I went there weekly starting back in the late 70's. I practically went into labor there back in '84, and my daughter Seana picked HH for her birthday every year right up until they closed.
NO BETTER FOOD, NO BETTER DRINKS, NO BETTER TIME.
Philip would send food for my Dad while at PVH recovering from cancer surgery. Thank you, Philip. Your kindness (or your shredded beef w/pepper or butterfly chicken) will never be forgotten.
Paul would tease my daughter about wanting to go bungee jumping. I would tease Paul about winning the lottery, then paying him a half million a year just to stand at my door and say "How are YOU?"
Chung used to take my daughter into the kitchen while I ate, as they were all fascinated by her blonde ringlet curls.
I loved the Zombies, Mai Tais and Planter's Punch, while my mother just couldn't get enough of those Suffering Bastards.
Speaking of which, man were WE all suffering when they closed. The likes of this restaurant will never come our way again!
Thanks for the smiles, Pat.
Lorraine Milich
Seana Kirk
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I found this sight while looking up the recipe for a Suffering Bastard.
My story is a simple one. When I was a teenager - I would walk from school to my little job cleaning pots and pans at Pascack Valley Hospital. It was a long walk from Westwood High. But, the money was good and the walk took me past the Hong Hing both coming and going. Jimmy the bartender cashed my first paycheck - which I spent on a sizzling War-ba and a couple of egg rolls ... I took my first serious girl friend there on our first date....took family there for their birthdays....I always kept a menu in my car ...dripped duck sauce in the pages of my college text books...and the first call I made from a cell phone was for take-out 3's Happiness. My last meal there was on my wife's 33rd birthday.
Good bye Hong Hing.
Out-to-Lunch,
Altan D.
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Pat,
Although not a Hong story, I do have an interesting one about a 70 mile bicycle quest for chinese food. A buddy of mine from college and I had a major craving for some Jersey chinese food. He is living in Stamford, CT right now, and we came up with the brilliant idea of riding bikes from Stanford to Cheng Du, in Clifton. Having eaten a small portion of leftovers from a local establishment named "Chin's" for breakfast, we headed southbound. It took us approximately 8 hours to make it through southern CT, White Plains, the Bronx, over the George Washington Bridge, and through Fort Lee -- FINALLY making our way into Clifton. It was much harder than we expected (having never riden a bike farther than the local 7-Eleven) but we took some good pictures and had an incredible feast at the Du. Like I said, it is not a Hong story, but I thought you'd get a kick out of it. Take care.
Regards,
Tim Keough
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Pat,
Allow me to preface that I cracked up when I saw this site. A very befitting tribute. From the day I turned 21, Jimmy became my hero. Luckily, he still makes the zombies and mai tai's at the Emerson Hotel. Anyway, my favorite little story.
We had friends who used to live directly across the cemetary in Emerson. Whenever any of the brothers would have a party, which was frequent, the quest was to walk what became known as the Ho Chi Minh Trail. This was a quest to see how many people, could walk the trail as many times as possible. We would hop the cemetary fence, walk directly to the Hing, have a few zombies, go back to the party, and get a new group ready for the next trip. My personal record was five trips on the trail, totaling about 7 zombies.(not to mention beers at the party) On the last trip, I had to be helped across the cemetary and over the fence as I forgot about the discalimer on the menu warning about the zombies. Sadly a dear friend passed away recently, but he had always said he wanted to be buried on the trail. His final resting place is now directly on the favorite trail to the Hing.
My brother in law and I would always be the dutiful husbands whenever we wanted Hing takeout. We would tell the girls that we didn't know what we wanted, so there was no point in calling in the order, that we would decide when we got there. Of course, the girls weren't stupid, as they knew we just wanted to hang out for a few mai tais and zombies. Funny how each time we got takeout, Chef Han always took at least an hour to make our food.
But the worst (or best, depending) was one night my band was playing in Closter. We went to the Hing beforehand for a friend's birthday. I had five zombies and was geared up for the show. We played later on what I thought was our best show ever, only to be greeted by silence from my bandmates. After I was done slurring the lyrics that I could remember, faking the words I forgot, and falling off the stage, I vowed no more zombies before any show.
Damn I miss that place. Thanks for hearing my stories, and I'm glad someone paid tribute to the legendary Hing.
Phil
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Here's a classic from one of the regulars, Scottie.
One Friday after work I had a craving for a couple of zombies so I drove up to the Hong with the intention of having two zombies then going home. So in the middle of the second one the smell from the kitchen was starting to get to me so I ordered teriyaki beef and a 6-piece barbequed shrimp to go. So I thought to my self "why not have a third zombie while I wait for my food." Finally the food comes and I'm about to walk out the back door, when as I'm passing the bar Jimmy offers me one on the house. So now here I am drinking my fourth zombie and I haven't had anything to eat since lunch. I then did the old one eye closed drive down Kinderkamack Road to the house of pain in Hackensack.
When I get home, I agree to go to the movies with everyone so I throw my food into the fridge and out we go..of course I did not drive. We went to the old Cinema 35 on Route 4 to see Silence of the Lambs. About 5 minutes into it, I start to get the spins so I leave and go out front to get some air. While I'm out there I realize I'm too wasted to explain to the ticket lady why I left so I decide to walk home.
So I circled the building three times looking for my car that wasn't there and then staggered home 3 miles along Route 4. When I got home I had to break in because I didn't bring me keys. I crawled through the window and slopped down the food I brought home and went to bed.
Meanwhile the movie ends and everyone is saying "where the F.... is Scotty?" When everyone got back to the house they could here my air conditioner running and they knew I was home.
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Yet another sordid tale of excess from Scottie's arsenal.
One night Jen and I go to the Hong to meet up with Rob and his sister and her husband. Of course, she goes out and has a half a dozen beers before she picks me up. So, flash forward to the Hong and we're in the middle of appys and Jen is working on her second Zombie and getting louder with every sip. Eventually she excuses her self and we don't see her for the rest of the meal. After we're done we go out to the car and she is sitting on the ground leaning against the driver side door with her legs spread and a pile of puke between them. "I'm sorry Scotty....I'm sooo sorry" was all I heard on the way home.
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My wife and I are hong lovers as well. We drove from the Northern part of Rockland County every week for our fix. This site was found by my son. I cant belive its out there. We should try and find these guys and get them up and running again. We did find a pretty good substitute, Chans in Palisades Park. Some of the old guys from Chans Paramus are there. Good luck.
Rob and Karen
If you have fond memories of the Hong, shoot me an email telling me your story:
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