Gone are the nights at the round table

The signature Peking duck marked many birthdays, graduations, and Chinese New Years. And its General Gao’s chicken, Hunan beef and spicy green beans, which I ordered in my American-accented Chinese, always came just how we liked them. Going to Chef Chang’s at the end of every workweek was one of the most treasured traditions in our family. Then, 10 days ago, it ended.

On Jan. 31, owners Su-mei Chang and Tony Chan (he married into the business) closed Chef Chang’s after 30 years; they decided to take a rest. Sichuan Gourmet, which has locations in Framingham and Billerica, is going into the space.

I am not ready for this.

Chef Chang’s helped me impart some of the best of Chinese culture to my children, who are half Chinese. The Mandarin spoken by much of the staff, the understated Asian decor, and the signature sauces all remind me of my childhood. I like to think this restaurant’s big round tables symbolized something too: the circular warmth of family, close friends, and relaxed conversation. Every Friday, Su-mei and Tony greeted us and asked, “How many?’’ And the number was not always five; often my children spontaneously invited their close friends, and we invited ours.

The staff began scribbling our order before we even said a word. We were so predictable: scallion pancakes, steamed dumplings, and boneless spare ribs as appetizers. Later each person chose a dish to be shared with everyone.

The owners had kept the menu virtually unchanged since they opened amid much buzz in 1980, an authentic “Mandarin-style’’ restaurant on Beacon Street between Kenmore Square and Coolidge Corner. Red Sox Hall of Famer Jim Rice ate there before some games, and State House dignitaries hosted events there. Chef Chang’s has surely fed more physicians and researchers in the Longwood Medical Area, and students at Boston University, than any other Chinese restaurant.

When I was an exhausted mother juggling diapers and deadlines, the sameness of Chef Chang’s was a psychic comfort like no other. On many a Wednesday, I repeated to myself, Only two more days until Chef Chang’s.

By the time the children were all in elementary school, they often got antsy after the customary read-aloud from the fortune cookies, when the adults lingered to chat. Stephanie, the oldest, soon led a new ritual: the younger set’s post-dinner escape to nearby Economy Hardware to test its eclectic sofa chairs.

And when our Friday dinner conversations turned to arguments over teenagers’ curfews and coed sleepovers, I like to think my behavior was slightly more serene because I was seated in Chef Chang’s.

In my household, “Chef Chang’’ is a code word for the enduring comfort of the familiar.

It turns out that Su-mei and Tony, too, loved the sameness of Chef Chang’s. They said they could see their beloved clientele was grayer, but they couldn’t bear the makeover necessary to attract more of the younger crowd with Asian-fusion sensibilities. In their 50s now, they wanted to close while they were proud of their legacy and young enough to consider a new endeavor.

“Tian xia mei you bu san de yan xi,’’ Su-mei said. (“Under the heavens, there is no banquet that does not end.’’)

I am not alone in my loyalty. On the morning of Jan. 27, Boston.com posted a story that announced Chef Chang’s would close in four days. It quickly became the website’s most e-mailed story for hours, forwarded some 400 times. The place was packed.

My daughters, now in college, insisted on returning for the final Friday, joining their brother, a high school sophomore who is studying Mandarin. Some of our dearest friends came from near and far to join us at a big round table where the occasion, of course, demanded Peking duck.

I’m wondering if our family will ever have another similar tradition. The Changs will enjoy the most peaceful Chinese New Year in decades. May we all find our next banquet.

Patricia Wen can be reached at wen@globe.com.