It’s just a little storefront mom and pop restaurant, in a town of just over 2,000 people about 17 miles south of our place.  The lady working the cash register speaks few words to her customers – aside from repeating what you order, you don’t hear much from her other than yes, thank you and the amount you owe.  She’s careful to warn customers if a dish is particularly spicy, making sure that it’s what you really want. Tonight she was layered against the cold coming in from the entry, which faces the north (of course) with a Peterbilt cap on her head.  She transitions smoothly from taking orders on the phone to taking care of customers at the counter, putting orders in bags or on trays, adding plastic utensils and fortune cookies and sweet and sour sauce when needed.  Everything she needs is within four steps because that’s about all the room she has, but everything is organized in such a way that she doesn’t need to go far.  There’s a well worn Bible sitting next to the register and a thick commentary, and you can imagine her sitting quietly and reading during lulls in business.

We’ve never been there when it wasn’t busy.  Tonight we went about 6:30 and were surprised to be the only ones in the place.  It didn’t last long. There are about ten formica tables and booths with a mirrored wall and pictures of various dishes on the wall; sweet and sour chicken, Mongolian beef, vegetable lo mein.  A large fan adorns one wall and the entry is covered in a hodgepodge of plants in various states of growth.  The walls are just dirty enough to give the place some character. We chose a booth farthest away from the door to stay warmer, but pretty soon the place was hopping and for the next half hour the phone rang and the door kept opening as people of all ages and from all walks of life came in for their orders.  One person came in with a Christmas dress and bright red stockings and boots.  I’m pretty sure she was an elf.

There’s a man and woman doing the cooking, although the man seems to handle most of the stir frying.  The woman makes the crab rangoon, eggrolls and rice.  They don’t speak much either, other than once in a while when you hear them speaking in their native language with a slight edge to their tone.   One time when we visited, the man surprised me when he stopped us to tell us he liked my car.  He told me he would trade me his Honda for it.  Ha! I don’t think so.  Tonight however, he was completely focused on making the food, each order methodically made  in order and served as quickly as possible but never carelessly.  The food is good and consistent and there are obviously a lot of repeat customers as demonstrated by the usually short but familiar repartee.

It’s not like there aren’t Chinese restaurants closer to home, but there’s something about this little place; a Chinese family working together in small town Nebraska and how they’ve made a place for themselves in this community.  It’s not the least bit fancy, just a comfortable place to stop in for a good meal and people watch.  It’s that small town Americana theme with a twist.  Or is it?  America is supposed to be a place where if you work hard and do what you know well, you can succeed.  I think about that well worn Bible right next to where she works and I can’t help but think that this guides that work ethic, and perhaps fills her with gratitude, even on crazy evenings like tonight where she gets no rest.  It might seem silly, but that’s inspiring to me.  Not sure I’m always at grateful as I should be.

So, if you ever get a chance, go to Hickman and check out East Meets West and experience it for yourself.  It will fill your tummy and perhaps your heart as well.  And leave you with leftovers to boot!

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