Originally posted on facebook Saturday, June 6, 2009
Preparing for the trip, I expected to eat a variety of food here. China offers the usual meat group suspects and adds an adequate supply of lamb. Shanghai is near the coast so freshwater and saltwater seafoods are amply available.
I prepared for all outcomes by following the Theory of Enjoyable Eating: if its good going in, its probably going to be bad coming out (I know, I know TMI, but bare with me). Oddly, the older I get the truer this becomes. I can eat broccoli, carrots and rice and have a nice BM, but as soon as I eat my favorites like chicken curry, pasta with alfredo or fried...anything there's gonna be problems later. So, I came prepared. I have Tums, pepto, laxatives, and Cipro in case my stomach pretty much explodes.
10 days in and I'm feeling real good! I've had little to no problems AND - besides my KFC burger - I've stayed committed to Chinese food. My apartment is compressed by a mafia of restaurants (this will be clearer when I post a video of my 'hood). You can't sniff anything but Chinese food for a two block radius without a local 'mook' redirecting you to making a 'wiser' decision for your health.
You remember how I got lost, right? Well, that losting spawned a greater awareness of my hood. I counted over 25 eateries ON MY BLOCK. too many options often equate to analysis paralysis for me and frankly, the first couple of days were a struggle. I ate out once a day - lunch - and then retreated into my renewed love affair with ramen (the ramen noodles here have three flavor packs! THREE!! i don't have to add anything!!). When the Dragon Boat Holiday hit, the gods demanded homage, and I - as high priest - must comply.
Soooo, I had to make a choice. I've been to a lot of school so I used one of my favorite school lessons: process of elimination. This is a good tool to use in a foreign country as well as in every day life (Note to self: explore theory designation for this), particularly with issues of foodborn illness. With this as a guide, I disqualified establishments without outside seating. It's been a pleasant climate and I want to sit outside and enjoy the great weather. Then any food vendors, defined by just a storefront window or temporarily placed. Of particular interest were the entrepreneurs with basically a charcoal grill on the back of their scooters selling chicken on a stick (for the record, these eminate an incredibly scrumptious aromatic that is almost, ALMOST undeniable. It takes all my will to NOT immerse myself in its delecticity). Finally, I extinguished establishments without menu items pictured on something, either a menu or a window. Okay, so why pictures? well, I don't read mandarin and bilingual Chinese in my hood are not working in restaurants per se. I could ask, but I'm not there yet.
This process whittled it down to just four restaurants and, to my delight, all right under my 10th floor window! I decided to go with the restaurant with the biggest (though fading) pictures, assuming they have to want the expats' money more than the others. Ordering food was simple: I said Ni Hao (hello), pointed to what I wanted, and requested (pointed at) a Harbin (the local version of coors light, to my dismay). less than 3 minutes later, a hot bowl of beef cubes, a side of rice, and some bok choy relish comes out. I soon realize that my beef cubes are more than just meat in a bowl; they hide a secret compartment of buttery potatoes and sweet carrots - Beef stew! one of my favorites. the gods were pleased.
The next day was rinse and repeat, except I ordered a different dish. This had what looked like a mound layered glazed beef. To my surprise it bacon layered over a mound of ... greens! These weren't collards or mustards, it was a different green but something I clearly recognized. The bacon wasn't as salty or flavorful as I am accustomed and the greens were a little stemmy, but the flavors were wonderfully married and appropriately portioned.
With renewed hunger (and confidence) I returned to further test my highly successful hypothesis of picture perfect dining, thinking of what to call it as it ascends to 'theory' status. Two good and somewhat familiar meals in a row prompted a brief humming of a possible hip hop version of "its a small world after all" (if this doesn't exist, my dream team would be Jay Z featuring Diddy doing the intro, the queen of hiphop soul Mary J Blige singing the chorus, TPAIN synthesized hook, and produced by Will.I.am. someone make this happen). I pick a picture of what looks like chicken and mushrooms and prepare for the gods to rain down their culinary blessings, dismissing the "are you sure?" look from my waiter. in a short 3 minutes I am presented with my bowl of rice, side of cabbage relish, Harbin's (clear sign of "Norm" status as a regular) and a steaming pot of ... chitlins. Yep, CHITLINS!!
The gods apparently requested amusement that day, because I bellowed a laugh that roared throughout the area that froze other diners mid bite, turned heads, and nearly caused a 10 taxi pile up (okay, this last one is not true, but a cabbie did shoot me a glare). The waiter asked me if everything was okay (at least I think he did) and summoned the chef. The chef asked me as well (at least I think he did) but I couldn't stop laughing. The irony of this was too much. I had run into a CHINESE SOUL FOOD RESTAURANT! What are the odds that the only Black man in the area would chose to frequent the one soul food restaurant in the area?
Well, I figured that this is just what I deserve, so I dug in. What passed through my lips is beyond description. The tender, moist meat melted in my mouth. A surprisingly pleasantness engulfed me, and I instantly shifted into 'Jasmin eat mode' (Jasmin gets this particular mind set when she is happy with her meal. This is how I can tell if she truly enjoys something I cook), chewing with vigor, confidence and pride. The top layer of down home goodness hid the buttery potatoes, adding to high I was already on.
At home, I always squawk about somebody needing to cook some chitlins and then eating a small portion. I refuse to reheat them, they get all rubbery and chewy and lose their mystique. I finished my bowl of chinese chitlins that day, and I think my mom would be proud. But I think I've had my fill of family favorites in China for now, and I sense it's time to move on. Right next door, they cook something in a chafing dish over charcoals at your table, but they don't have pictures. I gonna have to make some friends soon...
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