I realize the last couple of posts have been rather anti-China. A good friend recently told me to stop hating China, and I'm trying...really. Here's a happier story for you. It involves food, so it's gotta be good.
On Tuesday night after we got back from the cloth market and a teaching methods class that Joni taught, I was too tired to cook dinner. Plus I hadn't been to the market for awhile, so I had a pound of frozen ground pork, some Saltines, and a little peanut butter. Liz could probably make a meal out of it, but I am not that talented, nor did I want to think that hard. So I decided to get dinner to go from our favorite restaurant on campus. How hard could it be?
I took my list of things I wanted. There were a few extra on there, because at any given time the restaurant may not have something, so I wanted to be like a Boy Scout--always prepared.
Unfortunately, as I discovered, the restaurant owner doesn't read pinyin (Chinese words written with the alphabet instead of characters). Not only does he not read pinyin, I don't write characters. There was a group of students in the restaurant, and I had a dictionary in my bag, so between all of us I finally placed my order. I wanted it in a box. I know the word for box (hezi), but I don't know if that's what you call to-go containers. Actually, now that I think about it, it's probably not the right word, because I said it and made a box with my hands and the restaurant guy (who is the nicest guy) pulled out half a cabbage. I was like uh, no. Bu yao! (Don't want!) I invited myself into the kitchen and started snooping around through the spices and plates and bowls until I found the styrofoam boxes that I was looking for. I held it up in triumph and everyone in the restaurant started cracking up. I can't blame them, I was laughing too.
In China, you always eat family style. Unless you are eating alone, and then you just eat...alone. But ordinarily, you order one or maybe two dishes for each person and they put all the plates in the middle of the table. You have a bowl of rice that is yours, but otherwise you take food out of the middle with your chopsticks, bite by bite. If there's something you don't like, you don't have to take some to be polite--nobody will ever notice. Eating out with sick people is a bad idea, though, because you are essentially all eating from the same plates with your dirty chopsticks. I really like the variety, though. I don't know how I'll go back to ordering one thing in restaurants. What if I don't like it? I'm also probably going to have a hard time not sticking my fork into the dishes in the middle of the table once I get back to the States.
Anyway, I had a point before I went off on this little tangent. My point was that I actually only really wanted two dishes from the little restaurant, but I ended up with four. It's easier to just go with the flow and eat leftovers for a few days. I got pork, green beans, potatoes, and some other vegetable that I'm pretty sure I've never eaten before.
That restaurant makes the best food out of any place in town. I got amazing food, and I gave another group of people a story to tell at parties for a long time to come. It was a good time for all parties involved!
posted by Sara @ 7:22 PM
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