When Lisa and I first met, she introduced me to the Mongolian Chicken dish, served at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant across the street from the faculty offices at San Jose State.  “Little Palace” was a small kitchen behind a doorway without a door (reminiscent of my time served in Florida), a soda machine against the back wall under the menu sign hanging 7 feet from the floor, a bar half with fast-food servers on the right, a cash machine in the middle, a folding counter (so they could get out), and a well-used tea kettle on the far left, with no more than 4 tables in the dining area that could possibly sit no more than 12 people at once, including those standing in line for take-out.  The words “Little Palace” hung on a wooden sign about 6.5 feet from the floor just above the fast-food servers, and that was the way I learned of the restaurant’s name.

Their Mongolian Chicken was possibly their best known dish.  At lunchtime, students would flock over and order at least that, if not more of the same for takeout.  I remember the day when Lisa took me there; it was a cold winter day, but the spice of the dish made it better.  We took takeout that day, and walked over to the school’s cafeteria to finish our meal.  It may have been the only time I was at that particular dining hall.  Possibly not.

Since that day, I’ve looked forward to tasting the simple delicacy.  It was found nowhere other than “Little Palace.”  Most restaurants serve Mongolian Beef, but not Chicken.  During the time I spent at San Jose State, I must have gone to that restaurant at least once a week, if not more.  But after graduating and moving from the area, we’ve frequented the charming hole-in-the-wall less and less.

Yesterday, on a trip south I decided to pay them a visit.  I remember the last time we tried a stop they were closed.  We assumed that it was for vacation or just bad timing.  This time, however, I took a closer look at the inside of the restaurant.

To my bitter disappointment, the hanging menu was gone, but most everything else still lay as it was the last time we were here.  The counter was quite dusty, and the cash machine was also not present.  The chairs were put on the tables as if to prevent them from collecting dust … appearing as if they were planning on coming back and wiping the tables clean so we could eat there again … never more.

Walking back to the car, I felt like I had lost something.  I almost felt like crying!  I believe it was such a dear part of my life that I couldn’t accept the fact that it was now gone.  “Little Palace” is now a memory of a time that reminds me how we struggled for financial survival.  I look at ourselves today and we seem much healthier than we were then.  Does this mean that the past is a distant memory, like “Little Palace”?