crayfish
I <3 Crayfish Pizza
Found in Chengdu. All their restored cultural streets (where you can shop in trendy boutiques and dine in French restos) have a requisite Starbucks.
There is a cafe in Tianzifang on trendy Taikang Lu in Shanghai which is populated not by white Macbook-wielding, double espresso-drinking, tight pants-wearing loathsome hipsters, but by yeah, a lot of stuffed animals. That’s my friend Danielle embracing a popular cartoon lamb.
Here’s a prime example of “glocalization,” as we anthropologists like to say. Crayfish pizza, anyone? (Crayfish is a popular local dish which I wrote about for GoodEater.org.) Papa Johns knows that mere pepporoni is not enough to move Shanghainese through the door.
I paid 10 yuan (about 1.50USD) for this laminated photo in a tourist site in Chengdu. The girl who took it was curt and rude, declaring only the most bored and hateful-sounding of “SMILE!”s as she took a singular photo in front of several backdrops. So this was the only decent one, and I ended up giving it to my mom since she loves traditional Chinese dress. Me, I could definitely live without it. The necklines are way too high – qipaos a prime example.
See my GoodEater.org post on crayfish + chicken hearts on a stick
Remember these spiny little pups? I wrote a post for GoodEater.org on crayfish with help from my Henanese friends. Now, some more food:
Chicken hearts on a skewer to the right, chicken cartilage (absolute DELICIOUS) on the left.
fish on a stick
This is what eating hotpot looks like. Good times.
More proof I have the best job ever:
Holding my beloved Barbie Cafe review
Bylinin'
Help, my dinner has tiny claws and tiny brains.
a frightening cross between lobster and jumbo shrimp, 13 yuan, about $2 USD
a mutilated crustacean
You know, it’s funny. I’ve eaten brains and balls and everything in between, but even I was really intimidated by these puppies. I kind of stared at the tray and asked the waiter for help on how to approach them. Do I eat the head? Rip the shell off, eat the tail, and get a little bit of the head, he instructed me. They gave me a bowl of vinegar and plastic gloves to handle these, which were cooked with super-hot whole chilis and left a scum of fiery orange oil all over my gloves.
I preferred the mutton kebabs they also served. Those were just plain delicious – crackling and fatty, sprinkled with cumin and chili lakes.
The waiters were all from Henan province. One waiter’s family was still there.
Why are you in Shanghai? I asked.
Why did your parents go to America? he asked, laughing. To make money.
Fair enough.
What are your hours? I asked him. He said they worked from 6am until 2am, staying open to make more money. He had a dinner of noodles. They were all fascinated that I came from America, and asked me how much my plane ticket was (an unimaginable sum of money). I gave them all the extra change in my backpack as an introduction to the American practice of tipping.