Chinatown was once known for its grand banquet halls: destinations for wedding receptions, special-occasion dinners, and dim sum feasts. Gradually, many of those halls vanished. Epic losses included Joy Luck Palace in 2018, and, once the largest restaurant in Chinatown seating 800, Jin Fong in 2021 (though it eventually reopened in a much smaller space).

Meanwhile, dim sum has migrated out of Chinatown and has taken residence around the city. Now avid customers eat it for lunch and dinner in neighborhoods like the East Village, Madison Square, Harlem, and Hell’s Kitchen.

While these places often serve a very good product, the distinctive dim sum culture of Chinatown has dwindled — where extended families, sometimes four generations, enjoyed the dumplings, rice noodle rolls, chicken feet, congee, and custard tarts, as young children cavorted and great grandmas looked on approvingly.

I wondered if that delectable dim sum world still flourished in Chinatown, so I visited old-timer Royal Seafood, which replaced previous banquet hall Oriental Food Restaurant, at 103 Mott Street, near Canal Street, well over a decade ago. The chef and co-owner is Kendy Cheng, who was born in Hong Kong.

The vibe: I went with three friends at 9:30 a.m. on a Monday morning to find the sprawling place quickly filling up. When we left an hour later it was mobbed, with patrons in the entranceway waiting to be seated. Attendants pushing carts zig-zagged across the room, around 10 at any given time. The patrons were mainly seniors — I estimated the median age to be around 65 or 70 — and they were a lively group. Few kids were around, but that doubtlessly changes on the weekends. Sometimes unrelated groups sit around at the same tables, in my case, allowing us to weigh our own dim sum selections against those of our neighbors, and exchange a word or two with strangers.

What to eat: As the name suggests, Royal Seafood channels the dim sum traditions of Hong Kong. Plates of dim sum are mainly $4.50 or $5.50, and as the carts rolled by, we grabbed: shrimp rice noodle rolls, three to a plate, which the attendant doused with soy sauce before handing them over; beef-cilantro rice noodle rolls; two bamboo steamers of pork shumai; a bowl of braised tripe, which was $7.50; piles of tofu skin, which the attendant obligingly cut in half for us with a scissors; one steamer of shrimp har gow, to my mind the most delectable of dim sum; and rice noodles rolls stuffed with youtiao.

We left completely stuffed at 10:30 a.m., vowing to skip lunch. Our entire meal had come to $49.25.

What to drink: Yes, you can order a Coke or even a beer to go with your dim sum (even though it’s pretty early in the morning for the latter), but the more common beverage is green or chrysanthemum tea. It used to be free, but now it’s $1 per pot. When you run out, flip the lid on the pot to ask for a refill.

Tips: Most dim sum is better eaten hot, so accept only one or two plates at a time and politely refuse the rest until you are ready for more. Every time you accept a plate, hand the attendant your ticket, and they will stamp a mark in the appropriate category. There is never any rush to eat the dim sum and abandon your table; part of the dim sum experience is lingering over your dumplings and such, conversing with family and friends. When you are done, beckon to a server, who will total up your ticket. Leave a tip and then pay at the register.