I like to consider my tastes as fairly well developed through dedicated and adventurous eating. I couldn't tell you the last time I ate at a chain restaurant and I am rather fond of offal. Anthony Bourdain I am not but nor am I a supporter of Mister McDonald's work.
The one glaring oversight of my otherwise flawlessly pretentious tastes is an absolute weakness for shit Chinese food. I have never seen a prawn cracker I didn't want to eat and if you want to see something pretty impressive ask me to prove that I can eat half my weight in spring rolls. And no I don't mean the nice fragrant ones with the freshly shredded fillings and served with a nice vinegar. I mean the over fried ones about the size of my pinky filled with something that I presume is meat only as it is clearly not a vegetable. on the side I like that neon red sauce that tastes mainly of neon. Beef with, what's this? Blackbean sauce! Inspired.
Before anyone gets the wrong impression, I do appreciate that Chinese food in all of its complexity is a thing of joy and beauty resembling not at all the westernised sweet n' sour muck to which I am referring. I adore the fiery and numbing flavours of Szechuan cuisine and I thrill at the very mention of Xi'an noodles.
I can mark on an atlas the provinces of my favourite Chinese dishes but the lure of such revered and time honoured dishes such as 'Spicy Chicken Wings' remain.
I never crave soggy pizza or crappy pho, but for some reason that must emerge from the reptilian and uncritical part of my brain I have days which just have to involve chow mein.
I am a mystery to myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment