Peking Restaurant has it all, Even a Cat

Location, Location, Location
I hate eating lunch alone because it reminds me of being in Texas, where I was born. My parents decided to live there after serving in the Army. I used to eat lunch alone at school because I was the brown girl. So I’m not a huge fan of this solitary exercise.

I’m in Peking Restaurant, which doubles as a bar called Alibi’s Martini Lounge. I believe this because as soon as I walk in the door, there’s a bar to the left of me, that’s not in service, and a bar in a room to my right. I’m seated in the restaurant area, at the end of a long wall booth; brown, black and cranberry pieces alternate, under a sky light. A round red paper lantern hangs under the skylight. The wood of the table is dark brown, a shade above mahogany. The menu is standard; it has pages covered with plastic and green binding whose corners have metal protectors. The place smells like fried Chinese food, and I couldn’t be hungrier.

I feel pretty comfortable about my surroundings, despite raising the body count to three. The place is a virtual ghost-town. Its location makes Chinese food a much better option than the Quiznos that replaced the Camelot Room at St. Rose.

I see a lot of red, but that’s the cranberry in the wall booth pattern that catches my eye. The carpet of the floor is tiger print, the same shade as the black and brown of the booth. I kind of like that the restaurant isn’t that bright. The only light coming in is the light from outside.

There are no harsh fluorescent lights. The restaurant area is kind of chilly; I should have worn a thicker sweater. The music is faint, but I can tell it’s a singer I should know, like Billie Holiday.

Body Count
I’m ushered to a seat by an elderly Asian woman. She’s got on a tan shirt with black pants. Other than that, the only other person I see is a young Asian woman in her twenties, in a maroon shirt and black slacks. Her brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail.

There’s also a cat. I’m a little confused because this beautiful white cat, with grey patches and pale green eyes, is staring at me. I feel compelled to pet it, but the cat concerns me. Now, I’m no health code expert, but I feel as though its presence in the restaurant is wrong. Making dinner at home with my dog on the couch? Not a huge deal.

Having a pet at a restaurant where strangers are being served, doesn’t seem right. The old woman is kind but assertive. “You sit here,” she says. The young woman is soft-spoken, she’s sometimes barely audible. I can hear men randomly shouting what I assume to be Chinese in the kitchen.

Get in my Belly
I order the shrimp and vegetable tempura lunchbox, ($10.99). It comes with miso soup. The bowl is olive green, with brown dots here and there. The spoon is like miniature bowl; it’s a white ladle. With every bite, I feel like I’m dumping soup down my throat. The spoon is smooth, not as light a feather but lighter than a metal spoon. Miso soup has a thin broth with scallions, seaweed, and tofu chucks at the bottom of the bowl. I hear a bang and then the men in the kitchen talk.

My tempura is brought to me, and it smells like fried heaven. Vegetables and shrimp coated fried in a light batter; I can still see the outlines of what’s been coated. It comes with this thin brown sauce. When I ask the waitress what is in the sauce, she replies, “It’s tempura sauce.”

When I got home, I googled tempura sauce and discovered the ingredients are bouillon cube, soy sauce, sugar and ginger. I dip a fried carrot in it, and it’s good, the ginger neutralizes the salt and sugar. Other than that, there’s not a lot of people noise. One guy walks in, sits down and talks to the old woman. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but he seems like a regular.

Check Please
I leave a $6.00 tip because the waitress was really nice and attentive; I’d drink my water, she would have the cup filled before I set it down.

I’m still debating the cat. I don’t know if I can reconcile this concept in my head. On the one hand, it’s not up on the table pawing my food; but then again, it could be.