"A cup, like eight ounces? Like a U.S. standard cup measure?"
“一杯,八盎司?美国标准杯吗?”
"No," the man said, "a cup."
“不,”那人说,“一杯。”
"Like a coffee cup?"
“咖啡杯?”
"No, this one cup that we had at the shop."
“不,就是我们店里有个杯子。”
The cup, naturally, had been thrown out.
那个杯子,当然早就扔掉了。
Unlike his brothers, who stayed in Chinatown and helped with the shop, Mr. Eng left the neighborhood at a young age to pursue a different path: One that would take him to Moscow and back and through various artistic endeavors, before he unexpectedly landed in the world of artisanal tofu.
伍启芳的兄弟们一直住在华埠,帮着打理这家店,他却在很小的时候就离开了那里,去追求一条不同的道路:这条路将他带到莫斯科然后再回来,让他做了各种艺术工作,最后意外地进入手工豆腐的世界。
Before Fong Inn Too closed, it was the oldest family-owned tofu shop in New York, and one of only two still making fresh tofu in Manhattan's Chinatown. For many Chinatown families, a visit to the tofu shop used to be part of a weekly or daily routine. "In the old days, you would go down the street and pick one thing up at each store," Mr. Eng said. "You would go to the veggie stand to get your veggies, the meat shop to get your meat, and Fong Inn Too to get your fresh tofu."
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