Su-Jit Lin
Food writer Su-Jit Lin grew up working in her parents’ American Chinese kitchen.
It’s become a point of pride — but she also remembers the racism and aggressions her parents faced.
“There are countless nuances that make this type of work hard on the mind and spirit,” she writes.
I’ve spent more than a dozen years as a food writer, and I’ve written quite a bit about where I learned the most about food: in my parents’ American Chinese restaurant kitchen. It’s become a point of pride — it’s given me street cred, you might say, in that my professional experience in this industry stems back to when I was old enough to coherently say “Thank you” to our customers as I dropped fortune cookies off at their tables.
But it was a hard life. While I was working behind the counter after school and helping out on weekends, my mom, dad, and our chef were putting in more than 12 hours a day. Not only are the hours long and the tasks laborious, there are also countless nuances that make this type of work hard on the mind and spirit, too.
This came to particularly sharp relief as I grew older and worked for other types of food service businesses. The racial undertones and sometimes overt aggressions became more clear when I realized that consciously or not, people often treat “stereotypical” immigrant-owned food establishment workers differently.
Given all that, these were 9 of the things that my family and I wished people knew.
We are American — but why should that matter?
My grandparents and father came here in pursuit of the classic American dream: to work hard and support a family. Outside of paying the high taxes that come with entrepreneurship, it doesn’t really get much more American than that.
We may look different, some of us may speak different languages, and some of us may have accents, but those kids doing homework at the front tables and taking your orders? Chances are, they were born here and have a fluent grasp of English. The cooks in the back? They might have been, too, and might just be training in an apprenticeship to one day own a place of their own.
It’s racist to start a conversation asking to talk exclusively with “someone who speaks English” (yes, this has happened more than once); threaten to call immigration if dissatisfied with an order; to tell us to “go back to [your] own country”; and to accuse a worker of illiteracy because the situation is being misunderstood. Ask for the manager, ask for the owner, or ask for your money back if the situation warrants it, but don’t pull out the race card. It’s ugly.
Extras cost extra
To some, that additional cup of free house duck sauce is an entitlement. But to us, it can be a stance on equity.
You willingly pay a quarter or more for a cup of manufactured, highly processed sauce at your local fast food drive-through. Some chains will even upsell you by asking what sauces you want, then adding it to the receipt without disclosing the added charge. That willingness should apply to food service businesses of color, too — especially when we’re making family recipes.
The same goes for extra ingredients. If you want extra chicken, expect to pay for it. If you want a significant amount, specify the dollar value — for instance, ask for $2 worth of additional meat if you want to guarantee a bigger portion.
Double meat is paid for unflinchingly at the likes of Chipotle; why should Chinese takeout be any different?
Tip as you would any other type of food
This sounds really obvious, but I’ve experienced firsthand the discrepancies between how tips are distributed to Chinese takeouts and other kinds of food.
Today, people tip on to-go at “nice” restaurants. While it’s become more popular since the pandemic, you’re not customarily obligated to do so at a carry-out counter service, even though at American Chinese food businesses, your food is being made fresh to order. However, a gratuity is expected for delivery orders, even if delivery is offered free.
A 10% tip is the bare minimum for most delivery orders, but there were many times that my parents would receive less when they delivered food. It was always so disappointing to drive out in inclement weather to have no more than $2 to show for it, which wouldn’t even make up for the gas — not to mention the danger of hitting the road in a blizzard. Interestingly enough, the tip percentages increased when they hired delivery drivers of other ethnic backgrounds, including white employees.
Please don’t ask to ‘fill it up’
The Chinese are big on generous hospitality, especially those from the southern regions of the country. My family, like many takeout owners, is from Fuzhou, and most restaurateurs from that region pride themselves on delivering good value.
Plus, the Chinese takeout restaurant industry is competitive, and offering good bang for your buck is often what the owners are convinced help them survive. My siblings and I were taught to pack our containers tight and to the top with food.
Because of that, it hurt our feelings when customers would — jokingly or not — ask us to “fill it up,” as if we didn’t already. It’s insulting, and a passive-aggressive way to make the restaurateurs feel bad when they’re already making a slim margin on one of the most affordable, high-volume eats you can get.
Appreciate the bargain
When I was a child helping out at my parents’ restaurant, I remember filling lunch orders of round containers of fried rice, an entrée dish, and a cup of soup or can of soda for $5 to $7. Dinner combination plates ran $6 to $8, tops, and were a bigger portion served with a roast pork egg roll on the side.
This is a common formula for Chinese takeout across America. While inflation has impacted the cost, it’s still generally not pricey compared to other types of food.
Next time anyone is tempted to gripe about how “expensive” Chinese food has gotten, I urge them to frame it against any meal deal you’d get from a non-ethnic restaurant or even fast food giants, where a single sandwich, fries, and drink now cost close to $10. It’s unbeatable.
Yes, it’s real chicken, beef, and pork
Hand in hand with the low cost of Chinese takeout come the “jokes” about the meat in the dishes, from quality to (ignorantly) type.
Culturally, the Chinese believe it rude to serve food that isn’t bite-sized and ready to eat. That’s why everything is cut up.
The reason the texture of the chicken or beef in your stir-fry is more tender than other types of cuisines is due to a technique called velveting, where thin, sliced-against-the-grain meat is protected from moisture dissipation with a light breading that gets seared off in high heat. That’s why it’s so moist. Or it could be because that dish uses dark meat, which is naturally juicier … and gamier, even before the marinades and seasonings that are meant to enhance that trait.
And the pork? It’s red because it’s marinated then roasted. Plus, quality meat and waste reduction was so important to my father and grandfather that they used to grind their own meat in-house for these dishes.
You’re going to lose flavor if you change how the food is made
There are a lot of diet hacks floating around, like asking for sauce on the side. However, that changes how the dish is prepared. For most Chinese takeouts, if you ask for sauce on the side, it’ll come in its watery concentrate form for dipping, or, if thickened, it will taste different because it won’t be infused with the vegetables and meat that add their own flavor to it.
Most importantly, if it’s not something that’s fried first, like egg foo young or Sesame Chicken, your entree will likely be steamed or boiled rather than oil-poached and stir-fried. This means you’ll lose that critical wok hei flavor that is a signature of good Chinese wok-seared food. The kiss of fire that hot commercial wok range cooking imbues the ingredients is what gives it that subtle char and added dimension.
Similarly, if you ask for your food with no oil, there’s nothing for the fire to grab onto and ignite. You need oil to keep the ingredients from sticking, and no oil at all means the components will be steamed and stirred into the sauce. That’s going to eliminate a lot of depth in the dish and can make it taste rather bland.
Ask for less oil or less sauce if you’re looking to cut corners for your health, but don’t eliminate these elements entirely or you’ll be left with a boring meal.
Don’t order too close to opening or closing time
A lot of American Chinese food depends on our prep being hot and ready. Steam tables for soup and deep fryers full of oil take time to heat up. If you order too close to opening time, your food may take longer to prepare because of that.
They also require deep cleaning. For instance, my parents would regularly begin draining the deep fryers right after they turned off the neon “Open” sign — a time-consuming task that meant a later night. Try ordering half an hour after official opening time or half an hour before closing to ensure that everything is fired up for quickest cooking.
Remember that we have lives outside of the restaurant, too
As a family, we didn’t celebrate many of the common holidays. That’s why Chinese takeouts are famous failsafe dinner options for Christmas and often Easter.
My parents worked seven days a week, 364 days of the year — Thanksgiving being one of the only exceptions, as it’s non-denominational and American. We closed that day because most folks were cooking at home that night; it offered us one guaranteed day of quality family time.
However, that didn’t mean we didn’t have family lives. We always closed a couple of hours early for Chinese New Year to enjoy a family feast, but that often wasn’t until way after peak dinner hours. Yet people would sometimes complain throughout the years on that one night we closed early, even though we posted signs.
More often than not, my father would get up from the table to fulfill an order anyway, which was good customer service but disappointing for us on the one night we ate together instead of in shifts.