Ping Pong

The other day I went to Ping Pong on 7th Street; I have relatives visiting soon and wanted to know if this really was a Chinese restaurant or just masquerading as one. In fact, the dim sum itself is very good. The selection is narrow, but the tables and restrooms are clean, and the service is charming. However, as I sat there, listening to the two young lawyers at the neighboring table reveal the drama that they both had been arrested and convicted as felons in their youth (i.e. their childhood, practically), that I realized that the restaurant lacked a certain element of chaos which is the hallmark of an authentic Cantonese dim sum market. With standard size parties starting at 10, food carts pushed by sellers yelling out their wares, a real dim sum restaurant is a place to which you could bring a screaming infant and fully expect to not be noticed. Such is progress.