Janet wasn’t too worried as she pulled into the covered garage that Wednesday morning at the Westfield Wheaton mall, where she was protected from the elements on her short walk to Hollywood East on the first floor. She figured Alan had a cold. Plus, she had a business to run, a Cantonese/Hong Kong restaurant that was a fixture not just of the Maryland suburbs, but of the wider D.C. region, thanks largely to its dim sum service. Every weekend, pre-pandemic, diners would crowd their tables with orders of siu mai and har gow dumplings, steamed roast pork buns, sticky rice with Chinese sausage, and delicate rice-noodle crepes that conceal tiny curls of shrimp. The service attracted large multicultural crowds that would happily wait for a table in a 140-seat dining room whose walls were painted a vibrant shade of red, a color associated with joy and luck in China, but one also thought to make diners hungry.
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