Oldie but Goodie: Won Kow
Christmas Eve 2014. In the throes of seasonal lethargy, and in an attempt to pry myself off the couch and actually participate in the world around me, I trekked down to Chinatown for a little comfort that only MSG can provide. I love traditional, authentic Chinese food as much as the next "foodie," but now and then I just want a big, gloppy plateful of orange chicken accompanied by a freakishly sweet tropical drink with an umbrella straw. And Christmas Eve seems like the perfect time to embrace such desires.
Won Kow is that restaurant. Located on Wentworth Avenue up a flight of handicap-unfriendly stairs, it's a gem of an Ameri-Chinese restaurant, long one of my favorite destinations in Chinatown. While I have plenty of spots in the neighborhood for regionally specific dishes, dim sum, and more authentic Chinese, Won Kow is my go-to for the type of Americanized Chinese food I grew up eating. It packs a powerful punch of nostalgia unlike any other restaurant in town, frankly. It takes me right back to that Chinese restaurant we used to frequent in Manchester, New Hampshire, inexplicably named Aloha. It's the type of places where the neon-hued drinks are enormous, the platters of food spill over with sticky-sweet sauce, and the chicken dishes are merely glorified Happy Meal nuggets on steroids. Good times.
This is the type of restaurant that makes you feel comfortable and at ease immediately upon entry. The space is warm, enrobed in cheap carpet, and outfitted with a bar area that looks like a makeshift tiki hut. Servers are friendly, fast, and somewhat giggly, which is nice. Compared to most other menus in the area, Won Kow's offerings are concise and focused right where they should be: on the kind of Chinese food you'd expect to find in a random mall food court. The difference is in Won Kow's full package delivery; unlike food courts, Won Kow offers the full spectrum of comforts, not only in delicious greasy bad-for-you food, but in hokey-adorable motif, charming servers, and cartoonish cocktails.
Make a bee line for that orange chicken. It tastes like succulent chicken tenders drowned in Orangina, and I mean that with love and respect. Any and all fried rice iterations are salacious and large enough to feed a horde of diners, or leave you with leftovers for the week. The drinks are not to be missed either. Not since I was in Cancun, Mexico, when I was 16 or so had I ordered a Blue Hawaiian (the drinking laws in Mexico are delightfully lax), an intoxicating, highly boozy medley of rum, pineapple juice, coconut, Curacao, and sweet and sour mix. One sip and I was back in Cancun feeling like an under-aged rebel with just a tinge of queasy nausea, tiny umbrella included.
MSG? More like MmmmmmmmSG.
- Matt Kirouac