The first Chinese food I can recall eating was with my best friend, Nancy. On paydays (I was selling Lincoln Mercury automobiles bruising my hips as I ran into the fins of these handsome, late 1950s vehicles on the showroom floor) we would trot over to Broadway near Times Square to a scruffy little restaurant and sit next to the steamed-up plate glass window, eating glossy Cantonese dishes like shrimp and greens in a mild cornstarch sauce with sticky rice and hot tea.
Fabulous.