Here is something you can appreciate. It's a diary from one who went to China.
Date: Mon Jan 24, 2005 9:53 am
Subject: Re: China Diaries - Dinner in China
I thought I'd post some sectionaof the diaries I've kept on
my 6 trips to China and Taiwan. If it gets too cumbersome,
let me know via email.
All Creatures, Great and Small - Dinner in China
Wei says Chinese will make food of it if it moves or grows
in the ground, and he is pretty much right from what I have
seen. I read a saying somewhere that goes like this, "When
the sun rises in Africa, the antelope knows it must outrun
the fastest lion or it will die. When the lion wakes, he
knows he must outrun the slowest antelope or he will die."
I’m here to tell you that whether you run, crawl, creep,
slither, or swim, you’d better have it in overdrive 24
hours a day in China – or you’re in the pot looking out.
About my second day in Nanning, when asked if I like
seafood, I said, "Sure." Off we went. Seven of us schlepped
to a restaurant inhabiting several floors of a somewhat
dilapidated building, where we were greeted by hostesses in
fur-collared dresses that I would have liked to examine
more closely, in a professional sense, of course. One must
be observant and thorough, even though the dresses left
little to the imagination. We were led to a private room
with an ancient Chinese motif. My friends all said "BU"
(No) and on we went to the next room, which was decorated
in Japanese style with the table sitting in a big square
hole where you put your legs. Everyone smiled and we sat
down
Chinese banquet tables have a huge turntable that covers
much of the eating surface, leaving just enough room to put
your tea and rice bowls. The waitress came around with what
I call the tea gun; a teapot with a 4-foot spout. To fill
our cups, she put the tip about a foot away from the cup
and the stream hit the mark every time. Our marksman was
good and everyone had a hot steaming cup of Cha in seconds,
with tea pieces still floating to the bottom when the last
cup was topped off. Yuening pointed to my cup and said,
"Oolong tea; very good," while giving the universal
thumbs-up gesture. Actually, Chinese tea is very weak to
the American palate – looks like water, tastes like water.
Like Italian pizza, Chinese tea is a strange variant of the
American thing, from my ethnocentric perspective. I am sure
it is an acquired taste and they have had a long time to
acquire it here.
After much slurping and warming of hands on the small cups,
my hosts got up and we started down some stairs to a large
room filled with tanks and aquariums that bubble and foam
like a well-lit Frankenstein’s laboratory. In the 50 or so
containers were every imaginable kind of thing that lives
in the water. There were 20 kinds of mollusks, many fish,
squid, crustaceans, and unidentifiable things that squirm
and writhe. Everyone pointed and looked questioningly at
me. I glanced at these aquatic mysteries and dodged any
responsibility for their future demise by muttering that
since it’s my treat they should choose whatever they like.
We walk around the room and they pointed in various tanks
to select our dinner. Several large crabs were picked up by
the waitress, only to be returned to the tank after few
pursed lips and shakes of the head from my friends. Other
seemingly identical wriggling things from the same tank
usually met with approval and were then placed in a little
basket after being weighed and the details noted on a piece
of paper with a short note on how it should be cooked and
served. We spent about 30 minutes at this process, with the
ever-watchful Yuening sometimes doing her drill sergeant
voice change and making the waitress shake out the water
before weighing the selected item(s).
After the seafood came a tour of the little stalls that
surround the seafood tanks. Here were dumplings, BBQ’d
pigeons crucified on sticks, pig’s heads cooked and splayed
on racks, sweet cakes and other unknowable-to-westerners
things that were discussed, argued about, and rejected or
selected after a few minutes of rapid-fire Chinese. We
headed back to our room where the first selections were
already arriving, steaming with an aroma that welcomed us
to the banquet.
Each person had a small saucer and a coffee-cup sized bowl
of rice, accompanied by the ubiquitous chopsticks. If you’re
squeamish about communal eating, better go to McDonalds
(yes, they have them here too). As the turntable was eased
round and round, each person darted their utensils into
this or that plate to latch on to their selection;
sometimes it stopped at the rice bowl or was dragged
through this or that sauce but, just as often, headed
straight to it’s destination from the table. Partnered with
vegetables, noodles, dumplings, spring rolls and other
delicacies, this is the best damned seafood I have ever
had. Hot spicy crab in a pot of oil in the middle, crunchy
fried shrimp on bamboo skewers (eaten shell and all) that I
call shrimp kabobs, steamed fish that were watching me
about 20 minutes ago. As opposed to Western prices, I can
break bread with many people here for a small amount of
money. The best way to talk with people and learn more
about their lifestyle in China is at the table - one of the
main social activities for these guys. All of us dined in
the Chinese way for about 3 hours and it cost me a
fortune – about 400 RMB ($50 US). About what 2 could eat
for at Red Lobster if you never meet the lobster. The 3 lb.
crustacean that was part of our repast was great.
The next evening we went to "small food street", a
restaurant where the diners stroll (more like a frantic
dash here) through the building and select from pictures
of various foods which are cooked and then served at your
table when you arrive back from your walk. Every imaginable
thing was available, and it was all great, from the noodles
to the smoked and fried sardines (eaten whole); total cost
for 3 hungry people – about 160 RMB ($20 USD). I thought I
must leave soon or go up a pants size in the next day or
two. Chinese hosts, the best in the world, will not let you
not eat and you must have some of everything. If you stop
loading your bowl, they’ll do it for you with the vigor of
a freezing coal shoveler.
On other evenings we go to the ‘Hot Pot’ restaurant, where
a gallon-sized pot of bubbling chicken (I hope, but don’t
ask) broth sits on a gas burner in the center of the table.
Considering how cold it is this week, we huddle over the
burner like homeless at a trash can fire. Diners select
their choices from a huge 30-foot-long table that
apparently contains some of every edible thing in China.
When you return to the table you put the food, a few bits
at a time, into the cauldron for a few seconds/minutes
until it is cooked and then devour the excellent cuisine
direct from the pot. All-you-can-eat, 10 RMB ($1.25 USD)
per person. And you thought Thanksgiving put the pounds on!
Be careful here or you will need new clothes before you
head home, and if you’re my size, you’ll spend the
remainder of your trip searching for them.
A bit about chopsticks and digestive catastrophe – unless
you are planning to eat at Western restaurants, and
therefore miss all of China’s wonderful cuisine, you must
be able to wield the strange and useful chopsticks. There
are no forks here at most eateries, and I would recommend
that you be able to eat a bowl of peanuts, a bowl of
spaghetti (slurping and bowl-to-the-lips are acceptable
here) and a plate of pancakes using only chopsticks
(kwaidzuh) before you get on the plane from wherever you
are. If you fly China Air or another Asian airline, you
will appreciate these skills when you get on the plane. If
you fly Air Canada or another Western Airline, your
practice will serve you well when you get to the first
noodle stall in China.
On the streets and elsewhere, sanitation in China is poor
compared to U.S. standards. The street mud is tracked into
the restaurants and every other public building and the
floors are filthy mostly all the time. This is why Chinese
people trade shoes for slippers when they enter a home, and
often trade those slippers for other slippers when entering
bedrooms or bathrooms. Restaurant tables are many times
relatively dirty, but the chopsticks are disposable and
bowls are usually clean even in the most degenerate noodle
stalls on the dingiest streets. I always bring the pink
stuff and Ciprofloxin (an antibiotic for diarrheal
difficulties), but have never needed them. Bring your
store-bought and doctor-recommended remedies though; I have
a notoriously iron-clad digestive tract and am a poor
example of western bacterial tolerance.
My rule of thumb is: If my friends recommend a place to eat
or if many Chinese people eat there – it is safe. Ask for
all food to be well-cooked and served hot. Dumplings
(jen-jiao=fried and schway-jiao=steamed) and cakes
containing meat and/or eggs should be thoroughly re-heated
or cooked in front of you. Never eat veggies or fruit raw
unless you personally peel them first. Washing things in
water and eating them raw is dangerous. Assume the water is
poisonous and NEVER drink tap water – only bottled or
boiled is safe. I have seen noone in China drink water from
the tap - noone. Wash your hands often and, if possible,
carry a small bottle of liquid soap and some paper towels
or Kleenex. Both soap and towels are rare here in most
places. These precautions have kept me from hours on the
toilet and trips to the doctor’s office during my 3 forays
here, and should serve you well. Remember the bugs here are
different from our bugs, many probably as yet undiscovered.
The last thing I want is for the latest microscopic
discovery to be named after me posthumously. |
