If you’ve ever ordered General Tso’s Chicken and found yourself wondering if people in China were eating it, too, here’s your answer: No.
Chinese people were confused when my teammate asked for General Tso’s Chicken, and finally, desperately, if anyone had ever even heard of a General Tso.
In fact, most of the food you get at Chinese restaurants outside of Chinatowns in larger cities have been Americanized to the point of becoming almost a different cuisine.
Of course, the foods you get in Chinatowns in larger cities may also be different cuisines: China recognizes five major regional cuisines, including Cantonese, Hunan and Sichuan (Szechuan), which seem the most popularly available here.
But just because a restaurant calls itself "Szechuan" doesn’t mean it’s serving the same thing Sichuan people eat. If you’re interested in getting the most authentic experience possible, ask where the chef came from and request dishes from that region; some dishes, such as Chongching chicken or Yangzhou fried rice, are associated with a single city, and probably won’t show up on the menu — but they may be available if your chef is from Chongching or Yangzhou.
I’ve had excellent noodles at Peking Kitchen in Beacon, N.Y. off I-84, and more locally, Szechuan Tokyo in West Hartford has good authentic Sichuan food.
But in general, I’ve found that if you want authentic Chinese food, your best bet is to make it yourself.
There’s help. A Dong supermarket, down the street from Szechuan Tokyo in West Hartford, has most of what you’d need to pull off a good Chinese meal, including otherwise hard-to-find vegetables like rape or lotus, hot pot mixes and disposable chopsticks. You’ll know you’re in the right place when you step in, turn left and are greeted by Peking ducks and most of a pig hanging from hooks near the bakery counter.
Now here’s what you can make, authentically, with what you find there.
Well, here are the easiest things, anyway.
Hot pot: Buy a mix and squeeze it out into a pot or wok of boiling water set in the middle of the table where you and your guests will eat.
It will be spicy, and a good mix will look gross going into the pot. But your only prep will be cutting various vegetables — Chinese cabbage, rape, turnip, snap peas — and meats — beef, fish balls, Chinese dumplings — into small enough pieces to cook quickly and eat in a single bite.
Guests can toss in whatever looks good to them and fish it out (preferably with a slotted spoon) when it’s done.
Ramen noodles: No kidding. Though saying Ramen noodles are authentic is as shocking as going to Rome and being served SpaghettiO’s, it’s true. Chinese people eat "kuai mian," or "fast noodles," when they can’t get home-cooked or a sit-down meal — if you’re riding a train, where boiling water is readily available from a spout on each car, or if you’re a poor college student, Ramen noodles are likely a staple of your diet in China.
I think Ramen noodles are best eaten dry and crunchy, whatever continent you’re on, but I’ve never met anyone who ate fast noodles this way who wasn’t from New Britain.
White rice, cooked in a rice cooker: Brown rice is not authentic Chinese; neither is "wild rice."
Rice cookers are incredibly easy to use, quick and do a perfect job every time.
Drinks: You can pick up an aloe vera drink or chrysanthemum tea at A Dong, or you can just drink your water boiling hot. I have yet to find one of my favorite drinks, peanut-walnut milk, in America.
But when I do, I’ll let you know.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
2/20/09: Making a culinary dash through the political menu
In late 2007, before the GOP presidential nominee had been chosen, I ordered Mitt Romney at Mr. Bartley’s Gourmet Burgers in Cambridge, MA. It was a Swiss cheese burger with onions and came with a pile of onion rings that spilled off the plate and couldn’t be finished even with the help of my six table-mates.
If Al Franken had been on the menu then, I may have ordered him — though more in support of his sense of humor than of the concept of a veggie burger with pineapple on it.
Wishing I had another Mitt Romney to feast on this week, I began to wonder: What if our Connecticut politicians had sandwiches named after them?
A President Obama burger would be pretty easy — a regular, all-American burger delivered by electric car over an improved highway system, probably with a side salad. The burger might come with a note indicating that its creation had been partly subsidized by federal intervention and had helped to maintain almost 4 million jobs.
If you asked if you could substitute fries for the salad, or add mushrooms or pepper jack cheese to the Obama burger, the waitress might be required to reply "yes, you can." But she would almost certainly charge you for the extras.
A Sen. Christopher Dodd burger wouldn’t likely be a beef burger at all; thanks to his emphasis on our coastline conservation and defense, his sandwich would be grilled tuna. Paying in cash would lead to a relatively uneventful meal, but if you used your credit card, you’d be treated to a free copy of Dodd’s credit card protections strengthening bill and offered the chance to sign it along with your receipt, becoming a co-sponsor.
It wouldn’t matter what the menu description of a Sen. Joseph Lieberman burger was. Whatever it appeared to be when you ordered it, the waiter would bring something entirely different to the table and insist that you eat it anyway.
A John Rowland would be a pulled pork sandwich with steak fries, but halfway through the meal, your server would remove your plate and replace it with a small garden salad — no bacon bits allowed.
A Gov. M. Jodi Rell, on the other hand, would be a box of instant store-brand macaroni and cheese, mixed up in a large bowl and served family-style, possibly with a side of canned peas.
"Like many families in Connecticut," your server would announce, "we have to cut back on extras." Then he would hand you each a spoon and ask that you bus your own table when you’re finished.
A Rep. Chris Murphy burger would be served by Murphy himself, and though you’d have to call in the order to his Washington, D.C. office, you could ask for anything you wanted on it.
If Murphy’s office didn’t have what you were looking for, at least he would explain how he’d fought for your right to a coleslaw side dish and would continue that fight until coleslaw was made available to the people of the fifth district.
A Rep. John Larson burger would be typical beef, but when you paid, you’d receive a notice that Congress would soon be looking into the question of how burgers got to be so expensive. (The burger would be taxed twice to cover the cost of investigating.)
As for state senators and representatives, city and town council members, I’m betting that if you contacted your local representives, they’d meet you in your favorite local restaurant to shoot the breeze and hear your concerns — and you could ask them yourself what kind of sandwiches they’d be.
If Al Franken had been on the menu then, I may have ordered him — though more in support of his sense of humor than of the concept of a veggie burger with pineapple on it.
Wishing I had another Mitt Romney to feast on this week, I began to wonder: What if our Connecticut politicians had sandwiches named after them?
A President Obama burger would be pretty easy — a regular, all-American burger delivered by electric car over an improved highway system, probably with a side salad. The burger might come with a note indicating that its creation had been partly subsidized by federal intervention and had helped to maintain almost 4 million jobs.
If you asked if you could substitute fries for the salad, or add mushrooms or pepper jack cheese to the Obama burger, the waitress might be required to reply "yes, you can." But she would almost certainly charge you for the extras.
A Sen. Christopher Dodd burger wouldn’t likely be a beef burger at all; thanks to his emphasis on our coastline conservation and defense, his sandwich would be grilled tuna. Paying in cash would lead to a relatively uneventful meal, but if you used your credit card, you’d be treated to a free copy of Dodd’s credit card protections strengthening bill and offered the chance to sign it along with your receipt, becoming a co-sponsor.
It wouldn’t matter what the menu description of a Sen. Joseph Lieberman burger was. Whatever it appeared to be when you ordered it, the waiter would bring something entirely different to the table and insist that you eat it anyway.
A John Rowland would be a pulled pork sandwich with steak fries, but halfway through the meal, your server would remove your plate and replace it with a small garden salad — no bacon bits allowed.
A Gov. M. Jodi Rell, on the other hand, would be a box of instant store-brand macaroni and cheese, mixed up in a large bowl and served family-style, possibly with a side of canned peas.
"Like many families in Connecticut," your server would announce, "we have to cut back on extras." Then he would hand you each a spoon and ask that you bus your own table when you’re finished.
A Rep. Chris Murphy burger would be served by Murphy himself, and though you’d have to call in the order to his Washington, D.C. office, you could ask for anything you wanted on it.
If Murphy’s office didn’t have what you were looking for, at least he would explain how he’d fought for your right to a coleslaw side dish and would continue that fight until coleslaw was made available to the people of the fifth district.
A Rep. John Larson burger would be typical beef, but when you paid, you’d receive a notice that Congress would soon be looking into the question of how burgers got to be so expensive. (The burger would be taxed twice to cover the cost of investigating.)
As for state senators and representatives, city and town council members, I’m betting that if you contacted your local representives, they’d meet you in your favorite local restaurant to shoot the breeze and hear your concerns — and you could ask them yourself what kind of sandwiches they’d be.
Friday, February 13, 2009
2/13/09: Romance isn't dead, but it can be a horror
Well, it’s that time of year again.
That’s right: Friday the 13th.
Right before Valentine’s Day.
If, like me, you’ve never cottoned to a day meant for surprise romantic gestures that comes like clockwork every year, here are some ways to ward off Valentine’s Day.
Let me know if you join me in any of them.
Ignore it: This is the most elegant and non-hypocritical solution. And if you can pull off a straight-faced "no, I’ve never heard of Valentine’s Day," all the better.
Wear orange: A nice "Orange Crush" t-shirt or some tangerine pants make a nice clashy statement against all the reds and pinks of Valentine’s Day.
Get creative with candy hearts: There’s always the classic fall-back "scrape off the pre-written message and write your own in red ink" method of dealing with "say yes" and "U R Tops" type candy heart messages.
A few of the more recent candy heart messages, especially the ones intended to reflect connection in modern life, satirize themselves, though. "Email me" and "fax me," no matter how ubiquitous those modes of communication have become, will never be romantic. ("Text me" may have a chance.)
My college friends and I laughed at the candy conversation hearts we encountered a few years ago, some of which said, inexplicably, "Book Club."
In honor of a candy that clearly had a sense of humor, if unwittingly, we decided to celebrate Valentine’s Day with an ice cream cake portraying a "Book Club" heart in icing.
The ice cream was mint chocolate chip, making the cake taste significantly better than the actual Necco-waferlike conversation hearts.
Get creative with Valentine’s Day cards: Instead of those little rectangular perforated "Bee Mine" cards, or the more formal folded versions with Hallmark poetry on them, switch it up. Try sending blank cards with handwritten messages in them.
If your friends or loved ones have a sense of humor, you might consider non-V-Day-related messages, such as "you didn’t finish washing the dishes last night." Or if you insist on pre-written cards, consider the "sympathy on the death of your pet" collection.
Horror movie marathon: This is how I’m going to spend my Valentine’s Day.
And no cheating - this is not an excuse to clutch your beloved closer than usual in terror.
In fact, the more bizarre the movie, the more esoteric the reference, the better. If you snagged any dollar DVDs from a pharmacy or department store around Halloween, you probably have a few that will do: "The House on Haunted Hill," "Atom Age Zombies" or "The Brain That Wouldn’t Die" are winners.
I recommend "Ringu," the original Japanese version of "The Ring." Despite our Chinese school’s Japanese karate instructor psyching himself up before watching it (for the second time) by rocking back and forth and repeating "it’s okay; I know karate," it’s not what most Americans would call actually scary.
The first three Alien movies, while not technically horror, are also acceptable.
Go international: China has a "lover’s day," too, in which boys get the girl they like flowers, and girls get boys books.
It adds some spice to the otherwise tired routine of red roses, fancy dinner out and marriage proposal that plays itself out every year, to have a slightly "ethnic" twist on romance.
And it’s nice to have a prescribed gift item - and the guarantee that the guy you’re into will have no more excuses for not reading the Twilight quadrilogy.
That’s right: Friday the 13th.
Right before Valentine’s Day.
If, like me, you’ve never cottoned to a day meant for surprise romantic gestures that comes like clockwork every year, here are some ways to ward off Valentine’s Day.
Let me know if you join me in any of them.
Ignore it: This is the most elegant and non-hypocritical solution. And if you can pull off a straight-faced "no, I’ve never heard of Valentine’s Day," all the better.
Wear orange: A nice "Orange Crush" t-shirt or some tangerine pants make a nice clashy statement against all the reds and pinks of Valentine’s Day.
Get creative with candy hearts: There’s always the classic fall-back "scrape off the pre-written message and write your own in red ink" method of dealing with "say yes" and "U R Tops" type candy heart messages.
A few of the more recent candy heart messages, especially the ones intended to reflect connection in modern life, satirize themselves, though. "Email me" and "fax me," no matter how ubiquitous those modes of communication have become, will never be romantic. ("Text me" may have a chance.)
My college friends and I laughed at the candy conversation hearts we encountered a few years ago, some of which said, inexplicably, "Book Club."
In honor of a candy that clearly had a sense of humor, if unwittingly, we decided to celebrate Valentine’s Day with an ice cream cake portraying a "Book Club" heart in icing.
The ice cream was mint chocolate chip, making the cake taste significantly better than the actual Necco-waferlike conversation hearts.
Get creative with Valentine’s Day cards: Instead of those little rectangular perforated "Bee Mine" cards, or the more formal folded versions with Hallmark poetry on them, switch it up. Try sending blank cards with handwritten messages in them.
If your friends or loved ones have a sense of humor, you might consider non-V-Day-related messages, such as "you didn’t finish washing the dishes last night." Or if you insist on pre-written cards, consider the "sympathy on the death of your pet" collection.
Horror movie marathon: This is how I’m going to spend my Valentine’s Day.
And no cheating - this is not an excuse to clutch your beloved closer than usual in terror.
In fact, the more bizarre the movie, the more esoteric the reference, the better. If you snagged any dollar DVDs from a pharmacy or department store around Halloween, you probably have a few that will do: "The House on Haunted Hill," "Atom Age Zombies" or "The Brain That Wouldn’t Die" are winners.
I recommend "Ringu," the original Japanese version of "The Ring." Despite our Chinese school’s Japanese karate instructor psyching himself up before watching it (for the second time) by rocking back and forth and repeating "it’s okay; I know karate," it’s not what most Americans would call actually scary.
The first three Alien movies, while not technically horror, are also acceptable.
Go international: China has a "lover’s day," too, in which boys get the girl they like flowers, and girls get boys books.
It adds some spice to the otherwise tired routine of red roses, fancy dinner out and marriage proposal that plays itself out every year, to have a slightly "ethnic" twist on romance.
And it’s nice to have a prescribed gift item - and the guarantee that the guy you’re into will have no more excuses for not reading the Twilight quadrilogy.
Friday, February 6, 2009
2/6/09: Together online, yes, but also on your own
Galvanized by my own surprise at the number of interesting, funny and decent people I met on Craigslist after posting a personal ad a few weeks ago, I decided to dig a bit deeper.
At first, I was worried I was missing something, some obvious, glaring pitfall in meeting people online. Everybody I wrote to seemed so nice. There had to be something wrong with these guys, right?
But meeting “on the Internet” has largely lost the stigma it had a decade ago, when “the Internet” seemed like code for “a back alley” or “because I couldn’t find anyone in real life.”
My experience has been almost entirely positive, as has the experience of my new friends, I’m happy to say — particularly since the people I’ve been corresponding with say they’ve never replied to a Craigslist ad before, making me their only “Craigslist friend.”
One friend, Edward, elaborated on his online socializing: As an autistic early teen, Edward lived mostly online, where he “had half a dozen instant messaging windows open at the same time, held chat room meetings, had power; could tell someone twice my age what needed to be done; could ban someone who got out of line.”
Edward has “met” people from all around the world online, and he describes his experiences as positive, right in sync with my own.
But not everyone shares this experience.
It’s partly a numbers game: It’s no coincidence that I’m a woman getting all these responses. Since more men than women seem to read “the personals,” men who post also seem to get fewer responses.
Mike Z of Berlin, for instance, who decided to post a new personal ad every day for 30 days, quit after 14 posts when almost all he’d gotten was spam ads.
He’d started out hopeful in his initial post Jan. 2 — “hello?” — straightforwardly stating that he was “looking for a girlfriend,” admitting that he’d been single for awhile.
A few women had responded, Mike said, but no one had stuck around: “It seems that you can be having a good conversation and then it just ends, me figuring maybe tomorrow they’ll write back or something, but nothing ever comes of it.”
By Jan. 8, Day 7, Mike was tired of getting nothing but spam, and the ad he posted showed it.
Starting with a primal-scream type “aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Mike demanded to know what was wrong with him and his ads that caused him to be so snubbed by Connecticut Craigslist women.
He asked women to respond with suggestions, if not interest, on what he could change to improve his ads.
Women did respond.
One woman, Mike says, wrote him “about a page and a half,” advising him to get “better pictures,” and not to “come off as so desperate” or say he was lonely.
There is something to this. In the DIY ethos of Craigslist, there aren’t many pointers along the way for how to craft a personal ad that displays your best qualities, no guidelines or auto-formatting like at larger, dating-specific Web sites.
At the same time, it’s exactly that do-it-yourself mentality that eventually caused women to respond to Mike — with advice rather than the offer of a coffee meet-up, sure, but in an effort to connect, nonetheless.
Mike was still disappointed enough to stop posting his ads, the last of which is on the Hartford Craigslist site as “another post lucky 13” on Jan. 21.
That’s tough, and I wish Mike luck — and hope.
Because, as my experience has shown, there are good people out there — here in Connecticut — and online.
My main disappointment remains that I can’t meet them all.
At first, I was worried I was missing something, some obvious, glaring pitfall in meeting people online. Everybody I wrote to seemed so nice. There had to be something wrong with these guys, right?
But meeting “on the Internet” has largely lost the stigma it had a decade ago, when “the Internet” seemed like code for “a back alley” or “because I couldn’t find anyone in real life.”
My experience has been almost entirely positive, as has the experience of my new friends, I’m happy to say — particularly since the people I’ve been corresponding with say they’ve never replied to a Craigslist ad before, making me their only “Craigslist friend.”
One friend, Edward, elaborated on his online socializing: As an autistic early teen, Edward lived mostly online, where he “had half a dozen instant messaging windows open at the same time, held chat room meetings, had power; could tell someone twice my age what needed to be done; could ban someone who got out of line.”
Edward has “met” people from all around the world online, and he describes his experiences as positive, right in sync with my own.
But not everyone shares this experience.
It’s partly a numbers game: It’s no coincidence that I’m a woman getting all these responses. Since more men than women seem to read “the personals,” men who post also seem to get fewer responses.
Mike Z of Berlin, for instance, who decided to post a new personal ad every day for 30 days, quit after 14 posts when almost all he’d gotten was spam ads.
He’d started out hopeful in his initial post Jan. 2 — “hello?” — straightforwardly stating that he was “looking for a girlfriend,” admitting that he’d been single for awhile.
A few women had responded, Mike said, but no one had stuck around: “It seems that you can be having a good conversation and then it just ends, me figuring maybe tomorrow they’ll write back or something, but nothing ever comes of it.”
By Jan. 8, Day 7, Mike was tired of getting nothing but spam, and the ad he posted showed it.
Starting with a primal-scream type “aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Mike demanded to know what was wrong with him and his ads that caused him to be so snubbed by Connecticut Craigslist women.
He asked women to respond with suggestions, if not interest, on what he could change to improve his ads.
Women did respond.
One woman, Mike says, wrote him “about a page and a half,” advising him to get “better pictures,” and not to “come off as so desperate” or say he was lonely.
There is something to this. In the DIY ethos of Craigslist, there aren’t many pointers along the way for how to craft a personal ad that displays your best qualities, no guidelines or auto-formatting like at larger, dating-specific Web sites.
At the same time, it’s exactly that do-it-yourself mentality that eventually caused women to respond to Mike — with advice rather than the offer of a coffee meet-up, sure, but in an effort to connect, nonetheless.
Mike was still disappointed enough to stop posting his ads, the last of which is on the Hartford Craigslist site as “another post lucky 13” on Jan. 21.
That’s tough, and I wish Mike luck — and hope.
Because, as my experience has shown, there are good people out there — here in Connecticut — and online.
My main disappointment remains that I can’t meet them all.
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