Labor Day Blues

I thought that I loved Chinese food, before I came to China. I do like some of it, as loyal readers will know, but in large part the food has disappointed. In Beijing, everything was coated in a slick layer of grease, and tasted pretty much the same. The favorite of PiBer's was Kung Pao Chicken, the boring diced chicken with cashews, probably because it was the least likely to arrive in a pool of oil that brings back one's childhood memories of the Exxon Valdez. I befriended the baozi people before I left Beijing, and they had me (read: my teachers) translate their menu into English in the hopes of attracting more pangzi laowai. They actually had some of the best food in town (they served me a delicious free meal of chicken soup, veggies, and something else that I can't remember now as a token of gratitude), but I think it was because they were from a different region of China--Hunan? I forget. Anyway, the point is that I was relieved to leave Beijing because I thought I'd encounter greener culinary pastures, but the truth is that most of the food I've been eating here has been just as greasy. It's a little better--I've been going to this one Muslim restaurant that serves amazing beef that's been stewed all day and is literally falling off the bone, but I've had some major difficulties. And by major, I mean ordering pigs ears on accident and then having to stare at the eardrums while you gingerly reach around the offending cartilage for the beans on the other side. And then that experience stays with you for days and days so that you can't really get anything down.

I just had a conversation with this nice PhD student who has been helping me a lot by giving me pictures and things, and he asked me if I was accustomed yet to eating Chinese food. I answered him somewhat honestly, and then he told me that if I thought Beijing food was tough, well then hey, I should go to Guangdong where they eat . . . everything. My ancestors hail from this spot, so I was kind of interested and asked him what sort of things he meant? The answer: monkey brains (now I know that my Indiana Jones fetish is indeed inspired by blood ties); mice; bugs; snakes; congealed blood; (I'm starting to feel like this is reading like the list of plagues at Passover); grubs; pig anything. I asked him if he had ever eaten any of this and he reacted in disgust, but when I then asked him if he had ever eaten dog, he said, "oh yes, it's very good." I definitely am a pansy foreigner. So much so that I can't even think of trying any of these things. My roommate from Beijing, on the other hand, was a little braver than me. I suppose I'm thinking of this especially because I'm hearing from various parties about barbecues this weekend, and I'm cursing existence for not allowing me to be at home, wolfing down my dad's delectable chicken. In my old age, I've learned that I will only go so far for adventure's sake, and that it no longer includes tasting most of the world's cuisine.