My annual Thanksgiving ritual, besides writing barely veiled cries for help in obscure local social blogs while mildly spun on muscle relaxers, is to find a nice dark corner of some weathered Chinese restaurant and just cry my 96 tears over a homemade plate of some kind of chicken in some kind of sweet sauce, cellular phone turned off and jealous hunger turned on.
Recommended to me by a similarly catastrophic soul, it’s damn hard to find a joint like the Canton Restaurant in this town anymore. Pushing almost 40 years in its mini-mall location at 2908 N. MacArthur Blvd., this place is beyond old-school. It was old-school before there was even an old-school which, in a time when everything old is torn down and rebuilt without a thought, makes this eatery a dine-in work of lost culinary art, with more character than any showy glass and neon food-tomb over in Downtown, Midtown and any town in-between.