It was 165 years ago, back in 1859, that Charles Dickens perfectly anticipated 2024 in the opening words of “A Tale of Two Cities,” writing: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

What can I say to sum up the 12 months we’ve just lived through that approaches such literary perfection?

Personally, it’s been a year when I’ve spent far too much time visiting friends and relations in hospitals and rehab facilities. I’ve been to far too many funerals. It’s been a year of (perfect understatement) political chaos and uncertainty.

But the year has not been all darkness and despair. There has been a multitude of events to cheer: both the 2024 Olympics and Paralympics in Paris — a glorious celebration of our past, our present and (hopefully) our future. The Dodgers won the World Series. And I could always find solace throwing myself into a great meal.

Though COVID isn’t gone — far from it — we’re still getting our vaccinations, and happily going out with those friends and relations who aren’t hospitalized for a joyous feed. I’ve written about restaurants for a long time. And I never — never! — lose that sense of excitement when going to someplace new, or when introducing a good eater to a madcap discovery.

We are blessed to live in a part of the world where food is never dull. Where Kraft Macaroni and Cheese is a punchline. And our local chefs do wondrous things with tater tots. Eating well is always a bright light in a world where darkness is the norm.

Which restaurants brought me the most joy during the past year? Bear with me while I recall every bite.

HK Macau Bistro

708 E. Las Tunas Drive, San Gabriel; 626-225-3228

At HK Macau Bistro, which is open until 2 a.m. every day of the week, some of the dishes fall into the fascinating middle earth of what the menu refers to as “Western flavor,” which is Western dishes prepared with an Eastern twist. Some examples:

Rotisserie chicken, not served with mashed potatoes, but with red rice (the menu calls that “Macau style”);

Pork and chicken katsu, which is Japanese;

Baked ox tongue with rice, topped with a cheese and tomato sauce;

Portuguese-style stir-fried cod with potatoes (Macau was a Portuguese colony for four centuries);

And, eight curry dishes, which may or may not be Indian (the flavors seem to bounce around your mouth like pinballs).

Actually, no matter where you look, there are different culinary influences that seem to drop by like unannounced visitors. The curry beef brisket lo mein; is it an Indian-Jewish-Chinese dish? The Spam with egg and instant noodles, which sounds kind of Hawaiian. The tomato and beef with egg over fried macaroni, which seems a bit like something I would have made out of leftovers when I was in college, though it tastes a lot better. (My main ingredient back then would have been ketchup.) And, the chicken in cream sauce over rice.

Even the beverages — which include a choice of Ovaltine and Horlicks, both separately and together in one beverage — are multi-culinary. Those beverages are served from a food truck inside the restaurant, built to look like a big, red city bus. There’s a stylized Hong Kong skyline painted on one wall. There are signs on the walls highlighting different streets and neighborhoods in Hong Kong and Macau.

There’s also a table decorated with a Chinese casino game; is that pai gow? There are plates that read, “Winner takes all.” All that’s missing is the harbor and the ferries. But the life of Hong Kong is still here, with dishes flying out of the kitchen and customers joyously greeting friends.

HK Macau Bistro is a world unto itself. It’s fun, it’s tasty, and built around an obsession with pineapple buns that aren’t made with pineapple — a dish eaten by just about everyone who goes to HK Macau. It’s a curiosity on many levels. Not the least of which is that it contains no pineapple.

It’s called a pineapple bun because the top of the bun bears a (vague) resemblance to a pineapple. It seems to date back to the early 1940s — at the height of World War II — when the Tai Tung Bakery in Hong Kong started making what are properly called crispy skin buns. But customers called them pineapple buns. And the name stuck.

I went early in the morning. I want to go back late at night. Like Hong Kong itself, I suspect the crowd shape shifts. But the buns remain the same.

Mari Vees

2150 Huntington Drive, San Marino; 626-234-2085, www.marivees.com

Cozy Mari Vees may be the only breakfast shop in the San Gabriel Valley that doesn’t offer avocado toast. But then, it also doesn’t offer gut-busting pancakes layered 6 inches thick with outlandish ingredients. Or French toast turned into Rose Parade floats with an excess of whipped cream, nuts and berries.

When it comes to breakfast spots, Mari Vees is pleasantly retro, without actually being trapped in a time warp. It’s a comfort zone for today, with a sense of the past, yet enough wit to include a nearly elegant version of Loco Moco — as if such a thing were actually a possibility. It reaches the top without going over.

And it creates a fine “omelet” (at one point on the menu), and “omelette” (at another). However you spell it, this is an omelette (my spelling of choice), that satisfies simply because it’s so satisfying without being in the least bit showy.

The point here is to eat well, at a reasonable price, in a sunny space with a fair cross-section of locals, and a staff that seems seriously concerned with your being well fed. I was asked so many times if I wanted a splash of their very good “brewed” coffee that I felt obliged to say yes. One cup is usually enough. But a second never hurts.

Mari Vees offers a compendium of much-loved dishes — food most of us could make at home … but with more stress and arguably not as well as the kitchen here manages with such ease.

One sleepy Sunday, I felt a yen for the Good Morning Omelette — as simple a breakfast as I could imagine in these overworked times. It’s just what it sounds like: a classic French omelette, soft and fluffy, with a choice of four fillings drawn from a list of nine (cheddar, Monterey jack, spinach, tomatoes, mushrooms, bacon, jam, peppers and onions caramelized to the point of sweet liquefaction). I chose mushrooms, peppers and jack. It was just … perfect, along with a dash of mildly spicy Cholula sauce.

There’s an American breakfast of two eggs, any style (over easy for me), with double-smoked bacon, crispy spuds and sourdough toast. The Southern Comfort breakfast consists of buttermilk biscuits topped with sausage gravy, two eggs and more potatoes — though I do wish they’d offer grits, which is the defining Southern breakfast dish. (That and sweet tea to wash it all down.)

The breakfast burrito is a log of food, packed with three eggs, sausage, bacon, cheddar and potatoes, with chips and salsa. The “classic” eggs Benedict is devoid of fuss and bother — just a textbook Benedict without a chef’s need to make it sui generis. Mari Vees satisfies by being nothing more than what it is.

This is the anti-IHOP. This is breakfast as breakfast should be. This is a casual café that gets everything right.

Star Leaf Asian Cuisine

641 E. Colorado Blvd., Pasadena; 626-345-5371, www.starleafusa.com

Star Leaf Asian Cuisine is a 21st century version of the legendary Trader Vic’s. Which is to say, it’s madcap, over-the-top, extreme from every angle, with a cult following, outlandish cocktails — and has some very good food, including a horde of dishes that taste like nothing that’s tingled your senses in the past.

I love the place. But it also left me with a food hangover that lasted for days. I swear, there were dishes I kept thinking about long after I’d left the restaurant — and wanting more of.

As exciting as the current tsunami of new restaurants in Pasadena may be, Star Leaf is in a class by itself. This is an exercise in welcome madness.

According to its website, there are “just over 43 locations,” situated all over the world, though mostly in Asia. Pasadena’s Star Leaf is the first in the United States — and properly honored we should be.

It occupies the space that used to be home to Roy’s; in effect, one vision of Asian cuisine replaced by another. And though Roy’s had lots of flash and filigree, it was plain Jane compared with Star Leaf — which is a visual smorgasbord of jungle plants, ponds, hanging lamps, wall art and polished wood, and has both drinks and plates decorated with exotic blossoms.

But this is serious food, though not always with serious names. The Siam Beach Club Egg Rolls sound like something found in the frozen food case at Trader Joe’s. But it’s actually a wonderfully crunchy plate of six rolls packed with shrimp, water chestnuts and lemongrass, with a terrific chili mango dip. Mamasan’s Shrimp Cake Skewers come with charred pineapple. The Tropical Mango Fish is worth getting for the accompanying Asian rainbow slaw and toasted wild rice. Wild rice should be served toasted more often. It kills.

Star Leaf is an occasion, and a very special one at that. It would probably work best if you assembled a table full of heavy forks, happy to eat everything and anything on the menu. And to have the Slow Drip Vietnam Coffee Flan for dessert.

The Pink Mekong, made with coconut cream, red dragon fruit, lotus seeds, red beans and peach gum is probably good too. It serves four. And does a fine job cooling you off after an evening of, to quote the menu, “Exploring the essence of Asia’s culinary charm, savoring enchanting moments, beyond what meets the eye.” Not quite Shakespeare, but still…

Saucy Chick Goat Mafia

203 S. Rosemead Blvd., Pasadena; 626-391-3600, www.saucychickgoatmafia.com

An Indian-Mexican collaboration on the eastern edge of Pasadena, Saucy Chick Goat Mafia reminds me of the old Mickey Rooney-Judy Garland musicals, where Mickey and friends wanted to put on a show, and Judy declared, “Hey, my dad has a barn! We can use that!” And, amazingly, a homegrown creation turned — just like that! — into a Hollywood production with lotsa upbeat singing and dancing. It was just the sort of thing Americans slogging their way through the miseries of the Great Depression needed.

We ain’t got nothin’! But neither did Mickey and Judy — and look what they managed. There’s hope for us yet!

Saucy Chick and Goat Mafia were the groovy pair of pop-ups, with a cult following, and a major presence at the Smorgasburg pop-up of pop-ups in Downtown Los Angeles.

On their own, Saucy Chick is a destination for, obviously, long-brined rotisserie chicken infused with either spices from Mexico, or from India. Goat Mafia is, just as obviously, a specialist in cabrito, which is to say, billy goat. It’s not as much of a presence on the menu; the only goat dish is a rice and bean bowl topped with birria de chivo. But Goat Mafia’s presence is all over the menu, adding a spicy presence to the Mexican fusions of Saucy Chick.

The whole is greater than the parts. And the resultant following is obsessive. Saucy Chick Goat Mafia sits in a space that used to be home to Tacocita — one taco hang replaces another, with tacos packed with Mexican pibil (achiote, garlic, citrus, Mexican oregano) chicken, Indian jeera (caramelized onions, garlic, ginger, cumin) chicken, birria with queso, skirt steak asado, and turmeric roasted haldi cauliflower, topped with pistachio dust and mint. It’s a palette of flavorings that offers a deep dive into the complexity of this cooking.

So … what do I crave at Saucy? Well, from the get-go, there’s the rotisserie chicken, an homage to the joys of brining and marinating for 24 hours, the longer the better, sold by the quarter, the half or the whole, with pibil or with jeera seasonings. Or even better, half and half, a quarter chicken with one seasoning, and a quarter with the other. Add on some of that great cauliflower. And maybe the exceptional kachumber salad of cukes, mustard seeds, coconut, peanuts, lime and mint. Or the popped mustard seed potatoes. Or the papas con chorizo.

If you want to kick out the jams, try Mom’s Beans — a blend of whipped pinto, chorizo, jalapeños, cheese and “mom’s love.” Mom sure did know how to cook. And how to raise cooks as well.

Pez Coastal Kitchen

61 N. Raymond Ave., Old Pasadena; 626-210-0775, www.pezpasadena.com

Pez Coastal Kitchen — named not for the kid’s candy called Pez, but for the Spanish word that’s an abbreviation for “Pescado” — is a fish house. It’s eclectic with a Latino spin that doesn’t even bother with a name on the monthly menu. All it’s got is a stylized cartoon fish. Followed by a menu of seafood dishes found nowhere else in town.

This is a fish house that exudes modernist creativity. Pez brings us back to the modernist elegance of steelhead trout rillettes, and seared bluefin tuna. It can dizzy the tastebuds in a nonce.

Pez begins with a $10 Bread Service, which not that long ago I would have railed against as a crime against humanity. But one bite of Bub & Grandma’s happy-making focaccia, with cultured butter, flaky salt and pickled giardiniera justifies every penny. This is delicious bread. This is bread not as a filler, but as an experience.

This is a reminder that bread is the staff of life. And flaky salt doesn’t hurt. Like the bread and butter, the menu at Pez is a free-wheelin’ mix of old and new — of classics, classically done, and dishes created during a chef’s fever dream.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen crispy sweetbreads on a menu — and glad I am to see them back in the pantheon, modernized with a black lime aioli. I’ve long had a thing — a thing and a half, in fact — for mussels a la bouillabaisse, a dish I first fell in love with in the South of France during one mildly intoxicated evening. Since then, I’ve ordered it every time I see it on a menu.

In this case, the mussels come with an herbed griddle cake. I searched with an edge of desperation for any lost mussels at the bottom of the bowl. Waste not, etc.

The seared bluefin tuna comes with labneh made with avocado — a dish that, like so many, very likely exists only in Pezland. And bless ’em for that.

For those who feel the need, there’s a whole fried fish, suitably large that diners at surrounding tables will pause to admire the choice and make note to order it next time, served head, tail and all. And, speaking of dishes out of dreams, the seared jumbo scallops are as good as they get — made that much better with a smoked ham-celery fritter and truffled apple salad.

There’s also a veggie dish called hickory smoked cauliflower steak, served with a spicy kumquat glaze and shallot yogurt, that had heads turning everywhere as it emerged from the kitchen. Even the bartenders stopped mixing to check it out. It’s half a head of cauliflower, about the size of a bowling ball, that exudes the very essence of hickory smoke. There are yam skins, too, with green tahini.

Pez is totally the Old Pasadena restaurant of the moment. Next week, something else may hold the title. Might even be a place that serves smash burgers. These days, you really never do know.

Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.