Maxi Lau of Maxi's Noodle: How the Home of the Giant Wonton Came to Be

We’re so excited to welcome Maxi’s Noodle to the Little Eats 小吃 stand in Pearl River Mart Foods. With two locations in Flushing, Queens, the wildly popular Hong Kong-style eatery specializes in enormous wontons, duck egg noodles, homemade broth, and more.

We had the chance to chat with founder and chef Maxi Lau about her journey from the corporate world to running a restaurant, wonton-making “bootcamp,” and how the memory of her mother has guided her along the way.

Tell me a little about your childhood. Where did you grow up?

I was born in Hong Kong and moved here — Long Island to be exact — with my family in 1997. I still live on Long Island now. I lived on the Lower East Side for a while but moved back. I grew up in the burbs. You get used to having a yard and more space.

What did you do before you opened your restaurant?

I worked for Home Depot. After graduating from high school, I got a job there doing part-time cashiering. I told myself when I first started working there, "Save money so you can open you own restaurant." My whole family are big foodies. I love cooking. So that was the plan.

I did very well and got promoted to part-time supervisor. I was running the front end of the store, and eventually went up to doing HR for them. HR wasn't what I used to. They loved that I was super-organized, and I was so involved with the company culture. I bled orange. But at the same time I wondered, Is this what I really want to do? Sitting in an office at a computer, making phone calls?

During this time my mom was diagnosed with cancer. I went with her to every single appointment, partly as a translator and partly because I'm an only child and she was my best friend.

After she passed away, I went to Hong Kong for a couple of months and spent time with my aunts. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do with my life. Keep working for Home Depot? Keep saving money for a restaurant? What was enough? Would it ever be enough?

Then I got a call from a family friend who had taught my mom the art of wonton making. She and my mom had known each other since elementary school, and she and her family own a wonton shop in Toronto. She said if you want to get away, come to Canada. Learn another tool to have in your back pocket. They don't teach many people how to make wontons. At one point my mom and dad went to Toronto for two weeks to learn how to make them.

Going from the corporate world to working in a restaurant would definitely be a big change. From meetings and a computer to knives in the kitchen. It wouldn't be just cooking for your family but for paying customers. It would be a crazy change, but I thought now or never.

Before my mom passed, I always thought I'd be a hot mess. That I'd go into a hole and not come out. This was the most important person in my life. I was there for literally everything she went through. I thought, Her battle is my battle and we fight it together! It was a lot.

But I wasn't super depressed [after her passing]. I think she sprinkled some fairy dust over me. "I'm going to be here every step of the day. I'm going to lead you." So when I thought about it, I decided to quit my job and to go for it. I thought, If it doesn't work out, then I find another job. 

What was that experience like?

When I went to Canada, I thought, I'm going to very serious. They gave me a pep talk. If you're going to go to the trouble of teaching me, I'm not going to waste your time. If you're really serious, I'm going to be serious too. Six days a week I went to work. On the seventh day I still worked, running errands for their shop, doing chores around the house. They were paying me, but I didn't even expect to get paid. They said, You're helping the business so we're going to give you a little something.

This was hard core training. My sifu — that's what I called my mom's friend — told me, "You're getting your hair wet, and here comes the shampoo," I was like what is happening? [Laughs] Basically she meant I was in it, and there was no going back.

Their entire family is in the wonton noodle business. That's what they're known for in Hong Kong, and the whole family came over. I, on the other hand, didn't have an entire family waiting to go into the wonton business with me. I had my dad who would help but only to a certain extent. So they pushed me to rely on myself. It was scary, but they were right. I would have to learn how to do everything — down to cleaning the toilet — and train a team. So in case any of my staff says I'm out, I can put on an apron and cook my ass off. I can take over because I know how to do everything.

What was the first thing they had you learn?

Cutting scallions. I cut so much! I smelled like onions, all under my fingernails was green. Plus they had me use a cleaver. I asked, "Is there a lighter knife?" They said, "This is a Chinese restaurant. We have one knife."

My dad said to them, "Every time I call, she's cutting scallions! When is she going to learn how to make wontons?" They were teaching me everything in chapters so they wouldn't overwhelm me. I cut scallions the whole six months I was there. At the beginning it was like two cases. After a while, when I started to do other things, it was fewer.

What was like when they finally taught you how to make wontons?

Wrapping the wontons were a freaking nightmare. It was like magic. My sifu would put the wonton in her hand, close her hand, and a perfect wonton would just appear. I had to record it and put it on slowmo, and even then I couldn't tell what she was doing. I had to ask her, "Can you show me step by step? I can't figure it out how you're wrapping it in a perfect pearl."

Then I watched her husband do it and tried his way. I watched the other staff and learned their techniques. But that messed me up. They told me to stick with one way only. Learn from one person. Don't get overwhelmed. So I learned form one lady and got the hang of it. "Congratulations, you can wrap a wonton!" they said. "Now wrap 500 in 45 minutes." I was like what? But I've seen them do it so I knew it was possible.

I set a timer. For the number of wontons I wrapped in an hour, they did it in 15 minutes. So I said let me aim for 45 minutes. Let me scale down my time.

Next was dumplings. "You know how to wrap wontons," they said. "Now here's a dumpling." That was a whole other ball game.

After I felt like I had learned everything, I was like I'm outta here. I told my dad I can do everything. They told us that I still wasn't ready. They said, "She has the skills but she doesn't have the experience." It took them one minute to cook a bowl of wontons, but it took me 15 minutes.

"You have to learn how to be on the line," my dad said. We brainstormed about what to do. I decided to do a trial run for my whole family. Fifteen of them came. I made all the wontons and the soup base. They ate it and were like wow. 

I thought maybe they were biased. "Give me the usual harsh Chinese family shit," I said. "I need to know." But they gave me 90% and up. My dad knew the comparison. My family was from Hong Kong and knew what the wontons should taste like that. They said texture and taste-wise, these are amazing. 

My dad and I tried to figure out what to do next. I had been home for a few months and had been helping my aunt out in her cafe. It was a Hong Kong-style cafe in Flushing. I was working part-time for her and learning how to work in a restaurant.

So my dad suggested the idea of a pop-up at my aunt's cafe. It closes at five, and we thought we could divide the space a little and have the pop-up from like 5 to 10. We pitched it to her, and she was super supportive and said yeah.

What happened next?

My dad is a social butterfly. He has that personality. He just makes you so happy. He makes everybody laugh. He has fans. After talking to him, you walk out with a smile on your face and 10 bags of something he convinced you to buy.

He spread the news about the pop-up word of mouth. The very first day it was packed. People loved it. All the feedback was good. 

I was still doing everything by myself. My dad said I needed help. At the time I didn't speak Mandarin. I told my dad, "The people helping need to speak Cantonese or English." He said you're going to take any help you can get. Of course the first lady we hired spoke only Mandarin. No English. I had to use Google translate. It was like a chicken and duck trying to communicate with each other.

It was hard, but I slowly learned a little Mandarin. I asked her how to say things, and started to put sentences together. All the Mandarin I know now I learned in the kitchen. From there my team grew.

Did you do any promotion for the pop-up?

None. We had no money to do advertisement. The only thing I did was print out Maxi's Noodles and tape it on my aunt's door. I grew all my followers organically. I didn't spend too much time on social media. I didn't know anything about the restaurant industry. When people ask how I planned this, I say I'm winging it. I'm literally just winging it every single day. 

My biggest bang was one night a family of four came in, or that's what I assumed they were. They looked like two parents and two sons. I would check on them like I would with anyone. They said everything is great. One guy didn't say much. He went outside to make a phone call. Before they left they came over and said goodbye to me. Days later I get a message from a guy named Bernard on Instagram. He said, "I was there at your shop eating with my sister and I wanted to let you know the guy sitting next to me was Pete Wells." I was like, "Who the hell is that?" [Laughs] So I Googled him and saw that he was the food critic for The New York Times. Other restaurants have pictures of food critics up. Of course we had nothing like that. 

The New York Times called the shop and spoke with my uncle. There was a language barrier. He told them, "Maxi will be here tomorrow." So the next day I went in, and I noticed the bottom of my cooking space was starting to flood. My dad said, "Your soup tank is leaking." The soup is the soul for wontons. I knew I couldn't open that day. 

Then somebody in the front was like, "Somebody is here to see you." I go out there and it's someone from The New York Times. "I'm here to take pictures." WHAT? I asked, "Are you in the wrong place? Take pictures of what? Did you guys even call?" That's when I found out they had called, but my uncle didn't know it was The New York Times.

I told them I couldn't even up shop that night so we rescheduled. It was a bittersweet moment! They came back, took pictures, and said the article was coming out the following week. The day it was supposed to come out, I got up at 6 AM and drove to the nearest 7-11. I tore through the Times but didn't see anything. What the hell?

A few days later I got an email from Pete Wells about an interview. When we got on the phone, I said, "But I thought the article was supposed to come out already." He said, "I didn't even interview you yet. Who told you that?"

The following week I drove to same 7-11 and cleared out all The New York Times. The 7-11 guy was like, "Who is this crazy lady?" I bought stacks of them and gave them out to all my family.

To this day I don't how he found us. The shop wasn't even in downtown Flushing. It's like a 15-minute drive from downtown. I guess it was just word of mouth.

What happened after that?

We blew up. Weeks later I got an email from The Today Show. It seemed like everything started happening. People would come in front out-of-state to try the food. When The New York Times article came out, it was only a couple of months into the pop-up. I thought, It's time to find a shop. My dad said, "You're right, kid. It's time."

Eventually we found a store. That was a whole other nightmare. Long story short we found a space in downtown Flushing. It's not on the busy main street but a side street. It's between Prince and Main, which are the busiest.

We opened in September 2019, and it was great and gravy. Then March came the shutdown. It was a ghost town. I had never seen the parking lot empty all the years I've been in Flushing. We closed down for a week. My staff said we can't come in, we have children and elderly parents. I said I completely understand. Let's just all take a break and figure out what we're doing. 

I was going insane at home. I saw on the news about frontline workers — nurses and doctors saving lives, and coming home and sleeping in garage. I heard about restaurants donating meals to frontline workers. I thought oh my god I have a restaurant, I want to donate meals.

The main place I donated to was New York Presbyterian in Flushing. It was where my mom had her surgery and where her oncologist was. That place meant a lot to me. I donated every Monday and did it all out of my own pocket. I was burning through my money, and eventually made a GoFundMe account. I can't tell you how many people donated. I started giving food to the other places. I would rotate them, but I'd always give to New York Presbyterian.

As the months went on, I wondered how I was going to maintain my business. I still had to pay rent. Was it worth it for me to open shop when I was getting only five orders a day? Then I started to get requests for frozen wontons. Someone asked for them, and I said, "If you order 10 dozen, I'll deliver it." The person said, "It's just me and my husband. I don't think we can eat that." I said, "Ask your friends and family!" She called back and said, "Add another 10 dozen."

Now I had more time to be on social media. I joined Chinese Facebook groups and shared my story. The orders came pouring in. 

Eventually my dad said, "We might be able to open with outdoor dining. You can't just sell frozen forever." In Flushing outdoor dining is pretty rare, but because of where I am, I have a huge sidewalk. Once I got the permit, we threw all our chairs and tables outside. There was no on on the street. People walking by were like, "What is this?"

Eventually people flocked to me. I was the only outdoor dining at the time. Nobody had the space for it. There was also a language barrier. Some restaurant owners didn't know they had to go online to apply for it. The Flushing BID was a lot of help to me. They bought me two outdoor tents and had donated money to the GoFundMe. They helped me promote. We've done a lot of events with them by now.

I begged my staff to came back. They had started to feel a little safer, and eventually they came back to work.

We stayed open and were getting a lot of recognition. The community knew what we did. We got a lot more press and interest from journalists and influencers. I see people online saying I must have paid for this or that, but I've never paid once.

How did the collab with Pearl River Mart Foods come about?

I lived on the Lower East Side for a few years and would visit Chelsea Market often when I lived there. I saw that it was always busy and I loved the food. I reached out to the leasing department and asked if they had a space. Of course I understood it wasn't easy to get in, but I had to ask.

Before all that, I was on a show called Food Curated by Liza De Guia. It was the same season that Mama Lam was on it. That's how I met Cassandra. I went to the season premiere party, and Cassandra, her husband, and her mom all ended up eating out of my trunk.

We're good friends now. We did a collab: my wontons and her laksa. I was telling her about Chelsea Market and trying to get in. That was when she told me about her collab with Pearl River Mart and how it was at Chelsea Market. She said, "I did a six-month rotation. Let me introduce you to [Pearl River Mart Foods general manager] Judy [Ong] and [Pearl River Mart President] Joanne [Kwong]. Maybe you guys can work something out."

And you also did a collab with our creative manager Christine Wong for her book launch!

Yeah! I didn't even know Christine was part of your team. I had seen her on social media. And the Outcasts girls did a meet-up at Chelsea Market. I'm a big fan of them. I met Christine through them. We're in the same small circle. Christine asked, "You wanna do a collab?" and I said sure. We're both from Hong Kong. We have a lot in common. 

What can customers expect at your stand in Little Eats?

I don't like to say "authentic" because my wontons are huge. They're not the typical bite-sized wontons. In Hong Kong the wonton filling is shrimp and pork, no veggies. Traditionally they have just one shrimp each since it's bite-sized. Mine are huge so there's much more. 

My wontons have a taste of Hong Kong wontons. The noodles are custom made. My uncle's family owns a noodle company in Hong Kong. It's been there for almost 60 years, run by several brothers. My uncle is based in Boston and helps out as an advisor. He told the noodle place, "I can continue help to you out if you to help my niece out and make her noodles. If you follow this particular recipe and make it exclusive to her."

The noodles are very authentic. They're alkaline noodles. The alkaline makes the noodles stretchy like a rubber bands. The wontons are ginormous. There are four types of noodles to choose from. I started with six toppings, but we got so many requests for beef tendons, we added that as a seventh topping. You can choose up to three different items. That with the different noodles, and you have endless combos.

My menu is very simple. Other places might have a lot of other stuff like congee, rice dishes, and stirfries. But I specialize in wonton noodle. My Chinese name for the shop translates as "Wonton Girl" so you know you have to get the wonton when you visit!

Maxi’s Noodle in the Little Eats 小吃 stand in Pearl River Mart Foods opens to the public Nov. 7. Hours will be 12 to 7 PM every day.