are eating Chinese food. My point is just that food is more than just what’s on the table in front of you. It’s how you eat it that also counts.