Beijing Kabobs is the most traditional Beijing lamb hotpot restaurant in Atlanta, and its owner’s warm heart is as famous as her food. She came to Atlanta in 2009 so her daughter could attend school here, and the whole family moved from Beijing, where they lived near the historic Drum Tower（鼓楼） in the city’s core. Growing up in a Beijing hutong, she knew her husband from childhood; they married, had their daughter, and later came to America to support their family’s future.
If you’ve ever visited Beijing Kabobs, you’ve surely felt their “over-the-top” Beijing hospitality. The owner loves talking with every guest, and once you’re her friend, she’ll happily share endless local gossip（八卦）. Even after many years in the U.S., she still speaks limited English, so most of her customers are fellow Chinese. But she never lets that stop her; she learned simple phrases, points to picture menus when needed, and always greets you with a smile.
What really sets this place apart is the lamb. For more than ten years, she has insisted on using only Inner Mongolian lamb. Every month, relatives back in Beijing mail her fresh meat to keep the flavor authentic. She says lamb from 3–6 month old sheep is tender with just a light aroma, and autumn and winter lamb is at its richest. Each year, she buys extra meat in the fall, freezes it, and serves it all year.
In Beijing hotpot, lamb is the star. Thin slices of frozen lamb cook in seconds; you eat them hot so they stay juicy. Dip the meat into “Erba Sauce 二八酱”, 20% sesame paste, 80% peanut butter, plus garlic chives（韭菜花） and fermented tofu（腐乳）and you taste the soul of Beijing.
When they first arrived, the couple worked every restaurant job imaginable—waiter, cook, cleaner—before deciding to open their own place. Today, it’s just the two of them: he grills and fries in the kitchen while she welcomes guests and keeps everything running smoothly. Their teamwork feels like an old-school “husband-and-wife” restaurant back home, and it has earned them a loyal following. Now, their small shop on the Buford Highway is celebrated as one of the best stops for authentic Northern Chinese street food in Atlanta.
After working in Atlanta for so many years, the owners have decided to return to Beijing to enjoy their retirement. They say Atlanta has been wonderful, but Beijing will always be their true home. They miss the simple joys of life there, especially the tangy taste of 豆汁 (fermented mung-bean drink) and a classic Beijing breakfast. Without a doubt, they shared the flavors of home with Atlanta’s Chinese food lovers, and after all these years, choosing to retire back in Beijing is a wise decision.
He Liang’s journey from Hangzhou, China to Atlanta, Georgia is one marked by resilience and pragmatism. As a former musician turned restaurant owner, he represents the sacrifices and adaptations many immigrants are forced to face as they navigate an unfamiliar environment in the pursuit of stability and opportunity. His story is not only one of cultural preservation through cuisine but also of personal transformation.
Background
He Liang was born in Hangzhou, China, and he spent the first decades of his life immersed in China’s rich tradition of music. He first came to America in 1999 with his 60 person opera troupe, where he played the dizi (笛子), eventually deciding moving there permanently. For fifteen years in China he had been a professional musician, but upon arriving in America he quickly discovered that outside of a few famous musicians, making a stable living would be incredibly difficult. After leaving the opera, he started offering private flute lessons, but struggled to pay the bills.
The turning point came in the wake of the 2008 global financial crisis. His private music teaching business dried up as American families cut back on nonessential spending. He began looking for alternative sources of income and set music to the side, 音乐就是喜欢, he stated, recognizing that in America, art often must remain a hobby rather than a livelihood. He was forced to take part time warehouse shipping and delivery jobs to supplement his income. By 2009, with no promising job opportunities in Texas and supporting a young family, including his wife, whom he had married after settling in the US, he knew something had to change. Sadly, pursuing his passion for music while trying to raise his family would no longer be possible in the States.
Opening the Restaurant
In search of opportunities, eventually he moved from his original location of Texas to Georgia. In Atlanta, he met a Sichuan chef at his local church. This chef taught him how to make Sichuan dishes and the two began exploring the idea of taking over an existing restaurant. Luckily, as they were searching for opportunities, an Atlantan restaurant owner just so happened to be looking for buyers. He knew that if he wanted to attain a stable life in the US, he wouldn’t be able to turn down this opportunity-”开这个参观是没有选择“. This restaurant was the Chongqing hotpot restaurant that he owns now and before him it had over a decade long history. The previous owner had immigrated from Chongqing to America 20-30 years earlier. He Liang didn’t choose the name or the concept but out of respect for its heritage and popularity among local Chinese patrons, he preserved it.
Since taking over, He made no changes to the menu, which he says reflects the “家常菜” (home-style food) of Chongqing cuisine. “菜单基本上没有改变…很多中国人喜欢”, he explains. The menu serves as a bridge to the past and is a taste of home for many immigrants from Sichuan and Chongqing.
Despite being from Hangzhou, known for lighter and more delicate cuisine. He recognized the popularity of Sichuan food and respected the regional culinary identity of the restaurant. HIs approach reveals a common philosophy among Chinese restaurant owners when it comes to diaspora. They recognize that food is more than flavor, its a vessel of memory, identity, and community.
Reflections on Work and Life in America
Now, as a successful Chinatown business owner, He rarely has time to play the flute anymore. He works 11 hour days, from 10 a.m. to 9 or sometimes even 11 p.m, the restaurant business demands a grueling lifestyle “很辛苦”, He describes it as. He sometimes laments the fact that since he is often too busy to practice, when he is able to play, he notices his once-pro level skills decaying. He’s journey from musician to restaurant owner illustrates a common immigrant arc of passion yielding reluctantly to pragmatism.
That said, He does not seem bitter about his prospects, noting that he still loves America and the fact that he is able to make a solid living with a stable job. He emphasizes the importance of 稳定的工作 stable jobs, and he directly states, “在美国不能选你喜欢的工作，只能选赚钱的工作”. Like many immigrants, He sees America as a place of opportunity, but not necessarily of freedom in the idealistic sense. It’s a land of economic survival, where passion often takes a backseat to practicality. His attitude reflects the bittersweet duality of the immigrant experience, where one often trades personal dreams for familial security and long-term sustainability.
Cultural Identity and Community
Though not a native of Sichuan. He Liang now serves as a representative of Chongqing food culture in Atlanta. His restaurant has become a gathering place for the local Chinese community and a rare space where authentic 川菜 is preserved, and where his own story, from Hangzhou flutist to Atlanta hot-pot owner, continues to echo in every bubbling pot at Chongqing Hot Pot.
He Liang’s life story illustrates the intersections of art, immigration, and cuisine. From performing in Hangzhou to preparing hotpot in Atlanta, his journey illustrates how cultural expression adapts to economic necessity. While music remains a private joy, it is food that now connects him to his community and culture.
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.
Ordering counter at the first New China
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.
New ambience of the new New China
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.
Mei Fun from New China
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.
Located in Chamblee, Georgia is the original Atlanta Chinatown. Once bustling with Chinese immigrants and filled with the sounds of different Chinese dialects, the food court is now relatively empty, with mostly non-Chinese customers. Amongst the food court stalls is a restaurant called Chongqing Hotpot.
Caption: Liang He Rivers in front of Chongqing Hotpot.
Journey to Atlanta
Liang He Rivers has been the owner of Chongqing Hotpot since 2009. Originally from the Zhejiang province in China, he came to the United States in 1999. Rivers came to the US to follow his passion for music.
He said, “我从小就喜欢音乐”, which means, “I’ve loved music since I was little.”
Rivers went to music school in China to become a professional flutist. After performing in Texas, instead of returning to China, he settled down in the United States. Because America was the land of opportunity, Rivers saw America as a chance for a more promising life. He settled down with his wife, Gin Rivers, in South Carolina, and continued his career as a flute teacher. However, in 2008, the recession hit and Rivers was forced to consider new career paths.
Caption: Liang He Rivers on the left and his wife Gin Rivers on the right.
“搞音乐是很开心的，但是你有一种生活压力，还有钱,各方面的问题,” Rivers shared. “It’s fun to make music, but you have the pressure of life, money, and all kinds of problems.”
Thus, they moved back to Atlanta, his wife’s hometown.
Caption: Liang He Rivers on the left and his two sisters, middle and right.
Early days
Moving back to Atlanta, Rivers started working multiple jobs to make ends meet.
“我开始在仓库工作，晚上的时候送外卖，周末的时候教音乐,” Rivers explained. “I started working in a warehouse, delivering food at night, and teaching music on weekends.”
Despite his 3 jobs, Rivers was not able to earn a sustainable living, so times were difficult for him and his wife. However, in 2009, a church friend of Rivers’ approached him with a business opportunity. His church friend was a Szechuan chef with a friend who was looking to sell his restaurant. After discussing the details, Rivers realized the restaurant was the solution to his problems.
The solution, however, was not easy to come by. When Rivers first took over the restaurant, he had no idea how to cook. In fact, he could not even eat spicy food! Little by little, however, he learned each dish on the menu, studying under the chef. After 16 years, he has mastered cooking and in order to keep the flavor consistent, he is the one who now teaches the new chefs.
“所有的菜都是我教他们的,“ Rivers stated. “I taught them all the dishes.”
Ups and downs
In 2020, the Covid-19 pandemic struck, and the restaurant industry suffered; Rivers was not an exception. What set him apart, however, was his resilience and determination to stay open.
“我没有关过一天，我们一直开 7 天的,” Rivers said. “I haven’t closed it for a single day, we’re always open 7 days a week.”
However, Rivers kept his doors open during Covid-19, not closing for more than a day. He relied entirely on takeout orders. While Rivers did not make a profit the first 3 months of Covid, slowly, he said, the customers started coming back.
A review that spurred the increase in customers was from YouTuber Mike Chen, a food reviewer who reviewed his restaurant and attracted the younger generation. You can watch Mike Chen’s review below:
At the present, most people find Chongqing Hotpot through the internet. Not only that, but many tourist groups organize a stop in Chinatown to eat authentic, well-priced Chinese food. Although foot traffic in the area has decreased in recent years, Rivers relies on online reviews and social media to promote his restaurant.
Atlanta Chinatown development
As Atlanta grew and expanded in the last 20 years, the demographic Rivers serves has shifted dramatically since he first took over Chongqing Hot Pot.
“刚开始的时候, 我们这里没有美国人,” he explained. “When we first started, we had no Americans here.”
The Chamblee Chinatown once served as a hub for Chinese Americans from all over the South. Chinese immigrants from Tennessee, South Carolina, and all over Georgia came to purchase Chinese vegetables and eat authentic food.
In fact, Rivers proudly states “这家店是亚特兰大第一家川菜管，以前火锅都没有,” or “This restaurant is the first Sichuan restaurant in Atlanta. There was no hot pot restaurant before.”
Now, however, hotpot restaurants are popping up all over Atlanta. Trendy cafes serving boba and higher end Asian cuisine are attracting young people out to newer restaurants in Duluth. Rivers notes that once the Great Wall Supermarket in Duluth opened, he saw a drastic decrease in business and Chinese customers.
“一方面很多中国人住在那边附近，然后外周人也更方便因为I-85,” he stated. “On the one hand, many Chinese live nearby, and it’s more convenient for people from the surrounding areas because of I-85.”
Not only that, but because of the layout of Atlanta, many students live on the northside of Atlanta and don’t come down to the original Chinatown anymore. As a result, he now serves more customers of White, Hispanic, or other Asian descent, with the current Atlanta Chinatown food court owners being Mexican.
Chongqing Hotpot Now
Chongqing Hotpot is open from 10:00 am to 8:30 pm every day of the week. His busiest days are the weekends and otherwise, 11am weekdays. 70 – 80% of his customers are regulars, those who keep coming back because they crave the comforting taste of Chongqing cuisine, from 水煮鱼，火锅，to 干锅.
Caption: The dish pictured is fish drypot, or 干锅鱼.
Caption: The dish pictured is beef hotpot, or 牛肉火锅.
Rivers has come a long way. Forced to abandon his music dream and devote his time to managing a restaurant despite not knowing how to cook any of the dishes, his hardships and persistence is clear.
“开餐馆很幸苦,” Rivers shared. “Running a restaurant is hard work.”
Although his path was not the one he originally intended to take after leaving his parents and 2 sisters in China, Rivers has been able to find community here in Atlanta. As a restaurant owner, Rivers hires many workers. One of his non-Chinese teenage workers can speak Chinese very well, and to Rivers, she is family. Her drawings hang in the restaurant window, and Rivers made plans for her to spend Chinese New Year with his family in China this year.
“我来的时候一个人都没有，没有人来帮我,” Rivers told us. “When I arrived, there was no one there, no one came to help me.”
As a Chinese immigrant, moving from Texas to South Carolina to Georgia is no small task. Burdened with financial troubles, Rivers turned to Chongqing Hotpot as his solution. An honest and unassuming restaurant tucked away in the stalls of Atlanta Chinatown, Chongqing Hotpot is a worthy trip to take.
Introduction: Gathering Stories Through Taiwanese Flavors
This oral history project explores how Taiwanese and Chinese restaurants in the United States serve as spaces of cultural preservation, adaptation, and storytelling. These restaurants are more than just a place to eat because they are living archives of personal histories, migration journeys, and identity negotiations. Our approach is grounded in close observation and personal engagement. By visiting restaurants, eating with intention, and speaking directly with the people who work there, we aim to document not just the flavors on the table but the deeper meanings behind them. Through this process, we hope to better understand how food can function as a form of memory, resilience, and cross-cultural communication. One of our first visits was to 辣妹子 ( La Mei Zi), a Taiwanese restaurant located in a quiet suburban plaza in Doraville. Though unassuming from the outside, this restaurant quickly revealed itself to be a vibrant, community-centered space with deep ties to both its Taiwanese roots and its local neighborhood.
Resturant Observation
Walking into 辣妹子, we were met with an immediate sense of warmth and familiarity. The space is bathed in pronounced red tones, accented by traditional Chinese lanterns hanging from the ceiling and elegant watercolor-style paintings of magnolia blossoms on the walls. This careful aesthetic choice evokes both elegance and comfort, a subtle blend of cultural pride and accessibility. The restaurant houses seventeen tables. A few of these are large, round tables equipped with rotating lazy Susans, encouraging communal dining and the sharing of multiple dishes, typical of Chinese and Taiwanese eating culture. The remaining are smaller with a mix of circular and rectangular tables, each cleanly set for more intimate gatherings for a more western appeal.
A unique feature stands at the restaurant’s center: a long rectangular table draped in a floral tablecloth, acting as a functional island for both dine-in and takeout service. Neatly arranged on it are utensils, takeout containers, and bags of prepped orders waiting for pickup. During our visits, a steady stream of takeout customers arrived, suggesting that 辣妹子 caters to a loyal customer base even beyond the dining room. Behind the cashier counter, the décor is rich with symbols of prosperity and good fortune: 招財貓 (beckoning cats), a golden-bellied 彌勒佛 (laughing Buddha), and a figurine of 財神爺 (the god of wealth). Above them, framed certificates, likely health inspection or local accolades, decorate the wall.
Despite the restaurant’s high traffic, the environment remains calm. There’s no music playing, and the kitchen sounds are muffled, allowing guests to converse freely over their meals. Across both visits,one during peak dinner hours and another during a quieter mid-afternoon, we witnessed a remarkably diverse clientele. Chinese-speaking students, American families, and curious individual diners all made up the crowd. One moment stood out in particular: a Black woman dining nearby walked over to our table to ask what dish we were eating and which was one of their signature dish 乾辣子雞 (Sichuan-style spicy chicken). That moment captured the welcoming, curiosity-driven atmosphere that 辣妹子 fosters.
The Food Experience at 辣妹子 (La Mei Zi Asian Bistro)
The menu at 辣妹子 balances authenticity with variety, leaning heavily toward Taiwanese comfort dishes and regional Chinese specialties, particularly those from Sichuan. Dishes are made to order, with spice levels adjusted to customer preference, and arrive at the table quickly, hot, and generously portioned.
Over the course of two visits, we sampled a wide range of items:
First Visit Highlights:
刈包 (Braised pork with pickled mustard greens in a steamed bun): A Taiwanese staple, this dish delivered a satisfying mix of softness and crunch, sweetness and savoriness.
酸辣湯 (Hot & sour soup): Bolder than typical versions, this one struck a strong balance of tang and spice, needing no extra seasoning.
乾辣子雞 (Sichuan-style spicy chicken): Bursting with dried chilies and numbing peppercorns, this dish was fragrant, crispy, and unapologetically hot.
麻婆豆腐 (Spicy mapo tofu): Authentically numbing with a deep chili oil base, which reminded us of the dish’s Sichuan origins.
客家小炒 (Stir-fried pork belly, calamari, bean curd, and Chinese chive flower): Perhaps the most Taiwanese dish we tasted, this stir-fry combined complex textures and the uniquely grassy aroma of chive flower.
Second Visit Highlights:
鍋貼 (Pan-fried chicken dumplings): Crispy on the bottom and juicy inside, a perfect snack or light meal.
鹽酥雞 (Taiwanese salt & pepper popcorn chicken with basil): Deep-fried with fragrant basil leaves, this iconic night market dish was both crispy and herbal.
蔥油餅 (Scallion pancake): Golden and flakey, served hot with dipping sauce.
炸銀絲卷沾煉乳 (Fried bread roll with condensed milk): A nostalgic treat, especially popular with Taiwanese diners. It is crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, sweet from the condensed milk.
左宗棠雞 (General Tso’s chicken): The only Americanized Taiwanese dish we tried which was sweet, tangy, and saucy, yet still executed with a level of care and crispness that made it enjoyable.
回鍋肉 (Double-cooked sliced pork): A robust and savory stir-fry with hints of garlic and chili, less oily than most versions in the states.
What stood out across both meals was the restaurant’s commitment to flavor integrity. While the menu includes a few familiar dishes aimed at Western diners, the majority of items remain deeply rooted in Taiwanese and Chinese home-style cooking. The spice levels were not as watered down, and ingredients like basil, chive flower, and fermented bean curd hinted at an uncompromising approach to flavor.
Oral History Maggie
Our first impression of Maggie came from an unforgettable scene. As we arrived for our first visit at La Mei Zi, a woman walked in excitedly and called out, “Maggie!” The two of them hugged warmly, like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. That moment made me realize that Maggie was more than just a server, she had built deep and genuine relationships with the restaurant’s customers.
Maggie is originally from Guangdong, China. She came to the United States with her husband and later raised two children on her own. With over forty years of experience in the food service industry, she has worked in various types of restaurants, including sushi spots, Vietnamese and Korean eateries, fast food chains like McDonald’s and Burger King, and even a nursing home. She laughed as she told us she’s seen every kind of boss and customer over the years. In recent years, working with a Taiwanese owner has even given her a slight Taiwanese accent.
While we were ordering, we had a chance to talk with Maggie. She told us she’s responsible for managing all the online reviews for La Mei Zi. But she doesn’t just reply to them, she genuinely remembers the content and backstory of nearly every review. She even pulled out her phone and showed us one of them, describing in detail who the customer came with, where they sat, and what they ordered. Her incredible memory impressed us all. She smiled and said it’s a skill she’s developed over four decades in the business.
Maggie never uses a notepad to take orders; she memorizes everything. She also takes the initiative to introduce popular dishes to new customers, such as Mapo Tofu and Dry Chili Chicken. She explained that Indian customers especially love spicy food, while younger generations often order bold, intense dishes like Wu Gen Chang Wang (spicy pork intestine hot pot). She added that American customers are particularly fond of hot and sour soup.
During our first visit, by around 6:30 p.m., nearly every table was occupied. Throughout the meal, customers came in steadily to dine or pick up takeout. Hoping for a quieter moment, we returned around 3 p.m. on another day to talk more with Maggie. We mostly ordered small dishes like fried silver thread buns and popcorn chicken. But before long, the stream of customers returned. Even in off-peak hours, La Mei Zi was bustling. There were three female servers on staff, and the chef occasionally had to come out to help deliver dishes, showing how popular and busy the restaurant is.
Maggie mentioned that competition in the area has increased in recent years, with many new Chinese restaurants opening nearby, including the well-known Lao Sichuan. We asked her what La Mei Zi’s secret was for keeping customers coming back. She laughed and said, “Our signature is spice!” She explained that the dishes used to be spicier forty years ago, but have since been adjusted to suit changing tastes. Still, they’re happy to accommodate requests for extra heat. For example, the Dry Chili Chicken used to be drenched in chili oil, but now it’s served with a more moderate amount.
What surprised us most was Maggie’s personal taste. When we asked her what her favorite dish was at the restaurant, she told us she actually prefers light, mild food. She grew up in a rural village where meals were typically simple and clean in flavor, and despite living in the U.S. for many years, she still finds American Chinese food too heavy for her palate. I asked, “Then why did you choose to stay in the U.S.?” She smiled and said, “I think there are more opportunities here. People like me in the food industry are treated with more respect. I don’t feel looked down on here.”
As we were about to leave, Maggie asked for our names and shook each of our hands warmly. She invited us to come back again soon. Her sincerity and kindness were like a gentle breeze. To me, Maggie is not just a server, she’s the heart of La Mei Zi. This restaurant isn’t just a place to eat, it’s a space filled with warmth, connection, and humanity made possible by people like her.
Restaurants Featured in This Observation
Restaurant Information Name: La Mei Zi Bistro Phone: (770) 676-0225 Menu:lameizibistro.com
Imperial Chinese Garden is a long-standing Chinese restaurant in Stone Mountain, Georgia. Originally established in 1979, the restaurant is known for blending authentic Szechuan and Mandarin-style cuisine with flavors that appeal to Western tastes.
This restaurant offers a wide range of amenities, including delivery, takeout, reservations, vegetarian options, and even catering services. The dining experience is complemented by a serene atmosphere, featuring elegant Asian décor and a central wishing fountain, making it suitable for both family gatherings and casual meals.
The menu at Imperial Chinese Garden is extensive, featuring an array of appetizers, soups, pork, chicken, beef, seafood, house specials, vegetables, Thai dishes, fried rice, lo mein noodles, egg foo young, chop suey, and imperial dinners. Signature fusion dishes like the twice-cooked pork, triple delight, and bok choy are well-known for their traditional flavors while catering to Western palates.
Sweet Chinese Donuts, Sesame Chicken, Panang Curry, Shrimp Fried Rice, Walnut Shrimp from Imperial Chinese Garden that we ordered
Observations
When we arrived to Imperial Chinese Garden, we parked in a spacious parking lot outside the front of the restaurant. We walked in and the sitting area was nicely decorated with various potted plants, ornate seating, and Chinese decorations. After walking further into the restaurant, there was a front desk with a cash register and a full wall mirror behind the desk. This area was decorated similarly to the rest of the restaurant, with nice Chinese decorations and a few small plants. Once inside the dining area, we saw a nice fountain in the middle of the room that had decorative ducks around it. In this area, as well as the waiting area, there were small tables set up that held to-go boxes, napkins, condiments, and utensils. The background music was mostly peaceful instrumental music. There was a good variety including some Chinese songs, some more classical-sounding songs, some jazzy songs, and a little Latin music. When put together, the music and decorations created a relaxed, banquet atmosphere.
As for the menu, we noticed that the menu was fully in English and had mainly American Chinese food items. It also had some Thai food selections and a few more “authentic” Chinese dishes like Mapo tofu. We also found it interesting that this Chinese restaurant had chicken wings on the menu. We ordered a variety of dishes (shown in the picture above), and the food was brought out on a food trolley rather than a server bringing the dishes out on a big serving tray. Additionally, we noticed that many of the plates/dishes were decorated to mimic Chinese blue glaze porcelain. Most of the dishes were ceramic, but there were a few that were plastic.
See the video at the end of the post for a visual walkthrough of the restaurant.
Wei Huang
Wei Huang, the current owner of Imperial Chinese Garden, moved to America alone at 19 in 2002, following friends and relatives who had already immigrated. Initially settling in New York with relatives, she faced the challenge of adapting to a new country without speaking English.
She had difficulty finding work due to the language barrier, so she started slowly learning English and secured her first job in a restaurant. She found that she missed her parents and found it difficult to adjust to living in a new country. “很想爸爸妈妈。很幸苦。” She didn’t have many expectations of American before arriving, other than knowing it wouldn’t be easy. “刚开始比较辛苦但是在这了如果努力工作就会有收获。” Because she believed that working hard would bring success, she continued to push through any challenges she faced as she became accustomed to life in America.
Within the year, she moved from New York to Georgia and remained in the food service industry. Eventually in 2009, she purchased an Americanized-Chinese restaurant in Columbus, Georgia. She ran this restaurant with her family for about 10 years as a way to provide a stable life for her children. However, she found that Columbus was not a convenient place to buy Chinese ingredients. Additionally, there was hardly any Chinese population there, so she decided to sell it. In 2019, she purchased Imperial Chinese Garden after discovering the restaurant during a food purchase. At the time, the restaurant’s long-standing reputation and loyal customer base made it a promising opportunity.
Running a restaurant has not been without challenges. In Columbus, because the Chinese population was so small, she had some challenges with choosing dishes that appealed to Western tastes and preferences. More recently with her second restaurant, COVID-19 happened right after she bought the restaurant, making business struggle. She says she’s continued to struggle with prices and wages being high and being unable to make the prices of the dishes too high. There is a balance that she has to consider when making any changes. Especially since Chinese food is generally cheaper, despite having good quality ingredients, if dishes are sold for too high of a price, they would lose customers. “虽然我们用的材料都是好的，因为中餐普遍价格比较低，如果我们卖太高，客人不会理解。”
When she bought Imperial Chinese Garden, she chose to keep many things the same, recognizing the importance of preserving the dishes and flavors familiar to longtime customers. When asked about maintaining authenticity, Wei Huang explained that Americanized Chinese food has generally been the formula for a successful “Chinese” restaurant in America, so she never really considered including authentic Chinese dishes without it being some sort of fusion dish. She said when opening a restaurant, she needs to consider the demographics of the area. If there are many Han Chinese in the area, then she could have and might have opened an authentic Chinese food restaurant, however, because she’s lived in places in Georgia with a minimal number of Han Chinese people, she always run Americanized-Chinese food restaurants. “开餐厅是需要看区域，如果这个地方有跟多汉人，然我就开地道中餐，如果没有那么多中国人，我就开美式中餐。”
In terms of Wei Huang’s experience of assimilating into America and running a restaurant, she’s faced many hardships and struggles. At the beginning it was extremely difficult for her. “刚开始的时候非常难因为什么都不许西。新的人，新的国家，新的语言。” There were times when she faced small amounts of discrimination or racism. Despite these challenges, Wei Huang has found a far greater majority that enjoy her restaurant as well as a small community within Georgia. To get her through tough times, she has kept the mindset of working hard to provide a good and better life for her children. “家庭，就是为了家庭，一切困难都不是困难。为了小孩明天更好”
As a last piece of advice to someone just starting out as an immigrant or small business owner, Wei Huang says to learn to endure hardships. “学会要吃苦，赶来的时候什么都会难。”
Walkthrough video of Imperial Chinese Garden
Interview conducted by Joyce Li, analysis done by Stephanie Harter
Nestled within the small food court of Atlanta’s Chinatown lies a conspicuous restaurant with a blaring red sign stating “舌尖味道 CHINA KITCHEN,” and an extensive menu filled with hidden gems and delicious options. With over 90 food options on the menu, there are plentiful options for everyone. While China Kitchen serves the American Chinese food that has become ubiquitous throughout the United States, its chef truly specializes in foods from the Sichuan province of China (四川省), famous for its spicy, numbing flavors.
Every dish comes with rice, soup, and tea for maximal enjoyment. Each dish is impeccably and uniquely flavored, as most of the sauces are made in-house.
Personal History (个人历史)
The owner and head chef of China Kitchen is an immigrant native to Sichuan. He was professionally trained as a chef before immigrating to the United States. After honing his craft as a chef in Sichuan for 14 years, he immigrated to the United States under a skilled worker program. Taking considerable pride in his culinary expertise, he has spent the subsequent decade attempting various restaurant ventures across the country.
Broader Atlanta History (更广大的历史)
Running a restaurant in Atlanta has given the owner many insights, particularly when comparing customer habits to those in China. He’s noticed that patrons here often find one or two favorite dishes and tend to reorder them consistently, even on subsequent visits. Sometimes, customers return after many years specifically requesting a dish they first enjoyed long ago, although menu changes occasionally mean those items are no longer available.
Catering to diverse dietary needs is also more common in the U.S. market. Modifications are often necessary for guests with religious restrictions, such as those who don’t eat meat or pork. Spice preferences differ significantly as well; many local customers are less accustomed to high levels of spice or the distinct numbing quality (mala) of Sichuan peppercorns compared to diners in China. For instance, while some Mexican patrons might enjoy intense heat, they may not necessarily seek the unique fragrance associated with Sichuan peppers.
For the owner, effectively marketing his restaurant’s unique identity is crucial. He needs to highlight its authentic character to stand out from competitors. A key part of this strategy involves carefully sourcing specific ingredients to create genuine Chinese dishes, offering an experience distinct from typical American Chinese food and fostering appreciation for authentic cuisine in the United States.
I scootered past rows of shuttered storefronts and boarded-up buildings before reaching Lucky 8, a Chinese takeout restaurant in one of Atlanta’s worst neighborhoods, English Avenue. The area doesn’t seem like it should have a Chinese restaurant; according to Niche, English Avenue’s demographics were 78% Black, 16% White, 1% Hispanic, and, wait for it, 0% Asian. Yet there it is. Tucked into a battered shopping plaza off Joseph E. Boone Boulevard in English Avenue, Lucky China 8, doesn’t stand out at first glance. Instead of a proper sign on top of the building, there was just a flimsy poster on the wall that marked the restaurant’s entrance: “Lucky China 8 Chinese Restaurant, Best Wings, Shrimp Fried Rice, New China Food.” The exterior looked rough but fit in with the business around it. There were barred windows, barred doors, and people loitering outside, some visibly under the influence, some simply staring blankly at me. Yet inside, the place was relatively clean, though the faded plastic chairs and tables showed its age.
The front of Lucky China 8 Chinese Restaurant
A few Black customers waited in line. Off to the side, an elderly Chinese man quietly ate a plate of fried rice. Knowing there aren’t many Asians in this area, I struck up a conversation with him. He told me he was a blue collar worker from Fujian, coming here for the large portions and low prices. I asked him about the food’s taste. He shrugged. He said for immigrants like him, even Americanized Chinese takeout was preferable to typical American fast food.
Inside of Lucky China 8
In the corner, something unexpected caught my eye. There were four slot machines humming quietly. The “Lucky” in Lucky China 8 suddenly made more sense. Gambling and takeout is a strange but clever combination. In a tough neighborhood with thin margins, I suppose every extra dollar counts.
Slot machines of Lucky China 8
Approaching the counter, there was a layer of plexiglass separating customers from the cashier, a safety precaution normal in the businesses in the area. I asked the young Black female employee at the counter if I could speak to the owner for my final project and my oral history project. She said the owner would be back around 7 PM. She didn’t know much about the restaurant’s history as she had only recently started working there.
I browsed the menu. There was a classic lineup of cheap Americanized Chinese takeout favorites
– 2 egg rolls for $3.25
– 6 crab rangoons for $5.95
– 6 chicken wings for $7.45
– 6 fried shrimp for $5.75
Despite the affordable prices, Lucky China 8 bore an unbelievable online reputation: 1.7 stars on Google with over 480 reviews. I have never seen a worst rating on Google with so many reviews. Recent reviews had some 5 stars, but most were 1 star reviews commenting about horror stories of food poisoning, allegations of unsafe meat, lack of health code regulation. Yet somehow, against all odds, the restaurant had stayed open for decades.
One thing was for certain: I wasn’t coming back at 7 PM to meet the owner in person. In English Avenue, the violent crime rate is 2060 per 100,000, the third-highest out of 240 neighborhoods in Atlanta. For reference, the Atlanta average is 1773 and the US average is about 363 violent crimes per 100,000. Instead, I called the restaurant later that evening. The owner picked up and said he would call me back. The restaurant closes at 4 AM, so after too much waiting I just went to bed. I called again and again over the next few days. Finally, after some persistence, I scheduled a short phone interview with the owner.
The Phone Interview
The owner’s name was Qian. According to Georgia business records, his full name is Qian Cheng Zheng.
Qian said he immigrated to the U.S. over 20 years ago. Beyond that, he was reluctant to share personal details. Like many restaurant owners I tried talking to, he guarded his immigration story tightly. With how private a lot of these immigrants are about their history, I secretly question their immigration status.
Though Qian didn’t share his origins, I think he forgot he had already made some of that information public. At the top of the menu, it states: “The Most Famous Chinese Singer and The Chinese First Lady Peng Liyuan Is My Hometown Girl, We Grown Up In The Same Food”. Peng Liyuan is from Yuncheng, a county in the southwest of Shandong province, China. That means the owner is also from a small town in Shandong, which is really fascinating. I have not met that many Shandong owners, but his story all the way to Atlanta must be interesting. What’s even more interesting to me though, is the fact that he put that sentence on the menu as a way to entice customers. I strongly doubt most people in English Avenue know who Peng Liyuan is. And even if they did, I doubt that the “The Most Famous Chinese Singer and The Chinese First Lady” being the “Hometown Girl” of the owner is a strong incentive to make people eat at Lucky China 8. Clearly such a fact is a source of pride for Qian, so I didn’t want to press him on it.
Front of Lucky China 8 menu
When asked why he chose English Avenue to build his business, Qian’s answer was that the property was cheap, and the nearby housing was affordable for raising a family. I guess he barely had any money when he first immigrated here. Running a restaurant here wasn’t easy though. The customer base is almost completely Black. Fried dishes (fried shrimp, fried chicken, spring rolls) are top sellers and nothing like Shandong food. I asked him if had struggled adapting to making this kind of food at first. He said it’s just what you have to cook here to make it. He got used to it. Looking at the Google reviews, one might assume he’s still struggling though. I asked him about the 1.7 stars. He said he doesn’t look at that ever. There’s enough business to put food on the table, he says, so why would he care?
I asked him about the slot machines. Qian said they make very good money without any cost to operate the machines. About ten years ago, he noticed other small restaurants installing them and decided to follow. Especially after COVID-19, he said, the slot machines became essential for keeping the business afloat. I told Qian I had never seen another Chinese restaurant with slot machines. He responded that he never goes to any other Chinese restaurants in Atlanta or the suburbs.
I wondered if Qian was worried about crime, considering English Avenue and Vine City (the other neighborhood Lucky 8 is right next to) have some of the worst crime reputations in Atlanta. He didn’t seem worried. He said they have metal bars, glass, and a gun if needed. After decades of being here, it seems the rough environment had been normalized for him. He also implied that being a member of the community for so long offers some kind of insurance. He had never been robbed by gunpoint for money, but this hasn’t stopped theft. Often people would just run off with their food without paying. When asked if this was frustrating, he nonchalantly said that’s just a part of business. After so many years, it seems he had adapted to the rhythm of life here.
Despite the unusual circumstances of the restaurant (the rating, the reviews, the location, the owner, the slot machines, the appearance), Lucky China 8 has persisted for decades and will likely survive for a couple more. It is a tiny stronghold of fried rice, chicken wings, and flashing slot machines, stitched into one of Atlanta’s toughest corners. For Qian, maybe that’s what makes it “lucky” after all: survival for so long despite the odds stacked against him.
Lao Wei Dao (老味道) is a small food stall tucked away in the Jusgo Supermarket in Duluth, Georgia, which is a 40 minute drive north of the Atlanta Metropolitan Area. It’s part of a food court with a couple other stalls like Xi’an Gourmet House, Zhang’s BBQ Chicken, and Kumai Ramen. Chinese pop music blasts at max volume while orders are entered at the cashier, and dishes are served on a bright orange plastic tray with a combination of bamboo steamer baskets, plastic bowls and plates, or ceramic sauce dishes. Customers usually arrive to grab a quick bite after grocery shopping, to share an affordable meal with friends and family, or to eat lunch during the workday.
The owner of Lao Wei Dao, opened the food stall about 3 years ago, after the COVID-19 pandemic. She immigrated to the United States around 20 years ago, when she was about 30 years old.
“就是，为了生活吧 (For a better life),”
She said, describing why she immigrated to the US. But without knowing much English or being able to offer many other skills in the labor market, she turned to cooking and starting restaurants to make a living. Now, almost 20 years later, the owner of Lao Wei Dao has found great success in her food stall, offering a range of dishes most closely aligned to Shanghai “本帮菜” flavors.
Looking at the menu, a variety of dim sum, noodle, and appetizer dishes are displayed. The owner says that one of the restaurant’s most popular dishes is 生煎包(pan-fried pork bao). Similarly, another very popular dish is the 小笼包 (soup dumplings), which comes in a bamboo steamer basket with 6 individual pleated little dumplings. Beyond dumplings, the owner also said that their 牛肉面 (beef noodle soup) is a customer favorite.
When asked if the menu had been tailored specifically for a larger customer base, the owner tilted her head. “We cook what we like, and what we think our customers will like,” she said. “If it sells well, we’ll keep making it. If not, we’ll try something else.” She noted that she mostly tries to cater her food to the tastes of immigrants from mainland China, as she resonates most with the palate of this population.
The owner never actually mentioned trying to make food that was “authentic”; instead, she emphasized the idea of suiting mainland Chinese immigrants’ palates. In a way, this is a type of authenticity, just less rooted in the more rigorous definition people often associate with the word. External factors, such as other customers, the economy, or availability of resources play a minimal role in decision-making for their restaurant, while revenue and popularity play a larger role. “Our food tastes good, and everyone likes food that tastes good,” the owner said, smiling. By serving just regular, classic “good food,” the restaurant can be flexible with what they put on the menu and change menu items easily.
Most of Lao Wei Dao’s customers are Chinese residents from the area surrounding the Jusgo Supermarket. The community around her seemingly has provided a good amount of help with her business. “It wasn’t too hard to open the restaurant, it wasn’t too challenging,” she said. The only thing that she stated had been difficult is the physical labor itself while she works. Since opening the Lao Wei Dao stall, the owner notes that she has been pretty successful the entire time. With the low prices and good food, it’s hard to see why this wouldn’t be the case. After all, just as the owner puts it,
“Food is something that unites people like us, so just serving good food is all you need.”
Interview conducted in Chinese by Kathy Ye, translations and reflections by Ashley Zheng and Kathy Ye
