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.

Despite the name, the menu here boasts more than 30 flavors. Many sport chunks of the fruit they were made from. This corner shop doesn't offer tastes and doesn't mix flavors. But each serving is so inexpensive, why not try one of the more exotic flavors (peanut butter? rum raisin? licorice?) then follow it with a second, palate-cleansing cup of lemon? Every summer, dozens of flavors compete for the attention of local and visiting customers alike. But, lemon is the undisputed, all-time champ.

Just a half-volley away, the sandwich-making ladies here still talk of a time when the neighborhood was largely Italian-American. Also known as Mama’s of Corona, their celebrated Italian special is a throwback to that bygone era: piled high with cold cuts, fresh mozzarella, hot & sweet peppers, mushrooms, oil, and vinegar. It's a big sandwich that is best shared. For dessert, choose a cannoli, sofiliatelle or pignoli from the pastry case at the adjoining Mama's Backyard Café.

Just east of the tennis center, Flushing, is home to New York's most exciting Chinatown. At New York Food Court, we’re fans of the namesake “cold skin noodles” at Liang Pi Wang. With cucumber, soy sauce, black vinegar, sesame oil and chile oil, they are 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.

Like the state of play on the single bocce court at tiny William F. Moore Park, a meal here is unhurried. One of the city's last destinations for red-sauce fine dining, the Italian-American menu is frozen in time: generous portions of scungilli [conch] and calamari, chicken piccata, and veal parm. Marinara, say hello to your cousin fra diavolo. Although the wait staff wears classic black-and-white, for customers, business casual is sufficient. Phoning ahead for a reservation is essential.