Ping Chow set a bottle of red wine on our table. He smiled broadly and nodded at us. “Happy Birthday!” we all said, reaching across the table to shake his 94 year old hand. Our friend N. kissed him on the cheek and Mr. Chow brightened up. “You see why my mother told him ‘No more women!’ before she died?” said Mr. Chow’s only daughter.
She’d noticed we were paying attention. It was hard not to. We were one of a few tables of white people at Ho Ho, a Chinese restaurant in Seattle’s International District. The place was packed with an enormous Chinese family – four generations filled the dining room, from Mr Chow at 94 to his highchair seated great grandchildren. Mr. Chow was making the rounds, standing behind seated family members for photographs, teasing the youngsters, beaming over the huge family that filled the restaurant in his honor.
Ruby Chow, his wife, died earlier this year. She was a Seattle legend, a matriarch, a grand American success story. “Don’t mention Ruby,” said our waitress “or he will be very sad and start crying.” Of course. They were married for more than 60 years. “The family has been coming here for over 20 years. We know them all. He calls me, I say ‘How many?'”
Ruby and Ping met in New York. Mr. Chow was quite the ladies man, apparently, but when he was hospitalized for a condition affecting his eyes and thought he was going blind, Ruby was the only one who came to visit. “This is the girl for me!” Mr. Chow was in the military at the time – he’d joined to get his US Citizenship – but his training was in classical Chinese opera. He’d worked his way to New York from Hawaii where he’d been left by his patron/employer when he’d fallen ill. Ruby and Ping went on to build one of Seattle’s grand families.
Mr. Chow’s daughter, Cheryl, told us these stories while we sat in at our corner table drinking Tsing Tao beer and letting the waitress tell us what to order. She passed our fond birthday wishes along to her father and he looked up from his place at the head of the crowd. That’s when he walked over and placed the bottle of wine on our table.
“You’re lucky!” said the waitress. “He is passing along this good fortune to you! You are very lucky!”
We all agreed.
Ho Ho Seafood Restaurant is at 653 Weller in Seattle’s International District.
How cool is that. Ho Ho is always perfect, but that story makes it even better. Was it that same waitress/owner lady that is always there and pretends you’re ordering something very extra special that she’s making just for you, even though it’s just the crispy halibut that is ALWAYS on the menu? I love her.
Mindy, I don’t think I’ve been to HoHo since you were in town. And yes, that is EXACTLY the waitress. She’s a peach.
That’s an awesome story. And I’m sure the food is lovely! I hope he had a great birthday!
A generous person can make a difference in the world, whether he finds himself performing Chinese opera or running a restaurant. Thanks for the reminder.
A wonderful tale — one that reminds us all again how immigrants enrich our country.
What a charming story about charming people. I love places like this. It sounds like the history and connections should be on the menu as well as the food.
You tell the BEST stories. Here’s to all of us being able to make it to 94.
Great post, I wish him happy birthday and many more to come. People like that are boons to the community and become living local legends.
What a sweet story and a great birthday party. I hope everyone had a great time and Mr Chow stays with us for a long, long time!
Great story. I think I’m going to add Ho Ho to my list of possible places to eat for this week 🙂