When we walked into Papillon Bleu, a Chinese restaurant around the corner from Notre-Dame Basilica in Montreal's Old Port, the sole waiter on duty looked surprised to see us. At 7:45 on a Saturday night, at the height of tourist season, just one young white family sat in the dining room. We walked past them to a table in the back, Chopin drifting quietly from the speakers into the certain shade of dim light that only Chinese restaurants seem to have. At our seats, bright yellow napkins, folded into fans, rested on a blue tablecloth next to cutlery . Sometime in the last 18 years of operation, Papillon Bleu stopped bothering with chopsticks. "How did you find out about us?"our waiter politely asked. I told him that my family used to own a Chinese restaurant that served peanut butter dumplings and I wanted to taste them again. Papillon Bleu came up when I googled"Best Peanut Butter Dumplings in Montreal". He shook his head and told us that while it might have been the case a few years ago, they had switched peanut butter brands to cut costs. But the significance for me wasn't which brand they used, it was that they served peanut butter dumplings. Commonly known as Hunan dumplings, this specialty exists neither in China, nor anywhere else in North America. Instead, Hunan dumplings are a unique Quebecois tradition, and a slowly dying one, found in the second-generation Chinese family restaurants. Peanut butter dumplings taste exactly how they sound, but also unlike anything else. It is a kind of dumpling that coats your mouth with a distinct store-brand quality, a little too sweet, but buttery, and luxuriously  warm, perfectly suited to resist the bone-chilling effects of the Montreal winter. How does the author sound when telling the story?
Humorous. Curious. Disappointed. Affectionate.