I am a pretty adventurous eater, within my annoying dietary restrictions. Even when it comes to meat, if I am presented with something unusual or special I will at least have a taste. I don’t think I was all that adventurous as a kid though, since I ordered the chicken a la king at Bill Knapp’s every. single. time. My brother would always think long and hard about the most disgusting thing on the menu and order that to gross me out. You should have seen the smile on his face when the liver and onions came out, followed quickly by the look of fear that came when he realized he had to actually eat it. Chow down, bro’. I’ve got my chicken a la king.
I have often been in situations here where a refusal would have been incredibly rude, so I’m polite, and I eat up. Even though it means eating fatty salt pork while I’m on my period and retaining water while on a hike at above 3000 meters. I thought my wedding ring was going to cut off circulation in my shiny little sausage fingers.
Today though, oh god, today…
I should start by saying that the cook here is awesome. He makes generally great food, and despite being mostly deaf and only speaking Tibetan, manages to crank out gluten-free vegetarian food for me. When the starch is bread, I usually get a buckwheat pancake, and when the main course is meaty there are 2 dishes of veg food for me and one of my students (he aspires to be a monk). Today was like that, except the leftover tomato and egg from lunch had an extra ingredient in it. It was cubes of congealed pig blood.
I am not Carrie. I want nothing to do with pig blood. It took some time and 2 of my students to figure out for sure what it was. Imagine this scenario: I get the cook’s attention, point to a cube, and mime slitting my wrist. He shakes his head no. One of the students tries a cube and mimes the position of various organs. Is it a heart? Is it a kidney? I still stick by the blood theory. I’ve seen this stuff in the market a lot. The chef draws a square in the air with his fingers. He means a cube, which means I’m right. For him to put it in our bowls would mean that he didn’t know what it was.
Luckily the other half of the plate was tofu. I quietly got another bowl and picked off the top layer of tofu so as to avoid whatever was seeping into the bottom layer. I am not an “omg THE MEAT JUICES!” type of vegetarian (anymore…) but hi, that’s blood. My student was not as careful nor as polite. He just grabbed his bowl and dumped the tomato/egg/blood cube mix into another bowl and walked out. Actually, he did it like any 14 year old boy probably would. No delicate plucking with chopsticks. That’s for 30-year-old foreign chicks.
This is different from me (formerly) eating my steak rare.
Yes, it is.
Because it just is.
I’m not having this conversation with you anymore.
I’ve been wanting to write about Taiwan, but traveling from a deliciously hot location back to a rainy, chilly, rather dreary one has left me utterly uninspired.
Suffice it to say that I LOVED Taiwan – the weather, the people, and the history. It’s had a rather strange trajectory, and it’s interesting to consider what would have happened if the other side had won. On the surface, it reminded me a lot of Seoul. Every block was crammed with private English schools, and traffic signals were respected by cars and pedestrians alike. I found myself telling the hubs that he should get a job at Taiwan University. “You can read traditional characters! We could live here!” (I could drink iced tea and nobody would think I was insane!) I would certainly have no trouble finding a job as an English teacher. Also, Taipei has a subway, so I got to be a subway nerd again.
If we lived there, I’d have to re-learn how to eat. Spicy doesn’t mean the same thing there, unfortunately, and I managed to eat some fries that had been breaded. The wedding banquet featured 10 gluten-free courses, 7 of which were seafood from the sea. Not carp. Heck yes I ate it. Other edibles included a egg-tapioca-shrimp pancake covered in pinkish sauce at the night market, a daily breakfast consisting of sticky rice wrapped around various fillings, and multiple servings of “egg pudding” (it was flan) purchased from 7-11. I passed on the stinky tofu. It was already stinking up my airspace, so why let it stink up my stomach?
I have pictures of tropical oddities and video to post, but that would require effort that I don’t have the energy for right now. Weather plus new (temporary) neighbors with a weird schedule have rendered this broad rather blah.
After saying for months that I want a bike, not knowing where to buy one used, and trying to rent a bike from a friend who owns a travel company (it was too big…surprise!), I was told that basic bikes are only 350 yuan new. Today, I went and bought one. With a basket on the front and a lock for the back wheel, it came to 370. I briefly considered the folding bike since I could take that back to the states with me, but it was over 500 and not really a feature that I need. It has but one gear (freewheel, not fixie) and is a pleasing shade of lime green. It won’t go home to the U.S. with me, but it gives me more incentive to build that 3-speed I’ve been thinking about.
I got some taters in mah basket!
My first task with the bike was picking up the ingredients for the potato salad I’m making for the 4th of July at the wet market, where I was reminded of the #1 rule for market shopping: don’t wear sandals. I waver between wanting to know what made my foot wet and being glad that I don’t know. I was successful, and am now the proud owner of a huge jar of miracle whip, a small jar of yellow mustard, and all the veggies I wanted except for little red radishes. Gigantic bludgeon-a-whale sized daikon are the only available radishes.
The biggest shock, bigger than mystery water on my foot, was that I didn’t have to buy creepy Asian mayo that is shelf-stable for a decade or so. I had the choice between Hellman’s and Miracle Whip, and I chose the Miracle Whip so I could be faithful to my grandma’s recipe. It wasn’t until I made it home that I started to vaguely remember that the gluten content of Miracle Whip is unknown to me. I thought I remembered something about the fat-free variety being okay, but the original being off-limits. Luckily, multiple fora and the Kraft website informed me that I was wrong, and I can eat their HFCS-laden (you can’t win ‘em all…) goo to my heart’s content. The mustard also turned out to be ok. This is the downside of usually making all my food from scratch — on the rare occasion I need to buy something processed, I haven’t memorized the list of safe products.
My next task with the bike is to pick up the cake I ordered for a friend’s going-away party. She’s been an incredible co-teacher, and starts at Berkeley in the fall.
The hubs just walked in and handed me a baked potato. I almost got teary-eyed while imagining it was covered in sour cream.
Some people have expressed interest in seeing pics of our abode. Before I post these pictures, I must remind you that we have ONE ROOM in this house. It’s pretty huge, and I’m glad I don’t have to clean all of it.
I have a surprisingly easy time most days avoiding gluten, but the past couple have been rough. Something bothered my stomach, and I don’t know what it could have been.
Two nights ago I stayed up until about 2am. I had finally gotten the new update for my Kindle which allows books to be placed into collections, so I labeled all my books then stayed up even later reading. Without a small lamp to read by, I have to have the big bright room light on so it’s easy to stay up. The result was that I slept through breakfast, which was probably going to be butter tea and roasted barley flour (tzampa) anyway. So I pulled out my bag of emergency gluten-free oats given to me by my brother-in-law prior to the trip, boiled some water, and readied the honey. It was to be my first oatmeal since Kunming.
Yesterday morning I learned that rolled oats can go rancid, and no amount of honey hides this flavor.
I was later gifted with fresh yak yogurt, but without a clean spoon to dunk back into the honey, it was too sour to eat plain. If you think plain cow-milk yogurt is too sour (I don’t) then this would be unbearable. I suck on lemons, and I couldn’t eat this. It explains why I can’t find unsweetened yogurt in the store though.
Today, I woke at a reasonable time because I cut my reading off around 11:30, but breakfast was (wait for it) butter tea and tzampa. It looked like the cook had fried up some rice, possibly for me, but all that remained was a dirty pan.
The bean cake fryer.
I filled up my mug with butter tea, (the electricity just went out as I was typing this) grabbed a metal food tin, and headed to the square for some street food. My favorite guy was there, and still setting up for the day. Luckily for me, he got his fires going and his food cooking before bothering with the tent and benches. Today my breakfast was liang fen, which is starting to become a delicious habit for me.
Liang fen is a cake made of bean starch. It wobbles a bit like jello and is usually white or sometimes yellow. In Kunming, I had it sliced into sticks and served cold with cucumbers and various seasonings. In Shangri-la is is a repulsive, delicious grey, served fried, mushed up a bit, and covered with hot peppers, green onions, cilantro, vinegar, some oil with what looks like crushed peanuts, and some hua jao (Sichuan numby peppercorn). It still requires a bit of attention though, since they have a big jar of soy sauce sitting there, and they want to use the ladle for every liquid on offer.
Half in my stomach, half in my bowl-thing.
Despite knowing that it gets dipped in everything for the other customers, I tell myself that if I don’t see them do it, it’s ok. Today I had a spoon with me so she used it for the liquids. One of these times, I’ll have to take a friend to explain to these nice people why I panic when they mix the spoons. I know enough Chinese now to keep them from adding the soy sauce, but not enough to explain that it’s more than a preference.
To wrap up, delicious breakfast for about $0.40, and it didn’t poison me. Now I wait for the electricity and/or the water to come back on. 
Though I know there aren’t any people out there hanging on every word I type, I feel bad that I haven’t been able to update here for a while. My computer was afflicted with various problems like not being able to click, being unable to stay connected to the internet for more than 2 or 3 minutes at home, and being unable to connect AT ALL elsewhere.
I think it was fixed by elves, over the last two nights, because clicking was restored yesterday, and I’ve been connected all day today, basking in the glow of my monitor. I haven’t tested the wireless yet.
Enough about those issues for now. They are in the past and something miraculous has occurred since I was last able to post. I, dear friends, have acquired mayonnaise. A large squeeze bottle of Kraft Real Mayo is being gradually transferred to my belly. It cost me about $8, but I find it quite worth the expense when it comes to properly decorating my sweet potato fries.
I have lots of things I want to write, so I will resume posting regularly ASAP.
I am drinking some delicious, hot, formula tea. I wanted milk tea, of course, but I’m stuck with this for a while.
"Natural Relish" just means plain. I was hoping for dill pickle.
I bought this at an airport. The sticker says that I am not allowed to take it on the plane, but I didnt know that until we landed.
After purchasing a few versions of milk tea (both with and without the tapioca pearls), I decided I wanted to drink it far more often than I wanted to pay for a disposable cup of it. I searched the local mini-marts for powdered milk, but all I found was baby formula of varying levels. Given 6 choices (1-3 months, 3-12 months, 1-3 years, with or without DHA+ARA), I opted for Level 3, with the DHA+ARA. I figure my body is somewhat closer to a 3-year-old’s than a newborn, and isn’t DHA a mood elevator for adults? As it turns out, it’s pretty tasty stuff and I haven’t been poisoned by melamine yet.
Of course, 3 days later I wandered into a huge store called My HoMart, which is more like Wal-Mart than the name implies. They had two full aisles dedicated to baby formula and powdered milk. So when I run out of this stuff, I can either switch to powdered whole milk or go for the more enticing Milk for Families, Milk for Young Women, and someday Milk for Pregnant Women and Milk for Seniors.
Though wikipedia says I’m doing it wrong, my version of milk tea is just brewed black tea with a scoop of brown sugar and a scoop and a half of formula. Once I venture down to the honey store, things could get far more exciting.
In short, it was mostly great. You know that saying about guests and fish starting to stink after 3 days? Sometimes it applies from the perspective of the guest as well! Unfamiliar styles of hospitality can be overwhelming, though at the end of 6 days, I had actually begun to adjust better.
The view from the 2nd floor, on our first morning in the village.
We were staying at the family home of my husband’s friend “Sam” and his sister “Joyce”. It’s in a village about a half an hour outside of Ji’an in Jiangxi province.
The jet lag is almost gone – the sleepiness no longer hits, but I’m waking up around 4am.
We’ve been quite productive in these few days though. Each meal is spent indulging in a different delicacy that we’ve been craving. Encounters with gluten are frequent, but I’m learning what I need to avoid. Soy sauce is the obvious one, and I am practicing how to say “Wheat will make me sick. Please leave out the soy sauce.” So far, the hubs has been doing all the ordering for me.
Here in Yunnan, it’s not as spicy as Sichuan, but there’s so much tasty fermented stuff. Pickled vegetables have been in just about everything, and I’ve had the “stinky tofu” twice now. It’s best enjoyed in small quantities Once I can remember to take a picture of something before I devour it, I’ll start posting food pics. For now, I’ll leave you with a blurry self-portrait of myself, wearing my new bugeye glasses.
The tag says Salvatore Ferragamo, but the price tag said 50 kuai.
I have eleven days before I actually become The Broad Abroad, and tonight my husband and I are hosting a going-away party for all of our Madison friends. Yesterday was my last day of work, and it was nice that it coincided with our Family Fun night. I got permission from a few of the parents to take pictures with their children to show to my students in China, but I won’t be posting those online. Suffice it to say that last night was a lot of fun, and I have pretty high expectations for tonight! The white elephant gifts are always a hoot.
My lovely husband is making Chinese dumplings, of course, and is getting some rice paper to make egg rolls for me. I love it when my dumpling makes dumplings.
I am making a Greek dish called Revithia that I learned from a professor whose name ended in -opolous. The recipe went something like this:
Him: “You start with a lot of onions.”
Me: “How many onions?”
Him: “I don’t know…five?”
The amazing stuff he served us didn’t really seem to have onions in it at all. It was the most amazing grey slop I’ve ever tasted in my life. It’s apparently traditionally baked in a pot that has been sealed with bread dough and stays in the oven for half a day. To me, this screams “CROCK POT!” And so this morning I began chopping 3 gigantic onions. They filled my (very large) crock pot halfway, but I ended up having space for everything else I needed – chickpeas, some herbs, tomatoes. Massaging the chickpeas to remove as many skins as possible makes the chickpeas practically melt after few hours. Failing this, use an immersion blender
It’s such a simple recipe, but you have to have the resolve to just leave it alone. This makes it the perfect thing to prepare while you pack everything you own and stick it in storage.
You can find my recipe for it here on Tasty Kitchen. Since we ate it all before I got a chance to take a picture last time, I’ll be snapping a few tonight to add to the recipe.
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