Peter Green

It's a good article, more so for the comments that come with it. A telling point is that there's a longer stationarity on the tables with small plates. People nibbling spend longer on a meal. That can be offset by the increase in liquor receipts, as they'll tend to drink more, so the trick is in finding the balancing point where you've got a full house that continues to generate revenue, so you don't need to chase the tables out. As an eater (glutton) I like it. I've done many meals where I've ordered a series of appetizers rather than the mains, as I generally found the chefs having a lot more fun with them (this is back in the 80's mind you). You also have the benefit of getting what you want, rather than the one item you want, with a surrounding of filler that you're not interested in. Countering that, though, is the fact that I've chanced upon some of my favourite dishes as "filler" on a main. Beyond that, though, you have to consider the costs that go into making a really good small dish. As Sergi Arola told me "it takes a lot of food to make a small serving".

Ah, lobsters. When I think of the Maritimes, I'm thinking big claws and red.

Beer cooked fish (the Yangshuo version) and, of course, if it's a dark, then a steak and kidney pie!

Alas, the WGF is timed so that it fills in dead space in the calendar, meaning that Scud'll be in school then (boarding in Canada this year). A pity, as I think the WGF is a great educational experience, in addition to being an excuse for wanton gluttony. Hopefully, if I can get China squared away, I'll work out my feeding schedule for this. I'm trying to see if I can extend the trip an extra week, which opens up a series of stomach expanding options - Penh, Vientiane, or just staying in BKK (I still need to get to Dosa King!) Vientiane has a lot more eating, and a mot more shopping I need to do. Penh may just be my favourite place to do nothing. And if I just stay in BKK, I have a tailor to take care of the trousers. Cheers, Peter You could always pop down for a few days from Japan! It's not that far. Otherwise you know I'm going to be gloating!

Day 22 – Dining In The Tardis Our day began with a serious element of déjà vu. DING! DONG!…….KNOCK!….KNOCK!….KNOCK! This time I was even more urbane in my response, “Awnowazzitnow?” After picking myself up off the floor and checking the door, I saw it was, indeed, the boy. “I threw up.” “Did you clean it up?” “Yup?” “Okay. Go back to sleep.” “Do I have to go with you guys today?” “No, you can stay in.” “Hooray!” To this day, I wonder if I should’ve gone to his room and checked. Mind you, he could still claim he’d had so much practice cleaning up after Serena that he was able to ensure a spotless result. We spent a bit of time packing, and then moved everything into one room. We were keeping it until the evening, when we’d check out and head for the airport. This was a fortuitous bit of luck on our part, as I hadn’t really factored illness into my strategy. I just wanted a final shower. The girls and I grabbed a cab and headed out for the French Concession. Our first stop was to be Bao Luo on Fumin Lu. According to the book, it was typical Shanghai eating, and it was in the general vicinity of a couple of the museums we wanted to hit up. Once we had a taxi, I was doing the normal dad thing, maps out, checking cross streets, following land marks, and then, triumphantly, I announced that we were here. I had absolutely no idea where we were. I walked up to the street corner and checked the crossing. Yes, this was the right place. I spun the book around and checked our orientation. Yes, Bao Luo should be just across the street. But, looking across the road, all I saw was a small shopfront for a store apparently called “Bavaria”. I was quite concerned. Finally, Yoonhi cornered a passerby and made noises that sounded like Bao and Luo. The old lady we were terrorizing pointed a trembling finger down the street. Another old lady pointed in the other direction. We walked across the street. I figured we could always ask at Bavaria. As soon as we got within snagging distance, the people at the run-down counter waved us in, and, before we could say anything, escorted us inside. It is just like being in a Dr. Who episode. We went in the narrow front hall, turned left past the wooden hotel-style front desk, turned right past the fish tanks, and arrived…… Hey, this was a lot more upscale than those cheesy BBC sets! Faux alabaster lighting, tiled floors that are guaranteed to cost you a hip if you’re not careful, and fashionably uncomfortable seating! (and not a Dalek in sight). We were escorted through the brightly lit main hall, in front of the signs for Bavaria beer (so that was it!), past the staircase to the second floor, and into the back room, where (I suspect) it was assumed we’d get a minimal amount of food on other diners and not be a major embarrassment. Not that we were alone. It seemed every other table back here was full. This was a good sign. After Yoonhi turned mute to their inquiries, they brought us an English menu. Even better! I liked what I read, and (as expected) ordered what I thought would be a respectable repast. The “well done pork tongue” was a must have, as pig tongue had grabbed Serena’s attention in Vientiane back in January, and she couldn’t have it then (but that’s another story). Braised pork hoof Shanghai style sounded too good to pass up. And when I pointed at a nearby table’s dish, they directed me to the boiled small dumplings with rice wine sauce. And then they had Greedy God style dried goose pot with dried goose, needle mushrooms, Jew’s ear. Greedy God is a name that I’m hardly going to overlook, and I seldom come across goose on a menu, so I firmly and resolutely stabbed my finger at this. To top it all off - as I eyed the Bavaria Beer signs on the walls and the Bavaria Beer glasses on the table - I went out on a limb and……ordered a Bavaria Beer. They don’t carry Bavaria Beer. Why, oh why, was I not surprised. The tongue was first on the table, and was soft and chewy, with a heavy brown sauce to carry the oil. Serena and I savaged it mercilessly, as we hadn’t eaten yet that day. There was some confusion amongst the waiters as they were looking at scraps of paper, but they finally decided, after a table by table check, that their burden needed to be settled upon our table. This was the braised pork hoof Shanghai style. It came out all of one piece, and they cut it up at the table. This wasn’t what we’d expected. We’d been thinking of the hoof itself, as in the Korean dish, but this was the entire lower section of the leg. The flavour was delicious, with a lot of soy in the braise and lots and lots of fat and grease, but was extremely heavy (surprise, surprise). I probably would’ve been fine just ordering this alone (although I like a little tongue, too). The dumplings met the visual expectations we had, mainly as we’d chosen this based on it being on a table beside us. Little wolfberries floated in the broth, and on the bottom was some fermented rice. Overall it had a sweet bean flavour to it. But the dumplings themselves were a surprise, as they were like Korean ddok, fairly firm rice cakes. Chewy, soft, perfect for pulling the fillings out of your teeth. The goose showed up last, and now I wished it had come first, as we were slowing down by this point. Still, I was able to soldier on, my appetite helped by the dish itself. The long strands were noodles of tofu and enoki mushrooms. And then there was Mouse Ear fungus (I assume this is what the menu called “Jew’s ear” – a fungus found throughout the UK), and lotus root. The meat on the goose wasn’t like anything I’ve cooked. It had a particular dryness and redness about it that put me in mind of a nice piece of ham the day after, once it’s had time to rest in the fridge, awaiting its appointed fate in my sandwich. This I kept on nibbling at. Serena had decided to try something different for her refreshing beverage – Lily Juice. This came out in as an attractive a can as a can can be, but once poured looked, well, distressingly thick. I liked the ambience here. Beyond the typical slaughterhouse lighting and tiling, all of the tables around us had been full of people when we arrived, and those same people were still here, ordering one more dish after another, and talking, smoking, and eating in a wonderfully leisurely manner. You took the impression that, at this moment, there was nothing more important to these Shanghainese than enjoying this particular meal. I should mention, also, that Bao Luo had the most impressively darned tablecloths. On not-too-close inspection you could see at least a dozen places where they’d patiently darned over cigarette holes that had been pushed through the linen. As we took in such textile related delights, we planned out our afternoon. We needed to hit up two museums in order to keep Yoonhi in a good mood. Our first was to be The Shanghai Propaganda Poster Art Centre We followed the instructions in book in order to find the place. I tried out my putonghua with the driver, but he didn’t want to give me a beer, but once I showed him the characters he was fine. Once he put us down, I wasn’t so certain. We were out in the French Concession proper, and in front of a fairly modern block of middle-class apartments. I pulled the book out again, looking quizzical, and the security guard for the complex came running out of his booth and handed me a card for the museum, with directions on how to get to the proper building. You end up walking almost the entire perimeter of the compound, and then descend into the basement of a perfectly innocent apartment building. It’s a completely private museum built up from the collection of one man. Contrary to the guide book (one of the few times I take exception to their write-ups) his English was quite good, and he was a help in pointing out some of the stylistic elements in the posters. If you’re in Shanghai, and need something to do while you digest, this isn’t a bad little museum. It takes you through the early stylistic domination of the Soviets, with the extremely Stalinistic motifs, and then into the development of China’s own unique styles – culminating in the Gang of Four…..which actually was a great name for a band, but they weren’t referring to the Maoists. (Whatever happened to them? The band, that is.) There was also a Hong Kong comic by that name, if I remember correctly. I’m digressing again, I know. The shop had some fun stuff, but they were obviously pricing themselves for the tour bus that just showed up. I picked up an old copy of the Little Red Book, as I’ve wanted to go through it and see how much has been lifted from Sun Tzu and the 38 Strategies, but I passed on the English primer from the Cold War. On the one hand it’d be really useful to learn how to say “down with the lackey dogs of the Imperialists” as a conversation opener during my next meeting with our contractors, but at 200+ RMB it seemed a little steep, considering the tattered condition of the thing. I did however, pick up some great postcard versions of some of the posters. If I can find them in this mess I’ll try and scan them and put them up. The Toyota Coaster that pulled up flooded the place with a group of 20, so we picked up our purchases and headed on. The Public Security Museum I figure, we’re in a police state, the police should have a good museum. And they did. It was just tough to find. This was my second exception in the guide book (and in one day). They had the location in the wrong place on their map. Luckily, we had enough time, and found the museum two blocks away on the other side of a major street (Xietu Lu). This one didn’t seem to be on the major tourist path, as our arrival produced two giggling young ladies who needed a little time to figure out how to sell us a ticket. Being the Department of Public Security, these guys had a pretty good setup. There were several floors, all filled out with display cases and dioramas. I felt a little bad that Scud wasn’t here, as he’d have enjoyed the armoury they had on display, which included cane rifles, cigarette case pistols, and a huge selection of things that’ll cut. There was one Astra 7.63 caliber that was all inscribed in detailed Arabic motifs, and they had Sun Yat Sen’s ebony handled pistol, too. Plus, they had the usual forensics collection, including a skull that had been rammed through, front to back, with a pair of scissors. I did not allow Yoonhi to get in her “See, I tell you guys not to run with scissors or you’ll put your eye out”, but she was looking pretty smug). This isn’t as detailed as the Museum of Pathology at Siriraj Hospital in Bangkok (where they also have the mummified body of their most famous mass-murderer, Si Oui). We wrapped up here with time to spare, it being only mid-afternoon, but then found ourselves stuck trying to get a taxi to take us back across town. It turned out we were on the wrong side of the street, so once we’d crossed over we were okay. Then it was revealed that our problem with taxis was due to the intersection at Xietu Lu being jammed up with a motor vehicle accident. It was one of those tableaux that pass you by in car windows, when you wish you’d had a camera out and running. There was a smashed motorcycle lying on its side. A corpse lying in a pool of blood. Public security stood about looking generally bored. And a detective in the stereotypical long trenchcoat sat on the rear bumper of a paddywagon drawing down on his cigarette, smoke drifting skyward. It all looked like a piece taken from one of John Woo’s early flicks. I did not draw Serena’s attention to this. We had the driver put us down by Nanjing Lu, and we made a beeline for the new Cartoon World store we’d spotted a couple of days ago. If you have ever given in and bought your kids a $25 Village of Konoha Ninja Forehead Protector (we’re talking Naruto gear, here), this place is going to make you feel really bad. They had a great selection of anime related stuff (although no anime with English subtitles), and the prices, finally, were good (forehead protectors – which you really, really need – were only 30 RMB. We stocked up on shuriken, posters, figurines, some cosplay costumes (200 RMB for a full Japanese kimono outfit?) and, most important, a flag. All across China, we’d felt bad that all the other tour groups had flags, and we didn’t (Java had explained that tour groups of 20 and over needed a flag by the regulations). As soon as we saw the One Piece flag, we knew this would be our future tour group flag. (Although I would’ve killed for the chef’s skull, crossbones, and toque flag from the Baratie Floating Restaurant) Back home, at long last, we debated our options. Kyle would be by to pick us up with Mr. Li at around 6:30 We had our room until 6:00. It was now a little before 4:00 p.m. It was physically possible for us to race back down to Nanjing Lu or the Bund and get a meal, but it was going to be tough. We could eat at the airport if we had to…… I was on the phone thanking some of my friends for their recommendations, and in so doing was warned off of eating at the airport. There’d been a rash of food poisoning instances there the week before. So, we fell back on Pacican. They still had dishes we hadn’t tried. Next - The Last Dinner

Ah, summer is here and a young man's thoughts turn to eating. The time is ripe for planning for the next WGF in Bangkok, this one the eighth. They've just sent me an advance (after some earlier discussions) of the forthcoming press release, and here's the initial lineup of confirmed chefs: Romain Fornell, Caelis, Barcelona, Spain Susur Lee, Susur Lee, Toronto Douglas Rodriguez, Ola at Sanctuary, Miami Beach Roberto Donna, Galileo, Washington DC Malahov Andrey Vladimirovich, Pushkin, Moscow Patricia di Benedetto, ByeByeBlues, Palermo, Sicily Paul Wilson, The Botanical, Melbourne, Australia Steven Snow, Fins Restaurant, Sydney, Australia Suzanne Tracht, JAR Restaurant, Los Angeles, USA Michael Ginor, Hudson Valley Foie Gras, USA Douglas Rodriguez has been here before, back in WGF4, when he introduced me to ceviching, and he was also the one that got me stocking once a month, so I'm looking forward to seeing him again. And Michael Ginor is the main pillar of the WGF, his foie gras dinners are something I always make time for (even if they did come with protesters last time). I've eaten at Pushkin before, and enjoyed my meal. What I want to know is if Malahov is going to bring a tub of caviar with him? The others I know only by passing comments. Caelis in particular sounds very, very good. Which ones should I put on my do not miss list? Which ones should I do lunch classes with? Which ones should I try to clone myself in order to catch? Decisions, decisions. Oh, and Russian Standard has the bar service this time. Cheers Peter Note: The World Gourmet Fest 8 at the Four Seasons Bangkok will run from September 9 through 16

Fengyi, My apologies, I wasn't clear on the margin thing. I was actually referencing the London (West in general) market when it came to wines, rather than China. That had arisen out of talks with an Indian chef from London. While I wouldn't say wine was cheap, I was pleasantly surprised to see the wine lists covering a wide range, offering reasonably priced Australians and Kiwis in addition to the odd bottle of Petrus. There's a good realization there of the local market. And, for that same reason, I thought the wine by glass offerings were better than a lot of other places. People that aren't big wine drinkers will still pay out $5 to $8 for a glass, as opposed to $50 or $100 for a bottle. I feel that the wine bars in Bangkok in the late 80's early 90's (along with a lot of foreign travel) helped develop the taste there for good wines (it's just the taxes are so, so bad). My favourite spot in Asia is still Phnom Penh. But that isn't a matter of the local palate, it's just such a great bargain, and I like sitting out on Sisowath Quay feeling like John LeCarre. Cheers, peter

Cadbury, I'm proud of you. You have found the Way And, for everyone, please stop with the eulogies! We're not dead yet. I still owe you two more meals, some museums, and various ponderous ponitifications (I just have to work around Girls Scouts, the Nationals for swimming, Div2 baseball, and whatever else Yoonhi has the kids signed up in). Cheers, Peter

Best yet, talk someone into doing the driving, and try to recreate Spirit of The West's The Crawl! from the Troller to the Raven....

Peter, With the East Coast fiddleheads, are you boiling them just to kill the bacteria, or do they come with some toxicity that has to be heat treated like the West Coast variants. Fiddleheads are a flavour I miss. We used to get them from the old Korean grannies that would scour Central Park in Burnaby for them. Cheers, peter

Zora! Pictures (if you can) of the Italian club! And descriptions of the pork products! I'd always thought the best pork roasts I've ever were in Cairo. I'm not certain if it's the breed of animal, or the fact that they were raised by the zeballi'in in the garbage pits...which happened to be next to the cemetery...... Oh, and I wonder if Mermaid still does their pizza "crispy". Yoonhi ordered one that way when we first arrived in '86, and they gave her a pizza, then crumbled potato chips on top. Cheers, Peter

Oh, and keep an eye out in late July/early August for Caskival. It's been held at Dix the last couple of times. I missed it last year, and I won't be back to North America this year, but it made for a great way to find out what the brewing boys are up to, and puts you in a fine fettle for the evening.

Milady, I couldn't get a decent shot of that watermelon (and as is it's pretty grainy) without my ugly mug in there (and I was too lazy to get artistic with photoshop). The Coca-Cola spaghetti was just too cool an idea not to want to eat it. Like the thread on deep fried Coke last year. I found it a bit "granity" on my part, I'd been expecting something more...well...fizzy, but it was still a nice finishing note. Chufi, Unfortunately, our time is almost run out, with only one more day to chronicle on the trip. And I find now that I'm pressed to finish...or at least get onto the next day and upload more pictures, as the number of photos attached to this thread has hit the number 666, and I've noticed Scud's head starting to rotate (the gathering of ravens has been going on for years)! Cheers, Peter

I've always been fond of the Railway Club. There's generally a good selection of the local breweries about. You could also check out www.dipsophilia.com for the Vancouver beer scene.

As a side comment, there is a very big push by Indian and Asian restauranteurs in the West to develop a wine culture around their cuisines. This came up when I was talking with Cyrus Todiwalla a couple of years back. This is in part simply a matter of "wine is good", but also in part is very much a matter of economics. If you can move a lot of wine, you're going to be looking at a much bettter balance sheet at the end of the night.

I've been to a lot of wine events in Asia, and I find their palates are as good (or better), and their enthusiasm is far higher. Part of it is that these wines are significantly more expensive in many parts of Asia, due to abusive tax structures (such as Thailand), or oddly canted (such as Singapore where you are far better off amortizing your tax load by buying expensive wines). So, those who enjoy wine have to be committed to the pursuit. For China, I saw very well stocked wine cellars with a good range of wines; the very expensive to the serviceable. And several of the Chinese whites that I had (The Dragon Seal Reserve, the Grace) were very good matches for the cuisine (but I'd like to see a Gewurtz). About me I heard what may have been local diners (but that is an assumption) carefully choosing their wines, and making far better comments than I could make about the flavour pairings. Sheesh! No one's excited that the Americans are buying high end sakes from Japan, nor are they making comments about "how they must be putting shots of sake in beer".....although that does sound sort of interesting......

Day 21 - When The Lights Go Out One thing we’d been sorely lacking this trip was night life. Okay, we had a couple of walkabouts in Yangshuo, eating out with Java in Chengdu, and the lakeside bars in Guilin, and there was the Mini Bar a couple of nights ago…….the Glamour Bar……Absinthe at I Love Shanghai……. But what I mean to say was that we hadn’t indulged in a proper smoky-room-crowded-with-people-listening-to-the-blues sort of evening. That sort of thing. And we were running out of time. This was our last night. Still on a high from Jade on 36, I told the cab to take us to the Cotton Club. Our cabbie said something which I have no physical capability of identifying or repeating. Luckily, I’d had the people at Jade on 36 write out the address for me, so I pushed this through the cage to the driver and babbled on happily to Yoonhi. The streets of Shanghai still go dark and quiet at night. It wasn’t all that late, perhaps pushing eleven, but it was real, real still out there. Yoonhi was growing concerned that our destination, on a Sunday night, might not even be open. Our fears were put to rest as soon as we pulled up in front of the Cotton Club, one of Shanghai’s oldest live music venues (disregarding the Peace Hotel’s Jazz Bar. I did say “music” not “orchestrated wheezing”). This is not to indicate that there were crowds of well-heeled sophisticates thronging the door, but rather that the beggards appeared out of nowhere demanding alms. Once through the door, though, we’d brushed them off, and I found myself in a happy place. A nice, dark bar. With a band. We found a table, ordered some martinis, and commenced dissecting dinner while tapping our fingers to the music. The Cotton Club has a long standing house band, with people coming in and then heading out as time goes by. This night there was a very solid female singer, with that sort of voice for the blues that you only get with a few hundred pounds behind it. And she had the big woman happiness about her that let her control the house, cheerfully interacting with customers that were either getting more drinks, or heading out to get some sleep before work the next day (“Where you goin’? Somebody, shut the door!”) It was a reasonable crowd for this time of the night on a Sunday. Lots of suits, with ties in suitable stages of disarray. About a 40/60 split on Asians and Westerners (in Shanghai, there’s no clue anymore on who’s an expat. Most of the customers looked like they belonged). Tapping my fingers, bouncing my toes, I talked over our dinners and meals, drinks and debauches. We were coming up on our last day, and we’d been on the road for three weeks. Not the longest of trips, but one with a lot of moves. But, every spot we’d been in had been worth visiting, in one way or another. Shanghai was appealing to me, though. Like Bangkok, there’s something about this town that makes me want to live here. The restaurants, the buzz, the clubs, and an inverse element to the size. Reading a lot of the mags, talking to people in the restaurants and bars; as large a city as it is, there’s a certain feeling of community about it that I like. Would I put it ahead of Bangkok? Hard to say. Give me another dozen trips here, and then I’ll make up my mind. The band played their last number, and we stomped, yelled, and made enough noise to get three more songs played. It probably helped to yell “lock the door!” when they tried to leave. I ordered another martini. Next: The Most Correct of Male Geese

Peter, One of my best friends, and the man who taught me how to eat well, was from Halifax, so I have the highest of expectations! But the Shad Bay google data didn't include the number of pubs! Cheers, Peter (Man, that's a tidy spice rack)

A good bit of salmon skin rolled in a maki, or the crispness of a kingfish where the skin's been quickly fried, and then turned over to let the flesh braise in olive oil........ And why would it not be healthy? Are they worried about the subcutaneous layer of fat? But fish fat is generally not considered a health risk.

Ah, sweet gluttony! Nicely done.

Note: this was a very striking meal, so I asked, and they very graciously consented, to provide some decent images for those cases where my low light shots just didn’t do justice. Obviously, all copyrights and such belong to them. (And a special thanks to Veronica Lee at Jade on 36 who took care of all of this!) The Colour of Jade The lotus is one of Buddhism’s most significant symbols. It’s roots are in the mud, while it’s flower blossoms above. When open, it is a symbol of enlightenment. When closed it holds the potential for enlightenment. Jade on 36 was open. This one was on the list. Of the small group of people I know in Shanghai who are in the business, Jade on 36 at the Shangrila was the one they considered a “must-eat”. “Paul Pairet is doing wonderful things in Shanghai,” they said. We arrived by cab. I’d had grand ideas of getting the ferry across the Huang Pu. My grand ideas generally get countermanded for the better. The taxi dropped us off with a couple of minutes to spare; just in time to be shown to the elevator, and to ascend to the 36th. What a great room. It’s a good compliment when the design of a room can hold up against the view of the Bund that you have from here. This is the work of Adam D. Tihany, who was also responsible for Keller’s Per Se, Le Cirque, and a host of other fine eating spots. As you’ll read in the literature, the entry is through a sculpture of a deconstructed rice bowl, a blue steel lattice work with fanciful grains of rice lighting things from above. Hang a right, walk a bit more, and then we found ourselves gliding through and down the few steps into the lower level of the dining room. Overhead there’s a nice origami-like effect meant to be the folds of imperial robes. Pretty. We sat by the window. Clean design, subdued, and everything feels in place. We adjusted ourselves and considered the cartes. I felt like a white (wine, that is) and in particular I was in a Kiwi mood. They had a Cloudy Bay on the list, but this proved to be finished. I went instead for a Mudhouse from Marlborough, but that was done. Finally we found a sister Marlborough – the Montana, a sauvignon blanc – to quench my thirst. Okay, at this point I do admit that the view from ouside took over and held onto me. As you’ve probably figured out if you’ve been following this thread, there’s something mesmerizing about the Bund at night. Is it just that it’s such an anomaly – both in time and space - amidst the bustle of modern China. I mean, really, these are just old bank buildings like we’d find in Vancouver, or Melbourne, or London. But there’s something about where and when they are, with the light playing upon them at night, that makes them something more. I put away such imponderables (well, actually I can spend a lot of time being ponderous), and we took our amuse bouche, a foie gras bon bon. This was a pretty little thing of foie gras wrapped in a caramel coat, with a shot of champagne hot foam on top of Chinese herbals, tea, and honey. The foie came out perched upon a neatly geometric lever assemblage, the caramel sparkling in the light. The shot was a good little glass; the amber tea concoction under a solid toque of white champagne foam. I took the foie, and then drained back the shot. The herbals took me by the nose hairs before I could get the dram in my mouth proper, and reminded me of some of the really nice things I’d had in Singapore the year before. The foie gave a good crisp, and then that smooth fat took over. The sardine mousse and raisin bread came early on the heels of the amuse. This was very nicely emulsified, light and airy on the raisin bread, cheerfully served up in a sardine tin much prettier than the ones I recall – the pull tab jauntily acting as a backstop to the bread. There was a hint of lemon zest or lemon grass to this. The Kumamotos arrived naked of their shells, scantily dressed with ponzu granite and a slice of pickled ginger to allow them to retain their modesty, the vinegary taste of sunimono catching my teeth and going with the phlegmish consistency of the oysters that I like (and miss) so much. Yoonhi’s Tuna and Yellowtail Dandelion Sashimi was a nice conceit (and I wish the photo had worked – in general, I tried to avoid using flashes here). The sashimi came out atop a long stick, with a dainty ginger foam emulating the dandelion in full, allergy challenged manner. (Yoonhi wouldn’t let me blow it). Our menus converged at this point, with both of us getting to have the passion-choco foie gras opera, a recreation of the classic opera cake, pairing chocolate and foie gras together, with passion fruit and port wine jelly, and a touch of peanut. (I love peanut with foie gras - Sarah Schafer did a wonderful thing at the WGF in Bangkok last year when she put peanut butter with a nice piece of pan fried foie). There seemed to be a bit of truffle there, too, on top of the chocolate with the salt crystals. (photo courtesy of Jade on 36) What’s not to like about this dish? It’s pretty, it’s fatty, and it has chocolate! I savoured each bite, and then looked expectantly at Yoonhi’s still only three quarter eaten piece…..but she had a knife. I took a moment here to notice that not only is the Bund lit up at night, but so too is the Old Town. It was going to be hard to leave this city. (photo courtesy of Jade on 36) Yoonhi had Bread next; truffle burnt soup bread. Great smell and flavour. The foam was a truffle meuniere, soft on the palate. The truffles they’re using are coming from the north of China, lacking the hard earthiness of a Perigord, very close to the ox livers that I’d been eating in Chengdu. The bread was cooked in a mushroom soup with the Chinese truffles. This was finally coated with “burnt bread butter” which is “bread roasted until it is nearly burnt, ground to a powder and mixed with burnt butter, salt and pepper” which reminds me strangely of rice powder from Luang Prabang. Completely different flavours, I know, but still….. For my part, I had the consommé; Beef Irish Coco Strata – which appeared as an Irish coffee, topped with what looked to be salmon caviar. In this I was mistaken. What it was was a cognac caviar, which had set and gelled for hours. There was a lot of ginger in the coconut chantilly on top, and I came away with a Thai feel to things. This worked very well. Okay, I was a little put off that it wasn’t a big bowl of ikura on the side that I could munch down on, but the sharp flavour of the XO cognac set in these pearls worked very well against the Thai smoothness in the “cream”. Next up was the spiny lobster for me. Unfortunately, this is another one where I was at the mercy of my consideration of others. Fortunately, this is another case where Veronica came through with the goods (at least of the lobster itself). (photo courtesy of Jade on 36) A good piece of lobster - blushing red from a pan searing – with “a Chinese doughnut crouton and béarnaise” to give it a hat (not in this picture, though). I’ll describe it. The crouton is a pretty thing, the béarnaise riding atop like a chef’s toque. It had been deep fried (it is a crouton) with some balsamic. The lobster was wrapped in a sheet made from setting the reduced broth with agar. (photo courtesy of Jade on 36) Meanwhile, my darling wife had made out like a bandit. Mason jars. The sort of thing you use for carny sideshows. I’d never thought of cooking in one. I don’t know if this is Paul Pairet’s oldest dish, but he pulled this off in 1996 when he was working in Sydney. The website has this as “the most copied dish” and I can see why. I want to copy it. I had to suppress desires to run back to the Shanghai Natural History Museum and clean out some of their displays for cooking aids. This is one case where I’ve used both pictures. The one Veronica provided for me gives a much better representation of the dish. But….there’s something sort of Twilight Zone (or maybe Night Gallery) about the look of this shot. Anyways, this is a neat way to cook. It’s basically a down-south approach to pressure cooking. Put the ingredients in a jar, lock the seal down, and then steam it. This makes sense, as the steam’ll give a soft heat, so you don’t worry about cracking the glass. And working with something like a prawn, you don’t have to cook too high or too long. Yoonhi had one major complaint, a very Korean thing, and that was that the prawn was not deveined. I’d be tempted to either do a Nigerian-airport style extraction (“happy spelunking”, says Scud) or else butterfly, extract, and then suture it back together with lime leaves or something. The approach is very Thai. The prawn is skewered on a lemon grass stalk, which is something I’ve been doing regularly for the last year. The skewer keeps the prawn from curling, and then you get the direct transfer of the lemon zest smell to the prawn meat. With the fluids trapped in the jar, you get the citrus juices from the bottom and other aromas infused in the prawn meat. (one of many great lines in the Fire Fly series, when confronted with proof of aliens in a mason jar; “cow fetus?” “Yup”) Okay! What could top cooking in a mason jar? Cooking in a baggie!…..Okay, I still like the mason jar more. What Paul was doing here was to take a classic Chinese dish (which I’ve had many times over the years) – Black Cod – and do a different take on it. So he’s gone with a roasting bag, and used that to seal in the flavours; soy, anise, and sesame. It tasted like there was some shitake in there, too. Again, this is something that I’d want to do at home. What I want to try is a Thai hor mok trapped in a bag. I pondered some more. A controversial issue. What is genius? Is it the quantum leap that moves from here to there simultaneously? Or is it the incremental stepwise movement? Last year I went through Paco Rancero’s class in Singapore, and I came away with things that were fascinating, and amusing, but, as deBono says in describing the essence of humour, “once you see the false door opened, it is apparent”. Which is why much of the molecular gastronomy movement always feels either exhausted, or demonically possessed. For my part, I can work with possessions (it is 9 parts of the law, after all). I find in Pairet’s work a closer parallel to Sam Mason and what’s happening at WD50. It’s not just “shock”, but there’s food behind this. I was not only amused by what I ate, but I was getting full. And when you’re full, you’re happy. The meat was coming up, so I figured we should order a red. The fact that we’d finished the white had nothing to do with it, I swear. I went with a cabernet sauvignon from Concho Y Toro. I’ve gone through their wines twice in tastings, and they’re generally good value. The Don Melchor did very well in the tastings then, so I figured it was a safe bet. (photo courtesy of Jade on 36) We’d moved from the Jetsons to the Flintstones. Beef short rib teriyaki presented on a bone to make Fred and Dino lustful. The banner on this was “braised meat that tastes like a roast”. To this end, it had been braised for a half day and lacquered with a “teriyaki-style” glaze, orange reduction, and served with lightly truffled, very thin mashed potatoes and some perky greens; asparagus and mangetouts. Nice flavour, and the Don Melchor cab was a pleasant partner. The meat separated well from the bone, and both the teriyaki and orange came through. Good. I just wish there was enough to cover the whole bone. Meanwhile, Yoonhi had her shwarma (we disagree here on the spelling, but I stand by the Gulf Arab transliteration). A New Lamb Shawarma. They used a lamb terrine, zaatar, goat cheese, some lamb-braising liquor, and “shawarma sauce”. And then it’s contained in a taco shell of crispy goat cheese. This with a Med-type mix of cuc’s, tomatoes, onions, parsley, and mint. This is not like the shawarmas we have here. It’s much more like a medley of the Middle East’s greatest hits, hitting upon the goat cheeses that we can find, and the taste of lamb. Funnily enough, while I’ve had zaatar for years, this is the first time I considered the ingredients – thyme, sesame, and olive oil. To me it had always been the “stuff inside those flat breads we get at the office every Wednesday”. And that’s not to disparage this. It was good. This’d be fun anywhere. Next was a palate cleanser – a tribute to Chinese food snacks - frozen watermelon on a stick. A snack has to come on a stick. This was worked with Aussie dessert wine, basalmico, and vanilla. It arrived at rest, inverted, cuddled against an ice cube in a flute. Taking a nibble, I found it like a sorbet, but with a greater flavour. I always liked Keller’s approach. He looks for the familiar in our past, and tries to bring it back. Here, Paul Pairet has recreated one of my favourites from university days – spiked watermelon. Yes, this is somewhat more refined than everclear poured through a hole in the rind, but it still brings back memories……Hmmm…do I have many memories of what happened after one of those? Our meals coincided again after this. We were moving into desserts, with a Lemon & Lemon Tart. They’d taken a whole lemon and candied the skin, and removed the guts, replacing them with a lemon sorbet, lemon curd, a piece of grapefruit, and a vanilla chantilly with a lemon sablee, just to make certain that you tasted some lemon. (photo courtesy of Jade on 36) When the dish arrives, you see a translucent lemon skin, orange from the candying, topped by the long, rectangular cookie resting atop. I had to disturb this Picasso-esque montage to roll the lemon over and see where the skin had been holed, and the corpse reinvested. They let the skin sit for 3 days in sugar water, and then air dry it. Once this is done, they can treat it as a shell and refill it. Normally you would just cut it into strips and boil it, which is what I’ve done in the past. The filling was fine, but it was the skin I loved. I ate the plate down to the bone (china), and then eyed Yoonhi’s dish. From here we moved to the finales. Yoonhi had the Mango, Liquorice, and Dill. This was a sable tuille, passion fruit curd, mango, and liquorice gel, with a dill syrup. A construction that worked remarkably well, highlighting the natural goodness of mangos. If a few days go by without a mango in our diet, we get edgy, and this was our first in weeks. When I’d first looked at the choices this next dish had decided the moment for me. Strawberry Coca Cola Spaghetti. The coke comes across a little granity, like a coke-ginger sorbet. There’s some balsamic in there, too, in the coca cola syrup. There’s also raspberries, and mint, which does a great job of cleansing your mouth. We lingered. We lingered and talked over the meal. First, we were full. There was neither nook nor crannie into which we were going to fit anything else. Second, we’d been having fun with every dish. A cross between magic tricks and honest comedy, where you laugh realizing you should’ve seen the answer coming. There’s a great deal of molecular gastronomy at play here, but not to where the two basic points of a meal are missed*. MG is a tool here, as it should be. There’s also a lot of work looking at the local ingredients, and trying to do the most with the flavours at hand, while not discounting the benefit that can be achieved by really fine foreign flavours. And the service had been very good. One of the tables nearby had had an issue of some sort with their wine. This was taken care of with neither fuss nor bother. And our intrusive questions were greeted with a great deal of equanimity, everything being answered, and never a feeling that we were intruding in the business. And, when leaving we were presented with a pair of sturdy little boxes, smartly wrapped. In each was a ganache stuffed financier – which, I do admit, sounds suspiciously like a Wall Street broker on a chocolate binge. Now I want to come back for the Rose and Mahogany menus. * - The first point of a meal is that the hungry should be fed. The second point is that eating should make you happy. I was content with Paul Pairet on both counts. (And the restaurant is so darned pretty). Next: Shut the Door!

To paraphrase Samuel Johnson "No, Sir, when a man is tired of mangos, he is tired of life"

That's Ihsan Gurdal's place isn't it? He ran some of the best classes I've ever done, covering cheeses, olive oils, and balsamics. If you go there, please write about it! (and if he's got the Tristar goat cheese, with extra fat worked in, have some!)

Given the fact that the only source of income in the picture is a fishing boat, and it hasn't budged at all with the seasons....it definitely has to be the Maritimes somewhere. It could be Chromedome in NB, but this has more of a Newfie feel to it.

Interlude With lunch literally (I can't say figuratively - our figures are long since shot) under our belts we decided to take a stroll down Memory Lane and check out the Portman. We had a lead from M that there might be a shop there selling the Mandarin Caviar, and we were keen to see if we could pick up a tub. It took awhile, with the cabbie getting a little lost at the beginning, but we finally pulled up in front of the gargantuan columns that support this combination hotel and residential complex. When we were here before it was the Portman Shangrila, and it was about the only place in town where an expat with a family could find a flat, and they were darned small flats, and darned expensive (we did see some nice places in the French Concession that were less costly, but in 1994 everything was expensive). It still looks much the same, but it’s filled out nicely with cafes and a good expat grocery store on the ground level. What it did not have, in either the grocery store or the nearby deli, was Mandarin caviar. Some lumpfish, but that was it. Oh, well. Yoonhi’s normally the fiend for museums, but I wanted to see MOCA. It’s a private museum in the People’s Square with a rotation of performing arts and multi-media presentations. I figured anything involving screens, remote controls, and interfaces would keep the kids and I content. It’s a good way to spend an hour or so. The displays were interesting, and they did get the kids thinking. One they were running was a contained centrifuge with images flashed up on walls as you spun about, strapped in. Only a few weeks before I’d strapped Scud into a chair with his eyes taped back and made him watch Clockwork Orange, so he appreciated the intent of this exhibit. We left humming Beethoven’s fifth. Upstairs - past the Mechano T-Rex - they had some phone things, including a pleasant, fairly serene video of people quietly enjoying themselves. This came with a number you could call (“Please dial this number to harass these people 1381 7794 345”) which would set off all their cells phones and have them madly scrambling to answer. After a minute, things would calm down again. I called. Repeatedly. Atop the museum we were searching for restrooms (that was a lot of champagne) when we came across their restaurant – MOCA Caffee (that’s how they spell it) and Ristorante Italiano. I can’t really make any comments on the quality of food, as we still weren’t up for a meal, but they had a great verandah, and it’s nice to see a gallery that’s permanently at the ready with chilled champagne (and a good selection). This was a Sunday, and outdoors we found (to the best of our guess) the Shanghai equivalent of Speakers’ Corner, with clusters and swarms of people arguing and discussing things, both in Chinese and in English. Lively, and I kept looking around for the surreptitious “listeners” but nobody seemed to be at all concerned. After a turn around the park we headed for the hotel, taking in the side streets as we headed for Suzhou Creek. This took us through the everything shops. Electronic supplies (resistors, bread boards), hardware, tools….and, oddly, everywhere there were abandoned playing cards littering the streets. Home at the hotel the kids were content to loot the supplies of beef and pork jerky we’d bought, washed down with softdrinks that were near boiling point from the convenience store nearby. Then Yoonhi and I put on our fancy duds for a dinner out. Next – Night and the City