![]() And then they came out with a delicacy that I was told that I had to try, Beak and Foot Soup. I had chicken blood pudding soup, just eating the broth. I was thinking, since the customer was making such a big deal out this restaurant, that I could eat something other than soda crackers. The customer employees kept handing us dishes and saying, ‘try this!’ You didn’t want to be impolite, but after I got so sick, they stopped offering.). I was just getting over a case of the Thailand version of Montezuma’s revenge (NO, I did not drink the water, but in the backwoods, you didn’t have to. This restaurant was in the middle of nowhere between Pattaya and Chon Buri. My second trip to Thailand, I went to the “Chicken Restaurant.” Maybe it had a real name, but that’s all I was told and everything on the menu related to chicken in one way or the other. And we didn’t care that the on-lookers from the other tables were shaking their heads in disgust that we were discarding the fat. And it was so tender, that you only needed chopsticks to cut it. And, sure enough, there was delicious pork roast under the inch-thick layer of fat. After the waiter left, he explained that the Chinese love the fat, but if you peel the fat away, the pork rump is so tasty that it melts in your mouth. I would have never tried the dish if someone who had eaten it before knew the secret. He then took out two chopsticks to “cut” the pork fat. As for the pork, the waiter delivered a platter of pork fat to our table, a huge round mound of pork fat. They came out big, juicy on the inside, and crunchy on the outside. The corn was whole kernel, spiced just right, and roasted or maybe fried in a light oil. My two favorite Chinese dishes in China was roasted corn and roasted pork. ![]() And if you are wondering, the Chinese put the bowl of rice up to their mouth and use the chopsticks to drag rice into their mouth. Then again, bulgogi (thinly sliced BBQ beef – Korean style) pizza needs no chopsticks. Then again, they weren’t made of steel like the chopsticks in South Korea, but the Koreans provided a fork in case you got frustrated. And note, the chopsticks were hard wood for a formal dining setting, not bamboo or soft wood for a better grip. All I will say is a lot of laughter ensued, but we both polished off what was left of our entire tiny bowl. My partner squeezed one too hard and it went flying, but he was better at it overall. I had a bit of a problem grabbing the slippery things, but never missed my mouth. About 15 sets of eyes stared to see if we would make it to our mouth without the morsel flying across the room. The first time each of us (two instructors from the US) tried to pick up a piece of either celery or lily root, the conversation stopped. The celery and lily root dish was delicious, but those rascals are slippery. Anyway, I passed the tea ceremony test, but when the meal started, one small course at a time, the drama was building. I may write about it again and provide a photo of my official tea ceremony tea set. I think that I have mentioned that before. There was a lot of ceremony, starting with the tea ceremony. The customer was paying for our “welcome to China” meal. My first formal dinner in China was at a fancy restaurant in Shanghai. I should have known better.Īnd yes, when practiced, I can do chopsticks adequately. It was a delicious orange glaze over fried chicken skins. That’s better than the Chinese restaurant in a small city in eastern India. Pick the garbage pieces out of the trash?” I say this unequivocally, on those nights, I lived off the rice and vegetables. But if I got the knuckles from about four or five chickens on my plate, who got the rest of the chicken? You know, the edible parts? Did they say in the kitchen, “American at table four. My question is this: Who gets the meat? Sure, they take a chicken in one hand they take a cleaver in the other hand, and then chop, chop, chop, with no thought of carving “pieces” of chicken. Occasionally, there is a slight hint of a sliver of meat that they did not pick from the bone before serving, but that was rare. Sometimes, there is only bone and gristle. It’s the joint of either the leg or wing. I might have ten small pieces of chicken on my plate, easily picked up by chopsticks, but then I realize that it isn’t chicken meat, not really. The title of this article should give you a hint. Other than in a sandwich at KFC, I have never eaten much ‘chicken’. ![]() In a strange way, this is a follow-up to the last post, in that I have had great experiences in foreign lands while dining, and I have had some odd experiences, not necessarily disasters, but…įirst, in five trips to P.
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