I totally get this. During the MIT years and beyond, we were regulars at King Fung Garden in Chinatown (old gas station which we all called Brezhnev’s allegedly due to a cook’s resemblance to Leonid). We loved it so much we brought our own cutlery and played dish roulette as we pointed to wall menus written in Chinese (Mandarin?). I still dream of the chow mein to this day. But hygiene? Meh, not so much - yes, a lot of it down to an old building and wall/floor coverings that I’m not sure could ever be cleaned fully. I always saw it as a ‘that which does not kill us makes us stronger’ experience.
