He ate: A quirky love story

The setting is a nearly vacant strip mall that appears to have been designed by crayon-wielding chimpanzees (with apologies to chimps everywhere). There’s a sketchy-looking medical marijuana shop. Next to it, Naing Myanmar Family Restaurant.

Outside Naing is an upholstered rocking chair, the kind you see in the clearance section of a big box furniture outlet. The chair has a purpose that is also part of the love story, as you shall see.

Step into Naing and the eye is assaulted by the glare of outsized fluorescent lights, like the one hanging above my basement workshop. I counted nine tables. The one defining feature is a flatscreen TV hovering high on the west wall.

There is a boy at one table, perusing a computer tablet. There is a woman in a nearby chair, rocking a baby. Our server greets us at our table. A little girl stands silently at his side.

So many restaurants seem composed of interchangeable parts and people. Not here. These people ARE the restaurant. This is the rarest of restaurants where food is the actor, not the script. It is the place that matters and the people who inhabit it; the customer is left to wonder how the many pieces mesh and how they make a go of it.

Then, a plot twist: The food is wonderful. Naing serves a selection of Malaysian, Burmese (Myanmar) and Thai dishes inspired by simplicity, fresh ingredients and, in many cases, a whole helluva lot of garlic.

Start with the Maggi soup. For that matter, finish with it. The portion of this ramen-based soup is a meal in itself. Rich in chicken broth, Maggi contains sizable chunks of fresh broccoli (al dente) and a hint of cilantro. All for $4.99. About 50 cents more buys an entre. The most expensive item on the menu weighs in at a mere $6.99.

Try the Tea Pickled Leaves with Bean Salad ($5.99). The name is not grammatically spot-on, but the taste definitely is. There are, indeed, pickled tea leaves scattered about in a bed of crunchy beans, cabbage and sesame seeds, plus a toss of peanuts. Embedded in the dish are halved cloves of garlic. Here again, the portion is meal-sized.

Save room for the Fried Bottle Gourd ($4.99), a strange name for what appears to be zucchini, fried tempura-style. What makes this dish work is the dipping sauce, made with tamarind. The taste is earthy and, frankly, foreign to my tongue. We ordered the gourds on both visits, just to savor the sauce.

The spring rolls ($3.99) are filled with fresh-tasting mushrooms, carrots, onions and minced chicken. It all comes in a fried wrapper made of taro flour. There’s a soybased dipping sauce, but I opted for the tamarind sauce.

Naing does not serve alcohol, but the beverage selection is extensive. On our second visit, we opted for iced Chinese Tea ($1) and a Classico smoothie (a puree of lime juice, strawberries and bananas) for $2.99. The smoothie is refreshing and not overly sweet.

There’s a quirkiness to Naing. How, for instance, did they arrive at the curious price of $5.55 for so many entrees? Also puzzling: If you ask for water, you get bottled water — and pay for it. Let’s assume it’s a cultural quirk, not a distrust of Lansing’s tap water.

It’s also amusing to find medical advice on the menu. An Immune Booster ($2.99) promises to “kill the cold.” The $2.99 drink Specially for Women, made of watermelon, cucumber and honey, claims to be “wonderfully diuretic.” How often do you see that on a menu?

Naing is not for the hurry-up crowd. On our second visit, they were busy (customers seated at five tables). It was a half-hour before our drinks arrived, and close to 45 minutes before the food appeared. My advice: Bring a book or a good conversationalist as a dinner companion.

I call Naing a love story, but it’s not a romance. That blue rocking chair on the sidewalk outside? It’s where mom rocks the baby to sleep and where a teenaged boy fed the child from a bottle during our second visit. When I paid the bill, the server ran my debit card while cradling the child.

At each turn, the family of Naing seemed intent on looking after each other. Teaching, learning, helping, loving. Happily, some of the love seeped into the food.