The China Buffet

 

It was just dark when we walked over to the China Buffet last night. The sky was clear and an almost full moon leaned over the trees. Down all of the small, gridded streets of my neighborhood,  colored lights twinkled and shone from roofs and porches and branches—we leave our lights up for a long while in Oregon.  The air was cold and dry and it felt later than it actually was. The streets were quiet. In houses, groups were gathering, knocking on doors with one hand, balancing a platter in the other. New Year’s Eve.

Chinese food for New Years is traditional in my family. My urban cousins, from my father’s side, introduced my family to the concept and it felt very sophisticated, especially in comparison to the dreaded sauerkraut and pork my mother’s family swore by. One New Year’s Eve while I was still in college and home on Break, my mother and I found ourselves without plans for the night (no surprise for me, but very unusual for her.)  We went to the local Chinese restaurant, where you could get pink edged pork strips, and chicken chop suey, and pork fried rice, along with drinks in glasses shaped like the heads of Easter Island. We had just ordered when our neighbors from 15 years before, whom my mother had lost touch with, showed up. They sat down, ordered, and spent the evening remembering the past. We drove home in the cold dark, glimpses of lights in houses along the way, feeling rooted to the place.

A few years later, I lived in Newton, right down the street from the same sort of establishment. The big booths were covered in red “leather” and there was hot mustard along with the soy sauce on the table. We ate there at least twice a month—once, late at night on New Year’s Eve, when we left First Night before the fireworks to come home ahead of the crowds. It was dim, and warm, and welcoming. Home.

New Year’s Eve has always felt a bit melancholy for me. Even when I was young, it was never a great party night. So, because Mark loves a buffet, especially one where he can have two bowls of hot and sour soup, melon, sushi, and something deep fried,  we visit the New China Buffet once a year. It is warm, and bright, and welcoming. And then we walk home, start a fire, and see the old year out.