gruber essay 4

8/7/2019 Gruber Essay 4

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am- 11:00 pm, Sunday: 12:00 noon-

10:00 pm. The menu also verifies that

they accept VISA, MasterCard,

Discover, and American Express credit

cards. A list of their 130 standard

meals, along with thirty-six Lunch

Specials, twenty-four combination

plates, eighteen Chef¶s Specials,

thirteen platter specials, nine House Specials and nine Revolution Diet plates are also

represented on the menu. The food on the Revolution Diet menu is cooked with no salt,

sugar, corn starch, or oil. In authentic home cooking from Asia, meals go light on fat and

oil. The most appetizing dishes typically contain neither a steak nor a chicken breast,

but simple vegetables transformed with spices. This food is cooked with more

vegetables, less meat, and less artery-clogging fat with meals that are quick, simple,

and tasty (Chen).

I take a seat at one of the small, two-person tables by the window. Quickly, I

realize it is too cold to be seated this close to the door and I trade my table for the one

closest to the warm kitchen. Minutes later Jane with her petite figure, sleek black hair

pulled into a pony-tale behind her head, wrapped in a green coat and black pants

emerges from behind the counter with my food. I thank her, she smiles and returns to

the tender warmth of the kitchen.

The employees of China Gormet don¶t mind going the extra mile to make your

visit even more enjoyable. They will modify anything on the menu so that it is exactly



what you want to eat, and always ask how your family is, how you are enjoying school

or the current winter weather. Sometimes when new customers come in you can sense

that they are uncomfortable with the conversation due to the slight language barrier, but

China Gourmet¶s employees will always repeat themselves with a laugh and a smile.

Although I have done homework while eating my lunch here many times before, I

can¶t help feeling slightly self-conscious as I retrieve a pencil and commence my note

taking. The feeling quickly fades as I hear the sounds of an Asian soap opera budding

through the speakers of the small hand held television set on a wooden table in the

kitchen. Since it is about four o¶clock in the afternoon, an odd time for something to eat,

I am the only one enjoying a hot meal at China Gourmet right now. I take my time

pouring a steaming cup of tea, adding sugar, and picking up an extra napkin before

slowly go back to my table, as to not spill the warm beverage. As I return to my seat and

turn the page of my notebook, I see the chef appear from the kitchen dressed in black

pants and a stained white chef coat emerges and removes a Brisk Ice Tea from the

Coke-a-Cola soda cooler next to my table. He smiles a crooked, tired smile and returns

behind the counter to join his coworker in front of the television set. As I eat, I wonder

about the show they are watching and speculate how difficult it would be to learn to

fluently speak any language other than English.

Soon enough, a Caucasian man, with thick brown hair and a stubbly unshaven

face, who looked to be in his late thirties, in dirt and white paint stain covered blue

jeans, a soiled black Harley Davidson Motorcycle sweatshirt and mud coated work

boots comes through the door, the bell sounding as he walks in. He rubs his hands as if

trying to release the cold air from within them. Jane pulls herself from the television set



and gives the man a friendly smile. I conclude that he has been here before when Jane

calls him by name, Mike*. He asks for a

large order of Spicy Kung Pao Chicken and

a small order of white rice to go and

converges in small talk with the petite

woman behind the counter as his food is

cooking. She tells him to get a cup of warm

tea, in a soft ordering tone, and he consents without dispute. As his food is wrapped in

an oversized brown paper bag, and stapled shut the man waves to the chef says his

goodbyes and returns to his dirt covered burgundy Ford pickup truck, which is parked

next to my, also messy, Volvo.

Before long, a woman comes in from the cold. She has long brown hair that is

turning gray with age. Clinging to her pale green knit sweater, she retrieves a pair of

reading glasses from her bag as she looks over the menu. The woman, while still

glancing at the menu, asks if she can substitute scallops for chicken in the Chicken and

broccoli Revolution Diet plate. Slightly turning her head away from the counter, Jane

says something in Chinese to the chef and he nods. In turn she smiles and nods to the

customer, the woman then orders a second plate, of which I could not understand what

she said. While waiting for her food the woman, who is most likely in her fifty¶s, sits at

the two-person table adjacent to mine. I apologize for interrupting her, since by now she

has her nose in a Rhode Island Homes magazine that she picked up on her way to the

table, and tell her that I would like to ask her some questions, since I am writing a paper

on this restaurant. I ask her why it is that she has decided to order food here tonight.



She lowers her magazine to tell me her name, Karen*, and that her husband will be

home from work soon and she ³honestly just did not feel like cooking tonight´, she

laughs and tells me that she never feels like cooking. Recently laid off from her job as a

part time librarian at the local Blanding Library, she tells me that her family does not eat

out much anymore with the price of food and gas constantly rising. She stands to meet

Jane and retrieve her brown paper bag from the edge of the counter, she wishes me

luck with my paper and returns to the bitter weather outside.

I saunter across the restaurant to retrieve another cup of warm tea. The green

Formica counter tops, which match the green titles walls perfectly, seem to have

recently been cleaned. I assume that Jane wiped it down during my conversation with

the recently departed customer. Before returning to my seat I grab a magazine from the

little bookshelf next to the counter at which I ordered my late lunch. Absentmindedly, I

flip through the pages of one of the many real-estate magazines as I swallow my last

mouthful of steamed chicken and mixed vegetables in an amazing, spicy, tangy

Szechwan sauce. I bring my empty plate to the counter and return to my cherry-

finished wood table with my fortune cookie. Realizing that it is almost five-thirty I start to

collect my things when two more customers meander in. I decide to remain seated. The

two women, mother and daughter which is obvious by the resemblance, place their

sparkle encrusted purses at a table and head to the counter. The daughter, probably in

her late teens or early twenties, begins to order when the Asian- American woman cuts

in to finish her thought. The brunette woman, who was wearing blue jeans, black snow

boats, a black leather jacket covering a pink jewel covered Ed Hardy t-shirt laughs and

nods. Her mother smiles, she also has straight light brown hair, yet hers contains a few



blonde highlights. She is wearing black faded jeans and high heel boats with a black

suede waist long coat with evidently faux-fur around the neck and cuffs. The two part

ways as the mother goes to their designated table with a magazine and the daughter

walk along the counter to a doorway across from where the tea is located and heads

down the small dimly light hallway to the bathroom. The daughter arrives back at the

table to find her mother obviously in a heated discussion through text messages, she is

typing rapidly with an evident scowl on her face. Trying to console her distressed

mother the girl says something with a smile which in turn makes her mother chuckle as

she returns her red cell phone to her purse. Their dinners arrive and they lightheartedly

chat while they enjoy their fully loaded plates. I decide to not disrupt their pleasant

conversation with questions quite yet and continue to list the different types of soda in

the cooler; Coke, Diet Coke, Brisk Ice Tea, Minute Maid Lemonade and Apple Juice,

Sprite, and Ginger ale.

As I let the women finish their conversation a young couple came through the

door. Him, holding his high school football jacket in his left hand as if it is his most

valued possession and her holding his right hand in the same manner. They reach the

counter and order their meals. He places his green and yellow jacket, the colors of the

town¶s high school, securely on the back of a chair and struts over to get some tea for

himself and his date. They hold hands across the table lovingly and when she excuses

herself to use the bathroom he slouches down in his chair and checks the messages on

his cell phone. He smirks and returns the phone cautiously to the pocket of his blue

jeans. He is wearing a short sleeve green t-shirt with a falcon on the front. Falcons are

the local high schools mascot and I come to the conclusion that this student has some



serious school pride. When the girl returns, apparently from fixing her make-up, I ask

them why they are here tonight. The girl eagerly speaks out before her date even has a

chance to blink. In a bubbly voice she says that the food is great and that because it is

so cheap they can still go to the movies after dinner even though they don¶t work many

hours. At this point the date chimes in by saying that due to the large portions served

here, they ³won¶t need to spend a fortune on popcorn and snacks at the movies later

tonight.´ After thanking them, I return to my table just in time to see the mother-

daughter pair snacking on their fortune cookies. I take this opportunity to talk to them.

The daughter tells me that she is in college and currently working full time, and that

China Gourmet is in between where she works and where her mother works so it is a

perfect place to meet for a quiet, after work dinner. The mother then tells me that she

has two other children at home and that the plates are large enough and cheap enough,

that she can bring one home for her two pre-teen daughters to share. The woman said

goodnight and goodbye, little did they know that I would see them here again during

another day of observations.

Before long another man, this one

in his early twenties, staggers through the

door and orders a L18. With a glance at

the menu I picked up earlier I was able to

see that L18 is a sesame chicken lunch

plate, for which he was charged an extra

dollar for since it was past three o¶clock.

After ordering the man walks to a table, removes his jacket and sits down with a sigh.



While Jane returns to the back of the kitchen to report the latest order, I nonchalantly

take a seat at the table next to the evidently distressed young man. His cell phone

vibrates loudly against the table and makes him jump, he answers and tells the caller

that he has had no luck so far but he is going to continue trying. He argues with the

person on the other line that he has no interest in acquiring more student loans and will

have to keep looking till he finds a second job. Hanging up the man puts his head in his

hands and sighs again. Jane brings his order out to him and gives an almost

unnoticeable pout when she looks at the evidently unhappy customer.

The awkwardness of the scene is almost too much, so I decide that now is as

good a time as any to strike up a conversation. I clear my throat, in hopes of getting the

man¶s attention, and he looks up sheepishly. Instantly turning red, now that he has

noticed Jane and I had heard his conversation and were staring at him with pity. To

avoid an embarrassing situation I quickly ask him what kind of work he is looking for.

Letting his shoulders drop he tells us that he would take any job and he recounts a

conversation between himself and a financial aid advisor at his school. It turns out that

he was attending classes at the local community college when his financial aid was cut,

requiring him to either take out a bigger loan for the upcoming year or get a second job

in hopes of being able to pay out of pocket for the difference. He tells us how he has

been driving up and down Route 44, which goes through about five different towns, all

afternoon looking for ³Now Hiring´ signs. The man is tall with a head of thick brown hair

and big green eyes. He has a strong jaw, broad shoulders, and is wearing jeans and an

American Eagle t-shirt. I try to reassure him with the fact that summer is around the

corner and many places will be hiring new employees soon. Telling him about a few



local places that usually acquire summer help he begins to perk up. Our conversation

continues while we eat our lunch and he tells me that this is his third or fourth time

eating lunch here and that he found it when he went to the neighboring restaurant,

Rehoboth House of Pizza, with a friend from high school. He asks me why I return here

so often and agrees that the large portions and low prices are a reason to return.

While the man, whose name I never learned, got up to pay I noticed a young girl,

roughly fifteen years old, outside sitting against the hood of a car talking on her cell

phone. Due to the open windows I was able to overhear her laughter. She discussed

with a friend her plans for the upcoming school dance, which thanks to my younger

sister I knew was that Friday night. Complaining about how her mom would not let me

spend the night at a friend¶s house all because they were going out for lunch for her

grandfathers birthday the next day. Unmistakably her friend asked about her outfit for

the evening and the girl went into great detail about the cut, color, and cuteness of her

dress. Due to the description, I was able guess that classiness was not high up on the

girls list of requirements. Soon I also learned that the five inch high heels her mother

had forbid her to buy at the mall, calling them ³stripper heels´, were now safely hidden in

the back of her locker. Laughing to myself, I noticed her mom heading towards the car

with a stack of pizza boxes the girl quickly said goodbye and hung up her phone. Rolling

her eyes at her mother¶s request for her to hold the boxes, the girl took them but only

after turning her iPod back on at full blast.

The restaurant is empty again and I bring my empty tea cup to the trash. As I go

to the counter to pay, Jane asks me where my mother was today and smiled from ear to

ear when I told her that this week my mother was vacationing. Immediately she told me



how nice it must be to be able to vacation right now, and how she wished she had the

time to go someplace where there were no lingering snow. As we complain about the

recent snowfall, Jane looks at the clock and giving me a mothering stare asks why I am

at work. I tell her about my schedule and that I had morning classes today and

thankfully no work this afternoon. Aware of the fact that my notebook is about to turn in

her direction, Jane becomes standoffish. I hand her my $6.06, about $5.00 for a lunch

plate and an extra dollar since it was past three, and turn to grab my pencil. By the time

I turn back around she has scurried off into the depths of the kitchen to wash a few

plates that are occupying the sink. I decide to wait, hoping she would come back soon.

Upon her return, I ask if she would mind talking to me for a moment about the

restaurant. She agrees warily and leans against the counter. As our conversation

continues she becomes, once again, more outgoing again. Telling me how her

husband, the tired middle-aged chef, opened this restaurant a little over three years ago

and that she has only been working there for about six months. This was a shock to me

because I cannot remember a time when Jane¶s face was not smiling back from behind

the counter. Her husband has been working in Asian cuisine for many years but she

has no experience in preparing food inside a restaurant. Curiously, I ask Jane how they

are able to charge such a small amount for the large portions of food they serve. She

shrugs with her usual smile and says ³we just do.´ As I continue to wonder about the

fiscal aspect of the restaurant I soon realize that Jane is unaware of anything having to

do with the financial status of China Gourmet. She simply shrugs off my questions and

replies that her husband is in charge of the money. I begin to wonder if Jane being

oblivious of the restaurants¶ finances has anything to do with their culture. Assuming



that it does, and not wanting to insult the only employee that ever has the time to talk to

me, I decide to hold off on any further questions concerning money.

The telephone rings and Jane scribbles down a takeout order then heads to the

back to inform the chef. I notice that she just shouts

the order; this is probably why I had never known

that they were married. As she does this I look out

the front window and see the same light blue Honda

Odyssey that is constantly parked outside the

restaurant and upon her return I ask Jane if it

belongs to her. She nods and tells me that her

husband and her drive to work together in the morning. Noticing, for the first time, the

New York license plate on the vehicle I begin to ask her if she use to live there but she

cut me off sharply. Jane tells me that the rest of her family is still back in New York and

that her husband moved to Massachusetts four years ago to open a restaurant and she

joined him once the restaurant was stable. After pausing to jot down my notes, my

attention returned to Jane only to see her gazing longingly out the window towards her

car with a wounded expression on her face.

Not wanting to push at an evidently painful topic I turned my questioning back

towards the restaurants customers, hoping that this topic is safe. Jane tells me that she

has many returning customers, but only a handful of them order the same meal every

time like I do. Jane turns her attention to the waiting customer who just came in and I

looking behind her into the kitchen. In the kitchen I notice a large package of Ramen

Shrimp flavored noodles on top of a full length shelve stocked in full with all sorts of



canned goods. I assume that this is what the employees eat for dinner if they are too

tired to make a full meal for themselves. I also see Hunts Tomato paste, Dole pre-cubed

pineapple chunks, cans of those little baby corns, as well as a whole shelf stacked with

nothing but folded paper menus and the little Styrofoam cups that they leave out on the

counter for people to drink tea out of. On the floor next to the wire shelves I notice two

large brown cardboard boxes filled with pre

packaged fortune cookies. Seeing my stare

Jane leans over and grabs me a cookie while

tossing one into a plastic bag of a takeout order

that had been recently called in. She tells me

that they order the cookies and that they are

shipped once every other week by the box. We begin to discuss an old Asian-American

woman making fortune cookies that I saw as a child while on a vacation. Jane laughs

when I told her that the answer the woman gave to each of my grandfather¶s questions

was ³Fortune cookies are five dollars.´

The bells atop the door ring just as I turn to casually check the time on my watch,

worrying that I might be late to pick my sister up from work. As the customer reaches

the counter and begins to order, I wave a silent goodbye to Jane. She smiles at me as I

walk out the door, and I smile back having a much better view on what it is like to work

in China Gourmet.

After many observations I realized that there is a simple similarity between the

customers at China Gourmet. Everyone is trying to get the most for their dollar. With the

price of gas and food on the rise people are making an effort to find a way to feed their



families a healthy meal, for the same prices you would see at a fast-food drive through.

Today, many are struggling to put food on the table. Such as Mike, the blue collar

construction worker, or Karen, who had recently been laid off. With the help of China

Gourmet, citizens located near Rehoboth, Massachusetts are able to provide an

affordable and healthy meal for their families.

*- All names have been changed to protect the identity of the customers.

gruber essay 4

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