A Succulent Chinese Meal

The other day a new restaurant opened in Chattanooga. Ox2 Buns & Noodles. It’s wedged between Best Buy, Hamilton Liquor, and Fresh Market, out near Hamilton Place.

I’d eaten there back when it was one of those Chinese places indistinguishable from the next, the kind with laminated menus, twenty-seven lunch combos, and food that tastes like the last six places you tried. My buddy Tony and I saw the Ox2 coming soon sign on the door a while back and figured we’d give it a shot. A couple days later my friend Shwa called, and that became the spot.

I ordered fatty pork noodle soup, fried dumplings, and—thanks to the waitress’s warning—not the generic stuff I thought I wanted. She told me, flat out, I could get that anywhere. What they made in-house was better. She was right. Shwa, who once lived in China for a year, put down his chopsticks and said it best, “This is the only Chinese food in Chattanooga.”

He wasn’t lying. It’s the closest I’ve tasted to the week I spent in China this summer while Jaime was teaching there. I was so blown away I dragged her back the next night. She loved it. Chatted in Chinese with the staff. Recommended dishes to other tables. She’s been to China more than once and said this was the real deal—miles away from “Great Wall Buffet” and the sad fortune cookie shuffle.

Here’s the difference between us: when I love something, my instinct is to hide it. Keep it secret. Keep it safe. Maybe share it with a close friend. Jaime? When she loves something, she broadcasts it to the world. By the time we’d finished eating, she was already following the restaurant on social media and posting about it. Her review blew up with likes, shares, and comments:

Dozens of people saw it. We came back with Jonah, our son, and his wife Kamila and some friends again the next night. And though I’d never admit it to her directly, I think she’s right. A place this good can’t afford to be hidden. If people don’t eat here, it’ll vanish, and that would be a shame.

That’s the thing about spots like this: they don’t have corporate budgets or PR firms running slick campaigns. They live or die by word of mouth and empty seats. If we don’t show up, the only things left are the chains—Applebee’s, Chili’s, TGI McFunsters—places where every meal tastes like it was dreamed up in a focus group and reheated in a microwave. And once the Ox2s of the world are gone, they don’t come back.

But when a place like this makes it? Everybody wins. The city gets better food. We get handmade noodles, dumplings rolled by hand instead of a machine, eggs and tomato cooked with actual care. We get food with a soul, not a slogan.

So go. Order the hand-pulled noodles. Try the scallion pancakes. Don’t sleep on the eggs and tomato. Just get there, try it, and love it. And whatever you do, don’t tell my wife I told you so.