I stumbled upon a Cantonese restaurant this summer when I was waiting for my friend to finish up work in Beijing. I had just had the worst “soup dumplings” of my life a few shops over where they were more steamed buns with juice inside that had long since leaked out. In desperation for a good meal, I saw a few people eating something delicious through the large glass windows of this restaurant and decided to give it a whirl.

There is something intensely comforting and yes, American, about Cantonese food since that’s the root of the USA’s rendition of the cuisine. I ordered a pork congee – soothing, fragrant, and creamy. Then a platter of this chicken dish which had a tensile crunch in each bite from the soft cartilage inside. I definitely skew more Chinese in this respect, since I love have some extra texture in the meat. The peppers were a gorgeous bright red, crispy, and fried until all the heat had abandoned their mean-looking flesh. Even the rice came nicely presented in a white ceramic pot. It seemed like a good photo, so I took one.

Fried, cartilage-laden chicken with fried peppers, pork congee on the side. Ancient cellphone mine.

Related posts:

1. See my GoodEater.org post on crayfish + chicken hearts on a stick
2. Ma Po Tofu
3. A Boston Epicure’s Photo Dispatch from Shanghai, China

Based on a tip by the City Weekend dining editor, I sought out something really exotic for a quick cafe break: yak butter tea. I already had warm and fuzzy feelings attached to yaks since a good friend from high school interned at Shokay, a social entrepreneurship startup that sells luxury goods made from yak down. I wondered if the strangely adorable creatures produced tasty beverages as well.

Tibet Cafe, on the famous strip of hutongs called Nanluoguxiang in Beijing, shines like a cheery orange beacon amidst the trendy boutiques and popsicle stands. I arrived around a slow lunchtime, so I took a seat in a deserted cafe. One cup of the stuff was 20RMB ($3-4), pretty damn steep for a drink, especially in Beijing.

I was pretty excited. Until I took a sip. I immediately cringed. It was like drinking salted curdled milk. It smelled like a pungent whiff of cheese, not necessarily a bad thing, but the flavoring was so strong that even when I went in for a third – and fourth – attempt, I couldn’t force it down without feeling kind of sick. The presentation in a solid black mug with the drink’s foamy white head was comforting, as were the Tibetan tapestries and bright color palette, but I just couldn’t force this stuff down. I held my breath and took a giant gulp or two, paid my bill, and left feeling kind of embarassed.

I guess there’s something for all tastes.

Related posts:

1. Cheesey, greasy Poland: review of Zaps in Allston in the Crimson
2. International food porn – Quails on sticks, donkey meat, prawns.
3. A continent of food porn