Yuiko Zhang
Google
Where I grew up — Hangzhou — is notorious for bland food in China.
However, if this place opened in Hangzhou, it would probably shut down within a week.
So plain. So weird. So bad. Not decent. Not authentic.
Maybe it works for people who have never been to China. I won’t be going again.
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(Edit: Just saw the owner’s response months later…)
This restaurant is quite well-known — not every Chinese-owned business manages to expand into a multi-location chain.
In fact, before I even moved to NYC, I was genuinely excited to try it. It had been called a “pride of the Chinese community,” and I had seen it featured in countless magazines.
So I really gave it a fair shot — not just once, but five times — hoping to finally understand what made it so special.
Unfortunately, the food was consistently plain. I kept giving it chances, and even when I took it home, it was because I wanted to improve the flavor myself — not to insult the restaurant.
What shocked me most wasn’t the food — it was the owner’s response to honest feedback.
My original review was short — just a small note for myself, a reminder not to give this place another try.
Instead of addressing the issue, the owner launched into a sarcastic attack on my display name and more.
I also noticed that other reviewers with Chinese last names received similarly aggressive replies.
As another reviewer, Yassy Huang, put it simply: “It doesn’t taste good 😅😅.” I couldn’t agree more.
It’s not personal — just honest.
A restaurant that targets customers who speak up — instead of fixing the problem — is ultimately setting itself up to fail.
Being one of the few Xi’an noodle shops in NYC doesn’t make you immune to basic standards.
Real quality doesn’t panic under criticism. And real respect starts with the way you treat your own community.