“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer the cuisine at Le Bernardin?” asked Mr. Weinstock. “It is top rated in the city.”
“The Mee Noodle Shop is awesome,” Max told Mr. Weinstock as everyone started piling out of the parked sedan. Her restaurant choice looked a little shabby and run-down. “This is a neighborhood fave.”
“Perhaps. But is it sanitary?” Mr. Weinstock’s English accent made him sound super snooty.
Max tapped the grade “A” sign from the NYC Health Department posted in the restaurant’s front window.
“It’s super clean,” she said. “So we have nothing to worry about.”
“Except Dr. Zimm,” mumbled Charl.
“I doubt he’ll be searching for us… here,” sniffed Mr. Weinstock.
“I’m sorry this isn’t the best restaurant in New York,” said Max, sensing her friend’s disappointment. “But they have seafood here, too. Scallops, shrimp, salmon…”
“Oh, joy.”
“Hiya, Max,” said the host who greeted the group inside the restaurant. “Table for four?”
“No thanks, Mr. Lin. We need to get this order to go.”
Max and Mr. Lin were friendly. From time to time, during the dinner rush, she’d hop on one of the restaurant’s bikes and help with deliveries. Her paycheck always came in a cardboard takeout container: free food for dinner. (She also got to keep her tips!)
Mr. Lin pulled out a stubby pencil and order pad. “What would you folks like?”
“Let’s see,” said Max, calling up the restaurant’s menu from memory. “Scallion pancakes, two orders of pan-fried dumplings, crispy chicken in sesame sauce… three of those. Three General Tso’s chicken, too. A couple lo meins with shrimp, stir-fried rice…”
She ordered three dozen different dishes.
“How about you guys?” she asked the others. “You want anything?”