Journey back to 1952 at Ming’s Restaurant

PHOTO by ROSHEILA ROBLES

Ming’s comes from another era of suburban Chinese restaurants, when the cuisine was always Cantonese, when the kitschy décor was inevitably as thick, sweet and sour as the sauces, and when somebody at every table was obliged to joke that they’d all be hungry again in an hour. Also? People thought Buddy Hackett was funny.

Ming’s has been on Bellflower Boulevard (on the east side, just north of the Lakewood border) since 1952, before either Bellflower or Lakewood was officially a city, back when the population in both places was overwhelmingly white. Just about the only Asians in the area worked there, and few knew where they went when they went home. Certainly not to my neighborhood.

Going out to dinner was different in those days in lots of ways, but especially so if it was for Chinese food, because it was a rare occasion to interact with Chinese people in something approaching their cultural context. The customs seemed strange, the accents dense, the experience exotic . . . and to some, discomforting. People weren’t above making fun. Buddy Hackett was famous for a long-running bit about a Chinese waiter, getting into the part by stretching a rubber band around his head to make his eyes squinty.

“One from cah-rum A,” he’d say, exaggerating the Chinese difficulty with the English letter L, “and one from cah-rum B.” People cracked up.

A hurtful racial stereotype? Undoubtedly. But at the time the laughter was probably equal parts hateless naïveté. However clumsily, people who came to Ming’s were coming out of their cultural cocoons.

Going back to Ming’s after all these years is an experience rich with nostalgia and perspective, but it’s also full of fresh proof that the basics of a good restaurant—attentive service, pleasant atmosphere, cleanliness and delicious food—remain permanent through whatever changes in style. Ming’s exudes a reassuring self-confidence, a commitment to doing things the same way out of a belief that time has affirmed them as the right way.

The entrance to the restaurant is still a keyhole-shaped opening through an exterior of vertically placed thin, red, shiny bricks. Inside, the ambience remains a rather inscrutable mix of muted lighting, bright colors and iconic art that somehow imbues the place with tranquil stability and happy energy. The floor is fat checkerboard, the ceiling is dark cork panels, the booths are bright orange overstuffed vinyl and the walls sprawl with intricately framed mirrors, watercolor paintings and scenic carvings, interspersed with elements of bamboo and jade. Here and there are positioned pagodas, paper lanterns and huge artificial plants.

The waiters wear white shirts and black slacks, and their manner reflects their attire—they are experienced professionals, gracious but not overbearing. Our waiter told us his name was Yang, but only after we’d asked him. He’s worked at Ming’s for 20 years—since his mid-teens—first for his uncle, the restaurant’s original owner, and since then for the new proprietors, who wisely retained the staff.

The menu is unchanged, too, and you peruse it while nibbling on a bowl of crispy noodles—when was the last time you had those?—that can be dipped in a small saucer of ketchup with a dollop of hot mustard in the middle while a pot of tea—black tea—steeps. You can eat your fortune cookie now, too, although doesn’t everybody wait for the end of the meal?

The choices are the familiar standards—chow meins and lo meins, chop sueys and sweet-and-sour stuff, noodle soups and various fried rices—with sides like egg rolls, fried shrimp, ribs and egg foo yung. Prices are in the $5 to $8 range. Family style dinners feature various combinations of these classics for $8.95 to $13.95, plus a special two-person combo for $22.95. Lunch specials offer slightly scaled-down versions of the same for under $6.

Sampling from these options quickly affirms how Ming’s has thrived for 55 years. The food arrives quickly and quite hot, the billowing steam providing a rather tempting prelude to the awaiting flavors. You’ve got to blow on your egg-flower soup a while before you can touch it to your tongue.

It was kind of an accident that Cantonese food became so predominant in America—basically, because most original Chinese immigrants came from Canton. But it’s no surprise that Americans fell in love with it. The stewy quality of its dishes, often underscored by a meat-based stock, appeals to the sweet and salty passions of the American palette. But if it’s been awhile since you’ve eaten Cantonese cuisine, you may wonder how the saucy thick nests of water chestnuts, bamboo shoots, pea pods, celery and mushrooms ever got their hungry-again-in-an-hour reputation. This is stick-to-your-ribs Chinese food—comfort food, you could call it, unless you’re on a low-sodium diet.

These days, of course, increased immigration has made available more and more styles of Chinese cuisine, and it’s been presented less and less as a cultural journey. The favored style is Szechwan, which is lighter fare—and spicier, frequently flavored with peppercorn, chile, ginger and herbs. And restaurants tend toward the cutting edge—brightly lighted rooms with modern track lighting, geometrically inventive tables and chairs, a moussed and pierced wait staff.

In fact, a restaurant just like that—called the Dragon’s Gate Express—recently debuted in Bellflower. It has Szechwan-based food, offered in convenient combos of one, two or three items, and features fun hybrids like Moo-Shu wrappers, along with a variety of light salads and appetizers. A dining experience like the Dragon’s Gate Express seems long and far away from a place like Ming’s.

Actually, it’s right next door—and owned by the very same people.

MING’S RESTAURANT, 17812 S BELLFLOWER BLVD, BELLFLOWER 90706. 562.867.2600. OPEN TUES-SUN, 11:30AM-9PM. DINNER FOR TWO, $25.

Tags: bellflower, buddy hacket, cantonese, chinese, Food, ming's