Randolph Z.
Yelp
There's a lot to say about this place. First off, the sign doesn't actually say "tin tin." There is no "tin" in Chinese. It's "tian tian," which means "every day" (literally, day day or sky sky).
You will also notice that the people working there change on a bi-monthly basis. This is normal. Chinese restaurants are bought and sold on a constant basis. The story behind them is absolutely fascinating, involving willful human trafficking, months-long journeys from Fujian to Thailand on foot, boats dropping loads of people on the Rockaways in the dead of night, the origin of Chinatown buses, and an undocumented population that no one seems upset about in the slightest. I learned this from a book, The Fortune Cookie Chronicles by Jennifer 8. Lee.
That said, let's Yelp this shit.
This is straight-typical Americanized Chinese food. Kung pao this, General Tso's that, and so on.
My mother would go here on a weekly basis and the fridge would be filled with a strange rice product after she claimed all the "good" stuff.
Then, one day, she ordered the usual chicken dish, and it was most certainly not chicken. It wasn't even meat. She described it as fibrous, woody material covered in batter. Interesting business model.
Also, I would classify it as "carry out only." Reason being, it's too freakin awkward to eat in there. The seating area is mostly storage/children's homework space. I mean, you can eat there, but home or your car would be far nicer.
I hate to beat up on tiny businesses owned by dreamers from far away, but this place can't possibly be profitable, and I'm amazed it exists at all.
Except for the fact that I want Chinese and Tin Tin (or a place identical to it) is half a block away.