Think I have mentioned before that while resident at Jale in New Haven, I had two great assets: a friend with a car, and another friend whose girlfriend was a student whose parents had immigrated here from Sichuan province in their 20s. Thus this girlfriend spoke/read Cantonese.
So just about every Saturday afternoon, we would load into the car and speed down to NYC. First the contemporary art museums (you never knew what madness might be in the new temporary exhibits there, and then seeing the Old Standbys never grew old either), then go on down into Chinatown for dinner. Where we had a standby favorite restaurant, where our Cantonese guide would order not off the printed sweet/sour English menu, but the native-character vertical-strip menus pasted to the wall up near the ceiling.
Never ate better in my life!
...One recalls Nixon's advice to Reagan before RWR's first trip to China:
'Don't ask what it is, just eat it.'