Peter Green

How cool...I'd love to experiment along with you, but my market is plum out of camel meat! I wonder if you wrapped the meat inside some baking paper and then packed in the salt, if that would work. Is there much fat on camel meat? Braising would certainly work. I'm imagining fusion camel...camel ravioli....camel ragu.... ← parchment? That could do the trick. I took the leftovers this evening and did a red curry out of them. Typical Thai, with a hump. It turns out that we also had a hamour (grouper) so we had that steamed, and then finished it with green onion and coriander, with hot sesame oil poured on to finish, and some soy for salt. Rice, some steamed beans, and a good easy meal for a workday.

Like I say, I don't think I'll give up my day job just yet.

No problems! <cough! cough!> Tubercular?

More experiments. I picked up a kilo of camel shoulder on Friday, and put it in to marinade on Saturday. Today, Sunday, when I came home from work, I baked up three kg of salt, and then buried the meat in the salt with some fresh rosemary. I let this cook for around two hours, and then pulled it out. Problem one, the meat cooked differentially, and pulled up on one side, broaching the salt. This lost me some moisture. Problem two, it was difficult getting most of the salt off. However, as I was serving this with potatoes, this wasn't a big problem. It didn't look too bad once it was out, and plated, it was almost pretty, in an old shoe leather sort of way. It's not that the meat was bad, there was nothing wrong with it. But it tasted as it was, like a cheap cut of meat. Perhaps if I'd larded it, there would've been more there. In retrospect, this would do better as an oso bucco, as a braise. Now, having said all that, the beautiful part was the marrow. Jellied and wobbly, I spread this on my potato and pitied the poor family that wouldn't partake. What I really should do is go back and see if I can get some camel bones to work with for stocking and for marrow salads. Mind you, I may be dining alone.

It's sad to hear about the ban on game....still, Farmer's Choice is some of the best pork I've ever had. Now, my memories are from '96, when we spent a month in Kenya with our friends. Oft overlooked, Carnivore has a second restaurant around to the left as you enter. Ala carte, and not given over as much to the game and the bbq. Fantastic mushrooms, great dabbas, and a good dance floor for once the dabbas got the better of you. If I was going back today, I'd ignore the meat fest and go for their restaurant proper.

Hey, in that take-out pic, what are those white rolls with the brown sauce on it? ← Hi, Doddie! Starting from the top left, we have - corn and rib soup - rice - another container of the corn and rib soup (sorry, the flash just caught it at the exact angle of incidence) - below that is the one you were questioning(see below) - and finally in the bottom left is the braised pork Those "white rolls" are steamed slices of pork, topped off with a garlic sauce. They were very good, light on the palate, and juicy. The garlic wasn't too heavy, and Scud mowed through them in pretty good time (Serena didn't care, she had two things of soup). I should've put more effort into the shooting, but I was kinda enthusiastic about getting away for dinner. Cheers, Peter (sheesh! I've had to edit twice for glitches on my part!)

Hmmm, did you ever wonder if Scooby Doo was one of Astro's ancestors? (I suppose this might be considered slightly off-topic)

Day 18 – All Dressed Up With Some Place To Go Don’t get me wrong, I’d enjoyed the trip so far. But a trip, like a good meal, needs texture and contrast (roughage is another matter). Plus, if we didn’t use the silk jacket and long sleeve shirts I’d made Yoonhi pack, I was a dead man (she’s still miffed about stuff she had to pack for the Laos trip…..at least I didn’t bring the tux….) It was dinner at M On The Bund, but I thought we might begin the evening a little earlier. Martini had caught my eye when we’d passed it by in the morning. This looked like a perfectly civil place to relax for a bit. I ordered a martini, dry, Grey Goose, two olives, shaken. Yoonhi asked for the house special and was told it was the Dolce & Gabbiani (whose stores were fronting the bar). This was Absolut vodka, strawberry, lime, and honey. A perfectly serviceable martini. I flip between gin and vodka as my preference. If they’d had an interesting gin (they were limited to the usual suspects; Gordon’s, Sapphire, Tanqueray, and Beefeater) I might’ve gone with that instead of the Goose, but this would do. Yoonhi’s was “alright”, but hardly lived up to the riches promised by the name. I have trouble giving too much credence to these gratinated pulpy things they try to lable as martinis. Suave, oh so suave, I leaned back with a bread stick, took one bite, and sent a big chunk of it flying at the neighboring table (the only other occupied table in the place). I looked disapprovingly at Yoonhi, and took another (shielded) bite while admiring the bar. A pretty bar, and very well staffed. There was a staff of six working the place, all ninja-black clad and scurrying about fixing tables and pouring drinks. Being happy hour I took advantage of the situation to watch and film the bartender as he went through the ritual. As we worked through our second round, I noticed a growing traffic to the elevator. They were either heading up to Sens & Bund orTan Wai Lou. It seemed a little early (around 7:30) for Bar Rouge to be taking off yet (but you never know). We paid up and headed for Number 5. It’s fun going to restaurants in Shanghai. There’s always security on the front door, and you do really feel special when you separate from the sidewalk crowd and head in on official business. We were graciously received, and shown to our table, near to a window. The window tables themselves were taken, but we had a fine enough view from where we were (and that table didn’t fill for an hour). It’s not an extensive menu, but it had enough of a selection that I wasn’t too worried. Among other things they were offering pan-fried foie gras with pomegranate molasses; mud crab omelet on a crab bisque; and seared scallops and pork rilettes. What we went with were the twice cooked pigeon with boudin noir (I can never turn down a good bit of blood), and the Mandarin Beluga on a warm crepe Parmentier. I figured a pinot noir would be safe enough, and order a bottle of Berringer’s Founders Estate. They’ve been working the WGF in Bangkok the last couple of years, so I can give them my support. Orders in hand, we popped out to the balcony to wonder about George, Jane, Judy, and Elroy. The robot housekeeper was named Rosie, but I can’t remember the Jetson’s dog’s name for the life of me. I’d mentioned earlier that M is considered the pioneer of fine dining in Shanghai. It all started when Melbourne-born Michelle Garnaut was cooking in the Peace in 1996. She saw more in Shanghai then than I had a couple of years earlier, and she set about starting up a business here to rival what she’d done in Hong Kong with M At The Fringe. 1999, and M On The Bund was open for business, and she was told that no one, but no one, would come all the way down to the Bund for dinner. That was then. In 2001 she opened the Glamour Room and Bar alongside the restaurant. And now, the Bund is getting crowded with very good restaurants. An open space. Lots of clear fields of vision, so you get the benefit of the view from wherever you may be sitting. Nothing too frilly about it, and not cramped. The path to the terrace is kept open so that guests can get up during the meal (as did we) to take the spring air. They’re used to this behaviour, so our waiter was able to come out and advise us that our starters would be here soon. This gave us just enough time to sit down before our plates came to the table. The pigeon was, as advertised, very crisp on the skin, and very juicy in the flesh. The boudin had that sword-edge taste of iron that I like in blood products, and so met with my full approval. But Yoonhi’s dish was excellent. This was Mandarin Beluga. Smaller eggs than traditional Beluga, and not quite as soft. But the flavour was fine, and then serving size was more than fine. This was like being back in Moscow, except there was none of this fluff of trying to stretch the eggs out with onions and such. The caviar is coming from Chinese white sturgeons, from somewhere over on the Russian border. Our waiter, Jack (from Inverness) filled us in on this. I snagged another spoonful of this from Yoonhi, and contemplated an order for dessert. Appetizers done, we wandered back outside to enjoy the Bund. Our mains showed up. I’d ordered the salt (rock) encrusted slow baked leg of lamb, with a warm salad of asparagus, morels, and roasted roots; dressed with lemon, parsley, and capers. This came very wet, a nice jus to sop into the potatos underneath the vegetables. There was also some fig, which set nicely against the strength of the lamb, and some beets that tasted like they’d been sitting in some alcohol for awhile. The only down side was that I was now kicking myself over having gone with the Pinot Noir. The lamb basically walked up to it blindside and bludgeoned it into the background. I should’ve done the Malbec. There’s nothing like a vicious little Argentinian to put some Kiwi sheep in its place. The pork was just plain pretty. Crisp, crisp, crisp skin on the suckling pig, with saffron braised cabbage, creamy mashed potatoes, and a bath of mustard sauce. The restaurant moved well, and I liked the attitude I saw from the expats working there. They were basically filling in the edges. If a table wasn’t bussed quickly enough, if a wine wasn’t brought out when it needed to be, our man Jack and his counterparts were in there and making certain that everything moved as it should. This is what expat staff should be doing. Finishing off the main courses, we contemplated our happy fate. Everything on the trip had had enough variety to keep us enchanted. And finishing the trip in Shanghai gave a nice, luxurious finish to things. Which brought us to dessert. Normally, I’m not one to indulge in sweets. I’m as happy to make do with an armagnac and coffee at the finish, rather than puddings and cakes. But this seemed like the time to go whole hog, and so after considering our options, we just said, “What the ….” And ordered their Grand Dessert Platter. This consisted of a raspberry sorbet; a chocolate nougat with strawberries; poached vanilla beans and served with almond toast; Om Ali (one of the few things I liked about Egypt); Savarine (a yeasty Romainian cake with rum and syrup); tarte tatins; a chocolate syrup cake with lime and candied zest; M’s Pavlova (which Yoonhi approved of; a healthy dollop of ice cream; and probably one or two other things I’ve misplaced in my memory somewhere (it gets awful dusty in there…..) And, seeing as we were going over the top (we were full after the first two courses), I figured we might as well have another wine. I chose the Brown Brothers – an Orange Muscat from Australia. A civilized way to wrap up an evening. It wasn’t late, so obviously, after these many weeks, Yoonhi and I needed to do the rounds. First stop was the Glamour Bar, just one floor down. Ms. Garnaut opened the Glamour Room & Bar alongside of M in 2001, but within a few years it had outgrown its space and moved downstairs in 2006, sprawling out over that floor. It looks good. Dark light. A lot of red. Space, but broken up by pillars that it’s easy to hide behind, and lots of balconies to sneak out onto and gaze at Pudong or the Bund. Yoonhi and I went back to martinis – drinks, not the bar - Gordon’s for me, Absolut for Yoonhi. The crowd looked good, although there was the odd shabbily dressed tourist about, looking uncomfortable with cameras slung about neck (I can be such scum, I know). The room had a good pulse and I was quite enjoying myself. After another round there, we ventured into the night. The lights of the Bund were now off, but we navigated the sidewalk easily enough, aiming for Rouge Bar, but stepping past it altogether. Instead, we found ourselves at the Peace. For old times sake, we stopped in to see if the old guys had lived through their last cardiac moments or not. They hadn’t it seemed. Everyone in the band looked a lot younger than they should have, based upon our visit of thirteen years ago. The fellows up front only looked like they were in their 60’s, rather than their 80’s. But what was confusing was that they still played just as poorly. There was that painful wheezing, and blustered attempts at solos that fell apart after a hacking cough or two. A waiter came by to inform us that we had to pay some astronomical cover charge if we wanted to have a drink. Yoonhi and I conferred for about….oh….three seconds, laughed outrageously, and walked out. We considered our options. I pointed out that there were plenty of good clubs in the French Concession. Yoonhi pointed out that it was getting well on into the next day, and we did have two kids. Plus, we had whiskey in the room. She always wins. We returned by taxi (seeing as I’d refused to spoil the black lines of my clothes with such travesties as a warm coat). I settled in for a long, peaceful sleep. Next: The Plague Years

Day 18 – Change The Beat Awakenings Ah, the joys of sleep. To lie carefree in a bed and not have to be on a tour or at an airport or in a class. I was up at 6 as usual. We had internet access, although there were some problems with uploads (for which I figured I could use the business centre). I went online to find out about the oddly named Pacican Restaurant around the corner from us. It seems this is a Canadian owned operation, whose primary business is placing English teachers. As an offshoot, they also opened this restaurant, and are working on pushing some Canadian ingredients (halibut heads in particular). Nothing particularly wrong with this, and the menu looks okay, with braised Xucha looking interesting (edible frog’s oviducts); octopus and ribs soup with lotus; and braised pork and chestnut sauce. The rest of the family arose in stages; Scud, then Serena, then Yoonhi. I took the kids down for another bout of suffering in the dining room, was joined by Yoonhi, whom I passed Serena onto, and then returned to the room to prepare for the day. First were reservations. I made a booking for two at M for the evening. Second was the gear. Batteries charged, phones charged, notebooks and pens. This was becoming a circus of preparation. As a note for the modern traveler, I think the day has come where we need to start traveling with power strips. Now that we’d come to rest in a place with enough outlets, I started counting how many things had to be plugged in. Three phones, two videos, one digital camera, one Gameboy, the laptop, the anti-mosquito chemical warfare kit…Definitely time for a power strip. We hadn’t been lied to about the distance to the Bund. We were actually only about half an hour away by foot, so we didn’t worry about a taxi. I take that back. We worried about the taxi for coming back, as I’d been very stressed out about this the night before. What we did is have the desk write-down the name and address in characters about an inch high. Now the cabbies would be able to read it. For my part, I practiced pronouncing Wu Song Lu. If that failed, I’d ask them for a beer. The daytime view of Pudong wasn’t as cool as the night. You lose the Jetson’s quality of the vista. (Oh, and to give credit where it’s due, the Jetson’s simile is something I’ve stolen from the guidebook we’d bought – Time Out Shanghai…2006 edition even! A great guide, as they’re as concerned about fun as they are about the “sights”.) It was a little hazy out today, hazier than the day before, but not so bad as to crimp our style. Somehow we slid by the Shanghai Land Subsidence Monitoring Show without Yoonhi making us go and watch. I shouldn’t be so critical, though. With around 4,000 skyscrapers now, the metropolis is sinking into the swamp under its own weight. We crossed over to the Huang Po side of the street, to give us a better view of both Pudong and the Bund proper. We were early enough onto the Bund that the crowds weren’t too bad, and we had a pretty good view. We toyed with the idea of taking the tourist tunnel to Pudong…we toyed with that idea for all of about a minute. We’d read stories about the Time Tunnel like effects, and the sheer pointlessness of the thing. This had a certain attraction, but we decided we’d put our time to more productive uses, like finding places for dinners. (Unfortunately, it meant we’d miss out on the sex museum. Oh well, you have to have priorities). Once we were a little beyond the tunnel, the crowds started to thin out, and by the time we’d made it down to Yanan Lu and the crossover, we had the place pretty much to ourselves. This was our plan. To work down the Bund, starting with Number 1, which used to be the McBain Building. Number 2 was the old Shanghai Club, but the one we were interested in was Number 3. Number 3 was the first big pump of foreign cash into the Bund; the first building owned by a private group (The House of Three – a Hong Kong holding company). They went all out, using Michael Graves to redo the interior. We went around the corner, past the Armani entrance, and entered the way-too-cool elevator. I’ve got to mention the elevator. Dark. One solitaire spotlight casting an oval of light onto the dark, polished wood of the floor. This was an elevator that cried out for a black silk suit and sunglasses. (Yoonhi wouldn’t let me in the Armani shop). Working down from the top, there’s New Heights on the 7th floor, with the usual spectacular views looking down the Bund. This actually looked pretty workable for kids, with a wide, Australian feel to the menu. There’s Laris on 6 (David Laris had done well at Terence Conran’s Mezzo in London), with the Vault Bar, and a separate seafood bar that could be good for caviar. On the 5th floor there’s the Whampoa Club, with chef Jereme Leung. He was out in Bangkok at the end of April, where he’s consulting at the Oriental’s China House. There was a short interview with him in the Bangkok Post’s Real Time section, where he talked about his interests in Shanghai cuisine, and the search for the authentic side of things. I admire his dedication, but it seemed to me that there were already plenty of authentic Shanghai places in town (although nowhere near as pretty). He’s also working with Jean-George’s sommelier, Yvonne Chiong, on pairing wines with the different regional cuisines (and writing a book on it), so I suspect it would be well worth visiting. Also, he’s opening a new place soon in Beijing, which I may add to my next string of expense account meals. Then there’s Jean Georges on 4. They had some reasonable offers on for business lunches – Bento sets for only around 160 RMB, which covers your choice of four items (wait a second, didn’t we have a four course lunch in Guilin for 20 RMB?….). Down to three and there’s the Shanghai Modern Art Gallery, but this was closed to us as they prepared for a new exhibit. I hurried Yoonhi past the Evian Spa on the 2nd, and we were back with the rabble on the street. The next stop, across the street (where’s Number 4?), was 5 on the Bund, with the famous M On The Bund, “The Pioneer of Fine Dining” in Shanghai. We peeked in, and it looked great. Lots of space, and big verandahs to look out from. And the menu confirmed my choice for the evening (but more later). Below there’s the Glamour Bar, which I wanted to look in on later. And there’s the Moon Sha Teppanyaki place on the 3rd floor, and in the basement is 5, a pleasant looking bar with windows peeking out on the rich people’s shoes. This had been recommended as an easy place to do lunch with the kids, so we bookmarked this for later. Wandering down the street, I spotted the Fest Brewhouse - “The Shanghai Bund Brewage Co. Ltd” - just down Hankou Road. We ambled. Serena stopped for a photo opp with the replacement lions in front of the old Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank building (Serena’s on Stitt, the “cross one”, named for the then-manager of the Shanghai branch), and we’d go into the buildings we were allowed in, which included the offices above the HKSB. The entrance was just beyond the bank’s entrance, and we were drawn in by the ad for the Bonomi Cafe. This turned out to be hidden far back on the rear of the building. It took us awhile to get there, and it was somewhat intimidating, as every office seemed to have its own security camera for keeping an eye on the hallway. The Bonomi is a pretty little thing, leather chairs and a distinguished looking bar. But we weren’t ready for a sit-down yet. Past the Customs House at number 13, and then some more banks, and the oddly inappropriate Three Gun Chinese underwear store, which is just sort of “there” in the midst of everything. (“Three Gun”?) After that, my next point of reference was 18. Bar Rouge, which had a good reputation, and Sens & Bund, which was advertising an Easter Sunday brunch. Tan Wai Lou wasn’t a name I was familiar with, but had a very slick interior, clean wooden floors, and lots of straight lines. Their blurb is “new Chinese” with a Cantonese direction. They also had a separate Sake Bar ensconced in their midst, serving (obviously) sake and sushi. Martini didn’t make the sign, being really just their “elevator lobby” bar, but it was a great looking bar. And I’m a sucker for a good martini. We looked in on the Peace Hotel Annex and its Western Restaurant, and then crossed the street for old times’ sake to see how the Peace itself had fared. The old girl was actually in pretty good shape. The Jazz is still there. I was curious to see if any of the old guys we’d seen there in 1994 were still breathing (more later). There was the bizarre little kiosk, shack; the Outlet of Shanghai Tobacco Sales Network. As far as I could tell, they sold soft drinks. Like troopers, we finished our tour down the Bund, making it to the last of the historic buildings, the old British compound. From there we turned right around, and headed back up the street to Number 5. Not only did they have an acceptably kid-friendly menu, but they also had a pool table. The decision had really been made at that point. We ordered a remarkably humdrum menu. After weeks of the exotic, the kids loved it. Onion rings, fish & chips, cheeseburger, lasagna, and (hold-out that I am) a grilled eel bento. I had a pitcher of beer brought over, and the kids and I chalked up. It was a perfectly serviceable joint. And absolutely dead. I supposed they’d do a better business in the evenings, as they were set up for a live band. But for now, as Sheryl Crow says, “the bar was ours”. The onion rings were just “alright”. Not a spot on the ones we’d had in Yangshuo. And the cheeseburger was what Serena wanted, so I won’t complain. I also won’t use up a photo on them either. The same goes for the fish and chips. Good, but not memorable. The eel was good. (“Of course you say it’s good, you chose it”, pipes up Yoonhi). A thick cut, with the expected rich sauce to prep it against the rice (and this was good rice). And Scud’s lasagna was interesting. Pretty standard lasagna, but with salmon roe added to the topping for a bit of salt. (Like I say, if you run out of salt, you can always use caviar). Dessert for me was another beer; the kids went for banana splits. Yoonhi ordered the caramelized mango, and was pleasantly surprised at what came. This was much more of a warm, pudding like thing, with a lot of liqueur of some sort in there. It was very good, as Yoonhi says. Just not what she’d been expecting. After settling up, we made our move. The Shanghai Natural History Museum Yoonhi found the place. At first we followed the directions in the book, and it appeared that there was a new building of some sort that had taken its place. Scud and I daubed the tears from our eyes, and moved to console Yoonhi, but just then she spotted a trace of museum spoor across the road. And she was right. There are two reasons to visit this museum. The first reason: it’s a neat old building. It started off as the Cotton Exchange, but was turned into a museum back in 1950. If you look hard, behind the peeling paint, broken windows, and hand-augered holes for the standard masses of tangled cables, you can almost see a bit of the old beauty. A very small bit, but a bit. The second reason: once you’ve gotten past the ground floor with its dinosaurs and mastodons and such, and you get upstairs, it becomes a tour of “been there, ate that”. This was really fun. Scud, Serena, and I went exhibit by exhibit and talked about which of the items we’d eaten, and which looked like they’d be good to eat in the future. “We ate that. And that. And that!” The seafood all looked pretty good, the crabs and lobsters in particular. But they also a good selection of squid, fish, and clams on the menu….errr…display as well. And once we moved into the mammals, there was a whole Korean bbq to explore. Particularly funky, deer with fangs. You see one of these puppies comin’ for you, and you can feel justified in hauling out your armour piercing bullets. (I told Serena that it was Bambi as a wer-deer). And, for those items that couldn’t be firmly placed on a buffet table somewhere, at least you knew that they were fair game to go inside a bottle. Anything can go inside a bottle. Once again, Yoonhi wins. Having done it, we were all quite happy to have visited the museum. I’d have to say, for foodies, this is probably the second best museum in town (you’ll have to wait for a couple of days for our favourite). We taxi’d back to the hotel. The new cards worked like a charm. Home, we decided the time was ripe (as were we) for a swim. There was a pool. It was indoors. It was heated. It was open. It had water. Everything was as it should be under Heaven. We had to have swim caps. I gave up. Luckily, Yoonhi interceded and found out that, while the “nice caps” were 50 RMB each, the “not nice caps” made from cloth instead of plastic, were only 15. We went swimming. After that, the kids lounged while Yoonhi and I stopped in at Pacican to get them some dinner. We ordered a nicely braised bit of pig belly, some steamed pork with garlic sauce, and a corn and pork rib soup, all to take away. “Take away” was pushing the envelope a bit here, but after a one hour wait, we finally managed to get everything done up and ready to go. While this was going on, I tried a bottle of Kirin (which tasted much like everything else) and a Suntory (ditto). We settled the kids to their meal, dressed, and headed out on the town. Next: “So That’s What M Stands For?”

I'm sorry to be late in posting, but there's been a tragedy. My beloved 12" Apple Powerbook, Sasuke, was showing signs of age and infirmity. Yesterday, while attempting a disk verification and repair, it made a sound not unlike the noise Scud makes when I squeeze the pressure point on top of his foot, and then gave out a burning smell (Scud's smell is different). It's not the end of the world - all the photos and writing are backed up on the main computer - but it's still a sad, sad moment. I'll see if there's anything to be done, but I'm afraid it's the end of the road for Sasuke..... (of course, this is the perfect time to hit Yoonhi up for a new machine! )

This may sound a sin, but drop them into a Tom Yam Goong instead of the little eggplants. They sweeten the soup, and can make it much more comforting. (But don't tell my Thai friends I ever suggested this)

3 whip? what does it mean jo-mel? some animal inside I'm guessing it's not the alcohol with lots of snakes inside is it? ← LOL! Whip (?) = male animal organ 3 whips... 3 different kinds of animals used. The Chinese male-enhancement liquor. ← That's it! It has all kinds of things in it -- sea horse, stag, some kind of bird head, and mountain medicine Actually that ? is 'bu' ---- as in remedy. (not pu as in grape) My mistake. I had it when I was in Beijing, one time, but I don't remember the taste --- something like an after dinner wine. ← We found the DIY version called Hai Bao (see post 193 near the bottom of the page) at the airport leaving Guilin. I can't wait to put all this stuff together and amaze my friends!

Peter, thanks for the update on Shanghai. My last business trip there was also in June, 1994 and it was a visit to Dante's Inferno - the heat, the dirt, the dust, the smog...The Pudong area was in the early stages of construction then and from a high vantage point, all we could see was a forest of construction cranes through the dun coloured clouds of dust. Beijing was bad enough (maybe worse), but at least there was some historical attractions. ←

Thanks a million, Hiroyuki! I've loved following this, seeing the bits and pieces. And I have to visit the sake museum! Cheers, peter

Day 17 – Shanghai Delight I have sinned. For years I’ve bad mouthed Shanghai. You see, I saw it before. Back in 1994 I’d come out to consider an offer from some people who wanted me to start a business up for them. I came, I saw, I contracted a lung infection, and I left. The city then was filthy (I refer here to the miasma they called “air”). The infrastructure was non-existent. Traffic was a nightmare of bicycles. And everything was grey. Add to that housing at $10,000 a month, and a pretty abysmal outlook for my kid’s schooling, and we did not have recipe for success. On the bright side, I came away happier with what I already had. There’s a bright side to everything. But, since then, I’ve not had much good to say of Shanghai. However, things have been creeping in over the last few years. Tales of fashion, of subways, and of food. Especially of food. Finally, in Bangkok last year at the WGF, I spent some time with one of my friends’ relatives who was living in Shangai. I liked him, and trusted his opinion, so I figured it was worth a try. So, we tried. I love this town. It was a cautious start. We were picked up at Hongqiao Airport, the same old airport we’d arrived at before. I recognized the vacant immigration desks. After that we were picked up by Kyle. Kyle and our driver, Mr. Li, got us to our hotel in one piece. Traffic was better than before. The air was better than before. The hotel, however, was not. We were bunking at the Hang Sheng Peninsula, which, I assure you, has nothing to do with the Peninsula hotels of fame. We were on Wu Song Lu, conveniently located on the other side of a flyover that made direct access impossible. Still, it was clean and presentable, and they immediately upgraded our rooms to mini-suites, which afforded me the luxury of working on my computer without waking Yoonhi up. And it was, technically, in walking distance of the Bund. And we weren’t here for the hotel. We did a quick hose-down and then caught a taxi for Nanjing Lu. We started at the Peace Hotel, and walked up the street, aiming for the new (to me) section they had blocked off as a walking street. As a caution, the walking street is the home of roaming tourist buses, so keep an eye out not to be run over. As always, our primary concern was finding food. It appeared the best stalking grounds for this would be the streets leading off of the main drag. At our first foray, we found some steamed dumplings and a shwarma stand. Serena insisted on having a horrible looking shwarma. Yoonhi and Serena waited, and waited, and waited for the guy to finish with his customer. At the end, it just turned out to be his girlfriend. This was a pretty dubious looking shwarma, and Yoonhi had some concerns about Serena’s health. I was more concerned about it tasting bad. It did. (the dumplings, however, were very good. Nice and juicy). We staked out a couple of reasonable looking dives to eat at. Across the street I stared forelorn at the Nanjing Hotel. I’d considered staying there, but our travel people had said it was only a Two Star, and they wouldn’t recommend it. Looking it over from street level, I saw nothing wrong. Okay, it may be hot and cold running cockroaches inside, but the location was fabulous. We moved up Nanjing. And then I saw something good. A swarm. Shanghai is one of those places where a good restaurant draws a mob. Notice the distinction. These places have large, large numbers of people swarming them. This particular one was Shen Da Xheng. It looked like the crowd was lined up to buy some sort of green dumpling, or bun. Now, I’m a busy man. I’ve got serious loafing to get done. I’m not about to spend half an hour waiting in line for something. But what I could do is pay the exorbitant surcharge and eat inside. Except I didn’t see any green buns. Oh, well. We made do with a stewed brawn pig claw. This sounded like part of some mutant porcine Predator, but came out as a large mass of pressed pork bits. I believe some of those bits may have been meat. Tasty, with a strong flavour. We ordered the dumplings in soup mainly because everyone else in the place was eating this. They tasted like they had crab meat in them. Good broth, and nice filling. And I also ordered the crab stuffed steamed dumplings. When you bit into these they were really juicy, squirting liquid magma onto your lips. I was less enthusiastic and more careful in eating the next one. And I ordered a bowl of shredded eel noodle. I like eel, I do admit. This was fine, nice and slippery, although I think I liked the matching of texture of eel and noodle at the Shanxi Loft in Beijing a bit more. Now we were set. We had some food in our bellies, and we’d had a chance to rest our feet. That meant it was time to go and look for food. Up the street, past the “Nibe” store (our motto “Just Copyright Infringe It!”), and we stumbled onto a little piece of heaven. The Shanghai First Food Store. Ignore the Pizza Hut (I still haven’t forgiven them for that horrible “thing” in Chengdu). We were attracted first by Bee Cheng Cheng (at least, that’s what I’ve got written down), which makes pork jerky out at the front of the building. While Scud is a fan of dry jerkies, I’m fonder of these, just on the edge of juicy, and glistening with the fat coming out of the pork. Inside Shanghai First there’s a marvelous world of dried goods. There’s also Yang’s Fried Dumplings. Yang’s met my basic requirements of Shanghai dining. There was a mob. We found out later (when I shelled out for a guidebook) that it’s well known for it’s fried dumplings, but at the time we were – as ever – blissfully ignorant. They had photos up of their regular shop (located in Wujiang Lu) again with line ups stretching out and away into the distance. But I didn’t mind the queue here too much. There was plenty to watch. They had a crew of 7 madly working inside the cramped little stand; rolling, cutting, stuffing, pinching, and frying. What they produced was really pretty. A sprinkling of sesame seeds and green onion over a pale dough, and the bottom nicely browned, as if it’d been suntanning. Like back at Shen Da Xheng you get a viciously hot squirt of liquid when you bite in. Our book talks about how the Shanghainese use a bit of gelatin in the stuffing that works to create this inner broth in the dumplings that keeps them so moist. There was no room to be had close by the stand, so we took up station out by the garbage. I’m not fussy. We bit into the first, and allowed some of the steam to come out and for it to cool a bit. We were learning. We poked around the nuts and dried fruits and stuff for a bit more. I lusted after the cold hams that were on display, and then we decided we needed to eat more food. Yoonhi spotted a place up the stairs that looked interesting. Wu Da Nang. We just had a couple of cold dishes here. I considered a Suntory beer, but they had nothing cold (I know, I’m a sissy) so I opted for the Tsingtao. We had two dishes. One a pretty little thing of mushrooms; sweet and chewy, with a nice vinegar bite to them. There were some chilis on display, but they really didn’t do anything for the taste. It was much more a pickled mushroom flavour. And alongside that we had some pork trip, again pleasantly pickled (a state I try to attain in my more zen moments). Serena had been reasonably good (for Serena) so we decided we’d let her have what she wanted. (She can’t be my child). From here, we worked our way up Nanjing Lu towards the park, until we finally decided that it was getting too cold for the kids. I confidently pulled out my hotel card, and hailed down a taxi (after a few failed attempts). The taxi driver refused to take us there. I hailed another. He refused. This was getting bad. I decided we needed to get moving, so I got us back down the street a bit, and then decided we’d be better off shielded from the wind by the tourist bus. This got us to the other end of Nanjing. From there I got us to the piece hotel, and tried another taxi. No luck. I was getting very concerned, both about our freezing to death, and also about our being in a hotel that no one would go to. Then I looked at the card, and realized that the print was way too small for any cabbie to read in the dark. I popped into the Peace Hotel and had them rewrite the name of the hotel in big letters. Outside, a cab picked us up, I said Wu Song Lu, showed him the card, and we were on our way home. Back at the Hang Sheng, we left the kids in a warm room, and Yoonhi and I went out to reccy the neighborhood. It seems we were in a fairly seedy area. This would’ve been okay, except that it was also generally lacking in restaurants. There was one place around the corner that got our attention – Pacican. We noted it, and then headed up the street to the lights. What we found was a fairly lively area of Muslim street eats and massage parlours. I don’t think these were the type Yoonhi was interested in. We continued through these until we hit the main street, and discovered a movie theatre. Every film playing had been included in the in-flight movie system of our Emirates aircraft on the way over, or else on flights from the previous year. I crossed off the “night at the movies” for Scud. Nearby were some reasonable looking places. Peanut shells on the floors, cases of beer, and lots of crawfish for sale. There was some hope. And then we found ourselves in a residential area across from a hospital. We circumnavigated this and headed for home, with just a pit stop at the local 7-Eleven for some near boiling beers (the stuff in their cooler was hotter than the stuff on the shelves). I checked my ears, nose, and throat, and found nothing to complain about. This wasn’t the same city I left 13 years ago. Next: Putting On The Ritz

Just found this topic, Peter, and am still getting caught up. Great writeup, so far. Fascinating stuff. Ahem, anyway, I've fallen back on a similar line myself, when talking to those in the various drink related industries. I'm an "enthusiast". System Administrator by day, Cocktail Enthusiast by night. ← Thanks, Eje! The final dinner was Santi Santamaria's. I've got it in a separate thread. Cheers, Peter

Sichuan peppercorns. Definitely bring those back. If she tries one, and her face goes numb, she's got the right stuff. Xi'an has a lot of good dried fruits and nuts at the market near the Muslim quarter. Plus, it's the only place we saw the Iraq's 52 Most Wanted playing cards for sale. In Shanghai, the Shanghai First Food Store was fun. Of course, you could get her to find you a nice bamboo rat.......

Follow-up time! Asiacuisine had details in this issue on Brewerkz at the Australian International Beer Awards in Melbourne. Scott Robertson (Saskatchewan, not Toronto....man, I'm in trouble over that) and his team took home a gold, two silvers and a bronze award. They took the gold for their Hopback the traditional English with a secondary ferment. This must've done better in the Melbourne climes, as I wasn't as impressed in the Singaporean sauna that I had it in. I was very pleased to see that they took silvers for the IPA and the XIPA. The XIPA in particular I thought was a stunning (in several senses) brew, and it's probably one of the main reasons (along with the Moh Gwai) for me looking forward to a return to Singapore. The bronze award went to the oatmeal stout entry, which is a reasonable placing. Now, let's put that in context. This was out of 938 beers entered in the competition, from 130 different brewers. Not bad, guys!

Day 17 – A Farewell to Alms Everyone was sleeping, at least everyone in my family. I slid out with the cameras and took some last filler. It’s a pretty place, and once you get outside of the city limits it gets to be a really pretty place. But I wasn’t particularly comfortable here. Odd, as they had decent bars, and were used to catering to foreigners. Perhaps that’s the crux of the matter. I don’t necessarily want to be catered to as a foreigner (then I should learn more putonghua than just “give me a beer”, I know). I kinda like being ignored. But Yangshuo, beyond all the good things (like laundry), had a begging culture. You were constantly being hit on for sales, services, or just plain “gimme”. One of my least favourite aspects of India, having people hanging off of you. And there was, perhaps, a little too much of that in Yangshuo. I returned to find Yoonhi astir, Scud at the computer, and Serena dead to the world. We woke her up, and finished our packing. Then it was downstairs to get some food of dubious quality into the kids while I checked out. The last thing I was going to do was go near their breakfast again. And I was justified. Behold the look in Serena’s eyes. These are the eyes of a little girl who’s been traumatized by gruesomely prepared bread products. Stop them before they they bake again! Sorry. The airport was two hours away over rough roads. This was the only time while driving in China that I felt uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough that, while Mr. Li was driving, I was looking around to see if there might be some seatbelts I’d missed. No such luck. We pulled into the backside of the airport, and Pam and Mr. Li got us to departure. We were flying China Southern. China Southern must’ve remembered me from when I’d used them back in the 90’s. I remember sitting in my seat, listening to the stewardesses working their way up the aisle to me, the only Westerner on board. “Would you like tea or coffee?” “Would you like tea or coffee?” “Would you like tea or coffee?” When they finally got to me I asked for water and they had a melt down. So, they were out for revenge. We were 4 kg over on our weight allowance. We were charged 100 Yuan. 100 RMB isn’t going to kill me, but it just seemed odd that they were doing this (and this was the only time in China we were dinged). We admired the farmers’ market by the check-in, but didn’t pick anything up. We just wanted to get through security and settle down for our last internal flight. The departure hall mimicked the layout of all the other departure halls we’d seen. Big vaulted steel ceilings and lots of glass. This is why the Beijingers are saying that their new national theatre, designed by the same guy who did the pyramid at the Louvre (the Chinese born American I. M. Pei), looks just like an airport. We found a place to sit, and as usual I choked at the cost of coffee. But I needed it, even at 18 Yuan for a half full cup. At least it tasted reasonable. Yoonhi wanted to get some food for the kids, but couldn’t find anything on the menu beyond overpriced bar nuts. However, she spotted a steaming soup pot by the bar, so she went over to it and made eating motions. This finally produced a menu. Of course, they didn’t have anything on the menu they’d been hiding. There was one type of noodle soup, and that was it. Serena had noodle soup. While Serena ate, and I nursed my coffee, Yoonhi made a valuable discovery in the shopping area. Haibao! I’d waited all my life for Haibao. This had starfish and sand dollars and lizards and snake parts and sea horses and wolfberries and little black ants….. I was overcome. We had no idea what to do with it, but we had to buy it. Our guess at the time was that it was a soup. We were proven incredibly wrong when we returned from our trip to find that it’s for making “wine” (and I use that term in the broadest and most inclusive sense). I should’ve bought two bags. Shortly after we embarked upon China Southern, and we were on our way to Shanghai. I was saddened at the change in the airline. When I’d flown them before to Xishuangbanna, they were something of a circus, throwing away free good luck charms to the passengers, and freely handing out other gifts to one and all. I still have the flight bags and key chain. Now, nothing. Although I did like the safety instructions. All flight long Scud and I were plotting how to take out the smoke detectors. Getting out of Chinese prison, however, was something we couldn’t quite work out a plan for. I thought maybe Brad Pitt and Robert Redford could help, but Yoonhi didn’t find this a particularly credible plan. Below, we were approaching Shanghai. Next: Honey, I’m Home

Hiroyuki, I was happy to see Tampopo! A fine, fine piece of cinema. Do the kids and/or you watch One Piece, the anime? If so, is Sanji the cook your favourite character? Cheers, Peter

Thanks, Liuzhou, We saw the pomelo everywhere for sale on the sides of the road as we were heading to the airport. Are pomelo that popular in Guangxi? Or is it just that they're there? One of my Singapore friends couldn't stand them, as it was something she was forced to eat by her family on one certain holiday of the year. On the other hand, the Thai salad - yam som o - is one of my favourite Thai dishes, if nothing else because I admire the obsessiveness of people that will separate out every pomelo seed. Any idea what those green, coin like steamed things wrapped in leaves are? Cheers, Peter

My "nephew", Arnold, at Korean Gardens in Victoria, recommended Sooke Harbour House for the higher end of dining when we were on the island last summer. An excellent meal. Local goods (very local) and an excellent sommelier. I should write that meal up sometime. Up on Long Beach, everyone raves about the Wickaninnish. Everyone includes a lot of my friends whose taste I respect. (it's just so far for me to go when I'm back in Canada....)

My wife was over at my mom's place with the kids. Mom asked if she wanted to have dinner. She asked if she wanted to have hot dog or steak. My wife opted for steak. Why would she go for a hot dog. What she got was yesterday's charred steak that had just been retossed onto the grill and recharred. My brother's comment was "oh god, you didn't choose steak?"

Day 16 – A Bunch of Cyclepaths We’d had some bad breakfasts, but this one beat all of them. We were in the hotel’s “Western Restaurant” which was actually a very slick looking place. Tiled floors, generally a study in straight lines, black metal, and grey colour schemes. There were two levels, and it looked like someplace you’d drop in on in London. Except of course for the obligatory buffet line that had been dumped in the middle. And, as it was freezing outside, they had every door open. But that wasn’t in use. There were so few tourists (at least Westerners) in the hotel that they weren’t bothering with the buffet. I thought at first this would be a good thing. But what came instead were a couple of croissants that had been made and baked a day or so before, and then heated in the oven for another half day, and finally retoasted for us. I could’ve used these things for skeet shooting. I banged one on the edge of my table to show the kids how effective this could be as a weapon. Yoonhi told me to stop playing with my food. Our napkins appeared to be made of Teflon, as they wouldn’t stay on our laps, and likewise had the same absorbing capacity. The coffee was….well…..sad. Just sad. And as for the eggs, let’s just not go there. With that experience out of the way, we went into town to undertake one of our favourite tourist activities. We were going to get the laundry done. I’d checked with the girl in the shop the day before, and she said they needed about four hours to do the clothes. This would work perfectly. We tried for a moment to get one of the trolleys into town, but the two women on the thing insisted we had to buy their tour to the villages instead. This wasn’t the plan right now. So we figured it was easier just to walk. Heading into town, we came across the usual impromptu street side market activity. Scud was trying to figure out what the big bundles of dried leaves were that were being sold in volume. I told him it was dope. He didn’t believe me. He never does. I think it was actually tobacco, as it had that look to it. Serena then refused to believe me, as tobacco always comes inside of cigarettes. I gave up. Once we hit the main drag, we didn’t make it too far before an older woman latched onto us. She had a tour to sell as well. We told her we were doing laundry, but that didn’t phase her in the slightest. She tagged along all the way to the shop (which was closed) and then bustled about being useful having the owner found while I called him up on my cell. The laundry was dropped off soon enough, and the old lady (“Kelly”) had decided that Yoonhi was the mark, so she was explaining how we could go biking to her village. This was sort of what Yoonhi had planned for us anyways, so we gave in. We got bikes for the four of us, and set off through town. There are few things as much fun as watching your nine-year-old daughter totter on a bike, with no helmet, in the midst of Chinese traffic. It took us only a few minutes to get away from traffic, though, with one brief stop at the local market. This wasn’t particularly lively. It looked like we were probably an hour or two late for the real fun. But then we were in the fields. This is good and bad. It’s bad in that a lot of the problems with garbage and such that have been so well addressed in urban China aren’t perceived as an issue in the countryside. It’s good in that my worries about Serena being plowed under by a ten ton truck could now be replaced by the lesser concern of her getting her clothes muddy. And the scenery is awesome. Once you get the buildings out of the way, it’s very pretty in the countryside. They really wanted us to get on one of the rafts. I could see this, on a typically hot day, just drifting down the river with your bikes on the back. But I figured if we stopped moving, we were going to freeze to death. Rafting was not an attractive prospect. Camel riding, however (okay, it didn’t move anywhere) is obviously a must-do while you’re in Yangshuo. That was Serena’s opinion. Especially if you have a camel with a weak bladder. What was this thing doing here? Okay,okay, you know what I mean. I’ve seen way too many camels in my life, and consider them on the main evil tempered creatures, with a fondness for eating out of garbage cans…..perhaps they’re just too similar to me? Our one real stop of the trip was the Assembling Dragons Cave. I told the kids it was a factory as we pedaled in, but the ticket office gave it away with their sign calling it “Dragon cave strange rock palace”. This took a bit to get going. After we bought the tickets (We were advised via sign by the Yangshuo Price Bureau that “No one is allowed to force tourists to buy insurance”) we waited at the cave entrance.. The lights were out. Maybe we should’ve bought insurance. After about ten minutes one young girl showed up with a flashlight and let us in. I didn’t need to worry (much). The flashlight was so she could see the light switches she needed to turn on and off. If we hadn’t already done the Reed Flute Cave in Guilin, this would’ve really impressed me. Even so, it was worth stopping in, but it suffered in comparison with the detailed accretions of the other. What this did have, however, was its own troglodyte population. Another young lady had gone tripping along ahead of us, and we’d wondered where she was going. About two thirds of the way through, we found out. We heard the music first. There was a group of around three huddled over a computer in the middle of the dark. There job was to process any photos of tourists that were taken at this one spot. Yoonhi was impressed. Here we were, in the middle of nowhere, at a site that wasn’t doing too well, and this one group of youngsters was sitting here, day in, day out, huddled around their computer in the dark, surfing the ‘net and playing games. Scud thought it was pretty much an ideal existence. I told him we should rent Chud someday. Coming out of the cave (the final stretch is by boat), we ambled through the nigh deserted parking lot. I say “nigh” as there was one lone vendor selling odds and ends. She had a selection of steamed green things, and what looked like turnips, too (anyone want to jump in here?). There was also some good looking corn, bamboo, eggs, and grapefruit (or is that pomelo? I’m used to pomelo being green) Kelly had been talking about us having lunch in her village. This turned out to be the Moon Hill Café. For a tourist destination it wasn’t bad. They were advertising “Farmer Food”, but it seemed much the same as the stuff on the menus of the restaurants in town. The Moon Hill Café was also advertising cooking classes, so, if I’d been of a mind to spend more time in Yangshuo, it was looking like cooking could have been a viable option. It was Liquan again for me. It was a little cold for this, but there wasn’t a lot of alternative (although the milk shakes looked good). This had been billed as “Bing Shuan beer” the local “best”. I’m not certain what was meant by this term. Is it Liquan’s premium brand? And what exactly causes this to be labled premium? Serena, predictable as always, got some vegetable chicken soup. I found the broth a little thin on this. I was interested in what they called the Moon Hill Pancake. I’d been hoping for a Chinese version of the Korean pin dae ddok, but what came instead was much more of an omelet. It was good, with lots of meat and other stuff on the topping, but I’m just not that much of an egg guy (as you might’ve inferred from my reaction to putting an egg in my beer). We decided to try another beer cooked fish, as the one last night was so good. This one was a “one bone” fish, which meant that it had been deboned. It was identifiable as catfish this time, which would explain the soft flesh. The dish was lighter on the vegetables than the night before, but the sauce was still very good, and I called for some rice. The sweet and sour eggplant stuffed with pork wasn’t as expected, but was very good. It was a battered deep fry, extremely hot on the inside (I had Scud try one before I’d go near it.) But, while it was hot, it was great. It went a little soggy as it cooled down. Kelly checked if we’d be interested in going up Moon Hill, but I was getting concerned about the gathering clouds. It was getting colder and colder, and the idea of peddling back into town in the rain wasn’t too appealing. As speed was a concern, we took the road back into town with the bulk of the tourists. This was faster (a lot) but meant we had watch out for traffic and pedestrians. Serena was a lot steadier by now, though, so I was nowhere near as frazzled. That doesn’t mean I didn’t pick up a few more grey hairs when we had to navigate traffic circles coming downhill with questionable brakes, but we came through it without mishap. We thanked Kelly for the tour. She did a good job of getting us off the roads and to where we should be. As Yoonhi says, it’s good to see the locals getting something out of the tourist trade. Having spent the day fairly bucolic to this point, we were better adjusted to appreciate the splendours of Yangshuo. For instance, there was the match dealer. Somehow, it had completely passed me by that there was a culture centred about the collecting of matchboxes. This place had them all. They had match box collections of famous revolutionary figures, matchbox collections of the scenery of Guangxi, matchbox collections of Hello Kitty. And they had more mottos and manifestos than a collection of Spanish chefs. My favourite was “fond memories of childhood combustion”(I wish I’d shot that sign, too). Just up from them was the ice cream stand. Seeing as the temperature was approaching freezing (at least that’s what it felt like) we bought the kids some ice cream. Scud had mango, and Serena the pineapple. I couldn’t get anyone to try the taro. I, obviously, was about cultured out. Once we’d secured our duffel of laundry, I wanted to get somewhere to write, and that somewhere needed to be warm, with stuff on tap. We settled on the Global Café. It looked generally acceptable, and they advertised free internet. Really, all we were looking for was a kid friendly place where we could pass some time and get them a meal before Yoonhi and I headed out. This looked kid-friendly to me. Yoonhi was too tired to argue. She headed out in search of the massage place she’d seen earlier. Scud had a mac and cheese that he was less than enthralled with. I thought I’d learned my lesson earlier about cheese in this country. Serena was about to ignore one of the prime rules of dining: never eat anything bigger than your head. (As burgers go, it wasn’t great. The meat and fixings were fine, but the bun was too lackluster). Yoonhi came back some time later. Her massage place had been difficult to rediscover from the streetside. It had a big sign up above advertising health foot massage, but at eye level they’re selling pillows and handbags. The children fed we installed them back in the room, and then returned to town, hoping that it wasn’t going to start raining on us. A brief reconnoiter had us stopping in at the Rosewood – Café del Moon (I’m not certain which was the name, they used both). The menu looked good, and they offered beer by the jug. I took advantage of this shop to get my shoes shined. Shanghai was coming up, and you don’t want to be in the city with dirty shoes. This was easy. I just went outside, waved a guy down, and enjoyed some beer while he took care of my feet. This was the first and only time I saw Liquan in a jug. Chieftain was the name they’d put to it, and it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t memorable, but it enjoyed the benefit of being fresh poured. Back to the menu. First up, we ordered dry fried shrimp with tea leaves. This was something I want to try at home. The tea leaves reminded me of similar dishes done with crispy fired basil. The tea was still on the stem, unfermented, and fun to chew through (Yoonhi worried a little about the caffeine). The shrimp were cooked just right, the shell giving enough that you could crunch through it, peeling was an unnecessary option. There was another flavour to the shrimp as well, suggesting that they’d been marinated before frying with the tea. The braised snails were properly prepared, they’d been purged, but not of their young. I enjoyed this, but Yoonhi decided this was enough of the snails for this trip. The steamed tofu was good. It came surrounded by a crinkling fried green that was hard to place. It might’ve been a seaweed, it had that taste to it. The chicken stuffed with dates and nuts caught me by surprise. This was much more of a European dish (although it was served with rice and fried bananas). It was a good dish, but didn’t work with the shrimp and tofu. After dinner we considered the range of clubs that were available. Most of them, however, were heavily techno (we could feel the thudding inside during dinner) and, while names like The Hard Seat Café were intriguing, I knew I wouldn’t do well with the noise level. And it was getting too darned cold to sit outside. Too darned wet, too. We contented ourselves with another pour from a dragon pot. This gave us something dark green to go with our spoon. Nice, a little gelatinous, with that back flavour of sweet beans. So, that was us. All dressed up with nowhere to go. We ambled back to the top of the street, and lucked out on one of the taxis headed our way. Back in the room we finalized packing, which wasn’t too difficult. We just dumped things into the one suitcase we’d opened for this stop. I did a farewell to the Clynelish bottle, putting what was left into the flask, and remembering to put the flask in the checked luggage (Beijing taught me that). And then we prepared for bed. But can anyone tell me what this was for? They’d just been sitting by our bedside taunting us in our ignorance. I was thinking - assisted suicide. But Yoonhi wasn’t listening to me anymore. She was asleep. Next: Quite Ugly One Morning

Nice shots, DG, Most of my favourite serving pieces are Korean. Not only do they look great, but they've stood up through many years of service. Yoonhi says the corn makes sense. Like pork for bbq, it's been cooked through, and the grilling is just to finish it. Cheers, Peter