By Frank Sabatini Jr.

San Diego’s oldest dining establishment likely is Chop Suey | Peking Restaurant in North Park, where Cantonese-style dishes have been served from steel carts since 1931.

Today, family members of the late founder, Leo Fong, run the business, which predates the openings of other local legends such as The Waterfront Bar (1933), Tobey’s 19th Hole Café (1934), The Chicken Pie Shop (1938), and Hob Nob Hill (1944).

The restaurant stands out from its modern-day surroundings with a faux Chinese-dynasty entrance framed in bright-red columns and curvy lines hovering overhead. Trimmed in neon lights, it’s exactly the kind of place past generations flocked to for what they termed as “Oriental food” at a time when dishes like egg foo yung, chop suey and almond chicken posed as exotic alternatives to the American diet.

Those dishes remain in place along with many others such as the war won ton soup, should you require a break from trendy Vietnamese pho and Japanese ramen available everywhere else. This is just as embracing, as the word “war” or “wor” translates to “deluxe,” meaning it’s stocked heavily with solid ingredients.

Served in a metal helmet-shaped bowl, our spoons maneuvered through soft pork dumplings, bamboo shoots, sliced pork, Napa cabbage, and scallions. We tossed in fried noodles along the way to add further texture. The broth was beautiful, a clear and safely salted chicken stock infused with the combined flavors of everything in it.

Our delightful waitress, Stephanie, is the granddaughter of Fong and a freelance photographer by day. Several of her pictures of the restaurant are displayed throughout the dining room amid ornate lanterns and red circular booths, which many years ago were individually partitioned off with silk screens.

We took her cue for the barbecue pork; an appetizer prepared exactly the same as when the restaurant first opened. It featured numerous slices of the meat, a few of them chewy, but all offering slow-roasted flavor and sweet edges.

Another starter, foil-wrapped chicken, was equally enjoyable but required a little work unraveling the tender poultry nuggets from their tightly sealed purses. The meat is marinated, then wrapped and refrigerated before going into the deep fryer upon order. As a result, your fingers encounter the residual oil on the foil, but it’s worth the trouble.

The restaurant’s top-selling orange chicken is a relative newcomer. It was added to the menu in the late 1990s. Unlike the sticky, cloying versions found in other Chinese restaurants, the glaze was mouthwatering, sporting a tasteful balance of citrus and sugar that added a juicy essence to the battered chicken pieces — all breast meat and bigger than golf balls.

We skipped over the chop suey in lieu of lo mein, which basically omits the customary celery and onions. Available with a choice of proteins, we chose chicken to augment the hefty pile of wok-seared wheat noodles strewn also with bean sprouts and cabbage, and accented in the cooking process with a gentle measure of soy sauce.

Uncomplicated and standard, it was nonetheless satisfying. And it is among the dishes that parents traditionally order for their kids as a gateway meal to other Asian cuisine.

Large families are a common sight here, and the menu caters to them well with feast-size dinners ranging from $10 to $20 per person. But unless you’re more than four-strong, portion sizes on most dishes are generous enough to go around. As a twosome, we went home with leftovers.

The restaurant’s longevity is fueled by its clean, retro atmosphere, friendly service, and classic American-style Cantonese recipes that have sadly become harder to find these days amid the ongoing proliferation of Thai and Japanese dining spots.

“It would be cool if we could make it to 100 years, but we’ll see,” Stephanie said, revealing that her parents will someday retire, and that her siblings have already carved out careers outside of the restaurant business.

In keeping with its annual tradition for celebrating the Chinese New Year, the restaurant will feature performances by the Lucky Lion Dancers at 6 p.m. on Feb. 12, 21, 27 and 28.

—Frank Sabatini Jr. is the author of “Secret San Diego” (ECW Press), and began his local writing career more than two decades ago as a staffer for the former San Diego Tribune. You can reach him at [email protected].