Although the dining area at Lee How Fook's is about the size of a high-rise apartment, it feels like you're entering a generous Chinese family's dining room for a feast.
The walls are sparsely decorated with authentic-looking artwork and the furniture is functional but not fancy.
And though it seems awkward at first, the atmosphere of the restaurant serves an ideal purpose: It works, it's pretty and it doesn't serve as a distraction from the food.
Before any orders are taken, a pot of tea and glasses of water are provided. As the tea leaves settle in my cup, I had to gawk at the menu -- there are well over 100 items to pick from, with portions ranging from the single meal to appetizers and dinner for 2 to 6. The items are standard fare for a Chinatown eatery, though the sheer volume of available choices is almost overwhelming. One must choose wisely and let one's appetite do the talking.
The meal started with hot-and-sour soup, which was served in a crock that could easily have fed four people.
The soup's texture started off with a hot, almost spicy zest for about 3/4 of the bowl, then diving quickly into a sharp, biting sour taste for the remainder of the dish.
In a world where hot and sour have been compacted and served as once specific savor, it is a delight to feel two distinct tastes within one pot.
The spring rolls, however, were not as exciting. I expected them to provide a complementary crunch to the soup, but their mediocre, slightly greasy texture preempted that possibility.
Next came the meat dishes. The orange chicken -- a chef's suggestion -- was served with peppers and red onions, all drenched in a signature sauce, steaming hot out of the kitchen as if it had been cooked beside me the entire time.
It had a very full taste, with the sauce giving an ever-so-slight redefinition of the traditional Chinatown "orange" by substituting some tang for peppery spice.
Supplemented by a large pot of white rice (which I could refill as many times as I wanted to, the server reminded me), the meal was enormous and never lost its flavor.
Whatever vestige of an appetite I thought I had was instantly swept away.
I also sampled the Kung Po beef, which leaned more to the traditional side of Chinese cuisine.
Served with its own rice amid a heavy helping of peanuts and greens, it was equal parts filling and flavorsome.
It was honestly a relief that there was no desert on the menu -- I was so stuffed, I didn't have room to even think about it. At $15 a person for the whole meal, Lee How Fook's satisfied my appetite and still fit my budget.
And as I left that dining room, I couldn't help but notice that my impression of its acetic decor had transformed from uncomfortable to intimate.
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