For all the talk of “Representation Matters” and other such hashtags around Crazy Rich Asians this summer, it didn’t actually represent all that much. Sure, the movie was fun and slick, and I realize the significance of an big-budget Hollywood movie featuring an all-Asian cast that doesn’t involve martial arts. But at the end of the day, it was still a fantasy about rich people from Singapore acting like idiots on private islands. It had about as much relevance to everyday life as a Psy video.

For a more accessible and actually representative slice of Asian life, I recommend turning to Kim’s Convenience, the delightful, low-key, and decidedly middle-class Canadian sitcom now streaming on Netflix. A cheesy $60 knick-knack, to the Kims, is as precious as gold, given their low profit margins. In fact, they have so much trouble with money that they sell expired cans of meat ravioli at a discount. That leads to an entire episode filled with excellent slapstick diarrhea jokes. It’s all a lot more relatable than whether cousin Astrid should hide her diamond brooch from her stacked husband who’s having an affair.

In some ways, Kim’s resembles the other great Canadian sitcom of the moment, Schitt’s Creek. There’s a happily-married couple at the center with two grown kids. The cast of eccentric supporting actors expands amusingly as the show moves along. But Schitt’s has a more high-concept premise, and also stays afloat partially because of the immense star power of Catherine O’Hara and Eugene Levy at the center.

By contrast, the premise of Kim’s couldn’t be simpler: A Korean couple owns a convenience store in Toronto. Their older son, the assistant-manager of a rental-car agency, is lightly estranged from his father. Slices of life ensue.

This all sounds like Fresh Off The Boat, and there are some similarities. But Fresh, while funny and groundbreaking, serves as a ’90s period piece and a branding opportunity for the Eddie Huang food empire. It’s a story about assimilation, anchored by genuine movie stars.

Kim’s Convenience, on the other hand, takes place in the here and now. The Kim family has totally assimilated to life in Canada, while still not jettisoning their culture. Mr. Kim does hapkido and hates Japanese cars. Mrs. Kim acts like a busybody at her Korean church. The kids eat soontofu. A key and charming supporting character is named Kimchee, for pity’s sake.

The show’s obvious and very specific affection for Korean culture provides the meat, but like with Korean food, it’s the side dishes that really make the meal. Mr. Kim (a legendary performance from Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, who also played Appa in the stage play on which the show is based), may be a cranky bald coot with weird ideas, but he’s no Archie Bunker, except maybe when it comes to the Japanese. His friends, who seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in the store, are Chinese, Indian and African. In the pilot, Mr. Kim is so afraid of seeming like a homophobe that he offers gay customers a 15% discount for Pride Week.

Mr. Kim’s attitude reflects the show’s attitude generally. It portrays a Toronto that’s comfortable in its own multicultural skin. The Kims’ Korean church has a black female pastor. Their daughter, Janet, has a black boyfriend who’s a cop and is also friends with their son Jung, who’s an ex-con. Jung’s boss at the car-rental agency, played hilariously and neurotically by Nicole Power, is white. She has a huge and inappropriate crush on him. Ethnicity doesn’t come into play for a second. She just sees him for his hunky self.

Somehow, magically,manages to pull all this off without seeming politically correct. The elder Kims speak in an accented patois that could almost seem Stepin Fetchit-like if it weren’t handled so funnily and naturally. Characters talk about racial and ethnic differences without taking offense at minor misunderstandings. That, the show understands, is just reality.

People from other countries speak accented English. They have different customs, mores, and tastes. Kim’s treats those differences not as a source of dramatic conflict, but as a kind of light amusement. That may be why people love Kim’s Convenience so much. It’s like old-school Sesame Street, but for grownups. The people who populate the show’s limited world may be crazy, but they’re definitely not rich, and they’re not even necessarily Asian. All the global weirdoes are hanging out at Korean Mr. Hooper’s store.

Neal Pollack is the author of ten bestselling books of fiction and nonfiction. His latest novel is the sci-fi satire Keep Mars Weird. He lives in Austin, Texas.

Watch Kim's Convenience on Netflix