food

I have the impression that Chinese people will eat just about anything. But they seem to eat what they do for a reason, and generally one other than taste. “Christina” (God knows what her real name is) is from the mainland and has an explanation for everything. She does not think it is odd I am a vegetarian, as “every one knows very good for skin, that’s why, look so youuuung.” But despite acknowledging the virtues of my peculiar condition, she is into her meat and fish, and she has a particular fondness for fish tails, which don’t look very filling to me, but she claims they have a delicate texture. Every meal features something interesting. Every single restaurant we go to features a round table with a big spinning glass disk in the middle. The dishes all get put there, and then they rotate past all meal long. So I would look up from my vegetarian dim sum to find myself faced with pig knuckles, or the head of a duck, whose eye sockets seemed to stare at me accusingly. But Christina as an explanation for each item, and what it supposedly does to your body. This habit is evidently not a personal one. Wandering on my own, I explore the streets of Sheung Wan, where they sell exciting things like Deer fetuses and dogs penises, all of which serve some purpose. Most of the people working in the shops don’t speak English and I am left to guess at what it is I am examining. Some are proud of their English and run up to me to explain that the object at hand is indeed deer antlers (which are surprisingly furry) or that the hair balls from a horse’s stomach can be used against poisonings. Who knew? Shark fins, used in the pricey delicacy Shark fin soup, are on offer everywhere, as are “bird’s nests” and various (still alive) sea creatures. But as strange as some of these dishes might appear, Chinese cooks certainly know what they are doing. Every meal is a treat, and the cooking is exquisite.