The long, low-lit main dining area is well-suited to intimate conversation over classic Sichuan cuisine – sauteed vegetables and tea-smoked duck. We're even happier in one of the restaurant's large private rooms, where we load up the lazy Susan with new favorites like pork belly in garlic sauce, golden pumpkin porridge, sizzling eel, spicy crispy tofu, or spare ribs with garlic and salted duck egg yolk. These rooms fit a dozen hungry diners; the only jostling might be for the last spare rib.

The namesake dish here is cheung fun, a common sight at dim sum spots in every Chinatown. These steamed sheets of rice-flour batter, typically served in batches of three, are folded over fillings such as beef, pork, shrimp or vegetables, then dressed with soy sauce. Thin to the point of translucence, the rice rolls hint at their contents even before they’re sliced for easy nibbling.

This mini-chain is famous for Sichuan dry pot (ma la xiang guo): a wok-fried, hot pot without the soup. Our favorite location is at the bustling New World Mall food court. To order, point to the ingredients you want. We’re fans of the flounder and crab – bear in mind that seafood ups the cost. After being weighed for the price, your order gets quickly stir-fried with mouth-tingling Sichuan peppercorns and chilies. Served in a large bamboo bowl, the generous portions can be shared.

Flushing is home to New York's most exciting Chinatown. At the New York Food Court, you can watch the food prep in action at the counter at Liang Pi Wang. We’re fans of the namesake “cold skin noodles” with cucumber, soy sauce, black vinegar, sesame oil and chile oil, tossed before your eyes in just three minutes' time. A hot, handheld alternative is the jian bing, a griddled Chinese pancake.

Despite the name, the principal attractions are what the menu modestly calls the "toppings" for lo mein or noodle soup. Sweet and spicy pork, fried fish skin and beef stew surely have their champions. In our case, the best combo is hand-fashioned wontons, fishballs and dumplings, each large enough to require two bites, if not three. The noodles themselves, and the pork bone broth, are wonderful, too. Whatever the order, we’re always happy to dig in at a table on the broad, inviting sidewalk.

A kiosk to the right of the flower shop entrance, open to the sidewalk, offers a different sort of refreshment: soy bean curd. It goes by many other names, among them tofu pudding, soy custard (despite the lack of egg) and doufu hua – literally, and fittingly, “bean curd flower.” Bland itself, the soy bean curd takes kindly to a savory topping of chile pepper, cilantro, scallion and (we believe) baby shrimp, or to one of several sweet variations. We favor the classic gingery syrup.

This Taiwanese shop turns out curry puffs and scallion buns, moon cakes and egg tarts, and sponge cakes flavored with vanilla, strawberry, green tea or a rainbow of all three. By acclamation, however, the crowd favorite is what the bakery calls 波士頓派: Bōshìdùn pài. The sponge cake and cream filling of this pastry could hardly be improved.