Business
The Restaurant That Started Panda Express
This orange chicken has not been waiting for you on the steam table. It has not been bouncing and sweating in the darkness of a clamshell container while you wheel your luggage to the gate.
At Panda Inn, the Pasadena restaurant that started Panda Express, the orange chicken is made to order, strewed with whole dried chiles, scallions and a few threads of orange zest. It arrives craggy and glistening on a blue stoneware plate.
Is it good? Trick question! It is sticky, and it is familiar. It is relentlessly crunchy, with a flatly precise and habit-forming ratio of sweetness to acidity to heat. It is better, though not dramatically different from the one that waits on the steam table — always there, always waiting — but sometimes presentation can be everything.
Orange chicken, all dressed up, reminds me of when my parents set out cloth napkins and silverware while unpacking boxes of takeout, transferring everything to serving plates (yes, even pizza). I used to find this absolutely unhinged, but now I see it as a tender gesture that underscored the luxury of their taking the night off from cooking — they did it so rarely.
When the Cherng family opened Panda Inn in 1973, it was a popular Chinese restaurant that catered to the neighborhood. Early menus from the 1970s and ’80s included a bone-in tangerine-peel chicken, sizzling beef hot plates and a “Chinese Pasta” section of noodle dishes.
It was a nice, sit-down restaurant that also did a bit of takeout and catering. It appealed to local families, but also local developers, who asked the owners to come up with a restaurant concept for the expansion of the Glendale Galleria mall. That restaurant was Panda Express.
Panda Express developed its orange chicken in 1987 and, depending on whom you ask, the dish was either the natural evolution of tangerine-peel chicken or a lightning invention of Andy Kao, a chef for the chain. Either way, it helped to embed a sweet, crowd-pleasing idea of American Chinese cuisine into the global culinary consciousness, now deployed through 2,500 or so fast-food counters.
It also propelled the family’s small business into a privately held empire: Along with Panda Express, the group owns Uncle Tetsu, Hibachi-San and more, and the Cherng family has a net worth of more than $3 billion.
At the end of last year, the company completed a major renovation to the Panda Inn in Pasadena, with a red carpet that leads into a sprawling, glamorous, wood-paneled dining room. The ceilings are high and vaulted. There are lush pots of violet orchids at the host stand and bar.
The vibe would seem clubby if Panda Inn weren’t warm and welcoming, always peppered with shouty families celebrating birthdays and special occasions. On my most recent visit, an impeccably well-dressed man in his 70s enjoyed a multicourse meal on his own, while the two men next to me chatted in Armenian over beers, kung pao chicken and sushi.
Why is sushi on the menu? Because people love sushi, and because honey walnut shrimp was begging to be converted into a sloppy but delightful roll, but also because the restaurant’s founder and first chef, Ming-Tsai Cherng, lived and worked for some years in Yokohama’s Chinatown.
Why Taiwanese popcorn chicken and stone bowls of Taiwanese braised beef on rice? Because in the 1950s, Mr. Cherng worked as a chef at the Grand Hotel in Taipei, Taiwan.
You’re not thinking about all this as you sit down for a big meal at one of the round tables for 12, spinning the lazy susan with glee until the dish you want most is finally in front of you. But Panda Inn in Pasadena isn’t just a place for Panda Express superfans to come and pay their respects; it’s a devoted corporate flagship — a grand, Disneyfied spin through the family’s story that reframes this restaurant as proof of the American dream.
On the newly designed menu, there’s a photo of Ming-Tsai Cherng, born in Yangzhou, wearing a cook’s shirt and tossing food in a wok. Below, in a story about the immigrant family’s journey, Panda Inn describes itself as “a restaurant that embodies the pursuit of a better life for all.”
Such a frictionless story of the American dream seems fanciful if you so much as glance at the news, but it also doesn’t have much to do with why the dining room is consistently packed.
Even though Panda Express was never my go-to, the orange chicken will occasionally stand in for the fried and glazed thing that I genuinely long for, but can never have again: the sweet-and-sour pork at a restaurant called Peking Inn that once existed in suburban London.
For my ninth birthday, I asked my parents to make me that sweet-and-sour pork, along with the sweet corn and chicken egg-drop soup. We had just moved 300 miles away, to France, and I was still angry and depressed about it, but I didn’t know how to say all that.
Instead, I dared them to try and make me happy. I dared them to recreate a dish from my favorite Chinese restaurant (impossible!), one whose vast pleasures and disappointments are still hard-wired into my brain.
Those particulars are different for everyone, but they fill out the story behind Panda Inn’s greatest hits, embedded like core memories. On any given night, there’s an order of orange chicken on nearly every table — a dish that isn’t just tangled up in its own corporate mythologies, but tangled up in our own.
Business
Skechers investors say they were forced to take a bad deal when the company went private
Skechers investors are suing company executives and Skechers owner 3G Capital over what they say was an unfair sale price in an acquisition earlier this year.
3G Capital took the Manhattan Beach-based sneaker company private in a $9.4-billion deal that closed in September and reflected a share price of $63 per share.
In a class action complaint filed this month in Delaware Chancery Court, hedge funds and other large Skechers investors accused the company and 3G Capital of arranging a non-independent deal that shortchanged minority shareholders.
The deal undervalued the company as its shares were taking a beating because of a volatile federal tariff policy, the complaint said. The deal also benefited Skechers President Michael Greenberg and other controlling shareholders, according to the plaintiffs.
Plaintiffs seeking a higher share price were unable to reach an early settlement with Skechers after the company made an offer that was slightly higher than the original price, Bloomberg reported this week.
According to court documents, 3G Capital had offered a price of $73 per share in March this year, but lowered its offer after Trump’s tariff “liberation day” on April 2.
Investors are now pressing ahead with the case, according to Bloomberg.
Skechers said it would not comment on pending legal matters.
Skechers was one of many footwear and apparel companies that sounded the alarm when Trump passed steep import taxes on countries including China and Vietnam, where many Skechers products are made.
The company’s stock price fell 23% in early April after the tariffs were announced. Shares bounced back up 30% after the 3G Capital deal was announced.
Around the time of the acquisition, 3G Capital and Skechers said the purchase price represented a 30% premium to the company’s 15-day volume-weighted average stock price.
After the deal closed, about 60 investment pools managed by various firms filed to challenge the price of $1.3 billion worth of shares.
Plaintiffs in the case say Chief Executive Robert Greenberg, along with his son Michael, the company’s president, worked closely with 3G Capital to tailor an acquisition deal that worked for them amid tariff chaos.
“The merger was carefully structured to allow the Greenberg stockholders to monetize a substantial amount of their personal Skechers’ holdings,” the court complaint said.
Business
Video: What the Jobs Report Tells Us About the Economy
new video loaded: What the Jobs Report Tells Us About the Economy
By Lydia DePillis, Claire Hogan, Stephanie Swart, Gabriel Blanco and Jacqueline Gu
November 21, 2025
Business
Consumers are spending $22 more a month on average for streaming services. Why do prices keep rising?
Six years ago, when San José author Katie Keridan joined Disney+, the cost was $6.99 a month, giving her family access to hundreds of movies like “The Lion King” and thousands of TV episodes, including Star Wars series “The Mandalorian,” with no commercials.
But since then, the price of an ad-free streaming plan has ballooned to $18.99 a month. That was the last straw for 42-year-old Keridan, whose husband canceled Disney+ last month.
“It was getting to where every year, it was going up, and in this economy, every dollar matters, and so we really had to sit down and take a hard look at how many streaming services are we paying for,” Keridan said. “What’s the return on enjoyment that we’re getting as a family from the streaming services? And how do we factor that into a budget to make sure that all of our bills are paid at the end of a month?”
It’s a conversation more people who subscribe to streaming services are having amid an uncertain economy.
Once sold at discounted rates, many platforms have raised prices at a clip consumers say frustrates them. The entertainment companies, under pressure from investors to bolster profits, have justified upping the cost of their plans to help pay for the premium content they provide. But some viewers aren’t buying it.
Customers are paying $22 more for subscription video streaming services than they were a year ago, according to consulting firm Deloitte. As of October, U.S. households on average shelled out $70 a month, compared with $48 a year ago, Deloitte said.
About 70% of consumers surveyed last month said they were frustrated the entertainment services that they subscribe to are raising prices and about a third said they have cut back on subscriptions in the last three months due to financial concerns, according to Deloitte.
“There’s a frustration, just in terms of both apathy, but also from a perspective that they just don’t think it’s worth the monthly subscription cost because of just fatigue,” said Rohith Nandagiri, managing director at Deloitte Consulting LLP.
Disney+ has raised prices on its streaming service nearly every year since it launched in 2019 at $6.99 a month. The company bumped prices on ad-free plans by $1 in 2021, followed by $3 increases in 2022 and 2023, a $2 price raise in 2024 and, most recently, a $3 increase this year to $18.99 a month.
Disney isn’t the only streamer to raise prices. Other companies, including Netflix, HBO Max and Apple TV also hiked prices on many of their subscription plans this year.
Some analysts say streamers are charging more because many services are adding live sports, the rights to which can cost millions of dollars. Streaming services for years have also given consumers access to big budget TV shows and original movies, and as production costs rise, they expect viewers to pay more, too.
But some consumers like Keridan have a different perspective. As much as some streaming platforms are adding new content like live sports, they are also choosing not to renew some big budget shows like “Star Wars: The Acolyte.” Keridan, a Marvel and Star Wars fan, said she mainly watched Disney+ for movies such as “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” and shows like “The Mandalorian.” Now she’s going back to watching some programs ad-free on Blu-Ray discs.
While Keridan cut Disney+, her family still subscribes to YouTube Premium and Paramount+. She said she uses YouTube Premium for workout videos instead of paying for a gym membership. Her family enjoys watching Star Trek programs on Paramount+, like the third season of “Star Trek: Strange New Worlds,” Keridan said.
Other consumers are choosing to keep their streaming subscriptions but look for cost savings through cheaper plans with ads, or by bundling services.
“Consumers are more willing today than ever to withstand advertising and for the sake of being able to get content for a lower subscription rate,” said Brent Magid, CEO and president of Minneapolis-based media consulting firm Magid. “We’ve seen that number increase just as people’s budgets have gotten tighter.”
Keridan said she’s already cutting other types of spending in her household in addition to quitting Disney+. The amount of money her family spends on groceries has gone up, and in order to save cash, they’ve cut back on traveling for the year. Typically, Keridan says, they would go on two or three vacations annually, but this year, they will only go to Disneyland in Anaheim.
But even the Happiest Place on Earth hasn’t escaped price hikes.
“Just as the streaming fees have risen, park fees have risen,” Keridan said. “And so it just seems every price of anything is rising these days, and they’re now directly in competition with each other. We can’t keep them all, so we have to make hard cuts.”
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