Until we moved to Yucatan, I don’t think we fully realized exactly how much Chinese and Thai food we ate on a weekly basis. I’m not talking authentic Chinese cuisine, with its soupy combinations of animal feet in a stinky broth, or chicken heads lovingly skewered and roasted over an open flame in the back alleys of Shanghai. No, I am talking about that very specific brand of Chinese; that paper menu, folded three times, offering such Americanized fast-food versions of Chinese as Sweet and Sour pork, Orange Chicken, and fried wontons. I’m talking shrimp toast, plastic jugs full of sweet tea or watermelon juice, and Crab Rangoon. And yes, friends, I am talking about that most perfect animal in the entire universe of bad take-out Chinese…the steamed pork dumpling.

In my single days, after a sweaty, stinky ride on the F train back to the civilization of Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, dinner at night more often than not consisted of a steaming hot aluminum tray full of steamed pork dumplings and a six pack of Coors light, eaten in front of a glowing computer screen, naturally. Each dumpling was evaluated on several fronts: thickness of doughy skin, pocket left mid-bite for dipping into the pungent soy, ginger, and scallion sauce, and level of sweatiness achieved both by the dumpling and by the eater. When Jillian and I lived together, this tradition of thrice-weekly Chinese indulgence continued, with entire coffee tables getting filled with an orgy of take out containers, our palettes having expanded to include not just steamed dumplings, but also chicken bits with orange sauce and egg rolls, or, on a particularly special evening (read: new episode of America’s Next Top Model), take-out yellow curry from the Thai place down the street.

And now, living here, in this landscape of new flavors, textures, and techniques, where an ordinary taco al pastor can transcend its humble origins and turn into an object of true beauty, we still find that the flavors of “Me and My Egg Roll” are the ones we are missing the most. Those flavors prove the hardest to fake at home, as well, and the hardest for Mexican restaurants to duplicate. We have tried almost everything, from stocking up on forty boxes of powdered yellow curry (now, with added vegetable protein chunks!) during last years’ very special “Thailandia!” event at Commercial Mexicana, to attempting to duplicate these flavors at home (unsuccessfully), to even eating in some of the local Chinese restaurants.

Until recently, those with a craving for MSG-fueled sleepless nights had only a few choices here in Merida. You could try one of the local Chinese restaurants, such as the Win-Fa chain found throughout Merida, or the new Kuroi on the Prolognacion de Montejo. Unfortunately, as often seems to happen with restaurants in Merida attempting a foreign cuisine, what you end up with is a kind of hybrid food that forgoes authentic flavors in an attempt to appeal to local pallets. The elements are all there, but they are just slightly off, enough to frustrate you and wish that you hadn’t even bothered. The ingredients are all familiar to local chefs, who assume they know how to cook them the way they always have, so you all too often order beef with broccoli, and end up with what boils down to fajitas without the tortillas. Or a fine tuna sashimi, except it’s more like a carpaccio, and is accompanied not by wasabi, but by lime-flavored mayonnaise. They get so close, but in the end, the differences make it worse than having nothing at all.

The other option for those desperate for Chinese was to, honest to goodness, break down and go to one of those rotten Panda Express-type places in a food court of a mall. At first blush, after sampling a piece of pineapple chicken on a toothpick, it seems to be close enough. Unfortunately, once the food from these places has cooled by only a few degrees, it turns into a giant, sweet, gelatinous ball, which you will ultimately regret eating. And while hearing a Chinese lady speak perfect, fluent Spanish is a wonder to behold, you can never convince them to give you a fucking egg roll, so that’s off the list, as well. In fact, we had all but given up on ever experiencing decent Chinese food in Merida, instead gorging ourselves for days on end on our infrequent trips back to the States or to Cancun.

You can almost imagine, then, our almost inappropriate levels of excitement at the appearance of the newly-franchised Walk to Wok restaurant that appeared without fanfare on Calle 34 and the Prolognacion de Montejo, in the plaza that I had previously referred to in my mind as the “Checkers Plaza,” due to the large hamburger restaurant there. Originating in Amsterdam, of all places, Walk to Wok has spread fast with its perfect formula: a mix of do-it-yourself menu selections, with moderately healthy cooking techniques. They began franchising in 2006, and in just a few short years, have opened restaurants in NYC, London, Serbia, and, of all places, right here in Merida, Mexico.

The gleaming glass and orange concrete facade had us running around the parking lot and giggling like kids even before we began to mentally formulate or orders. Inside the restaurant, you are presented with a huge menu, explaining how to place your order. You can start with noodles, rice, or fried rice, add your choice of meat and vegetables, and finally, add your sauce.

Everything is combined into a huge wok behind a glass partition, and the cheerful cooks toss it all together for you and present it in a beautiful orange take-out container. Though my mind was spinning with combination possibilities, I decided to evaluate the food using my old standby: yellow curry. I chose white rice, combined with chicken, broccoli, and peanuts, in their “Bankok” sauce. Every ingredient was pulled right from the fridge and dumped into a wok, and the bucket of food (seriously, it’s enough for several meals) I was presented with cost about 60 pesos. We hopped in the Jeep, and raced the incredible smell all the way home, where we could eat like maniacs in a dark room, not looking at or talking to anybody.

I want you to listen to me very carefully. The food that we got from Wok to Walk that night was the best Thai/Asian inspired food that I have eaten in all of Mexico in the last two years. Actually, it’s better than that. As take-out goes, it is better even than what you find North of the border. We cheered after every single bite; the coconut curry dancing on our tongues, explosions of bamboo shoots, the sweet burn of fresh ginger. Chrissake…was that actually Basmati rice? Every bite was better than the last. Our brains started racing with the possibilities of our many visits to come: pork and pineapple in “Hong Kong” (sweet and sour) sauce, or beef with mushrooms in spicy black bean and pepper sauce. The next day, reheated leftovers in the office to prepare for this review, revelation and pure joy all over again. The quality, authenticity, and wonder of the food produced by the people at Walk to Wok cannot be overstated. This is not passable Chinese tweaked to please the Yucatecan pallet. This is, straight up, amazing Chinese food.

I’ll take it one step further, and then I’ll try and wrap this up. The presence of Wok to Walk in our fair city will change the lives of expatriates who miss those foreign, yet familiar Asian flavors of home. No more making yourself ill in a mall food court. No more breakneck weekend trips to Miami to go on a three-day Massaman bender. The flavors that you miss, the memories of eating out of a cardboard container, the sound of the snap of the chopsticks…they have finally arrived in Merida. Now, if only they had fortune cookies.

Walk to Wok is located at Calle 34 and the Prolognacion de Montejo, in the same plaza that houses Checkers and Subway. You can reach them at (999) 944 5866, or visit their official website here. ¡Buen Provecho!