一代情節 逃離唐人街 回到唐人街

For my parents, who immigrated from Hong Kong in the 1970s, leaving Chinatown was how you knew you had made it in America. They worked there for 20 years in the garment industry — so that I would never have to, they insisted — but every night they made their proud exit to the New Jersey suburbs. Meanwhile, at school, I was hiding my stinky lunches from my American friends and hoping they wouldn’t hear our alien language.

上個世紀70年代，我的父母從香港移民到美國。對他們來說，逃離唐人街就是在美國站穩腳跟的標誌。他們在那兒的一家服裝廠工作了20年——他們說這樣做是爲了我將來不至於也幹那樣的活兒——但每天晚上，他們都驕傲地離開唐人街，回到新澤西的郊區。與此同時在學校裏，我一邊要把散發異味的午飯藏起來不讓美國朋友們看見，一邊暗自希望他們聽不見我們說的外語。

But when I finished college, I wanted to know the neighborhood where my parents worked, to be as Chinese as Chinatown could make me. Fifteen years later, I’m still trying to figure out what Chinatown means for Chinese people. Last month, I took just a short walk for lunch but saw, on the streets and in the food, so many ways you can be from somewhere you’re not really from.

但大學畢業後，我開始想要了解父母工作的區域，想變得像唐人街裏的中國人一樣。如今15年過去了，我還在努力理解唐人街對於中國人的意義。上個月的一天，我爲了吃午飯在外面走了一小段路，卻發現，原來很多時候，在街上、在食物裏，你都能感受到自己的家鄉，雖然你根本不是從那兒來的。

Near the Bowery end of Division Street, I passed a spot that used to be the New South Wind restaurant. For 30 years, it served tea from a water heater the size of a plane engine. Lunch could have been rice with canned ham and soy sauce, or dumplings — theirs were big, clunky things with thick, bland skins. I once heard a customer disparage them as “Americanized,” but a friend, born and raised nearby, told me that her grandfather ate there because it reminded him of how the food tasted in his first days in America, when the bachelors of Chinatown made whatever they could with their rudimentary kitchen skills and strange American ingredients.

在蒂法信(Division Street)街靠近包釐街(Bowery)的一端，我路過新南風餐廳(New South Wind restaurant)的舊址，這家餐廳賣了30年茶水，茶都是從一個飛機發動機那麼大的燒水爐裏接出來的。午餐也許是米飯和火腿罐頭，配上醬油，要麼就是大餃子，厚厚的餃子皮一點味兒也沒有。某次，我聽到一位顧客批評這裏的食物太“美國化”了，但一個在這兒土生土長的朋友卻告訴我，她的祖父來這兒吃飯，就是因爲這裏的食物讓他想起剛到美國時吃的東西。那時候，唐人街的光棍們只能靠自己的一丁點廚藝和手頭稀奇古怪的美國調味料做東西吃。

Crossing the Bowery to the living movie set of Doyers Street, I realized that you can still have a little taste of that historical fantasy (with better cooking) at Nom Wah, the oldest dim sum parlor in New York, sanguinely situated on a block constantly bloodied by gang murders when it opened in 1920. Preserved by a young new owner, it still draws crowds, many non-­­Chinese, hungry for authentic egg rolls. (My parents had never heard of egg rolls until they came here.)

穿過包釐街，來到多也斯街(Doyers Street)存續至今的電影取景地，我發現，過去的美味如今依然能在南華(Nom Wah)品嚐到，而且風味更佳。南華點心店開業於1920年，是紐約第一家粵式點心店，儘管當時殺人團伙經常在街區內作案，但南華點心店一直在這個街區好好地開到現在。如今，南華的老闆是個年輕人，客人（很多不是中國人）依然絡繹不絕地到這兒來品嚐正宗蛋卷（我父母來這兒之前壓根就沒聽說過什麼蛋卷）。

I’m normally tempted to drop in for one, but I was headed a block away, where a gaggle of young Chinese packed the entryway at Cha Chan Tang. In Hong Kong, eating baked food and creamy sauces was once the privilege of the wealthy, so luncheonettes called cha chaan tengs brought a little of that béchamel class to the masses. This food, called “soy-­sauce Western,” included things like baked pork chops on ketchup-­­sweet spaghetti with the distinct taste of the wok’s fire and oil. It would probably seem awful to you, but for me it occupies the same exact pleasure center as boxed mac and cheese — and for older generations, it tastes a little like success. It’s adaptive and aspirational. Every time someone asks me for the most “authentic” food in Chinatown, I secretly want them to eat this stuff.

通常我都會被饞得去店裏買一個，但這次我被吸引到了一個街區外的“茶餐廳”(Cha Chan Tang)，門口還擠着一羣中國年輕人。在香港，烤肉搭配奶油澆汁曾是富人的專享，所以名爲茶餐廳的快餐店爲百姓階層帶來了那種調味醬食物。這種食物被稱爲“豉油西餐”(soy-sauce Western)，其中一種是烤豬排骨點綴在番茄醬甜意麪上，散發着油炸過的獨特味道。聽上去可能有點可怕，但在我心中，它帶來的幸福感簡直堪比盒裝奶酪通心粉——而對於年紀稍大的一代人來說，它彷彿有一絲成功的味道。這種食物老少皆宜而且振奮人心。每次有人跟我打聽唐人街裏最“正宗”的食物時，我心裏都想讓他們嚐嚐這玩意兒。

As I ate condensed-­milk toast (as good as it sounds) and drank milk tea the texture of cream, I marveled at the décor. Simulated windows open onto an HDTV Hong Kong street scene; stare long enough, and you feel as if you can hop the bus to Kowloon. But it was after stepping back out onto Mott Street that I understood the significance of this place. Naming the restaurant Cha Chan Tang is like naming a Coffee shop Coffee Shop; there used to be cha chaan tengs all over Chinatown, but this is something more. It’s a Cantonese theme park, not a place to remind you of home as much as a place to remind you of where your parents used to call home. Everything has the familiarity of things you remember from vacation, but when I ordered, practicing the Cantonese in my head to make sure I had the sounds right, my server caught me off guard with totally unaccented English. He was born here, raised here. This is a new generation of Chinatown, one that doesn’t mind staying.

我吃着煉乳吐司（和聽上去一樣好吃），喝着奶茶，感受着豐富泡沫的口感，店裏的裝潢也讓我震驚。打開的仿真窗戶正對着高清電視上的香港街景；盯着多看一會兒，彷彿就能搭上去九龍的巴士。後來走回到莫特街上，我纔想通這個餐廳的意義。這家店起名“茶餐廳”，就好比咖啡店的名字起做“咖啡店”。曾經，唐人街上到處都是茶餐廳，但這家店和那些有所不同。它是一個廣東主題公園，並不是讓你懷念家鄉的地方，而是讓你懷念父母一輩過去稱爲家鄉的地方。一切都和假期裏的記憶吻合，但當我點菜前在腦海中練習粵語，想確保發音準確時，服務生純正的英語卻令我猝不及防。他在這兒出生，也在這兒長大。這是唐人街的新一代，是不介意留下的一代。

On the walk back to the subway, I went under the Manhattan Bridge on Division. There, in storefront employment agencies, men just-­arrived in this country go to find jobs serving $4.95 General Tso’s. Most of these agencies are nothing more than a desk, a counter, a map on the wall; the new immigrants learn words like “Nebraska” and “Newport News” before stepping onto a bus outside and making those words their homes. I saw a man walk into one, leathery skinned, looking slightly lost, a small slip of paper in his hand. And I wondered: Where will he want his kids to work one day? Where will he want them to go, or stay away from, to know that he has made it?

回地鐵站的路上，我從曼哈頓大橋下的蒂法信街上走過。初到美國的人們在街邊的求職中介裏尋份工作——在餐廳裏端4.95美元（約合30.7元人民幣）的左宗棠雞。大多數中介裏不過擺着一張桌子，一個櫃檯，牆上掛着張地圖。新來的移民們學着“內布拉斯加州”和“新港新聞”之類的詞，搭上一輛外面的巴士，去往這些詞所代表的地方，那兒將成爲他們的家。我看見一個皮膚粗糙的男人走進一家求職中介，手裏拿着張紙條，看起來有點恍惚。我很想知道：他以後會想讓自己的孩子去哪兒工作呢？他想讓他們去哪兒，又遠離哪兒來，以此證明自己在這裏站穩腳跟了呢？