Sometime in the mid- to late-1990s, a new batch of hard-working and industrious Chinese immigrants came to do business in America.  And like many who came before them — these first-generation Chinese-Americans opened restaurants.

But these people did something a little bit differently — and it appeared to be some sort of coordinated effort.  Their product is the now-ubiquitous “China Buffet.”  So common, grand and successful, I’m sure they ran an Old Country Buffet (Hometown Buffet in some parts) or two out of business.  You know the joint: lots of steam tables, extra-greasy food cooked in the same pre-made sauce and those large, backlit portraits of the Temple of Heaven and Great Wall.

I’m not going to harp on the alleged seedier side of this story, but rather on the lasting impression I feel those buffets have made on how the masses view “Chinese food.”

For decades, families like mine dished-up Chinese food in classic, chop-suey-style takeout restaurants and the occasional finer establishment. (Congratulations to the Fong family on 50 great years! — My parents met working at their Bloomington restaurant in the late 70’s.)  We proudly serve Minnesota-style chow mein and we cook in the Cantonese style.  Lots of fresh vegetables.  Proud of our stir-fry dishes.  Red Moon uses real Cantonese-style noodles — not spaghetti-style noodles (who the hell thought that was a good idea?)  Our lunch buffets are modest in size but grand in flavor and freshness.  Just the right selection for an excellent lunch, right?

When Minnesotans said they loved Chinese food — ours was the food they raved about.  It was our brand.  Not defined by million-dollar ad campaigns or crafty marketing — but by tradition.

Today, I’m not so sure about that.  The “China Buffet” has muddied what people expect of “Good Chinese” or “Amazing Chinese” in our case.  As my dad says, “sometimes people don’t know what’s good.  You have to tell them.”  Trouble is, quantity speaks — and those buffets have it.

I thought of this dilemma last Saturday when a lady called Red Moon asking for directions, saying she was “looking for a good Chinese buffet.”  I told her how to get to Red Moon and told her she’d love our food.  I said “there’s a lot of crap out there, you’ll love ours.”  I’m pretty sure I spotted her party walking into our restaurant.  Two of them looked at our modest, single steam table, exchanged a few exasperated words and made a beeline for our front door.  I didn’t even have a chance to change their impression.

Ask my dad, and he’ll tell you he’d rather not feed those people, because they might not appreciate what he’s got to offer: amazingly prepared food.

But I worry that their mindset is a systematic shift in how people see Chinese.  And now, in late 2009 as the China Buffet’s own reputation has waned in our sour economy, I worry they may be carrying the greater Chinese food brand with them.  Are we all a loosely similar band of comfort/junk food-slingers?

I think it’s high time some of us reclaimed the classic, Chinese American-style brand.  Even as some of the buffet operators open smaller takeout joints to compete even more with restaurants like Red Moon, I will be steadfast in my desire to amp-up our customer service, our ties to the community and our unabashed pride in good, fresh cooking.

We will take back the brand.  Who’s with me in spreading the good word?

A reward for smoking cessation. If everyone got this, there wouldn't be a smoker left in the world.

I’ve mentioned in this space already that my dad has a way of making friends — his ability to do it so easily is rivaled by few others.

Just under a year ago my dad quit smoking — and has remained clean every since.  I never thought it would happen.  Ever.  After four decades puffing away, it seemed impossible.  But somehow, it happened.

Tuesday, friend Bill Clarke fulfilled a promise he made in passing, I imagine, months ago — lobsters for dinner if dad could pull it off.

Bill brought them in at lunch and came back to enjoy them with us at dinner.  You are looking at Lobster Cantonese — probably one of the richest ways to eat a lobster.  The crustaceans are chopped up and flash fried.  Then they are tossed into a thick stir fry of ground pork and onions in a black bean garlic sauce.  At the last minute, egg is folded into the mix.  My dad says it’s the perfect way to “stretch” the lobster — surely an old Cantonese trick.  He told Bill, “I bet after you eat this, you’ll never go to an American restaurant to have lobster again.”

Tin Tat Kwan and Bille Clarke enjoying lobsters at Red Moon.

Get into a conversation with my dad, and you’ll be treated to a dose of hyperbole.  Dad continued, “Now every time you eat lobster for 20 years, you will think of mine.”

He called it “licking finger good.”

Indeed.  Thanks Bill, what a treat!  And how nice of you to reward my dad for something many of us believed would never happen.  Maybe it was the enticement of lobsters, after all.