And the pace has quickened in the past decade. The number of Chinese takeout places has increased during that period, and many Chinese restaurants have turned to "flyering," or leaving menus, on doorsteps and in lobbies to promote themselves. "An American restaurant, 10,000 menus, they print it, and they can use it for two, three years," Mr. Xu said. "Chinese people, they print 10,000 menus, and it lasts two, three months."  The growing demand for menus has attracted more printers; the total in Chinatown has jumped from fewer than 20 to about 50. "There are too many printers," said K.Y. Chan, of GM Printing, a former menu maker who has moved largely into mainstream printing. "It's a junk job market; they're undercutting each other and they don't care. They just make up the shortfall by hard work."  The economics are challenging. In the past 15 years, the price of 10,000 menus has dropped to $230 from $320, Mr. Xu said, while in the last five years the price of paper has risen 25 percent.  Business is also tougher because restaurant owners are tougher. Decades ago, most owners were Cantonese and financially comfortable. Now more restaurateurs are from rural Fujian province, often desperately poor, and unwilling to pay an extra dime for their menus.  Selling to the Fujianese has meant changing designs as well as business practices. "Cantonese people like black and white," Mr. Xu said. "The Fujianese people like colorful; they like busy." Brandishing a four-color menu full of boxes and photo insets, he added: "It looks crowded. The owner of the restaurant, they feel scared, so they like the menu crowded to give them a safe feeling. They look at it and they say" -- he assumed a look of paternal pride -- "Oh! that's my business!"  MOST Chinese menus today are designed in the Fujianese style and look very similar to one another. Almost every restaurant uses the same photograph of sesame chicken, for example, right down to the floral-patterned china.  But each house has its distinctive touches. Mr. Xu favors a certain photo of a pagoda, surrounded by water, which a friend brought back from China on a clip-art CD; the image tends to appear on his menus in a round frame below the restaurant's name. Menus printed by Sino Graphics often feature huge, loving photographs of buffets.  These flourishes are so distinct that experienced designers often know who printed a menu without reading the fine-print credits. When Mr. Xu was shown a menu from the Cup and Saucer Luncheonette, he looked it over and said: "That's Double-G Graphics. They're the most beautiful printer. Even the back-side pictures are high resolution."  Nevertheless, a menu's most important features are sometimes all but invisible. Lily Han, owner of ML Graphics, said she slips tiny eccentricities into her menus to catch those who try to copy her designs. Ms. Han refused to describe those oddities, but she and an employee, Eva Wong, were eloquent on another topic, the wide cultural gap between Chinese restaurateurs and their American customers.  "In Chinese characters, eight is a lucky number," Ms. Wong said by way of example. "It means, 'make more money."' So Chinese restaurant owners may name a chicken dish "Lucky 88."  To an American, such a name is meaningless. But explaining this fact to Chinese restaurant owners is fruitless. "They insist," Ms. Wong said. "It has to be that name."
Nelson Xu of Jin Printers in Chinatown has designed hundreds of menus for Chinese restaurants in New York and across nation; competition keeps prices down and profits low; older Cantonese immigrants like Xu prefer simple menus; newer, poorer immigrants, many from Fujian Province, prefer lots of graphics and Chinese symbolism, which Xu, feels clutters menus; photos (M)