by Ann Hui
“Wait,” I called out as he rushed ahead. “This was… the Park Inn?”
But Dad was already headed inside, pulling open the wooden doors to reveal a gleaming lobby with tile floors and crystal chandeliers overhead. When I caught up, he was already talking to the young receptionist at the front desk. The building had been a Travelodge for at least a few years, I heard her say. The owners before that were the same people to whom the hotel had been sold when my parents left.
We chatted with her a few minutes, asking about the area and the building.
“Is the downstairs still a banquet hall?” Dad asked.
She nodded.
“Is the place across the street still a bar?” he asked.
“It’s the Townhall,” she said. Still a bar, just a fancier one, with craft brews and a gluten-free menu.
“Sometimes, when I would come back to Abbotsford for a visit, I would go there for a beer,” my dad said. “I was hoping I might run into my old customers.”
We walked around the corner, carefully avoiding the patches of ice on the sidewalk. On our left, we passed a small park. “I used to take Pansy here,” Mom said quietly. A few seconds later, we slowed again to a stop, this time in front of a beige brick and stucco building.
“This is it,” Dad said. “The Legion.” Mom looked up in surprise. She looked at Dad, then back at the building again. She looked confused.
The original building that housed the old Legion had been taken down, he said. Now there was a new building. On one side of the building was a Subway restaurant. On the other, roughly where the Legion had once been, was a sushi restaurant. Its name, “Kojan,” was spelled out in big block letters.
The restaurant was at the edge of the brick plaza. It was still late morning and the parking spaces in front of it were empty. The fluorescent “Open” sign wasn’t yet lit. Out front was a middle-aged woman with short black hair, carrying a bucket. It looked as if she was about to start cleaning the windows and glass door. I approached her and asked if she was the owner. She looked confused. I wasn’t sure if she’d understood me after she turned around and walked back into the restaurant, leaving Mom and Dad and I standing outside in the cold.
But a few moments later, a different woman with youthful skin who wore a puffy vest came out to meet me. She introduced herself as Ruth Park. I explained to her why we were there. I pointed to my parents and told her how they used to run the restaurant on this same site. English was Ruth’s second language, so it took a few minutes before the puzzled expression disappeared from her face.
“Ahhh,” she said eventually. A large grin spread across her face. She extended her hand toward Dad, and he shook it.
“1976,” I said. “That’s when they opened their restaurant.”
She nodded, impressed. She invited us inside—an offer Dad declined. He hadn’t entirely recovered from walking in the cold, it seemed. He said he’d rest with Mom instead in the car.
So I followed Ms. Park into the restaurant. It was a large dining room, with dozens of tables scattered across the floor and a row of booths along one side. There were a few of the usual signs of a Japanese restaurant—a sushi bar against the back wall flanked by paintings of cherry blossoms. But the rest of the dining room was decorated in shades of burnt amber and terracotta, and with dark wood furniture. It looked Mediterranean.
“This used to be an Italian restaurant,” Ms. Park said. Her family had taken over the space less than two years earlier, converting it to a Japanese restaurant. She had no idea about the history of the property before that. She didn’t know that the property had once been a Legion, or that there had once been a Chinese restaurant here. She’d never before heard of the Legion Cafe.
Ms. Park’s family was from South Korea, she said. They’d been in Canada since 2002, when her husband, a pastor, began studying at Trinity Western, a Christian university in nearby Langley. A few of their friends in Korea had been to Canada before and told them it was a good place for a sojourn. The original plan had been to return to Korea after his studies, she said. But by that time, their two sons, now twenty-two and twenty-five, were reaching middle school. “It felt like it was too late to go back to Korea,” she said. They decided instead to stay in Canada.
I asked if she liked living in Canada.
“Both good and bad,” she said.
What was the good?
“In Korea, everybody—the relationships are very close,” she said. Her English was good enough to get by, but hesitant. She spoke slowly.
“Everyone is always watching you, asking questions. Here, I feel freer.”
I nodded. Ms. Huang had said something similar on Fogo. And that was part of the reason Mom and Dad had left Vancouver for Abbotsford. It was part of the reason I’d left Vancouver all those years earlier for Toronto. To get away from expectations. To build a life I thought was entirely mine.
As we sat talking at one of the tables, a young man stood behind the sushi counter, slicing bright green avocados for lunch service.
She gestured toward him as she spoke. Her son, she said. “In Korea, there’s so much competition in studying. You have to study hard and pay fees,” she said. The schools here were better for her sons. They loved it here.
We sat talking for a few more minutes, until a family of customers walked in just before noon. Ms. Park perked up, smiling at the customers and walking over to speak briefly with the servers. She pushed some buttons on the cash register, getting the business started for the day. She had to get back to work, and I took that as my cue to leave.
“Thank you,” I said to her before I left. There were other things I wanted to say. I wanted to offer her some assurance that the gamble that she and her husband had made would pay off. I wanted to tell her that it had worked out for my own parents and my own family. That maybe there was still some good luck to be found on this site.
But I couldn’t promise her any of that. I didn’t know whether this would work out for her family. For every family that found Gold Mountain, there were many others who didn’t. There were the many faded restaurants I had visited that seemed on the verge of shutting down. There were towns where one after another, the storefronts were shuttered. Where the restaurant owners greeted me with glum faces. The owners who shook their heads, no, when I asked to hear their stories. The ones who seemed ashamed to be found.
I had no idea whether it was hard work, or timing, or just good luck that might lead to success for Ms. Park and her family. Perhaps they’d already found it. Perhaps this restaurant, and the lives they were already leading in Abbotsford, were exactly what they’d been looking for. So instead I just thanked her, again and again. “Good luck,” I said as I headed out the door. I meant it.
Soon after, we were back in the car, heading to Vancouver on Highway 1. As we sped toward the city, we passed under a railway bridge with a green sign: “CP Rail.”
“The cycle just goes on and on and on,” I said to Dad. I relayed back to him what Ms. Park had told me. I told him about how she and her husband had come from Korea, how they’d decided to stay for their sons. I told him how she didn’t say it, but I could tell how difficult it must have been for her. How I couldn’t pretend to understand, but only try to imagine how difficult it must have been, learning a new language and trying to build a new life in a new country. How much I admired her.
He nodded, but stayed silent. I couldn’t tell if he was tired, or thinking.
He looked ahead and just kept driving.
He was speeding ahead, the speedometer ticking dangerously above the limit. Anxious to be home.
From the rear-view mirror, a glint. The mountains behind us, catching us the light.
“They’re so beautiful,” my mom gasped, craning her neck to look out the back window. She was right.
Beneath the snowcaps were the trees that had made it through the long cold winter. They had since lost their leaves and the bare branches reached up and out toward the sun. They were shining amber. With
the light bouncing off them, they looked as if they’d been set ablaze.
From a distance, from where we were they looked as if they were made of gold.
Acknowledgements
This book was made possible by the many restaurant owners across Canada who generously gave their time and opened up their lives to a complete stranger. I am especially grateful to Qin Lin at Amy’s in Vulcan, Linda Xie and Peter Li at the Diana in Drumheller, Kwong Cheung at the Silver Inn in Calgary, William Choy at Bing’s #1 in Stony Plain, Lan Huynh at Thai Woks N’go in Glendon, Jeff Deng at Panda Garden in Bonnyville, Su Fen Li at Choy’s in Boissevain, Norina Karschti at Ling Lee’s in Thunder Bay, Gen Le at Saigon’s Garden in Nackawic, Gah-Ning Tang, Jae Chong and Eun-jung Lee at Korean Restaurant/Acadia Pizza & Donair in Dieppe, Allen Huang at Huang Family Restaurant in Glace Bay, Richard Yu at the Canton in Deer Lake and the Huang family: to Stacey and Feng Zhu.
This book could not have been written without the support of The Globe and Mail. The original “Chop Suey Nation” article that appeared in the Globe was the result of the efforts of many, including Denise Balkissoon, Melanie Morassutti, Gabe Gonda, Kevin Siu, Mason Wright, Cliff Lee, Alison Gzowski, Ming Wong and Ben Barrett-Forrest. I’m also indebted to National Editor Christine Brousseau for her unending patience and for giving me the time to pursue projects like this one, and to the entire national desk: Nicole MacIntyre, Madeleine White and Hayley Mick. I’m also thankful for the support from many editors over the years: Dennis Choquette, Angela Murphy, Jim Sheppard, Stephen Northfield, Sinclair Stewart and David Walmsley.
My thanks to the team at Douglas and McIntyre: Anna Comfort O’Keeffe for her support, Nicola Goshulak for thoughtful guidance and Brianna Cerkiewicz for her detailed edits. Many thanks to my agents John Pearce and Chris Casuccio at Westwood Creative Artists, who believed in this book even when I didn’t. And thanks to colleague Elizabeth Renzetti for introducing us.
I am also grateful to Henry Yu at the University of British Columbia, to Linda Tzang at the Royal Alberta Museum, to Ian Mosby, and to Lily Cho at York University, for their research assistance, and to Lloyd Bailey in Fogo Island for his help along the way.
So many friends and colleagues contributed their thoughts throughout this project. In particular, Hannah Sung and Lisan Jutras, who were kind enough to read early drafts. I’m also thankful to Dakshana Bascaramurty, Charmaine Sue, Elim Chu, Melissa Stasiuk, Robyn Doolittle and Katherine Scarrow, who offered advice and words of encouragement. Many thanks also to my friends and fellow reporters: Caroline Alphonso, Jill Mahoney, Patrick White, Molly Hayes, Joe Friesen, Eric Andrew-Gee, Tim Kiladze, Tu Thanh Ha, Marcus Gee, Ivan Semeniuk, Sean Fine, Renata D’Aliesio, Kathryn Blaze-Baum, Greg McArthur, Colin Freeze, Oliver Moore and Kelly Grant.
I am especially grateful to my family: Janice Nakatsu (and Allen, Matthew and Cameron); Jennie Jung (and Stan, Taylor and Connor); Hui Chu Chi and family; Chow Hoi Chow (and Teresa Chow, Denise and Foster Yee, Bonnie Loo and Varian Loo, Edmond Chow and Andria Lam); and to Ken and Ada Tsang (and Michael, Tonia and Michelle).
And finally, thanks to Anthony, the most patient travel companion I could have asked for. And to my mom, Frances Hui, and sisters Pansy Hui and Amber Hui, for trusting me with Dad’s story.
Select Bibliography
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Harley J. Spiller menu collection. University of Toronto Scarborough Library, Archives & Special Collections.
Hui, Ann. “Chop Suey Nation.” The Globe and Mail, June 21, 2016. https://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/food-and-wine/chop-suey-nation/article30539419/.
Imogene Lim Restaurant menu collection. Vancouver Island University, Special Collections, Nanaimo, BC. https://viurrspace.ca/handle/10613/2695.
Kaori. “Part 2: I Can’t Believe There’s a Chinese Restaurant in Fogo.” I Can’t Believe I’m Back in Toronto (blog), June 25, 2018. http://icantbelieveimbackintoronto.blogspot.com/2008/06/part-2-i-cant-believe-theres-chinese.html.
Lee, Jennifer 8. The Fortune Cookie Chronicles: Adventures in the World of Chinese Food. New York, Twelve: 2008.
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Don Mee Seafood Restaurant is a Victoria, BC, institution.
Peter Li (seated in booth) is the owner of Diana Restaurant in Drumheller, AB.
The Star Trek mural is just one of the Trekkie tourist attractions in Vulcan, AB.
Bing’s #1 Restaurant in Stony Plain, AB, is a popular local meeting place that’s been run by three generations of the Choy family.
The dining room at Bing’s is full of customers. William Choy, in the background, works in the restaurant’s kitchen between appointments for his second job—mayor of Stony Plain.
Lan Huynh is the owner of Thai Woks N’go in Glendon, AB, a restaurant that sells “Chinese pierogis.”
Thai Woks N’go is located at a prime spot in Glendon, across the street from the world’s largest perogy.
Moon’s Cafe in Grenfell, SK, is run by Moon Wei.
Su Fen Li runs Choy’s Restaurant in Boissevain, MB, with her husband. Li moved from Guangdong to Canada ten years ago with her husband.
Overlooking the buffet table at Ling Lee’s Chinese Cuisine, a Chinese restaurant inside a curling club in Thunder Bay, ON, is a giant curling-themed mural.
The buffet table at Ling Lee’s features many of the classic chop suey dishes, plus “Bon Bon ribs,” a Thunder Bay specialty.
Lachute Holiday is a Chinese restaurant run by Guang Xiu Zhang and located in Lachute, QC.
“Fried macaroni” is a regional Chinese-Canadian specialty in Quebec.
Restaurant Wong in Quebec City, QC, was built by Fred Wong, who left China in 1922. His grandson, Steven Wong, now runs the restaurant.
The Chow Family restaurant in Truro, NS, has a distinctive exterior.
Maneki-neko, or “fortune cat,” is a good-luck symbol commonly found in many Chinese restaurants.
Richard Yu is the owner of Canton Restaurant in Deer Lake, NS.
Our tiny white rental car looked only slightly the worse for wear after two weeks on the road.
The Kwang Tung Restaurant is the only Chinese restaurant on tiny Fogo Island, NL.
Since the ferry was shut down due to stormy conditions, this tiny twenty-seat plane brought us to Fogo Island.
The Kwan
g Tung is run by Feng Zhu Huang, who operates the restaurant on her own 365 days a year.
Ye Ye (left) and Ah Ngeen (right), pose for their “official” Canadian wedding photo. Photo courtesy of Jennie Jung
Dad (centre) poses with his friends in Guangzhou. Photo courtesy of the Hui family
This professional photo of Dad was taken in Guangzhou before he came to Canada. Photo courtesy of the Hui family
Mom and Dad were married in St. Francis Xavier church, then located in Vancouver’s Chinatown. Photo courtesy of the Hui family
This photo of the family was taken on Mom and Dad’s wedding day in Vancouver’s Chinatown. From left to right, back row: Dad, Mom, Ah Ngeen and Ye Ye. Front row: Aunt Janice and Aunt Jennie. Photo courtesy of the Hui family.
Mom poses inside the Legion Cafe dining room. Photo courtesy of the Hui family
Dad works in the Legion Cafe kitchen while Mom stands in the background, holding Pansy. Photo courtesy of the Hui family
This photograph shows the misspelled “Canadian and Chinise Cuisine” sign at the Legion Cafe, with Mom, Dad and a friend standing in front of the restaurant. Photo courtesy of the Hui family
