"What Doesn't He Eat?"

I have learned I need to be concerned when people start asking "what doesn't he eat?" My wife's uncle turned 54ish this Saturday, so the family trekked out to Lau Fau Shan, a fishing village on the edge of Hong Kong. The restaurant is owned by a grade school chum of my uncle's who hooked us up with a private room.

Before the food arrived, we took a tour of the village fish market. There we saw the typical five semi-stray dogs, one of which is pregnant, living in surprising harmony with a fleet of cats who are convinced they're in heaven. The part that surprised me was the freshness of the fish for sale. I'm used to fresh seafood, but an aunt tells me all of the local restaurants will let you pick your prey, buy it, bring it to them and pay a nominal fee for them to cook and plate it. Apparently you can also pick which cut of the fish you want, judging from the half of a fish I saw lying on a chopping block, its now exposed heart still beating.

Back inside the restaurant, I was treated to steamed crabs, razor clams, scallops, abalone, breaded shrimp, a whole steamed fish, and a very large shrimp whose name literally translates to "pees its pants shrimp." While I loaded up on the vegetable dish when it came around, my generous relations made sure I had at least two servings from each of the other dishes.

In the end, I caught the bus home nursing a bit of indigestion, but none the worse for wear. The person suffering is likely my uncle. In Asian generosity, its his birthday, his party, his bill. Unfortunately for him, school chums don't cut deals; I think he shelled out around 3500 HKD for the meal. Ouch.

New foods in a new land

Today is Thanksgiving day and in the states we typically identify this day by the traditional foods eaten on it. This thanksgiving I will commemorate some not so traditional foods I have come to like while in HK.

First on my list is a British staple, the digestive. Now some in the US may relegate these tasty snack to the cookie category but this is simply not true. Digestives are baked, sweetened, wheat crackers and I love them. I routinely go through two packs of them in a week.

And don't think me a colonial; I have taken to another very typical Hong Kong food as well. The name translated into English means "little chicken eggs" but that only describes it shape. These are made in a round pan that resembles a waffle iron except that the cavities are oval not square. The vanilla piqued batter takes only 30 seconds or so to rise into two dozen bite-sized mouthfuls of happy. The best part is that this snack is available throughout Hong Kong for about 1 dollar US.

Next on my list of favorite foods is Vitasoy's sweetened lemon tea. I seriously think the company is kept afloat by this one product. If I didn't love it so much, I would encourage their management to try to direct customers into other products in their line because this must account for a good 40 percent of revenue. This one is a simple as it sounds: Ceylon tea with lemon and sugar.

Back on the western side, I have come to have a profound appreciation for milkshakes in the last month or so. I guess I was not surprised to find myself craving something western a few weeks in. I was definitely surprised to crave McDonalds-style milkshakes. Strawberry, to be specific. What am I pregnant? (N.B. That was not a veiled revelation.)

Everybody here says this town is filled with foodies and so it stands to reason that I would discover some new food loves while here. Tonight, however, I hope for exactly the opposite. Heleina and I let Thanksgiving sneak up on us and so we have no idea what to do to celebrate and so we chose the Christmas Story option - a Chinese restaurant offering a traditional American meal. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Anti-Americanism

So when I first got here, I was ambitious. I thought I was going to be Chinese within the month. I would speak Cantonese, learn the subway system, and eat only Chinese food. This last part, I figured would make me sure to be a local at heart, if not ever in appearance. To this end, I vowed that I would not eat Western food if I could avoid it (Full disclosure: I also make this choice because a lot of the Western food here sucks, unless you’re willing to pay).

What I did not realize is that my efforts to avoid Western food would come to naught. You see, the first challenge to this goal came from kindly relatives who all take us out for meals and think the greatest measure of kindness would be to offer a Western style restaurant for my sake. One even offered to have pizza delivered. And yet I remained firm in my vow. I was not to be swayed, so I brazenly lied about liking what they ordered when they called my bluff about eating any Chinese food and served me things I would have never touched in LA.

The more serious and insidious challenge to my vow came, again, as I walked around town. I began to notice trends. Every time we walk after school lets out, the local McDonald’s is overrun with teenagers getting ice cream. Each time I walked through a Mass Transit Railway (MTR) station, I have to pass by a 7-Eleven, which I am obliged to stop at in order to refill my Octopus card. Likewise, while walking through the complex where we will live, an aunt suggested we eat at Pizza Hut and I effortlessly brushed her off, only to later go and realize that Pizza Hut in Hong Kong is an upscale Italian restaurant with good cappuccinos and aperitifs for lunch.

Like so many of my initial impressions, my vow was stupid. Hong Kong locals frequent Western food establishments like no other. I genuinely think I ate less stereotypical western food in LA than they do here. In any given day I will pass by six 7-Elevens, five KFC’s, four Circle K’s, three Pizza Huts, two Starbucks, and one Outback Steakhouse. I knew McDonald’s was everywhere, but I had no idea that my uncle’s favorite unhealthy indulgence would be KFC: he went four times one week while my aunt was away on a trip.

So, as I mentioned earlier, I broke my vow today. I ate at a Western restaurant and became more like a local.