Spaghetti

Several weeks ago I was invited to my new friend, Connie's house to cook dinner. It took me quite some time to come up with a dish I can cook, never mind the fact that there are no ovens in China and my only utensil is a pair of chopsticks.

I sought my classmates' advice, and then reached out to the long-time foreigners to see if they had any suggestions. After much discussion, it was decided that I would make spaghetti. I could doctor up the sauce and make meatballs, which would make the meal sufficiently authentic.

My first challenge was to find a place that sells the needed ingredients. So far I haven't found a spaghetti aisle in Trust Mart, nor have I seen any ground beef.

I finally settled on making a trip to Sabrina's, a western food store. It's rumored to be expensive and not have a good variety of products- just enough to satisfy that craving.

I trekked out to the store and bought the supplies: canned spaghetti sauce, noodles, canned parmesan cheese, a can of black olives, wine, and some chorizo sausage. I thought the sausage was a good touch. There was still no ground beef, but the sausage would add a good kick to the meal. The Chinese people I know all complain that western food is too bland for their tastes.

The next day I loaded the supplies into my backpack and took off on my bike for Connie's apartment. She had told me that it would only be a group of about a half dozen. I bought more supplies than I could possibly need, but it turned out well as the group was double in size of my estimate.

After an hour of playing and losing at majiang, Connie announced that it was time for me to cook. I had warned her of my lack of cooking abilities, but she just brushed my hesitancy aside and once again pushed me into the kitchen. Connie's friend and husband were both in the kitchen trying to help me find the needed pans and utensils. It took a while to find a pan that fit. I pulled the sausage out of the fridge, looked behind me and noticed for the first time that a crowd had gathered. Connie's friend asked me several times what she could do to help. Honestly, I would have been happy to have the kitchen to myself, but I didn't want to be rude so I started assigning tasks to my assistants. Connie's friend was to cook the meat, while her husband was going to watch the noodles.

I opened the sausage and let it slide into the pan. I picked up the pair of chopsticks, and tried to seperate the sausage into small pieces. It wasn't working, and soon I saw the reason why. This was real sausage: strings and intestines. I reached in the pan and pulled the half cooked sausage out. I still needed to pull the strings of the ends of the links. I was still having a hard time seperating the meat. I picked up one of the links, and with my thumb and forefinger squeezed the meat out into the pan. SLUUUURRRRPPP!Fortunately for me, Chinese people don't eat sausage. Hopefully, they had no idea how badly I was butchering this process.

I struggled through cutting the onion and tomato with a meat cleaver and tossed it into the pan. As soon as everything was ready to go, Connie's husband grabbed the pan of noodles, and I grabbed the pan of sauce and carefully walked out to the dining room.

On the table in the dining room sat half a dozen Chinese dishes. The spaghetti was too big for the table, so it was placed on a stool in the corner of the room. We all sat looking at each other until someone finally took their rice bowl and passed it to Connie's husband. Using his chopsticks, he scooped up some spaghetti and passed it back. One by one, each person at the table tried the spaghetti, and you know what? They all liked it! (Hard to believe, ain't it?)

Mid-Autumn Festival

We recently celebrated Mid-Autumn Festival in China. The festival usually occurs around the Autumn equinox, and is a time to be reunited with family and share in the eating of traditional foods. In the spirit of food, the International Student Office at Sichuan University held a buffet, and invited all the foreign students to come. And by the way, it was free. My classmates and I read the announcement, and then decided that in the spirit of free stuff, we would go.

The previous evening, my Chinese roommate brought home a box of moon cakes. Moon cakes have a long history of being the food to eat during Mid-Autumn Festival. The moon cakes are similar in texture and appeal to fruit cake. The nuts, fruit and bean paste make the cake dense and chewy. Inside the cake is the yolk of a salted duck egg. Many Chinese people say that the yolk is there to symbolize the round shape of the full moon. Others say that the yolk being round, reminds people of having reunion with their family. The word for "reunion" and "round" sound the same in Chinese.

My roommate gave both Sarah and I one to eat, and then headed off to her room for the evening. I pulled at her sleave as she walked by my chair, "Aren't you going to have one?"

"No, I don't really like them." But yet, she was forcing us to try them. We gagged them down, put the rest away, and went to bed.

The day of the buffet came, and we all arrived on time and ready to eat. I was surprised at the large turnout among the foreign students. Not only were all the tables filled, but extra chairs had to be set up just to accomodate everyone. A large table filled the center of the room. The table top was jammed with every type of Chinese food you can imagine. Everything had been pushed together to make room for all the dishes. The president of SU gave a short speech, and then we were given permission to eat.

After living here for a week, one starts to pick up the Chinese way of doing things. The Chinese don't stand in lines, they either do things in the free-for-all style, or they just cut. It was clear that the foreigners had all picked up on both of these things, and were using these skills to the best of their abilities. As soon as we were given the go ahead, the entire mass of foriegn students stood up and rushed to the table. Those that arrived first became trapped by the dozens behind them. Those that were in the middle were stuck passing trays and plates between those in the back and those squished against the table. People were shouting orders to each other, all the while trying to maintain enough space between them to breath.

"Will you scoop up some corn?"

"How 'bout some of those noodles?"

"I'll give you some of the pork, if you give me some of those egg roll thingys..."

I stood in the back of the crowd and watched it go one like this for quite some time. Finally, I decided to enter the throng of people and push my way to the front. I started pushing and shoving, using my arm to keep my tray from being knocked over. I felt like I was in a mosh pit; everything was loud, and everyone was pushing and shoving. When I finally got near enough that I could reach for some food, I was stuck. I couldn't move an inch in any direction. I just stood there and waited for someone to pass me a plate. The least I could do was help the others. Eventually the crowd thinned to the point that I could slowly make my way out and to my table. The food was good, not great. But did I tell you it was free?