9
EZTHE
WASHINGTON
POST
.
FRIDAY,APRIL
1, 2022
the fast-moving waters of a
weekly deadline, but I can read
the look on her face when we
talk: I see the fear that some-
times lies behind her eyes. I can
also feel her indignation when
she speaks. It’s palpable, a life
force of its own.
She c hannels the s ame passion
into running a restaurant. This is
Seafood is one of those eateries
that understands its place in the
dining ecosystem. It’s not aiming
for stars. It feeds a community,
and it feeds it well. Karen and
her husband have replicated
many of the dishes that they
served in Alabama, but they’ve
also been slowly expanding the
menu based on customer re-
quests and their own research of
competitors in the area. Which is
why they’ve added po’ boy sand-
wiches, croaker, and wings and
mumbo sauce.
“My husband tasted it, and he
figured it out,” Karen says about
her spouse’s take on mumbo
sauce, a version that leans to the
barbecue sauce end of the condi-
ment’s flavor spectrum. “My hus-
band, he has some kind of tal-
ents.”
Hard agree. I have become a
fan of many items at This is
Seafood: the fried whiting, with
their irresistible curls at the tip
of the fillets, perfect for dipping
in hot sauce; the shrimp fried
rice m ixed with peas a nd carrots
and irregular deposits of wok-
fried egg; the boneless chicken
nuggets dusted with salt, pep-
per and garlic; the fried catfish
po’ boy turbocharged with hot
pepper relish; the “grilled” tila-
pia, which goes down more like
fillets pan-fried with a generous
dollop of good butter; and the
shop’s real showstopper, a Low-
country boil of shrimp, pota-
toes, sausage, corn, and snow
crab legs so clean and sweet
you’d swear you were eating at
Joe’s Seafood, Prime Steak and
Stone Crab.
One of the grace notes at This
is Seafood is the way in which
your food is presented: An
employee will open every con-
tainer for your inspection —
and for you to customize with
the various squeeze-bottle sauc-
es and seasoning blends avail-
able in shakers on the counter.
Karen started this process in
Alabama, where people would
travel many miles to buy her
food. She never wanted them to
be surprised or disappointed
when they finally opened their
containers.
I’ve been thinking about this
interaction. It’s so counter to
Karen’s early experiences in
China, where many have no
autonomy. At This is Seafood,
you have control of everything
that passes over the counter
and i nto your hands. Each order
has its own representative, and
it is you.these owners don’t want to share
their full names out of fear of the
Chinese government. It’s a long,
complicated story, one that I
grasp only in the margins, in
those murky spaces where peo-
ple from different backgrounds,
and who speak different lan-
guages, try to understand one
another. But the story begins in
China, in the 1980s, when Karen
was a young girl.
Karen is the proprietor of This
is Seafood. You’ll find her behind
the counter practically every day
of the week, running orders to
the hungry customers who wait
inside the small storefront for
their containers of fried whiting,
loaded fries, shrimp po’ boys,
wings and dozens of other dish-
es, most of which are pulled crisp
and golden from the deep fryer.
Karen’s a pro at this: friendly,
attentive, quick with an apology
when things go wrong. Regulars
call her Miss Karen. It’s a sign of
respect.
Karen has been working in
restaurants since the late 1980s,
when she and a relative opened
a Chinese takeout joint in Deca-
tur, Ga., following a path blazed
by countless immigrants before
them. How Karen, her sister
and her parents landed in Geor-
gia — more than 8,0 00 miles
from their hometown in China’s
Fujian province — is a tale
grounded in fear, and state
control.
She still remembers the day
when the local authorities came
to her school. The principal
pulled Karen, then 7 years old,
from the classroom so she could
face her adult interrogators.
“They were asking me questions,
saying, ‘Where’s your mom?’
‘When did you see your mom the
last time?’ ‘Where is your mom
hiding?’ ” Karen tells me.
“It was a very, very unpleasant
experience.”
Her mom had committed the
crime of getting pregnant. It was
the early 1980 s, not long after
China had launched its one-child
policy to control the country’s
booming population, which was
nearly 1 billion at the time.
Karen’s mom was eight months
pregnant with her third child.
She was also in hiding.
When the authorities finally
caught up with Karen’s mom —
with no help from her daughter
— they forced her to have an
abortion. They also stripped Kar-
en’s p arents of their j obs. With no
income and little future ahead of
him, Karen’s father fled to Hong
Kong and then, at the urging of a
relative, flew to New York City,
where he was granted political
asylum. After they paid the Chi-
nese government a lot of money,
Karen and her family joined
their father.
They eventually made their
CASUAL DINING FROM 8
way to Georgia, where a relative
lived, and then to Alabama.
When Karen’s parents moved
back to New York City, she
decided she wanted to be closer
to them. So she uprooted her
life to Maryland. No matter
where Karen has lived, howev-
er, restaurants have been part
of her world. She has opened
them with relatives, with
friends and with her husband,
who serves as chef at This is
Seafood.
But she also calls herself an
activist, railing against the gov-
ernment that once tore her life
apart. She worries about Chinese
spies poking into her personal
life, even in the United States,
which is why she and her hus-
band want to withhold their
names. I have few ways to fact-
check her story, especially withPHOTOS BY DEB LINDSEY FOR THE WASHINGTON POST
TOP: Ravens wings are served with fries and mumbo sauce, which
provides a sweet, smoky, slightly spicy counterpoint to the crispy
chicken. ABOVE: Squeeze-bottle sauces and seasoning blends are
available in shakers on the counter at This is Seafood.Casual Dining