NOTE: this is the first of two parts on some of the culinary adventures we had on the world tour.
We been back for months now, and are still processing some of the trip. In some ways it seems like it never happened!
This post is something we’ve been meaning to do for a while—it’s all about the food. The good, the bad and the unknown.
China
I won’t go into detail about the place at the end of our hutong or the Peking duck, as we covered those in our earlier posts. But a couple of other dining experiences in Beijing were worth noting as well.
After our first overpriced hotel breakfast Tom started picking up breakfast
for us at a bun shop just around the corner. For about a dollar, we could get these two stuffed rolls that would carry us through the day. Not sure exactly what they were stuffed with, but pork and green onions seem like the most likely thing. Just a small example of how kind everyone we met was, the second time Tom went there was during the morning rush with everyone pushing their way to the table set up outside the shop. After waiting patiently while 5 or 6 other folks elbowed their way to the front (the Chinese don’t believe in queuing up in a line) the old woman took pity on him as he obviously didn’t know the drill. She barely glanced up at him (towering over everyone else) handed him two bun took his money and went back to the crowd. We loved taking breakfast to the park around the corner and listening to the caged birds.
The other Beijing food experiences—well, it was the best of food and it was the worst of food. Can’t remember the name of the restaurant, and as we got in the habit of, we ordered a number of dishes on the likely chance that there would be at least one we couldn’t eat. One was a really fantastic beef—crispy, salty, just wonderful. Another was shrimp over crispy tea leaves. The flavor was great, but they were cooked whole—head, shell and tails. While the heads came off fine you couldn’t really take off the shell which proved to be a problem. Tom was only able to eat a couple, and I was determined to eat at least most of what was on the plate but had to give up after 5 or 6—just thinking about the texture still makes my stomach turn a bit.
On to Xian, where Tom was determined to find “hot pot.” We would ask (showing the symbol for it) but everyone would point to one particular restaurant that was outrageously expensive, even by American standards. So we still are not even sure what it is. But as a result we did get some really fantastic soups and meals. But the best story is less about the food and more about the folks. After trying to find the fabled hot pot one afternoon, we finally gave up around 2:30 pm—which is an odd time for lunch as it turns out many restaurants close up at 3 for a break before dinner service. Anyway, we stopped in a place that looked nice, but was deserted. The staff was eating and watching Chinese soap operas, but they sure weren’t going to pass up on customers.
This may have been the only place in China where they didn’t have pictures on the menu. This was a problem.
None of the waitre
sses wanted to talk to us (or rather gesture with us), so they sent over what seemed like a busboy who knew how to say “hello.” That, unfortunately but not unexpectedly, is where his English ended. The menu was really just an order form and we had no idea where to begin. Tom pulled out the “point in any language” book, and we started pointing to the order form and to the pictures. He got the idea and started showing us what to order: beef, cabbage, broccoli. We were still guessing on the preparation, but settled back with a couple of beers and waited.
After a bit, a waiter came out with an interesting contraption that was quite hot. He sat it on the table and filled part of the top and the bottom with water and some herbs. A few minutes later, there were platters of raw food brought out, and again, they took pity on the clueless tourists, showing us how to drop the beef and vegetables in the hot water until they cooked, and then dousing them in different sauces. The waiter sat about 8 feet away and when he would see us doing something silly (like putting the pickled garlic in the hot water), he’d jump up and come show us what to do. All in all, it was an adventure in dining. And not our last. (Further research has shown that this, indeed, was "hot pot."
Guilin, Yangshuo and Guangzshou were relatively simple (avoiding the dog on the menu) and we generally stuck with “farmer food” (as they called Chinese food) as opposed to Western meals, though we did become fond of the full English and Spanish breakfasts at the Li River Retreat to set us up for the day. And the ramen-style noodle bowls we bought for the train trip were really good as well, though in retrospect, I think we were just really hungry when we ate them. If nothing else, it was fun when we bought them at the shop in the train station where we went through another round of photo ops…and waiting in the queue on the train to fill them with hot water (each coach had it’s own hot water supply for this very purpose)!
Kenya
Much like everything else about Kenya, our dining experiences were very isolated. It was lovely food, but none of it really Kenyan. Except the coffee—and that was amazing. Early morning (5 am) wake up calls were much easier to take when there was a quiet knock and rustling as fresh Kenyan coffee was left in our tent.
There were some interestin
g juxtapositions with wonderful gourmet 5 course meals in the middle of nowhere. Joy’s Camp in particular was serving food worthy of any fine dining restaurant.
One of the things we enjoyed about being on safari was that we had a chance to meet fellow travelers, usually over dinner. Two of our most memorable days included a riverside breakfast after a morning hike, and of course, the surprise bush dinner we wrote about earlier.
This post is something we’ve been meaning to do for a while—it’s all about the food. The good, the bad and the unknown.
China
I won’t go into detail about the place at the end of our hutong or the Peking duck, as we covered those in our earlier posts. But a couple of other dining experiences in Beijing were worth noting as well.
After our first overpriced hotel breakfast Tom started picking up breakfast
for us at a bun shop just around the corner. For about a dollar, we could get these two stuffed rolls that would carry us through the day. Not sure exactly what they were stuffed with, but pork and green onions seem like the most likely thing. Just a small example of how kind everyone we met was, the second time Tom went there was during the morning rush with everyone pushing their way to the table set up outside the shop. After waiting patiently while 5 or 6 other folks elbowed their way to the front (the Chinese don’t believe in queuing up in a line) the old woman took pity on him as he obviously didn’t know the drill. She barely glanced up at him (towering over everyone else) handed him two bun took his money and went back to the crowd. We loved taking breakfast to the park around the corner and listening to the caged birds.The other Beijing food experiences—well, it was the best of food and it was the worst of food. Can’t remember the name of the restaurant, and as we got in the habit of, we ordered a number of dishes on the likely chance that there would be at least one we couldn’t eat. One was a really fantastic beef—crispy, salty, just wonderful. Another was shrimp over crispy tea leaves. The flavor was great, but they were cooked whole—head, shell and tails. While the heads came off fine you couldn’t really take off the shell which proved to be a problem. Tom was only able to eat a couple, and I was determined to eat at least most of what was on the plate but had to give up after 5 or 6—just thinking about the texture still makes my stomach turn a bit.
On to Xian, where Tom was determined to find “hot pot.” We would ask (showing the symbol for it) but everyone would point to one particular restaurant that was outrageously expensive, even by American standards. So we still are not even sure what it is. But as a result we did get some really fantastic soups and meals. But the best story is less about the food and more about the folks. After trying to find the fabled hot pot one afternoon, we finally gave up around 2:30 pm—which is an odd time for lunch as it turns out many restaurants close up at 3 for a break before dinner service. Anyway, we stopped in a place that looked nice, but was deserted. The staff was eating and watching Chinese soap operas, but they sure weren’t going to pass up on customers.
This may have been the only place in China where they didn’t have pictures on the menu. This was a problem.
None of the waitre
sses wanted to talk to us (or rather gesture with us), so they sent over what seemed like a busboy who knew how to say “hello.” That, unfortunately but not unexpectedly, is where his English ended. The menu was really just an order form and we had no idea where to begin. Tom pulled out the “point in any language” book, and we started pointing to the order form and to the pictures. He got the idea and started showing us what to order: beef, cabbage, broccoli. We were still guessing on the preparation, but settled back with a couple of beers and waited.After a bit, a waiter came out with an interesting contraption that was quite hot. He sat it on the table and filled part of the top and the bottom with water and some herbs. A few minutes later, there were platters of raw food brought out, and again, they took pity on the clueless tourists, showing us how to drop the beef and vegetables in the hot water until they cooked, and then dousing them in different sauces. The waiter sat about 8 feet away and when he would see us doing something silly (like putting the pickled garlic in the hot water), he’d jump up and come show us what to do. All in all, it was an adventure in dining. And not our last. (Further research has shown that this, indeed, was "hot pot."
Guilin, Yangshuo and Guangzshou were relatively simple (avoiding the dog on the menu) and we generally stuck with “farmer food” (as they called Chinese food) as opposed to Western meals, though we did become fond of the full English and Spanish breakfasts at the Li River Retreat to set us up for the day. And the ramen-style noodle bowls we bought for the train trip were really good as well, though in retrospect, I think we were just really hungry when we ate them. If nothing else, it was fun when we bought them at the shop in the train station where we went through another round of photo ops…and waiting in the queue on the train to fill them with hot water (each coach had it’s own hot water supply for this very purpose)!
Kenya
Much like everything else about Kenya, our dining experiences were very isolated. It was lovely food, but none of it really Kenyan. Except the coffee—and that was amazing. Early morning (5 am) wake up calls were much easier to take when there was a quiet knock and rustling as fresh Kenyan coffee was left in our tent.
There were some interestin
g juxtapositions with wonderful gourmet 5 course meals in the middle of nowhere. Joy’s Camp in particular was serving food worthy of any fine dining restaurant.One of the things we enjoyed about being on safari was that we had a chance to meet fellow travelers, usually over dinner. Two of our most memorable days included a riverside breakfast after a morning hike, and of course, the surprise bush dinner we wrote about earlier.
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