Everyone loves a great deal. Some people are hard-wired to seek those deals automatically and without fail each time he makes a purchase.  In the restaurant and retail business, “couponers” are the people we speak of.  And let me say this: we love their loyalty and business just as much as the next customer’s.

This post is not about couponers.  It’s more about the greater coupon culture.  The dependence on the deal.  And the subsequent pegging of one’s brand.  If a restaurant’s coupons are so ubiquitous they pop in view like pennies on the pavement — what does that say about the establishment’s brand?

I started thinking about this after reading a restaurant blog about new restaurant startups I follow and an article about weaning customers off the deep discounts in the Nation’s Restaurant News.

Recently, we've even started offering more lucrative discounts to our most loyal fans via email. The jury is still out on the effectiveness of these deals.

I sometimes fear R.M.C.C. has a coupon-dolling dependency.  And I’d hate for us to have a reputation as a discount dining option — or just plain cheap.  For years, we issued 15% coupons to everyone who ordered takeout, rewarding them for some return business.  A majority of regular customers has become so used to the perk, a few of them get miffed if their coupon isn’t in the bag.  At times more disconcerting, some expect a flat 15% off each time they visit — coupon in hand or not.

Feelings on this phenomena are truly mixed.  By one account, we’ve scored a major win: each of those customers is not only a loyal follower of Red Moon, but also a frequent visitor.  Our doors are still open because of their collective impact on our cash flow.  That’s not lost on us.

Conversely, so many customers are in this pool of discount-only buyers that their effect on our bottom-line is surely not negligible.  Let’s come to Jesus for a second: anyone who didn’t know this already, let me break the news — restaurant profit margins are either absent entirely or quite slim, certainly less than 10 percent and many closer to the three to five percent range.  Need proof?  Just check out this roster of publicly traded big boys — if they can’t muster much more than that, how is this little guy doing much better?

Without much more than a gut-feeling and a little rudimentary number-crunching, I have decided to re-think how we approach coupons.

If anyone has any ideas of what works for them or better — as a consumer what you plainly feel about coupons and what that means to your loyalty for certain establishments, I’d love to know.

I hope to follow-up with a meatier blog about what our strategy going forward will be — how we will keep building on our tremendous group of loyal customers, luring in new customers and providing value on top of high quality, sought-after delicious food.

I am heartened to see the Internet buzz created this week when news sufraced that Yelp is now embroiled in a lawsuit alleging Yelp is involved in an extortion plot.  Now, whether there is actual extortion going on is beyond my experience — and I wonder if there really was extortion in any circumstance.  Perhaps just really, really inept salesmanship.

Star-rating? Gone. Two reviews? Gone. Why are Yelp.com's legit-police all over Red Moon? It's unfair and uncalled for!

Bottom line though — the PR nightmare for Yelp is beginning.  If authenticity is what we crave in this hyper-connected time — the lack of authenticity Yelp shows its community will be its downfall.

I get the reasons Yelp might want to pull or flag a review here or there — the whole Yelp for Yelpers’ sake argument… that you ought to be a regular on the site to have your voice heard.  That way, you can trust that the reviews you read are also from regulars.

But in a market like the Twin Cities and their suburbs… how the hell does that make business sense?  Take Red Moon Chinese Cafe, for instance.  In the last year or so, more than a half dozen reviews have been written about my restaurant.  All glowing, positive and supportive.  Each one has been removed by Yelp.  Why?

Beyond my anger as a small business operator — let’s consider the business sense of this move… even if each of them came from fringe Yelp users who aren’t really apart of the “community.”

Yelp is huge in Chicago, San Francisco, Manhattan.  So huge, Google was ready to pony-up mad cash to buy Yelp.  But look to the Minneapolis market to see whether this company has legs… and I cannot find the evidence that Yelp has staying power outside of Minneapolis proper.

If you can’t land the users, Yelp… you have already hit your peak.  And if you want new users, you need to be able to show them there is value in the site.  So when someone goes looking for Chinese food in Eden Prairie, MN and restaurants continually pop up with one or no reviews, people will continue to get the idea that your site is worthless.  Meantime, CitySearch or other Web sites have 10+ reviews for similar listings.

If I were Yelp — I would completely trash the system currently in place that removes reviews seemingly haphazardly.  I would restore every review ever written.  You know why?  Because authenticity is so easy to see for all of us looking to the Web for answers to our everyday questions.  Bogus reviews will appear bogus.  Overly-hateful reviews will appear as such.  Cruel words will be ignored.  The truth will shine through.  We do not need your corporate-wannabe-minders doing our jobs for us, Yelp!  So stop the funny business!

I’m getting really frustrated with Yelp.com.  For the third time in a year — its internal policing system (whether automated or human-directed) has removed three reviews of Red Moon from the restaurant’s Yelp business page.

Star-rating? Gone. Two reviews? Gone. Why are Yelp.com's legit-police all over Red Moon? It's unfair and uncalled for!

All three happened to be positive reviews.  Two were posted by acquaintances of Red Moon but neither was done because we asked anyone to.  In fact, I didn’t know about the reviews until a new customer traveling in the Twin Cities from Chicago told me she loved our food and was so glad she discovered the reviews written on Yelp.com.

Now those reviews are gone.  And a genuine and involved “Yelper” like that gal from Chicago cannot benefit from the thoughts those writers had about Red Moon.

Recently, I put up a framed placard at our front counter asking Red Moon fans to share their love of our food online… the display includes logos for four Yelp-like sites including Yelp, Citysearch, Metromix and Trip Advisor.  I was told this was not an ethical violation (in a Web 2.0 sense).

This fall, a sales person from Yelp tried to get us to purchase an advertising package that would get us prime page ranks and sponsored links on Yelp.  I was very interested because I’m very interested in Yelp.  What could be greater for a small business owner than a social media site whose sole purpose is to promote organic buzz (both good and bad) about businesses among the very consumers who frequent them?

Ultimately, we declined to purchase advertising because Yelp’s organic participation is clearly what makes it great.  We did not see that level of participation out in the suburban Twin Cities… so I couldn’t justify the cost of advertising with Yelp… yet.

I learned from the sales rep that Yelp’s self-policing metric is complicated — and allegedly a very separate entity from the sales team, which I appreciate.  But apparently the system looks for criteria including whether reviews are posted by people who are either frequent contributors or return-visitors to the site.  If not, like perhaps our reviews, the posts get flagged as suspect.  I can see how this contributes to the Yelp-for-Yelpers purity of the “community.”  But I wholeheartedly think that it goes way too far in penalizing business owners and operators who are working their asses off to build and maintain a transparent and fair Web presence for themselves.  When will Yelp cut us a break?

I ask that anyone from Yelp with veto power restore the reviews to our site’s page — because they were organic, honest and real.  It’s the least you could do in maintaining Yelp as the site I hope it was meant to be!

Oh, it was embarrassing.  Standing at the third floor of a typical suburban apartment complex, I phoned the Eden Prairie Police Department’s non-emergency dispatch line.  I called to see if I had recourse over a pretty crappy situation.  It was just after 8 p.m. and I’d managed to sweet talk an old lady into letting me past the apartment lobby.  I had to get to the third floor to see why the people who ordered $110 in party platters were not answering their phones or coming to pick up their food downstairs.

They weren’t responding because they did not order the food — allegedly.

At some point between 5 p.m. and 6 p.m. Thursday, a teenager called Red Moon for a large delivery order.  I told him we did not deliver, but said we could tonight, especially since it was a larger order.  He sounded a bit frenetic but had his story together.  He needed food for about 13-15 people for a surprise party.  He gave me a name, phone number, address, apartment number.  But somehow I felt funny about it.  So being the reporter that I still like to think I am — I pressed him with all kinds of questions to see if I could poke holes in the story.  I asked for a credit card but he said he only had cash.  In the end of the phone conversation, I still felt uneasy but concluded that the kid was just getting stereotyped by me as some fool up to no good.  I was determined to believe there really was a party going on and they needed our food.

Red Moon's Holiday Feast -- this is the amount of food that went uneaten because I fell for a prank caller.

We went ahead with the order: A pan of General Tso’s Chicken, a pan of Beef and Broccoli, fried rice, white rice, egg rolls and cream cheese wontons.  It was a heck of a lot of food.

Fool me once… how does the saying go?

I’m very familiar with working with police so it was actually kind of interesting to see what the dispatched officer was going to do when he arrived.  We went upstairs — where earlier I’d pounded on the apartment door to no answer (a TV blaring Slavic chatter was all I heard) — and the mother of the teen who allegedly ordered the food was standing in the hallway this time.  She asked if I’d been the one banging on her door.  Yes, that was me.  No, she did not order $110 in food!

It’s peculiar.  This mysterious prank caller had this woman’s son’s information down pat: address, first and last name, apartment number, directions to his home.  And I’ll go out on a limb and say this: his voice and speaking style sounded pretty damn close to what I recalled from the phone.  But a lot of awkward teens sound that way  But he denied ordering the food and was clueless as to who may have been f*****g with him.  He showed us his cell phone log on his BlackBerry.  No outgoing calls to Red Moon (can’t they be deleted??) and only three calls throughout the night from me that went unanswered.  (I felt funny enough about the situation to try calling to see if they needed plates and forks at about 7:30 p.m.)

I don’t know what to say.  The reporter in me wants to pass on passing judgment on the record here.  The reporter in me has something else to say off the record.

A police report will be filed.  I hope to buy badge number 106 dinner for his time and patience.  And whoever did this — you are an asshole.  And I hope you get help.  Serious help.

I set off on this writing journey with some loose guidelines.  One of my self-imposed rules: don’t dog on the customers lest they be able to identify themselves and create real havoc for us.  But I need to unleash a few gripes before I burst.

Red Moon's lunch buffet -- amazing food, even better value (perhaps too valuable, as you'll see...)

For as long as I can remember we have offered our lunch buffet to-go.  You pay the same price as a sit-down diner ($7.50 including tax right now), we hand you a three-section styrofoam container to fill on your own to your heart’s content (see the problem coming?).  Easy lunch.  Great deal.

I’ll preface my gripe by saying my complaints stem from our own failings.  We don’t have a list of rules about how much food a person can really take.  It’s implied.  Fill your container, *close it* and be on your merry way.  I hate rules — they bog down the flow of life and they could potentially make us look like small-picture, micromanaging, nickel-and-dimers.  All things I hate about doing business.  It feels nit-picky and greedy.

I see our lack of implicit regulation of the to-go buffet process as a nod to the customers’ own ability to traverse the two-way street of human dignity.  In other words, I’m expecting them to be reasonable.  After all, it’s utterly surprising how much food fits in those things — it’s potentially way more than even the most spirited eaters can consume in a single dine-in buffet sitting.

Instead, I see people doing the most greedy things.  Yes, times are tough — but stuffing food into the container, mashing it down and compacting enough food for a family of four atop what’s already jammed inside is not okay, lady.  I’d had enough that day: “if that thing doesn’t close as it’s designed to, you will pay double,” I blurted during a complete absence of patience.

I am now forced to withhold the plastic shopping bag from customers until they are making their way out the door because of the lady who insisted on tossing more than a half dozen appetizers into her plastic bag rather than her to-go buffet container.  You are ruthless — but not as ruthless as the woman who used both sides of the container to take fried chicken wings that would have otherwise retailed at $20.  So much for my made-up “closing the container” rule that day!

To the guy who hovered at the steam table waiting for more of a chicken dish: You’re welcome to spoon some of the veggies into your container, too.  Never mind the fact you just discriminately scooped a good $8 or so in chicken breast into your container, bypassing anything green… what about your health?

Today, another instance of greed.  My dad gets really angry at this type of thing.  Today he said, “My blood got boiled. I only know how to [sic] them off.”

See, he did.  He asked an offender if s/he  had taken enough and asked the person to consider his/her health.  See, that’s some bold stuff right there!  But somehow my dad gets away with it.  Or perhaps the customers write it off as some sort of Chinaman babble to which they needn’t pay attention.

This, however, is clear: people make rules for a reason.  And I’m beginning to think a better policy for us that won’t seem too verbose and regulatory is the charge-by-the-pound method of to-go buffet pricing.  People pay for what they take.  We may lose a few customers, but as dad said today, we’re free to “[sic] them off” since we’re losing money on them anyway.

Business is business and we have costs to meet.  But I want to remain flexible and hospitable and welcoming to any and all who wish to come *fairly* enjoy our buffet in the manner he or she sees fit.  We will find a way.

UPDATE 12/11/09: For all the angst some of these people cause, it’s worthwhile to also note the potential they have as word-of-mouth advertisers.  Perhaps we lose money each time they come and take so much food.  But it’s also true they may be huge fans who are always encouraging others to come by.  So not only is it not a wash… it’s beneficial for us.  Oh, the nuances of doing business.  In fact, dad probably shouldn’t have opined at the steam table the other day.

The Kwan boys unite for a night on the town in Minneapolis for the first time ever (for adult beverages). Alex pictured center, Justin right.

Thank goodness the Thanksgiving holiday is over.  What  a whirlwind of activity — my brother Justin was in from Beijing for two weeks, my cousin Donnie was in from California and I cooked for 15 people on Thanksgiving Day.  As fun as it was, nothing beats life at a normal pace.

I’m going to get back to blogging right away — and I vow not to let Christmas get in the way of a steady flow of thoughts.

Numerous good and bad things have been happening in Red Moon’s world.  Today our HVAC hood broke down at the height of preparing our lunch buffet.  The kitchen turned into food service hell.  Dank, thick, greasy-smoky air filled the kitchen and it oozed out into the dining room.  It’s so embarrassing when stuff like that goes wrong — but I am always heartened by how understanding most people are.

Red Moon's Holiday Feast -- a view from inside: whether the in-house marketing is working this time around.

Here’s a preview of some of the tales to come:  1) How we experimented with a coconut shrimp recipe to meet a catering request 2) A story of theft and near-firing  3) My dad’s only memory of his own father 4) Whether holiday catering promotions are working

Thank you for your patience, kind readers.  I am still here and as excited about this creative venture as ever.

Twice in the last two weeks, I set off to distribute catering details and deals the old-fashioned way: going door-to-door.  I’ve only made it to one sliver of the Eden Prairie business sector, which is huge.  I hit the north side of I-494 between Highway 169 and Prairie Center Drive as well as part of the so-called “Golden Triangle.”  (I skipped Winter Park, but perhaps I shouldn’t have, seeing as how we have a lot of Red Moon fans within those walls.)

Let me tell you, it’s harder than it sounds.  I can tell you I’ve been very tempted to recall my ability to mock and lampoon the F.O.B. Chinese crowd so I could feign ignorance on the meaning of “No Solicitors.”  Instead, I’ve just summoned the courage to be bold and ignore the stickers placed pretty prominently on door-after-sterile-looking-business-park-door.  And boy have I paid the price at times.

Two weeks ago, I was kicked out of an office tower, albeit kindly with an offer to place my materials with the next day’s morning papers for four office suites.  An exasperated minion elsewhere was bothered by the need to get up from his cube and greet me at the door.  I could have left my free $10 gift certificate on the reception desk…. to possibly be ignored for days, as it appears the recession has exacted the one face that’s supposed to be friendly and warm from offices X, Y and Z: the receptionist.

Door-to-door tip: Office buildings are "bang for your buck" real estate with the business-to-steps-taken ratio. Just don't get asked to leave. Thankfully, I found all the people inside this one warm and welcoming. Different story down the road.

In the age of online transparency, Twitter and Facebook over-share, and increasing connectedness via digital signals and interfaces — we sure do keep ourselves blocked-off and guarded when it comes right down to it.  It seems a bit narcissistic.  We can broadcast whatever we want — delightfully assuming people out there will care or find it interesting.  But when a real person appears face-to-face, we opt for the opaque.

So why can’t a small business person go door-to-door to meet neighbors and find a more welcoming reception?  Of course I’m trying to sell something, but I’m also trying to get connected, in a sense.  Perhaps I’m being too idealistic.

Thankfully, I’m not feeling too cynical because I did get a great reception from a great many people out there.  In fact, a few new people have come by using the bonus free $5 gift certificates that I left for their own personal use (see, it does pay to be kind).  More than 50% of the places where people have been present at the door have been kind.

It’s also physically difficult to traverse business park after business park.  They’re not exactly places you travel by foot.  You have to park and re-park for each place you want to leave something.

This all brings me closer to another option: direct mail.  Yes, the “junk mail” type.  If I can design the colorful postcard, why not just send the good word that way with a hefty discount or great offer?  Other businesses still do it, so it must work to some degree.  Plus, it guarantees that most everyone gets our message.  And with the reception I’ve been getting at a lot of places, perhaps it’s better use of my time and energy.

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?

Right off the bat, I’m going to make it clear that I have only one side of this story — the small business owner who is trying to make it through a relatively rough patch: Tin Tat Kwan, owner of Red Moon Chinese Cafe.

A few months ago, when I was still living in Michigan, I learned that my dad had severed ties with the local Pepsi bottler in a huff — something about outrageous prices for the syrup restaurants mix into soda and inflexibility in getting deliveries of just one or two boxes of the stuff when we needed it.  Deepening the discord, Tin Tat found out from a friend/neighbor/franchisee of a huge national chain that he was paying LOTS more for the soda than say, a sandwich shop that also serves Pepsi.  Dad was pissed, to put it lightly.  He always says he requires a “special touch” from anyone he does business with.  What does that mean?  Well, that every once in awhile, a sales person, agent or rep stops in to B-S a little and have a bite, (a free bite at that)!  Pepsi wasn’t even coming close, according to dad.  All of this drove him to put an end to a nearly three-decade old relationship.  Pepsi let a 30-year customer walk away.

Tell me:  when should that happen?  When do you let a longtime customer get that upset?  Reminder, I’m telling only one side of the story.  Perhaps communication was a problem.  (I bet it was, actually.)

So for the last few months, Red Moon’s been serving canned- and two-liter soda.  Not the best quality for a sit-down restaurant, in my opinion.  But it’s been working and dad didn’t have to deal with Pepsi directly.

Starting soon, we will not deal with them at all.  Ever.  Not a single one of their products will touch Red Moon again.

Goodbye Pepsi. The Red Moon will bid farewell to Pepsi products later this month, after a nearly 30-year relationship, the Kwan family will wash its hands of Pepsi in favor of Coca-Cola.

This week, we signed up to exclusively sell and serve Coke products.  And what is Coke doing to make us feel welcome into “The Coke Family?”  The syrup is incredibly cheaper.  They are getting us two coolers to store canned sodas for our takeout customers (two!), and they have more flexible delivery options.  They’re also getting us a brand new soda fountain and running all new lines.  A fresh, clean start.

Now if anyone from Coke finds this blog entry, I wouldn’t go patting yourselves on the back too soon.  While we’re pleased with your offerings thus far, do not forget about “the special touch.”

If anyone from Pepsi is reading this, you ought to figure out how this happened.  Even if things got heated… where was the person with a passion for customer service who should have come by to make things right?

You'll even catch it in a blur: a silly-sounding restaurant name in Belle Plaine, Minn. begs questions about marketing a small Chinese restaurant: Where the heck do we begin?

We passed the Chinese restaurant in a blur, traveling 60 miles per hour down Highway 169 in Belle Plaine, Minn.  But the neon sign on the east side of the freeway was something a keen eye for sophomoric humor wouldn’t miss.  Couldn’t miss.  Didn’t miss.  There it was, prime real estate facing a busy highway, labeled “Mei Dong Garden.”  Another Chinese restaurant inviting more giggles than guys hungry for Moo Goo Gai Pan.

“Don’t they ask anyone if it’s a good name first?” I asked my mom, who was driving us down to see my grandmother in Fairmont, Minn.  She was too busy laughing about the name to really give me a good answer.  But it’s something we’ve always wondered.  How do the Mei Dongs of the world ever come to be without more careful consideration or consultation from a more fluent English speaker?  Or at least one who suffers from the occasional case of gutter-mind?

Thankfully, my Scandinavian, Minnesota-born mom, my brothers and I have always been nearby to prevent too much “Chinglish” from infiltrating the Red Moon.  But somehow our Wonton Soup is a gratuitous treat, labeled “wanton” soup on the dinner buffet.  I find it funny, so I’m leaving it be for now.

For the record, I believe Mei Dong Garden means something like “Beautiful Eastern Garden.”  A great little restaurant name.  Why not just call it that?

Well it’s not easy to market a little mom and pop Chinese restaurant — and obviously it starts before the doors open for the first time, when someone has to come up with the name.

We’re (and by “we” I mean the chop suey sellers of the world) all up against a lot right now:

• Corporate fast-casual entry into the Asian dining sector (Minnesota has always had Leeann Chin’s but now has Pei Wei, too)
• Innovate too much or market too fancy and you ostracize a substantial chunk of folks who know what they want (Minnesota-style chow mein, of course!)
• Advertising rates remain high enough to make you nervous while audience fragmentation is clear to any media consumer with a brain.  Is it even worth it?  We seem to be barely beyond the abacus — we’ve got to start an Excel sheet to track this “ROI-business.”  Everything is anecdotal right now: “yeah, people use that coupon a lot.”
• Hopping on the social media bandwagon with sponsored ads on sites like Yelp.com seems smart, but the rates and time commitment are a lot to swallow on a whim. (Plus, Red Moon still has no organic Yelp reviews — our local competitors have one apiece, max.)  Yelp might be exploding in Minneapolis right now.  It’s questionable whether it is a hit in Eden Prairie.

The list could go on for a long while.  But this much has been made clear to me: I’m not to spend a ton of money at this point in time.  So that means grass roots, word-of-mouth marketing for Red Moon Chinese Cafe.  Flyers, friendly smiles and things like that.  Keeping our Web site inviting to potentially new customers (Look for a re-launch of RedMoonChineseCafe.com soon!)  Maybe a little salesmanship outside the confines of the dining room.

So here goes nothing.  I’ll have been here two weeks this Wednesday.  It’s time to do this thing!  Thankfully, we have a good name to stand on.

Red Moon's Logo -- designed by my mom in conjunction with the people who made our neon sign out front.

BONUS STORY: Here’s how the “Red Moon” name came to be, interestingly.  My mom and I (and my brothers, I guess) were both leading our lives according to some rich principles of faith back in 1995-1996 (Boy, is that ever euphemistic!)  She more than I, as I was a mere 13-years-old.  Anyway.  In the Bible’s Book of Revelations, there is some reference to the moon turning blood-red during the “end times.”  I’m not about to research the particulars, but it has to do with the second-coming of Jesus.  The name was a reflection of faith.

Today, it remains a classy name with a little bit of brand-value, thanks to my dad’s good cooking and our nice base of loyal, local customers.  People also infer that the name has something to do with the Harvest Moon Festival in China (Chinese: 中秋節)  Conveniently, it works out either way you want to see it.

Thankfully, we are not fighting those ridiculous giggles.  But we are up against just about everything else those other little mom and pops are.  And I’m ready to do battle.