Manhattan's Chinatown is one of those New York City locations that always stirs up in me a mess of distinct, random memories from all stages of my long ass life.
"Competing" against the electro-shocked tic-tac-toe chicken on Mott as a kid in the 1970s, delighted and horrified in about equal measure. Watching a crab leap to freedom from a bin on Canal in, like, 1985, only to see it immediately get crushed by foot traffic (my girlfriend at the time burst into tears at the scene, though we had just happily eaten multiple crustaceans at the legendary Phoenix Garden).
Getting absolutely hammered on terrible "free wine with dinner" in the early '90s somewhere I can't even remember (I think on lower Mott?). Bringing my daughters down for dim sum feasts in the aughts. Finding the perfect jade duck to cinch a secret romance in 2017. Every time I walk around here I'm reminded of something different. The storefronts may change, but the vibe? She stays the same.