July 1, 2004
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Nostalgia
'nost,' our; 'algia,' pain
Cathy wanted to take me to dinner on Father's Day. For a variety of reasons that dinner was postponed until tonight.
I grew up in San Diego. The Pekin Cafe was there before I was born and my parents started going there soon after it opened. I've been going there most of my life. That was where I wanted to have dinner. I haven't been there for years. The last time I tried to go, they were closed for remodelling.
Little has changed about the restaurant itself. The exterior is much the same as it has always been. The inside hasn't changed much, either, from my last visit, though the enclosed booths of decades past disappeared many years ago. So much was the same, in fact, that it was hard to see what remodelling had accomplished besides freshening the paint on walls and ceiling.
Chinese restaurants all used to serve Cantonese food, or what passed for Cantonese -- bland, starchy, the chop suey types served with rice and the chow mein types served with noodles. While the menu remains much the same as it has always been, some distinctly non-Cantonese items have crept onto the menu.
One of the little touches I used to appreciate was still in force: a pot of tea was placed on the table before we were presented the menu. It may seem like a small thing, but few places bother with such a courtesy any more.
The foods we chose to order were, at least in my case, driven more by memory of happy times than by hunger or a desire to eat. We had celebrated many times within those walls, and I chose dishes we had chosen on festive occasions rather than those I particularly desired for their merits. Then I let Cathy overrule my selections. Her changes were minor.
We wound up with egg drop soup, fried shrimp, beef with black mushrooms, special chicken chow mein and pea pod shrimp.
Their fried shrimp look like doughnuts. They are cut so that the head and tail remain together but the rest of the body is separated and formed into a circle, then the whole thing is lightly battered and fried. It is served with ketchup and hot mustard. I have frequently had better tasting shrimp but rarely do they bring back such memories.
Cathy and I had an interesting conversation during the meal. That, doubtless, was part of the reason for her invitation -- so that we could talk alone, without interruption. She revealed part of what she has been up to lately, including recent investments made and possible plans for the future. I think she was expecting me to laugh at her and was relieved when I was supportive instead.
As we were leaving, I pointed out the front of the building next to the restaurant, which was boarded over and blackened with age and neglect. Cathy was surprised to learn that the large blackened storefront area, taking up almost half the block, had once been a thriving and respected movie theater. Almost everything on the block was part of one big building. Other, smaller parts had found new uses. But the theater wasn't worth fixing up or converting to another use and they couldn't tear down the whole building. Not with so many thriving businesses operating there. So they did a half-assed job of sealing up the old theater and tried to pretend it wasn't there.
There was lots of food left over, to take home for a later meal. Lunch, perhaps. Something to refresh my bright memories.
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