When I first came to America in the autumn of 1988, I met the Zhou brothers in Chicago. At that point they’d only lived in the city for a couple of years, yet they were already practising their amplified version of traditional hospitality. The two of them kept me company for three days as we descended into Chinese restaurants and rose into bars in the sky. Chicago was heaven to me. They were generous, gracious, never allowing a word of protest, always whisking the cheque away.