To Eat or Not to Eat…

(Joseph)

To eat or not to eat…

...but there is no question about eating in China, where everything, including the kitchen sink, gets eaten.

(I apologize in advance. So much of our experience here has been about eating and, although I hesitate to write twice about the same subject, I am blogging once again about the food and eating culture here in China. I promise to find another topic for my forthcoming blogs.)

Today at the supermarket, as I (being the only Caucasian the customers had ever seen, except maybe in American movies) continued to invite countless stares and comments, there was a large crowd of people gathered around a display. I imagined there must be free food or samples, which does happen in Chinese supermarkets, but—to my surprise/dismay—the frenzied crowd was instead gathered around a recently shipped, fresh mother-load of chicken feet. Now I am reserving judgment here (it’s very difficult, trust me), but I cannot fathom the appeal of eating chicken feet. Having dined in China for nearly four weeks now, however, I can share that, on far too many occasions, I have popped something into my mouth and found myself chewing more fat, gristle, or bone than any meat-like substance. In fact, I have been served Chairman Mao’s favorite dish, a fatty pork in equally fatty sauce, on two occasions—and there truly is a large layer of fat on every chunk of meat. I’m surprised the Cultural Revolution ever happened because Mao should have died of a heart attack at 40 if he ate this dish as often as I’m told he did. But chicken feet? I imagine there is more bone than actual meat on a chicken foot, but the Chinese will happily pop anything into their mouths and use their tongues and teeth to quickly excise any meat to be had from the bone, and then unceremoniously spit the bone out onto their plate. I tried this excising exercise once, and I failed. Miserably. My tongue and teeth have no skill at this cultural requirement whatsoever. I would practice, but it seems hardly worth the effort. I must wonder, however, if this skill has any relation to the fact that the elder Chinese suffer from a lack of many teeth.

And speaking of meat (or lack thereof), the Chinese truly have no idea how to comprehend vegetarianism. Everything that the Chinese ingest must contain lots of cooking oils and meat; it’s no small wonder how these people live so long. Ask to be served a vegetable dish, and you should expect to have shredded pork sprinkled on top, or the green beans will be served inside a cow intestine. The Chinese truly eat anything and everything, which is actually very resourceful if I must reserve judgment here. There is a strange pink, fuzzy, furry fish-tasting substance that I’ve found on a few dishes I’ve been served here in Hangzhou, and I’m told it’s a local delicacy. First, anything furry in my mouth automatically triggers my gag reflex; the fur should have been removed before the meat entered my mouth, thank you. But fish-tasting fur? That’s plain weird and, dare-I say, inedible. I also prefer that my fish not be looking at me while I ingest him, but many a dead fish has done just that in the past few weeks. The Chinese serve the whole fish on the plate and, while looking into his frozen help-me eyes, diners will be picking at his once valuable flesh and bone. It just seems cruel, but I acknowledge that I’m truly a hypocrite; I prefer to eat my fish without being reminded of its once living being. I’d become a vegetarian while I’m here if I could, but it’s no use. My order of broccoli will be served with chicken feet and pork sauce.

Here are some other food-related notes for your consideration and/or edification.

The Chinese must love their potato chips because there was an entire aisle of them at the market—but I couldn't find a single pretzel. It must be the cooking oil used in potato chips, because the Chinese love their oils, for which there is also an entire aisle. Looking for a heart attack? Check out aisle five.

There is a huge section of yogurt in the dairy section; it seems that yogurt is quite a sensation here, as is dried fruits (another entire aisle—two, actually).

There is currently a lot of chocolate on display at the supermarket. I thought it was just for Valentine’s Day last week, but the chocolate remains as of today, February 20. There are so many varieties, but chocolate is also much more expensive than in the States.

Speaking of sugary sweets, the Chinese really don’t “do” dessert; they instead mix their sweets in with the main course dishes. Over the weekend, we had fried ice cream served with our main dishes. There is no separation of sweetness. At the supermarket, there really is not much of a bakery to speak of. No cakes or pies that I could find or see. Trust me: I looked for an apple pie, but I guess that is truly American.

Although the Chinese drink a lot of tea throughout the day, they do not drink while they dine or eat their meals. I do have a personal theory for this: the Chinese have yet to figure out how to make an oil-based meat beverage (sounds cool and refreshing, doesn’t it?). I plan to market a super-blender that can liquefy meat (heck, throw in the bone, fat, and gristle too) with the press of a button. Whoever invents such a device will reap millions here.

I have not seen many Chinese people drinking alcohol in my dining experiences over the past four weeks, but the Germans have a huge market for their beer here in China. The supermarket beer selection was 90% German beers, with a Miller Lite thrown in to tip a hat to the U.S. The Chinese must love their red wine, because the supermarket had A LOT of it (and not much white wine at all).

A supermarket is truly a super market here in China. Here in Hangzhou the market is five stories high, yet it sells much, much more than food items. You can buy pretty much anything you need here: clothes, electronics, linens, a haircut—and probably get your car tires rotated. It’s basically like a Wal-Mart, I guess. And the market is always very crowded because the prices are relatively cheap for nearly everything.

You must pay for your plastic bag at the Chinese supermarket—which is genius! Most customers bring their own bags with them. We in the U.S. are extremely wasteful when it comes to using the free paper and plastic at the grocery store. I think we should adopt this custom very soon.

Last night, I went on an epic quest to find a Pizza Hut because I truly, direly needed a break from Chinese food. I used my iPhone map app and thought I found the location of the true Shangri La: a Pizza Hut location 15 minutes walking distance from my apartment. I eagerly embarked on my quest for a personal pan pizza with truly, only vegetables. I searched, and searched, but—alas!—no Pizza Hut. Those few morose minutes were mixed with melancholy and madness. I was saved by a Subway, however. I have never wanted a sandwich more than I did last night (it was a close second to a pizza). But the prices in fast-food restaurants like Subway, KFC, and Pizza Hut are very expensive compared to a typical Chinese meal—or even compared to American prices. I could have ordered three or four full Chinese dishes for the price of my one foot-long turkey (I know, I got meat) and cheese sandwich on whole wheat with tomatoes and green pepper from Subway. But it was so worth it. Most American fast-food is reserved for the wealthy here, which is perhaps why these chains are frequently empty—but McDonald’s somehow remains cheap. I guess some things truly are universal. McFlurry, here I come (and, for the record, I hate McDonalds and have dined there only once in the past year, in an extremely vulnerable moment of hunger-without-options).