August 13, 2026
Most people who live in Richardson have driven past the shopping center at 400 N. Greenville Avenue more times than they can count. Somewhere between Arapaho Road and Beltline, tucked half a mile south of Four Bullets Brewery, there's a plaza with statues out front and a sign that just says Chinatown. Maybe you've picked up dumplings there on a Friday. Maybe you've never pulled in at all, just clocked it from the turn lane and kept driving.
Here's what most residents don't know: this isn't a Chinatown in the way San Francisco or New York have Chinatowns, neighborhoods built block by block over generations of settlement. It's a single retail plaza built in the early 1960s, sold once in the 1980s, and renamed by the people who bought it. The story of how that happened tells you more about Richardson's actual history than a decade of coffee shop openings ever could.
The plaza started life as the Richardson Terrace Shopping Center, a regular strip mall built in the early 1960s with no ethnic identity attached to it at all. What changed it wasn't a wave of new residents slowly filling in a neighborhood. It was a purchase. In the mid-1980s, a group of Chinese investors bought the shopping complex outright, according to the Richardson CORE District, and rebuilt it around the community that was already living nearby.
That community existed because of two employers, not because of immigration in the traditional sense. Through the 1970s and 80s, Texas Instruments and Rockwell International recruited Chinese engineers and scientists to their Richardson-area offices in large numbers. By the time the shopping center changed hands, there was already a professional, well-established Chinese population in the area with nowhere local to buy groceries or eat a meal that reminded them of home. The investors didn't create a market. They bought the retail space a market already needed.
That distinction matters if you've ever assumed the plaza grew the way most ethnic enclaves do, gradually, through decades of family businesses opening one after another. It didn't. It flipped almost overnight, driven by a corporate hiring pipeline that had nothing to do with real estate until the real estate finally caught up to it.
Ask three different sources how many restaurants are currently operating inside the plaza and you'll get three different numbers. Richardson's own convention and visitors bureau counts nine restaurants and two bakeries. The plaza's own site describes "nearly ten." A local food blogger who counted storefronts in person landed on eleven restaurants, plus a bakery, a tea shop, and a bank.
None of these numbers is wrong. They're just measuring a moving target. A shopping center with this much tenant turnover doesn't hold still long enough for any single count to stay accurate for more than a season. In August 2024, Community Impact reported that Shoo Loong Kan Hot Pot was preparing to open in the plaza, bringing a build-your-own broth format that hadn't existed there before. If your mental map of the place is built on the three restaurants you tried back in 2019, you're already working from an outdated floor plan.
Strip away the uncertainty about the total count and the individual storefronts are easy to pin down. Here's what's actually operating inside the center as of this year:
Anchoring all of it is Good Fortune Supermarket, a 25,000-square-foot grocery hall stocked with imported spices, produce, a full seafood counter, and dried goods you won't find at a standard chain store. For dessert or coffee, 85°C Bakery Cafe and Java Land Coffee Haus close out the lineup.
None of this reads like a food court built for tourists. It reads like a grocery-anchored plaza built for people who live nearby and needed somewhere to shop on a Tuesday, which is exactly what it is.
Out front, the plaza's most recognizable feature is a row of statues depicting figures from Chinese history, arranged in the square near the entrance. It would be easy to mistake this for decorative branding, the kind of themed signage a shopping center adds to stand out. It isn't. The statues are maintained as part of the plaza's connection to the Dallas Chinese Community Center, a nonprofit headquartered on site that runs cultural programming and welcomes school groups for field trips built around the statues and the history they represent.
That's a different level of commitment than most retail centers make to a theme. A strip mall can hang a sign. Sustaining a nonprofit cultural center that hosts students for a decade takes an actual institution behind it, not just a marketing decision made once in the 1980s and left alone.
Once a year, the plaza hosts a Lunar New Year Festival with performances from area singing and dancing groups, cultural demonstrations, and even K-pop sets, drawing crowds well beyond the regulars who eat there weekly. It's the clearest evidence that this plaza still functions as a cultural anchor for a much wider slice of the Dallas-Fort Worth area, not just a convenient lunch stop for the neighborhood immediately around it.
If you've lived in Richardson for years and only know the plaza as a rotating cast of decent restaurants, that festival is worth catching once. It's the moment the building's actual purpose, the one it was bought for in the 1980s, becomes visible again.
Next time you're stopped at the light on Greenville, waiting to turn toward home, you'll know the building on the corner isn't just old. It's the same 1960s strip mall it always was, repurposed by people who saw exactly what their neighbors needed and bought the fastest way to provide it. That's a very Richardson kind of story, practical, a little understated, and easy to miss if you're not looking closely.
Understanding a place this well, down to the storefronts and the history behind them, is part of how 23 Lux Investments thinks about every neighborhood we work in. If you're curious what else in Richardson has a story like this one, or you're weighing what a specific block or pocket of the city actually offers day to day, let's connect.