But -- except for Chinese New Year at Hsinny's -- you just can't get good Chinese food in southeastern Connecticut.
No. For good Chinese, there's only one place to go.
And running through it to catch a train every evening.
*I think something can be old without being venerable, but I do not think something can be venerable without being old.
And then . . .
Alas, we went our separate ways in Chinatown. Mom and I got on an uptown bus headed back to Grand Central and MB put Jacquie in a car to the airport . . .
Harrumph. They clearly win the last best memory in New York prize.
But we contented ourselves dreaming about the memory of those fabulous soup dumplings . . .