It started with cooking for my family.

When I was really young, I cooked for my parents — for the whole family. I remember exactly how it felt: everyone at the table, plates going around, and me watching them eat something I made. It made me happy in a way nothing else did.

I never stopped chasing that feeling. I love to cook, and I love Chinese food — the steam coming off a fresh bao, the crackle of a potsticker bottom, the glaze on orange chicken done right. So I put up a sky-blue tent, painted a panda on the sign, and started cooking for strangers at the market.

Except they don’t stay strangers. My favorite thing in the world is when someone finishes eating and walks back to the counter just to tell me they loved it — the orange chicken, especially. That moment turns an ok day into a great day. Doing something other people enjoy — that gives my life meaning, and it makes me smile.

That’s the whole story. No franchise, no big kitchen — one family, one wok, one counter, and a table that keeps getting longer.