Leftover Eggrolls
fuck you panda express
At work the other day I got the strongest craving for Panda Express and while I was running low on funds I knew I’d get paid soon and that I’d make it ‘til my deposit hits. It was also Earth Day and I knew I was gonna go sit on a blanket in a park and get some sun and bug bites, so I wanted to bring something to picnic with. Panda is hit or miss everytime, I feel like you need to see what you’re ordering through the glass to know if it’s gonna be good, to know if you’re getting the first or last scoop of a batch of something. I went to the one on campus where you have to order at the counter, ensuring I wouldn’t order some old dry bullshit. The orange chicken is always good, of course it is—most popular order so they’re always cranking out more of it, but I have been on a mission to try everything from Panda just in case anything else is better and I can really dial in my order. The beijing beef is fckin awesome by the way, and I was gonna try black pepper chicken this time but it was just scraps, so I opted for the honey sesame chicken. I used to be a fried rice advocate for Panda but I’ve come around to seeing the truth that the noodles really are better, so I got a bowl with lo mein and my sesame chicken, then hitched a ride to the park for Earth day celebration nature bathing.
Really it’s fuck Panda Express for this bowl, cuz Panda has always existed as a good fast food tier place but fast food nonetheless, and has never held a candle to my favorite hometown family-owned chinese takeout spot, but it flew too close to the sun this time. The sesame chicken. gas. firme. try it next time. like if the orange chicken was more balanced and it comes with blistered bell peppers and green beans which get soft around the edges but still snap when you bite into them, and they soak up the sauce really well without turning to mush. The noodles were the best they’ve ever been, chewy and actually had their own flavor instead of having to mooch off of the entrée, and not dry like they tend to be. This was enough to remind me of my hometown champs, Hunan Express on Everhart Road. The Panda lo mein was just close enough to the real deal that I always find myself missing.
This was my family’s go to chinese takeout, it wasn’t the best, but we liked it for the price and how close it was. There are two more Hunan express’ owned by the same people in my hometown too, and I’ve heard locals say this is the worst one, but with all my culinary expertise and superior taste I still think it’s awesome. Maybe cuz I grew up with it or maybe because I like the look of the building and all it’s neon signs. One of the first meals we had in our new house before we even moved our furniture in was from Hunan, it was down the street from our new address after all. We would usually get two or three of those square white styrofoam to-go plates; sweet and sour chicken with fried rice was a must, they put the sauce on the side so it doesn’t get soggy which is awesome, because the batter is pretty pillowy and pancakey instead of being craggly, I loveeee it. Their side fried rice just has egg and veggies but its everything I could want or need, definitely where I developed my love for fried rice. My mom would always order three eggrolls, one each for my dad and brother and I cuz they’re so good, always my favorite part of getting Hunan. We’d get another plate of something different that my dad would choose, rotating through beef and broccoli or hunan beef (basically the same thing but this one was spicy and had a couple more vegetables), or lo mein. The egg drop soup with crispy noodles was essential too. On paper my dad always got his own plate and I’d share with my mom and brother, but he’d always end up sharing too. We all ate off of each others plates while sitting on the couch, foldy tables out in front of the TV, scrolling through the scores of movies my dad would pirate for us to all watch together. We’d eat and talk and share food, passing plates and forks and giving the dogs little bites here and there. My dad always came home from work tired so I think he liked watching movies to lock us in with him for two hours without having to do anything or go anywhere. The leftovers would sit on the tables for a dangerous amount of time until we got to a boring part of whatever we were watching, then my brother or I would go put them away in the fridge, taking any good looking bites before storing it away for the next day.
Really this is an ode to my dad more than an ode to cold chinese food for breakfast. On May 9th, 2024 it’ll be two years since he passed away and I don’t really stop thinking about him ever but naturally there’s days where I miss him a little more. Getting chinese takeout was a favorite for both of us so I knew if I wanted it I could mention it to him and he could sway my mom better than I could. Good chinese takeout habitually reminds me of him, and makes me reminisce about being a kid. He’d burn the same movies he pirated for us on discs then sell them to his friends, always around five dollars no matter how many movies they wanted, never scamming his people. This was his pocket cash because my mom always handled his whole paycheck when paying our bills n stuff, and if Mom said we shouldn’t spend money on dinner until they got paid, Dad would use his movie money to make it happen so we could get our eggrolls and sweet and sour chicken. I even got regular ass chinese takeout for my 18th birthday dinner and we just ate at home and watched a movie instead of going out to a restaurant for my birthday like we usually do, kind of a perfect birthday evening.
I hope I’ve conveyed how awesome Hunan was, and having the remains the next day was even better. However, the surpise factor of my dad saying he had leftovers for my brother and I made for the best Hunan experience. He’d get his usual plate of beef and broccoli or hunan beef with fried rice and an eggroll on his lunchbreak from work, take it home to eat, then leave his leftovers in the fridge for my brother and I to share when we got home from school. Usually he wasn’t one to share, my selfless mom was always my source of leftovers, but I knew he always meant to share chinese food with us because he’d actually order three eggrolls, so he could have his but my brother and I would still both get one before fighting over the beef and sauce-soaked rice. Worth mentioning, my dad was also a pretty macho guy and never really hugged or said “love you” unless it was a special occasion, so when I miss him, I miss getting a text like the one below more than I miss hearing anything sappy from him, cuz two extra eggrolls is how I knew he was thinking of my brother and I in the middle of the day when he was stuck at work.
I haven’t been to Hunan in forever, the line and wait always take so long, and I try my best to avoid being alone with my thoughts. Sitting in the my dad’s old truck listening to his pirated music (Pantera, Lamb of God, Slayer, Crowbar) on an orange flashdrive in line to get one of his favorite meals, while his Oakland Raiders lanyard jingles hanging off the rear-view cuz the engine shakes the whole car. Most of the times I cried after he passed were in this setting, his car listening to his music, and I didn’t wanna show up at home with fried rice and red eyes. Well, I did wanna go home with fried rice but not—ya know. I felt like I couldn’t let my mom or brother see me upset, like I had to take my dad’s place as the stoic shoulder to cry on for them, at the funeral but also since then, my family worries a lot and I don’t want them to think I’m not okay. I do think I am okay though, no matter if I miss my dad or cry in his car or go quiet when I have some really good noodles or eggrolls that make me think of him leaving me leftovers in the fridge. He was such a big presence, loud and funny and physically big too, always making people feel welcome and being friendly and making sure you got the best deal at Home Depot or the electrical supply place he worked at, telling you the generic brand is the same thing or not to buy this or that because it sucks. There was a lot he did that pissed me off too, but I would deal with it tenfold to have him back so really it’s nothing to me, I can’t help but focus on the good things when remembering him, the leftover eggrolls but also the funny stories he would tell when he’d let me hang out around his friends, the awesome metal music he put me on because heavy metal was his life, the genuine critiques he’d give my cooking because he knew I really wanted to get better at it and knew I’d take his comments into account.
I will keep going to Hunan though, in my dads truck which is now my truck and listening to my dads music which my friends know as my music. I still try and critique my own cooking to get better and better everytime I make something. I used to be so shy, afraid to order my own food and afraid to talk to new people and afraid to speak in group settings, but I feel like I inherited his tendency to be outgoing and loud since his passing. It’s hard not to feel like he’s still around when he influenced me so much, especially in his truck or in his man cave, where it feels like if I talk to him he’ll be listening, talking about how good the newish metal bands from Texas are, how good the strawberry frosty from Wendy’s is and how much he would’ve liked it, leaving a six pack of budweiser and my leftovers in his mini fridge. I was only nineteen when I lost him and I often think about how brutally unfair that is, how so many people get more years with their parents than I did, but my good ass Panda Express order and my visits to Hunan when I’m at home make me feel more connected to my dad, they make me relive all of the chinese food movie nights and the leftovers I’d come home to after school, and the reminiscing feels like I’m getting more time to be a kid and look up to my dad, like a two for one deal on memories.
your voice rings so clear in your writing, this was very tender in such a sebastian way and it gets me every time….
you are so very special and hometown chinese takeout is the best forever