Tell Us A Story

Spring 2001

It was Friday night at the office around 8:30. Tim had just run off to some meeting and Fred and Ben, two wonderful Chinese friends and I chatted as we waited for Tim to return. Fred told us a story he had read in the Guangzhou newspaper. It was an American's impressions of Chinese restaurants. He told with glee how the American went on and on about how noisy Chinese restaurants were and how a UFO from outer space would be able to detect the location of any Chinese restaurant from quite a ways off just by the high noise level. I wish I had a recording of Fred telling this story which was interspersed with his irrepressible giggles. I was laughing to the point of tears, partly at the story and partly due to his storytelling style. Although the Chinese seem to be very social and fun loving, laughing with quite as much exuberance as I was displaying does not seem to be so much their style. Both men were doing these funny little giggles, partly at the story and partly, I am certain, at my reaction to the story. I commented that I had also been struck with how deafening most of the restaurant were. They beamed with pride. I was confused but did not comment or question their response. We talked about the local restaurants and Fred said that if you want to have a nice meal and take time to visit with a friend you go to McDonald's, pronounced Mahdono's, which I find very charming. The 'C' and 'L' sounds are very difficult sounds for the native Chinese speaker. I told them how it was just the opposite in the US. You only went to a fast food place if it was a fast eating experience you wanted. Then there was a pause in the conversation and both men looked at me expectantly and I knew what these 30 year old men must have looked like at age seven or so. It was a very sweet moment.

Then Fred asked something in a hushed but excited tone of voice. I was so distracted by the change in his voice that I completely missed the content of what he had said. I hadn't a clue. I was embarrassed, but saw no alternative other than asking him to repeat himself, to which he said, "Tell us a story". I felt like I was about to tell a bedtime story to two little boys. I did a quick mental flip through the many e-mail stories and decided on my first Chinese restaurant experience. So, imagine listening to a foreigner talking about something that is as mundane as McDonald's to you, but as foreign as the moon to them. If I could have a video of their faces during the recounting of this story I am certain it could win first prize from one of those American home video shows.

When I first arrived in China I felt like I was in a bit of a dream. I felt good, but there is a 13 hour time difference which takes a while to adjust to. On my second night here Tim and I got invited to go out to eat with two friendly Chinese women, Winnie and Janet, who took us to a Southern Chinese style seafood restaurant. I was excited to experience China in every way I could. I like Chinese food and I like seafood, and this was FRESH seafood! I just didn't realize how fresh it was really going to be. I was feeling awake when we left to drive to the restaurant, but due to jet lag soon fell quite deeply asleep. I awoke about 45 minutes later to bright lights, dirty white ceramic tile, and lots of chrome. I was a bit groggy, but hungry and looking forward to the experience.

As we entered I immediately noticed the odors were not those of a restaurant at all, but a pet store. At this point I took a moment to explain 'pet store' to my audience. I was puzzled when I was steered not to a table, but to a long row of aquariums that had a wide variety of water creatures in them. Some I recognized as fish, shrimp, and lobster. But some I had no idea what they were or which end was coming or going. I asked Tim what a pet shop was doing in a restaurant. He clarified the inhabitants' destinies were to be on our plates and I woke up a bit more. Winnie and Janet were excited and almost shouting, as is the speaking style of many here. They were completely in their glory ordering the deaths of this and that creature. They were obviously excited to show us a good time with their finest local cuisine. I on the other hand was putting the brakes on my embracing of the Chinese cultural experience and all I could think was how God had to help me get real clear that I wanted only shrimp and lobster. No unidentifiable sea nothing -- period. Tim, who by that time had willingly eaten eel, donkey, and something else I have blocked out of my memory forever, was right in there with these women, oohing and ahhing. What is this, what is that, how to they cook it -- and casually told our hosts my requests as we proceeded on down the line of tanks.

A groggy state of mind is not a state in which one should contemplate their first Chinese meal and my illusion of mainland China Chinese food being the same as any American Chinese food I had ever had was fading at an alarming rate. I had to get a grip. I decided I would do best to go on ahead and basically pretend I was at Sea World and not a restaurant so I turned down the last aisle of tanks. That plan was foiled immediately as I met up with two large barrels full of water that had tons of quarter size water bugs swarming on the surface. As Janet walked up I turned and made the mistake of asking what fish bait was doing in the restaurant. She said they were a delicacy and were prepared by frying in peanut oil -- and did I want some. All I could utter was a weak sounding 'oh no'. I turned around in an effort to block them out of my memory and came face to face with another aspect of Chinese cuisine. A dozen or so scrawny, marinated until they were black, birds complete with feet and heads hung on a cord as if they were clean laundry put out to dry. There was no escape...

By this point in my story Fred and Ben had lost all of their normal composure and were howling and muttering little bits of Mandarin to themselves and each other. I paused and asked if they were OK and wanted me to continue or was it too much for them. This almost put them on the floor. Oh yes, I must continue they insisted. They were so easy to entertain. So I continued to tell them how we were finally seated at the standard Chinese table; a round table with a lazy Susan built into the center of it. This was a table designed by people who love to eat, share their food and visit. I like all these things too, but sharing their food was to be a challenge. Even looking at some of their food was a challenge. A waitress took orders for drinks. Sprite was on the menu which was all in Chinese characters. I bet I hadn't had a Sprite in 10 years, but it sounded safe, secure, a gift from God. I ordered a large glass. A can and a glass arrived, the usual in China, which I have come to realize is a good thing. You want to know where everything comes from. Your liquids and your dishes. You only drink water out of sealed bottles and before you eat you rinse your dishes and chopsticks with some hot tea. The restaurants provide waste bowls for this routine done by all. But this was before I knew all this so I just poured some Sprite in the glass, took a big drink, and felt a sense of ease spread throughout my whole being. The power of the familiar can be a wonderful thing. Soon the food started to arrive, dish by dish, with a few moments in between. Over time I have come to enjoy this style of presentation. I like being given a chance to admire each dish and look forward to the next one. In actuality, it may just be that they bring out different dishes whenever they are ready, but I prefer to believe the first scenario. But that first evening I used those few moments in between each dish's arrival to regroup and brace myself for the next dish. First the shrimp arrived. Not cleaned headless American shrimp, but Chinese shrimp with everything still intact. Did you know the eyes go black when they are boiled? Gruesome looking, I told Ben and Fred at this point, to which they nodded and laughed like school boys. Then came some of those poor little birds I had come nose to nose with. I was told they were pigeons, but they were not the American big city plumb variety, but the low fat Chinese variety. And then came some noodles and vegetables that I decided was going to be what I kept my vision locked onto for the rest of the evening. But then I got distracted when the chicken arrived and was placed in front of me. The head faced me, which is an honor in the Chinese culture, but the honor was wasted on this foreign idiot. Tim said I literally went green and as he and I simultaneously went to turn the lazy Susan and move the honor on to someone else, my glass of Sprite overturned into my lap. My stomach was on the defensive and I prayed to all the gods I could think of to keep it from emptying its contents at that very moment. By this time Ben and Fred were holding their sides as if in pain and laughing with tears in their eyes. I had to pause as I was laughing at their reaction to my tale. After we all regained a bit of composure I proceeded.

After seeing the shrimp with those black eyes any appetite for shrimp had immediately been extinguished. Winnie was not aware of my change in plans however, and proceeded to give me a lesson in how to prepare them for eating. First, she told me, you first pull the head off like this. And she made sure she had my full attention as she demonstrated. And then the many legs -- I had never pulled the head or legs off of anything besides Mr. Potatoehead, and by that point felt as if I was starting to hallucinate. I remember how strange my laugh sounded, and there was this light feeling in my head. After the full demonstration she gave me a piece of partially cooked chicken and took the feet for herself. Chicken feet are a delicacy. Another Chinese delicacy that I will never know the taste of. I did not watch how she ate them. Mercifully, any peripheral vision I had was totally blocked for the time. My tunnel vision went back to the vegetables and noodles, which, I must add, were very good. One of the vegetables was very young bamboo. Sort of like that baby corn you see in American Chinese food, only bamboo. It was tender and sweet and cooked in coconut milk and spices. The mushrooms melted in my mouth and had a beautiful soy based sauce on them. The noodles were simple, but looked hand made, were not too hot and felt soothing. There was way too much peanut oil and the spicing was a bit strange to me, but that is just part of southern Chinese cooking. Since then I have become accustomed to seeing chicken heads on the table and can pull the heads and feet off of the shrimp and I have even tried a tiny bit of pigeon and eel, but that is my limit. No water bugs, no chicken feet, no half cooked chicken, no snake, no turtle, no thank you.