"I can't believe you chose a street stall over the five-star restaurant I suggested," Evelyn said, taking another bite of her lamb skewer. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the beer, and she looked more relaxed than I'd ever seen her.
"You're the one who brought me here," I reminded her, amused by how different she seemed outside her corporate environment.
"That's because you need to experience real New York City culture," she said, waving her skewer for emphasis. "Uncle Wang's food is legendary among locals."
The elderly stall owner beamed at the compliment from across his small cooking area. "Little Evelyn always knows good food when she tastes it."
I watched her laugh at something Uncle Wang said, noting how naturally she fit into this humble setting. Despite her expensive dress and designer heels, she belonged here just as much as she did in boardrooms and corporate offices.
"Try the spicy beef," she said, pushing the plate toward me. "It's his secret recipe."
