Friends, food, and New Year's

Here's a laundry list of things that have been keeping me (us) happy and entertained for the last few weeks.

Firstly, we purchased the seasons 1-18 of The Simpsons on DVD for about $4 US. I have been watching The Simpsons since it first aired. My wonderful and incredibly rational parents never seemed to have a problem with the occasionally foul mouthed program, so I just sort of ran with it for - gulp - almost two decades. I watched it when it was the smartest comedy on TV in the mid-90s (and I didn't get half the jokes); when the celebrities ruefully dominated and centered the show to the point of stagnation; when the show hit its absolute nadir in 2002 with the "screaming caterpillar" episode; and when it came back a year or two ago, a Lazarus of sorts, with rediscovered wit and a heightened randomness I took to be a tacit hat-tip to erratic plot arks of Family Guy. I've spent more time watching and quoting the show than one man should, but never in all my years have I owned even a single episode. Always subject to the whims of syndication, I could never simply throw on a DVD or a tape and watch whatever I wanted. That all changed last week, and, friends, I simply couldn't be happier.

We went to Dim Sum a few weeks back with some of Liz's students - pretty good time all around. Dim Sum is one of my favorites, and has been ever since I first had it with my parents. Essentially course after course of appetizers, Dim Sum is Cantonese brunch. Dumplings, noodles, congee (a.k.a. jook, a.k.a. rice porridge, a.k.a. delicious), egg rolls, steamed vegetables, Chinese pastries, and chicken feet magically appear on your table (after one of our nice putonghua-speaking accomplices do the ordering). I apologize for the photos: the light was terrible.



That same day, we went to a Hunanese restaurant in Gongbei with a couple friends, one of whom happens to be from Hunan and did a superb job ordering all the food. Hunan is widely known as both the birthplace of Mao Zedong (every Hunan restaurant is adorned with his picture, or, in some cases, a life-sized bronze statue) and as one of China's two spicy provinces (along with Sichuan). Our Hunanese friend ordered us a smattering of dishes ranging from savory-but-unspicy vegetables (for our fourth friend, a Canadian with a somewhat low tolerance of spice) to a sublimely, delicately spicy pot of beef, peppers, and julienned potatoes/root vegetables. There was also a fabulous dish of very spicy, thinly sliced potatoes that would have been the champion of the night, were it not for the beef dish. Our friend also attempted to order us donkey, as Liz and I have yet to try it; alas, we arrived at the restaurant towards the end of the night and they happened to be out of ass. Also unfortunate is that I did not bring a camera. I do not like to carry expensive camera equipment at night in Gongbei, an area infested with prostitutes, grifters, pickpockets, and other malcontents. Next time we go - which will be sooner rather than later - I will come back bearing photographic evidence. (Note: since then, I have discovered three Hunan restaurants near to my apartment; I shall go soon bearing a camera).

What else, what else, what else. Took these cool photos from the roof.



We went to Macau the week before Christmas. Let me just start of by saying that I would move to Macau in a heartbeat. I really like Zhuhai a lot, but there's just something about Macau that draws me in. Narrow streets. Everything in Portuguese. Vague, Las Vegasesque feel to the place. The utter mishmash of languages. The colonial history. I just love it. Senado Square is beautiful, if a little touristy; it reminds me of Puerto Rico. Fisherman's Wharf is totally touristy crap like you'd find in Vegas: they have a fake Roman Coliseum, a fake Middle Eastern locale, a fake Chinese temple, a fake volcano, fake colonial houses in the Portuguese architectural style, a fake African restaurant...it just goes on and on. I'm shocked they didn't have fake Pyramids or a fake Eiffel Tower. Nonetheless, it was very pleasant and not crowded, and they had a bakery where we could get donuts - yum!



Christmas Eve came and we cooked a big feast with our friend Luke from upstate: I did my mom's southern style sweet potatoes with brown sugar and pecan topping (walnuts substituted for pecans); southern style green beans; and a pan gravy. Liz did an incredible no-bake cheese cake. Our friend did a butterflied roast pork loin with apple stuffing, garlic mashed potatoes, and peas. Overall everything was delicious...there was a lot of the last minute preparation (roasting the loin and the garlic for the mashers, slapping together the gravy) made more difficult because we had to shuttle things here and there between three different cooking locations. No complaints, though: we had a nice, traditional, leisurely dinner that didn't involve eating with sticks and/or at a restaurant.

From Christmas in China 2008

We got a (fake) Christmas tree here too, with lots of ornaments, lights, and a star. It's about 5 feet tall, slightly haggard, but does the job.

From Christmas in China 2008

Feliz Navidad! Er... Sheng Dan Kuai Le!

Post-dinner, Christmas Eve was spent at our local western watering hole. It was a mess.

On Christmas day, Liz gave me an alarm clock (awesome), a sweater (awesome), and fuzzy slippers (awesome). I especially appreciated the gifts that would keep me warm. It doesn't really get below 50 degrees here, but it feels much colder for three reasons: one, my body has recalibrated somewhat to this climate, meaning that 50 degrees feels much cooler; two, none of the apartments have insulation and they are all made of pure concrete and steel, so our apartment is actually colder than the outdoors; three, we have no heat source of any kind, and I am not about to drop a bunch of money on a stupid heat fan. I don't want to give the wrong impression to my friends that happen to be living in such snow entrenched-climes as Chicago, New England, or the greater Northwest (yikes!), as the weather here is lovely and I haven't had to use a snow shovel or de-icer once, and would not under any circumstances consider donning a pair of gloves. However, much like how New England can feel absolutely miserable when it's only 75 degrees, Zhuhai feels positively icy at 10pm on a given winter night.

New Year's was a lovely if not debauched evening. We started off at the beautiful apartment of our Chinese friend, whom I shall call DD. A little background on our past relationship with DD is in order, I think. Liz and I first met her through our American friend Luke. Whenever she invites us over to her house or out for dinner, she always shows us or introduces us to incredible things that very likely we would have no way of finding or experiencing otherwise. Such past examples include: rollerbladers in nightclubs (the night we learned competitive rock-paper-scissors); doing shots of Chinese whiskey distilled with tiger bone (yes, tiger bone); homemade barbecue and Sichuan hotpot; and, on Christmas, a really elegant chain restaurant called "6000."

On New Year's, DD invited us over to make jiaozi (a.k.a. gyoza, a.k.a dumplings) with her family. Basically, one person (DD's sister, in this case) rolls out hundreds of pieces of dough into little coaster-sized jiaozi wrappers. Then, another person (me, Luke, Liz, DD, and DD's mother, in this case) puts about a tablespoon of jiaozi filling (usually some combination of ground pork, green vegetables, egg, mushrooms, etc.) in the middle, and then seals the whole thing up by folding, pressing, and crimping the edges together. Ultimately, the "perfect" jiaozi will take on a slight crescent shape, with expertly crimped undulations of dough running along the edge of the dumpling's concave side. For me, Liz, and Luke, the "perfect" jiaozi remained in the theoretical realm, as our attempts were usually uneven, partially full, and sort of ugly. Well, not exactly true: not to toot my own horn, but I got pretty decent at making them by the end of the night; in fact, I found the whole process very relaxing and therapeutic! In any case, the three Americans were no match for DD and her family - especially DD's mother. This woman was an absolute machine. I had to learn the folding techique from watching DD's sister, as her mother - who has made millions of jiaozi, I'm sure - was so fast and fluid with her movements, that I could not perceive the different steps. The effortless and knowing way DD's mother would seal those suckers up reminded me of watching my own mother make biscuits - just completely unconscious, like she could do it if struck blind.

After we had put together what seemed like a million dumplings, DD's mother and father commenced to cooking them - either by boiling or steaming them (not sure). The fully cooked ones rolled by me and my American counterparts we easily identifiable (lumpy) but still delicious. Thankfully we were permitted to eat ones rolled by defter hands.

Following dinner, DD, Liz, Luke, and I sat around drinking some good red wine and talking. DD, whose English is passable (and better than our Chinese), inevitably went over to a very dangerous closet in her apartment: the place where she keeps the booze. DD is a popular lady, and receives a lot of thank you gifts from friends and clients; in China, you express your thanks with expensive cigarettes or, for non smokers such as DD, alcohol. I already mentioned the tiger bone whiskey. She also has what must be a two-gallon bottle of Hennessy (Chinese people like cognac). But on this night, New Year's, she broke out one of the most astounding alcoholic beverages - perhaps tonic is the right word - that I've ever seen: deer penis whiskey. Strong stuff no doubt, and very expensive. DD convinced the four of us (not a difficult feat) to knock back a modest shot of the stuff, which didn't taste too bad. Then Luke and I knocked back two more, then the four of us finished the smallish bottle...and let me tell you...WHOA! Like nothing I ever felt. Not drunk in the least, but just...amped. Luke and I were talking a mile a minute, we both turned bright pink, and we both felt like we could throw a car. Seriously. This was the kind of thing you read about in regards to PCP, cocaine, and that lot (minus the turning pink, I assume), though I think it was probably more testosterone than anything else. Just awesome, wild stuff. If you're ever in China and someone offers you a bottle of deer penis whiskey, take it for the love of god!

With a gut full of jiaozi and the physical strength to punch through a wall, us Americans headed back to Luke's pad for a little while before going to a New Year's party at a night club. Some stuff happened. There was music, and a dance floor, and someone (not me) got sick all over someone else (also not me). We went home fairly early in the night. What else can you say? I stopped being excited about New Year's a while ago. It's a holiday for people that don't drink to get drunk, and for people that do drink to get very drunk. You have fun, stay safe, and move on. Happy New Year! Xin Nian Kuai Le!

On New Year's Day, we went out for the first time to what is now my favorite breakfast spot: a new Hong Kong restaurant just north of the Jusco. Unfortunately, the restaurant was packed, so we were "forced" to go get our hair washed at the salon next door. "Hair washed?" you say. "What the hell?" Before you judge, you should know that getting your hair washed involves laying down, getting a full head, neck, and hand massage, and, if you want, an ear cleaning and a brush and blow dry (Liz got princess curls). It's like heaven. In the States I always hated getting my hair washed at a salon because it was usually done by some bitchy woman from Revere that talked to her friend about last night's episode of "Dancing with the Stars" while she pulled out wads of my hair. Here, it's awesome and cheap. Just heaven.

After the wash, we were able to land a table at the Hong Kong restaurant. We got three bowls of congee and three orders of rice, green vegetables, and beef cooked in individual clay pots. Really amazing food when you're trying to ward off deer penis whiskey's residual demons. The entire menu at this restaurant is in Chinese, so in subsequent visits we just have to hope our knowledge of Chinese characters will get us through. We went this morning and ended up with congee (again) and a pork chop sandwich, which is roughly what we thought we were getting!