On Monday, 8/2 Jackie and I head out to lunch with Amos and Kristine, John and Maggie, Justin and Holly, Douglas, Kelly, Nate, and Naima. None of us speaks Chinese. The gatehouse guard is nice enough to escort us down the street to a restaurant close by that he recommends. The proprietors usher us to a room upstairs big enough to accommodate all of us. We sit down and the fun begins. We can’t read the menu. The waitress can’t speak English. She goes for help. We dig into our bags for our dictionaries (three eventually get produced). The waitress returns with one, then two, other waitresses. Some of us are vegetarians. How do you say that in Chinese? Some of us don’t eat pork. How do we know if a dish has pork or not? As the process of ordering food drags on, some of the Americans groan in frustration while the doorway to the room fills with restaurant workers until we peak at six staffers present. It seems everyone at work today wants to watch the drama unfold. Someone brings a case of beer and eventually lunch is ordered. What arrives is not exactly what people expected, but most of it is very tasty and gets eaten. We finish the beer of course.
Other dining out experiences are similar. In nearly every one the Chinese restaurant staff try to be very helpful and usually enlist the support of as many co-workers as possible. Some places have pictures on the wall or on their menus. We like that. At least the pictures give us an idea of what we’re ordering.As often as not, though, the plate delivered is significantly different from the one illustrated. Jackie and I find group size affects the eating out process hugely. When we go by ourselves we can usually muddle through successfully. Anything over six or so people makes the whole thing a lot more complicated.
On 8/5 we meet the Canadians Jessica and Colin and their two little children. Colin works at a school nearby. Jessica has learned Chinese and translated the menus of two local restaurants. The “red pillar” restaurant becomes a favorite of many of the SPA American staff. Jessica said that they have dog meat on the menu, but no one has discovered it yet. The other restaurant specializes in noodles. They have yaks on their outside (right-hand side of the sign, below) and inside signs. No one has figured out why that is and Jessica and Colin are on vacation in Shanghai so we can’t ask them. My guess is that the restauranteurs have some Mongolian connection. To add to the confusion over this place, my school colleagues call this the "Muslim place". Why? I don't know.
Once Jackie and I decided to try the Korean bbq that some others have raved about. When we got there a young man who did not speak English but had some French-speaking ability served us. With that we were able to get “legumes” and “champignons” and were able to okay the “moutarde” in our salad. He demonstrated the more complicated parts of dining there—use of the grill, how to season the food, etc.
We have begun to cook at home more often. That has reduced the number of restaurant stories to tell but increased the number of grocery-shopping incidents in direct proportion. I’ll save that topic for another time. Our first home-cooked dinner (below) was grilled cheese sandwiches and wine. We've since made curry, different types of stir fries, and even a Zabar-style supper (olives, pecorino, ham, carrots, bread with garlic-infused olive oil to dip in, and, yes, wine).
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