Mr. Chow: A Pandemic Night Out
In the case of Mr. Chow, there is a lot to say, and you might not like all of it.
Before delving into the dining experience in Tribeca (one of six Mr. Chow locations), it is important to understand why this restaurant is the way that it is. That has everything to do with Mr. Michael Chow himself. Chow was born in Shanghai in 1939 into an aristocratic family. Chow’s mother had a Western education, and sent him to British boarding school during Mao’s Cultural Revolution. In short, the family lost everything. Chow never saw his father again, and only saw his mother once more.
Fast forward and Mr. Chow is now an artist and entrepreneur. He opened the first Mr. Chow in London on Valentine’s Day, 1968. According to New York Magazine, Philippe Garner, head of 20th Century Design and Photography at Christie’s and a friend of Chow’s since the seventies said, “He has never, ever, wanted to deny his Chinese history, but he has needed to find a way to marry his background with his new life.” Chow told the New York Times, “‘On the first night, everybody came: the Stones, the Beatles…Everybody was rocking. The energy there was fantastic.’” This is still the case today. Everyone at Mr. Chow looks like they might be somebody.
Fun, or not so fun, fact: John Lennon had his last meal at the 57th Street Mr. Chow before taking his last walk home across the park.
Mr. Chow’s website describes the cuisine as, “authentic Beijing Cuisine with elegant European style service.” Evident upon arrival, the style is a melding of new and old world unlike any other. Quickly becoming a hotspot for celebrities and artists alike, the concept was to be user-friendly, pulling the best aspects of each culture to create a complex, long-running art installation. New York Magazine describes, “the movements of his waiters — filling glasses, changing tablecloths, delicately deboning rare, fresh pieces of fish” as, “parts in an elaborate symphony of which he is, ultimately, the conductor.”
Because Beijing has been the capital in China for three dynasties, it has become the most influential cuisine in China. Thousands of chefs would flock to “The Emperors Kitchen” in the Forbidden City to show their best skills and please Imperials and Aristocrats. So why is it that Western cultures like ours associate Chinese food with frugality?
Mr. Chow broke through that glass ceiling, offering entrees for around $45. For us non-celebrities, it would be best to treat Mr. Chow as a “special occasion” type of restaurant. And do not expect large portions, either. The fan favorite Chicken Satay is $11.50 per piece, and we only got two.
The exterior of the Tribeca location, which opened in 2006, is quite wonderful. It was why I had chosen this restaurant in the first place. The outside of the purposefully industrial building showcased a wrap-around porch with plexiglass dividers and heat lamps above. The cobblestone roads and dim lights set the scene for a night of people watching. Our waiter, dressed in a tux, was accommodating, quick, and graceful. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and I was thankful that he swiftly cleared a table for me when I requested a more centrally-located seat. Many waiters approached our table throughout the night, and each was as knowledgable, prompt, and friendly as the next. All in all, the service at Mr. Chow is simply unmatched.
If there is one thing I absolutely loved about this meal (besides the service), it was the martini pairing with my Chinese food. As I glanced from table to table, almost everyone had a martini. There is something about the juxtaposition of a martini, an ode to New York (although some say it originated in California), paired with Beijing cuisine. I would never think to put these two items together, but it worked. It worked so well that I ordered another. And then another. I know I’ll be missing it the next time I order late-night Chinese takeout.
Our waiter explained to us that since the inception of Mr. Chow, the menu has not changed. Regulars at Mr. Chow know exactly what to order, and waiters know exactly what to offer. After the Chicken Satay came Soup Dumplings, and it’s pretty hard to go wrong there. Followed by a side of green beans and a small serving of Spicy Pork with Chili (at a hefty price of $43.50), the real star of the show was the Gambler’s Duck. Served with steamed pancakes, plum sauce, and slices of cucumbers, it seemed ironic and embarrassing that I was licking sauce off of my fingers in this regal setting. But perhaps Mr. Chow wants his customers to make a short-lived art installation themselves, choosing the perfect amount of ingredients to satisfy their appetite. All the while, I found myself people watching, giggling, and picking at deliciously crispy yet fatty duck skin.
I was not surprised to find that Mr. Chow has received many bad reviews. New York Magazine’s Adam Platt gave it zero stars, as well as The New York Times’ Frank Bruni. So why is it that Mr. Chow has not only survived, but thrived these past 52 years?
Remaining unchanged for half a decade, Platt explained in his review that what Chow is peddling is, “a hint of glamour, a whiff of celebrity, a tenuous sense that you’re making the scene.” Wise words, Platt.
So upon booking a reservation at Mr. Chow, there are some considerations to be had. If what you want is delicious Chinese food, you can certainly find that elsewhere for much cheaper. If what you want is a night out and to be a part of a glamorous scene, Mr. Chow is the epitome of it.
