When we were quite young, my parents started taking my sister Becca and me out for meals in order to get us used to eating in company. The idea was for us to learn manners in a relaxed and tolerant, even child-friendly, atmosphere, and the choice fell on Chun Hing, a particularly good and not too distant Chinese restaurant right on the edge of Philadelphia. The family who ran the restaurant was quite fond of children and accepting of their antics - perhaps more so than my parents. Still, it was more than a family restaurant with paper napkins, wipe-down tabletops and plastic cups. It worked. Becca and I learned table manners and polite behavior along with the somewhat specialized skill of eating with chopsticks. (This latter was a talent we were able to perfect in private as well, while my parents were practicing for a trip to Hong Kong and China in the 80s.)

In the course of time, a new lesson was added to the repertoire of our visits to Chun Hing: on alternating trips either Becca or I was required to calculate the tip in our heads. Sometimes it took us ages before we figured out the knack of it, but the rest of the family always sat there patiently, drinking jasmine tea and ice water until we could pay the tip.

And so I have a special place in my heart for Chinese restaurants. I still love the atmosphere created by heavy white tablecloths, lithe golden dragons, the smooth wood of chopsticks and the smells of soy and jasmine. And all over the world, they seem to be friendly and open to adults and children alike. No doubt, in some years I will be taking my daughter there, too, to learn table manners as well as how to eat with chopsticks.