Chinese? Its misfortune is to have become familiar. We know it too well and take it for granted. It is the culinary equivalent of our longtime spouse. We may still like, even love, it, but it is no longer exciting.

Well, I say it’s time we rekindle Chinese food’s flame.

Think of takeout. Oh, sure, you can get pizza delivered to your door, as well as, in most cities, nearly every other cuisine you might have a hunger for. But Chinese is the original and is still the greatest. Fried dumplings (fried, because, hey, you’re eating in — who’s gonna know?), lo mein, General Tso’s chicken, Buddha’s Delight, maybe even some egg foo yung. Is there a better home-delivered meal?

And what about those great scenes in the movies, when the guy and the girl are falling in love? Those moments just wouldn’t be the same without the little white paper takeout containers. Those containers signify both simplicity and sophistication, set pieces for a casual evening by cosmopolitan people, the type who live in really cool apartments. The scene just wouldn’t be the same with Styrofoam boxes. And so the movies wouldn’t be the same. And so romance wouldn’t be either.

So what do we owe for romance? Yes, Chinese food.
The great thing about Asia is that it is a huge continent with a lot of cuisines, and one of them is my enduring pal, Chinese.

I don’t need to do the math. It is the Year of the Pig. I plan to make the most of it.