When customers step into their local Chinese restaurant, craving some beef and broccoli, they often notice familiar details: the slightly ripped upholstery on the chairs, the sun-batter menus overlooking the counter, the teenager behind the cash register. These stray observations rarely invite further curiosity, well at least before the affordable, mouthwatering sesame chickens steal their attention, that is. Yet beneath these passing thoughts lies a deeper story of resourcefulness and perseverance; one comes with a fortune cookie.
New China looks just like your typical corner Chinese takeout–nested in a Kroger-anchored strip mall, it’s been a neighborhood staple in Auburn, Alabama ever since the 1990s. The founder, Mr. Yang Liguo, immigrated to the United States in the early 1980s, leaving his family behind in China to find a better life here. When asked about his decision to leave home, he simply answered, “Anything was better than just fixing bicycles on the side of the road.” Before opening New China, Mr. Yang jumped from job to job across the country, sending nearly every paycheck back to his loved ones. Even through the longer hours and constant moving, he still reserved time each week for a conversation with his family back in China.
In the early 1990s, Mr. Yang arrived in Auburn, Alabama with just enough saving to launch his own business and he chose the reliable path of many other Chinese immigrants: a takeout restaurant. He soon brought over his family, and together they ran New China as a tight-knight, family-run enterprise. The priority was always speed and flavor; ambience and other frills took a back seat. After all, this was a takeout restaurant, patrons usually did not sit-down to acknowledge the atmosphere. During school hours, Mr. Yang and his wife handles every order, but as soon as the bell rang, their children–now fluent in English due to their American education–would find themselves greeting customers and managing the cash register. To many, it may have looked odd to see middle schools running a restaurant, but their presence was indispensable. As one of the kids recalled, “one time, a customer asked me if I was old enough to be working here.” Through sheer grind and long hours, the business thrived, and the Yang family ultimately forged a life that was way richer than the one they had left behind.
When Kroger expanded its complex in 2015, New China was offered a brand-new spot at the far end of the parking lot, and the owners made good use of this new space. Inside, you’ll find a restaurant lit with natural light with, surprisingly, intact fabric on the chairs. To the left, there’s a divided sitting area, blocked by low walls. It almost seemed as if it was a cubicle, almost entirely private. Sadly, there’s no more hallmark faded pictures above the counter. Instead, you’ll find a modern TV advertising all the menu’s delicious offerings, a clear indication of moving with the times. At the cash register, there’s an older woman, ready to take orders at a moment’s notice. Behind her, presumably, was the kitchen, it’s line of sight blocked by two very Chinese themed dividers. As I walked in, the lady shouted a young man’s order through the curtains, a characteristic habit of many Chinese takeout restaurants. I noticed the small sign on the counter advertising their new Thai tea, something that completely threw me for a loop. It seems as if the boba epidemic has hit even local Chinese restaurants.
Despite these modern touches, the heart of New China remains unchanged. The young man’s order came out quickly, a clear nod to its history of fast service. Through the plastic film of the bag, I could make out the slight bulge of the takeout box, indicating that maybe New China gave out too much food. I couldn’t help but smell the aroma of the sesame chicken, an almost sweet flavor that filled my nostrils. I knew that this was the same New China that I had remembered. I greeted my family friend, “aunt”, as I called her. She had known me even before I could speak and worked for China nearly just as long. In typical Chinese fashion, she asked me if I was hungry and whether I wanted anything to eat. Taking upon her offer, she took my order of mei fun and within a couple of minutes, it was in front of me. Blazingly fast. She sat down with me, and I asked her how business was going. She said she was ready to retire and probably would soon, but then she’d have nothing to do. I laughed, knowing that my own dad was in the same predicament. I asked her about how long she’d been working at New China, and she told me she came to American a couple years before I was born so nearly 30 years. Then, she proceeded to give the usual shpiel, “I remember when you were so small, and look at you now, you’re so big and nearly done with college.” My aunt then began recounting about her earlier days at New China, remembering how my grandma burnt her arm with hot oil when she was cooking. I recalled the brown scar on my grandmother’s upper arm, just now learning that’s where it came from. She then expressed how much the restaurant has changed her life and allowed her to have a different, better future in the United States. She seemed grateful to Mr. Yang for letting her have this opportunity and she hoped she did a good job.
I believe she has. Simple food, generous portions, and dedication to fast service has been and will always be the three pillars of New China, just as Mr. Yang had intended. And though the Yang family has since moved on to other restaurant ventures, New China remains in trusted hands: long-time family friends who have continued Mr. Yang’s legacy. Their upkeep and persistence in running New China has kept Auburn’s residents coming back for decades.