I wrote out some memories of Washington's Chinatown on another blogger's site, and I thought, "Well, during these sweltering summer days, I may as well add it to mine while I think about what I want to write about next." I'm still debating telling stories about Capitol Hill, and given the high drama of the cast of characters and events, I need to weigh the danger of saying too much on that score.
There was a restaurant in Chinatown called The Ruby. It may still be there, but I am writing of the era when the owner remained enthroned on H Street. There really was a Ruby, and she always sat in the back and oversaw everything, like the Dowager Empress. She had this look on her face that perpetually glared back at you. I half expected her to open her mouth and see a giant black pearl wedged between her teeth. At that time, there was a small parking lot next to the building (with an attendant), and Ruby's Cadillac with personalized "Ruby" plates was always there. One nice thing about Ruby's was that it had incredibly late hours; practically all night, and if you hit there at say 3 a.m. you would see the pimps bringing in their stable of "ladies" for their evening meal. I remember the first time I witnessed this tableau, my eyes were as big as saucers while I watched the women arguing over who was ordering what, sitting there in postage stamp sized clothing just before dawn.
My friends and I mainly went to Ruby's as an after hours place, but it also had wonderful food, and may have been the first restaurant (to my knowledge) that ever served dim sum in this city. To this day, I still think they made the best hot and sour soup I've ever had. It is so hard to find the proper balance in the vinegary sour and the heat of the peppers, and every version I've had since then leans too heavily on one or the other. They also had this one dim sum that I've never seen anywhere else. It consisted of a steamed squared, slice of green bell pepper topped with a shrimp puree and a shitake mushroom cap. It was very simple, but labor intensive. There was also a pink cocktail that had danger written all over it's innocent face. It was called "The Ruby Gem," and it was served in a champagne glass. It consisted of some sticky sweet fruit base that always reminded me of Hawaiian Punch, and I used to jokingly say the other ingredient was grain alcohol. Two "Rubies", and you were gone. Despite the night ladies with their Superfly, it wasn't as sleazy as it sounds. I used to run into famous actors and politicians having lunch or dinner in there all of the time.
Now they say the new Chinatown is in Rockville, Maryland, but not that long ago, the little Mom and Pop grocery stores still existed, and I can remember stepping over drunk bodies lying on the sidewalk to go visit them. I would visit for the Chinese New Year's festivities and see the firecrackers being set off to drive off the demons, and I tried to always visit the Chinese market prior to that day to buy up the red envelopes for money, so that I could leave an "auspicious" tip for the waiter.
The other is a childhood memory of when my parents were invited to the grand opening of a new restaurant on H Street, and I was allowed to attend this grown-up event. At first I didn't think I would be allowed to go, because it was snowing so heavily that night. You had to climb up steep steps to get into the main dining area, and the owner's wife was going to take me downstairs into the back to see how Chinese food was cooked (a rare and first time treat). We stopped at a circular table by the top of the stairs, and I was introduced to the then Chief of Police's wife. She was stone cold drunk and had five full cocktail glasses in front of her. I remember her fingering the lace cuffs on my dress and being all sloppy and slurry with me, and I drew back, because she frightened me. While the adults were chatting, she got up, stumbled backwards and fell, rear ending all the way back down the stairs. She must have been loose because she survived the fall unharmed. I still made it into the kitchen, and I remember men in this heated environment working over huge flames with these oversized woks, contrasting so vividly against the heavy snow occurring outside. Ah...childhood....and ah...D.C.
1 comment:
My memories of Chinese restaurants are a little different. One summer in the seventies, I was a waitress in a lovely Chinese restaurant on the Eastern shore. The cooks, both from China, were jealous guardians of the kitchen, and only permitted the lowly waitresses to come in as far as the counter holding the huge steaming pots of won ton and egg drop soup. Woe to the waitress who forgot to fill the laquered bowls with freshly made rice; if she attempted to leave the kitchen with her tray devoid of rice, the cry of "'member rice, 'member rice" was shouted.
The restaurant was too good for the home-grown crowd in that little town; the locals preferred meat loaf and fried oysters to the "exotic" cuisine of China, and business was never good. An example of the local tastes: one customer ordered chop suey, and a cocktail (a Brown Sqirrel). You can bet the tips were in the 5% range.
Now it is a "gentlemen's club." But still run by the enterprising fellow who opened the original lovely restaurant. From won tons to strippers, I guess it is still "exotic", but now it's lucrative.
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