Back
at my Shanghai-Sichuanese corner dive off Nanjing East Road. It’s my third time here. I’ve achieved equilibrium. They
recognize me and they don’t care about me. That’s about what I’m searching for. The last two nights I’ve ducked in to
random places they’ve both been underwhelming. This place isn’t divine but it’s pretty damn solid fare and
for some reason their chicken and peanuts is like a Proustian Madeline back to
food I had here twenty years ago.
It’s a minimalist recipe that I’ve never found anywhere else in all the
years I’ve ordered this dish. It’s
arriving now.
Dining at Chinese restaurants in the United States, with a
Chinese person, can be an illuminating experience. You can sit down and order pork dish ABC, and beef dish PDQ
and chicken dish XYZ and say, “hey wow, these aren’t bad.” Until the Chinese person you’re dining
with, in my case my wife points out to you, as clear as the shnozz on your face
that they are all adorned with the same sauce. The appearance may be different but the base sauces are all
derivative. 不识高低[1] “Hey,
you’re right.”
Last night, I went out to get food late. After ten was when I was free and I
passed by one and two and a third place which said “we’re Sichuan food.” If I was in Chengdu, fine. But here in
Shanghai why should I have to have fiery Sichuanese food? I followed the lights on for a while
off to the north till they became fewer and farther between. Those lights up there can’t really be
worth heading on towards. About face, back you go.
Let’s try all these places we walked by last time. “What sort of cuisine are you?” “Us? We’re Sichuan food.”
“I see.” “You guys, are
what kind of cuisine?” “Here? We’re Sichuan food.” “Great.” I keep walking and walking. Ahh, but no.
I’m definitely not going to a faux Japanese place. Finally, I stumble on a joint that says
they are Shanghainese food.
“Really? Well all
right.” I ordered the same dishes
I ordered tonight. And last night,
I was really hungry. The first
arrived and it was OK. The second
arrived and it was the same sauce as the first. I heard my wife’s voice in my ears with every bite. It was all I could do to keep from
asking the waitress to bring the chef out so we could chat.
Tonight, we have slightly different sauces on the dishes
that should have different sauces.
I’m content. My friend who
worked at the Jing An hotel of three days ago fame brought me a warm beer. The first night I endured. The second night they made the effort
to go get me a cold from the next-door market. Tonight they slapped down a warm one. Big mistake. I know better.
“Please go out to the market and get me a cold one.” “Ahh, but the market’s closed.” “Yeah? Well please go one more block” “oh . . . will this one do?” “No. It’s warm.”
“You don’t want it?”
“No. Don’t open it. I’m your old customer, don’t you
know? Please go find me a cold
one.” A cold one beside me now,
they figured it out.
Outside there is a mix of traffic passing. Some young Chinese people, who’ve had a
few, looking for the next place.
A bicycle or two and then two scooters. No shortage of young couples. A few older couples as well, like the two outside now who
are examining the crayfish.
Crayfish are just too much work for the meat involved. Though I sure liked to catch them as a
kid, because the looked so cool.
And the trick was to put the bucket or whatever it was you wanted to put
them in behind them when you flipped a rock as their mighty tail, which was
their only form of propulsion would necessarily push them in that
direction. I caught a bunch when I
was young, but I never ate them.
ConeCrew Diretoria's "Meus Amigos Fazem Rima" sound like some unimpeachable gutter-spawn
Brazilian Hip Hop on their 2014 album “Bonde de Madruagada. I think I just clicked on some links on
Rdio and found them profiles.
They’re tight. I can tell
that much. The mix is
interesting. But its tough with
out some rudimentary Portuguese to decipher all the things that are rhymed
about as I continue my walk back. In that Romance language everything seems to rhyme. http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/ConeCrewDiretoria
I’ve got to get the bill and head home.
No comments:
Post a Comment