Charlie Chan's: It's `Customized`

# # Charlie Chan's, 14553 Bothell Way N.E. Mandarin and Szechwan Chinese. Lunch ($3 to $4) 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. Tuesday through Friday. Dinner ($3 to $15) 11:30 a.m. to 10 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday; until 11 p.m. Friday, Saturday; 4 to 10 p.m. Sunday. Closed Monday. Full liquor. Major credit cards accepted. Nonsmoking area provided. Reservations and takeout: 362-4929.

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Idrove past Charlie Chan's a couple of dozen times before I finally stopped and went in. I paused in the foyer and perused some news clippings pinned to the wall. Flattering accounts from previous restaurants in Anchorage and Tacoma.

Color photos alongside depicted a short, beaming Asian man. In one picture he was shaking hands with George Bush. In another he was being embraced by the Frugal Gourmet, Jeff Smith.

Charlie Chan was well-connected. Charlie Chan had a glad hand.

That evening, however, Charlie Chan was short-handed, as well as short.

I walked in - and nothing happened. It was early in the dinner hour. There were perhaps four or five tables or booths occupied. No one else was in sight.

One of the patrons looked up at me after a few minutes and called out:

``Charlie, front.''

From behind a small service bar in the center of the restaurant, a head bobbed up and disappeared; bobbed up again and, again, disappeared.

Charlie, it appeared, was jumping up and down. This was confirmed when his head soared up momentarily above the rack of bottles and he yelled:

``I'm too short! I'm too short!''

He came out from behind the bar, greeted me effusively, seated me, handed me a menu formatted like a newspaper and hustled off into the kitchen.

He was, as of that moment, maitre d', bartender, waiter, cook and busboy. But the restaurant was warm with wonderful smells; customers were murmuring happily over their meals. As I waited for my stuff to arrive, two more customers showed up at the entry. Charlie didn't see them.

``Charlie, front,'' called out one of the seated customers. Charlie, banging away at a wok in the kitchen, didn't hear the summons.

The man called out once more, ``Charlie, front,'' then got up from behind an attractive order of Mongolian Beef, walked to the front, handed menus to the new arrivals, asked them if they preferred a smoking or nonsmoking section, seated them and quietly went back to his dinner.

That, my friends, is loyal customer support.

What created it?

The quality of the food? Partly. One customer had written to Charlie, thanking him for establishing the best Chinese restaurant in North Seattle since Uncle Chen sold the China North. High praise, indeed. Perhaps too high.

But I suspect it is something more. Could it be the neat, clean play area over in the corner, with new toys for younger children, and beautifully illustrated Chinese-English books for older ones?

Or is it the collection of venerable wood and metal cooking implements hanging from the walls? Maybe. I suspect, however, that along with expertise in the kitchen, the sense of welcome, of caring - and of belonging - has made Charlie Chan's a kind of neighborhood, ethnic Cheers! `` . . . Where everybody knows your name . . . ''

It is one of the most important aspects of the restaurant business; perhaps the crucial one. And it is seldom done as well as it deserves to be done.

As for the food: Wonderful Yu Hsiang Scallops ($9.95); Beef with Asparagus ($7.25), rich, garlicky and beautifully fresh. A classic, Ants on a Tree (Chow Fen Si, $5.50) could have had the ``ants'' (braised, ground pork) more crisply browned.

Charlie's Prawns ($8.25) in a spicy red sauce are done with seasonal vegetables - this time with asparagus, red chilies and bamboo shoots.

Do try the Special Garlic Chicken ($6.25), lightly fried chicken wings with black mushrooms, Chinese greens and a hot pepper sauce. Squid with House Sauce ($8.95) is a successful variation of a Hunan specialty, but could be a bit more highly seasoned.

A regular patron at Charlie Chan's is Ching Hsu, now retired, who was the first Northern-style Chinese cook in Seattle - at the old Harbin Mandarin Restaurant on Greenwood. If you need an endorsement beyond Jeff Smith or George Bush . . .

Charlie Chan's is not perfect. Undiscovered, it is still underutilized. Hence, it is underfunded and understaffed.

All of that is likely to change; gradually, one hopes. That is, if 250 of you show up tonight, Charlie (real name Pyong Sun Yi) and his wife Terry are likely to lapse into hysteria.

Unless one of you volunteers to help seat the others.