5:47 pm. I am facing the clock in a seat closest to the door. The dim light on the wall flickers rhythmically from the pulsing ceiling fan (not a burned out battery). I am staring straight at the wall, at no spot in particular, without moving my gaze, like I was staring at a spot in particular. I pop my gum.
5:49 pm. People filter in and out, making the bells strapped on the door jingle. I keep leaving the spot on the wall to glance at the door like I'm waiting for someone. It doesn't really smell like a bakery. It doesn't really look like a bakery. It isn't just a bakery. It is also a restaurant. A woman comes in, and sits at a round table set for six. She orders soup in Cantonese and it is brought out in less than two minutes. She sits and drinks, pushing her graying perm out of the way every time she took a spoonful, and talking aloud for everyone to hear.
And then my mom came back. And I stopped writing and it's not climactic to say the least. I'm sorry if you read it and you were expecting something. I really do think I was going somewhere with it but I'm really not sure anymore. Anyway. It was downtown Chicago, in Chinatown. This is a perfect segway for what I really wanted to talk about: food.
If there are two things I strongly believe it's that:
- If you do or say anything with enough conviction, it is the truth--think organized religion, or Antoinette.
- Food is the pinnacle of mankind.
This past week gave me hope for mankind. It started with homemade crepes and too much whip cream, and it escalated into something beautiful.
Day one in Chicago began in Chinatown. Authentic Sichuan Cuisine. Sichua
n is a province in Southwestern China, close to the mountains. It also happens to be my dad's hometown. They are very proud of their food, known as one of the Four Great Traditions of Chinise cuisine. Think spicy, hot, fresh and fragrant. Delicious. We had some really traditional appetizers including crispy duck (pictured right), rabbit, fish, pig lung, and even chicken. They have some good vegetarian dishes too, haha. For dessert, frozen yogurt with mochi and pineapple.
The next day I had my first Chicago style hot dog--mustard, onion, sweet pickle relish, a dill pickle spear, tomatoes, pickled sport peppers, and celery salt. And then my mom craved some culture and we went back to Chinatown and ate at a restuarant that served authentic Chinese from her hometown, Guangzhou (Canton). There's some saying that the Cantonese "eat everything with legs except a table, and everything with wings except an airplane." It is much lighter and subtle in comparison to Sichuanese food but it is still good. We had a typical kind of rice porridge served with eel and honey glazed fish. For dessert we had vanilla ice cream with red bean paste.
We ended the trip with Italian gelato, some used books and some phenomenal Thai food. Specifically, the best Pad Thai I've ever had, spicy catfish and basil chicken. And one last frozen yogurt experience.
And then I came home. And then. I went to Connecticut. It's your typical love story. Girl meets burger. And then she eats it. Typical. Except, it wasn't your typical burger. It was a hamburger from Louis Lunch, where they claim to have served the very first all-American burger, between two slices of toast, not fried but broiled, always without ketchup or mustard. Washed down with a dry soda. Amazing.
The next day I went down to the beach and had deep fried scallops at this tiny little restaurant right next to the ocean. They were the best scallops I've ever tasted. Not stringy or tough. Cut like butter tasted like meat. Tell me this wasn't a good week. Well, you have no idea what you're talking about.
I decided next year, I'm going to take a road-trip solely to find some good food. Come with me.
