Nearly ever Thursday evening of my childhood my family ate takeout from Peking Palace, a strip-mall Chinese restaurant down the street from our house. Bug-eyed, swishy-tailed fish in a tank kept a watch over the cash register at Peking, and a golden Great Wall of China rose out in three-dimensional majesty from an ornately framed painting near the back. The restaurant was owned and operated by the lithe Judy, who knew all her customers by name. Wonton soup with thick-...