The August sun pulsates overhead as my family and I arrive at the doors of our hotel in downtown Victoria. It’s just shy of 7 p.m., the tail end of a long day that included planes, ferries, and a three-hour time difference. For my wife, Elizabeth, our two young kids, Maddy and Max, and their mah mah and yeh yeh (paternal grandmother and grandfather respectively, in Cantonese), this is our first trip outside Ontario since the pandemic. The kids are hungry and exhausted. We need food. Quick.
My family starts unpacking while dad and I hop back into the car to procure some takeout. Chinatown is close by, and I’m keen to check out a modish joint offering an upmarket take on Asian street food. To my dismay, there’s a line, of seven or eight people, curling outside the restaurant. I pull out my phone, ready to deploy Google Maps to throw up another option. But like at so many other times in my life, my father has the answer: Don Mee.
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