When Big and I went to Chinatown, it was a part of our eating tour. Mainly, Big had never had dim sum before nor had she visited a Chinese bakery. I was dressed to impress. And by dressed to impress, I mean a blue oxford shirt and my favorite seersucker shorts. Poor life choice because the shirt is long-sleeved, heavy, and sweat stains show up really well.
We took the subway to some random stop. The subway was crowded and I was shoved between a large woman and a gay man (I know he was gay because he and his boyfriend kept semi-making out). It was awful. I had nothing to hold onto and couldn't brace myself because every time the subway train lurched, the large woman would knock me into the gay man. It ended up being this horrible game of large-lady-chest-bumps-me and I accidentally hip-thrust-gay-man. We got off at a stop that we could only assume was in the middle of Chinatown.
No. Not even close. It's a shopping area, though there are significantly more Asian people than I've seen since I've been in New York. Big refuses to ask for directions. "I don't do that." Lame. I insist that my China-dar is spot on and that I can lead us to victory. I follow a group of Asian people, playing on stereotypes and believing in some twisted way that all Asian people will inevitably end up in Chinatown. All this plan does is get us lost.
By this point, Big's hunger:sane ratio is freakishly uneven and she whips out her Blackberry and googles us a map and directions. I follow her "instincts" and this is where it leads us:
A bright, rainbow colored sign that reads, "Hell Yes!"True, I may have poor vision.
True, I may not be up-to-date on New York trends.
True, I may not be the best Asian tourist.
But despite all those things that are true, I am pretty sure this is not Chinatown.
We turn the corner and walk down the street. I have begun to sweat unattractively. My backpack (originally brought along as a disguise for the "designer" purchases I am convinced I'll make on Canal St), is causing shoulder strap sweat stains.
Suddenly, we see a sign in Chinese! We sprint along and as the signs become more and more prevalent, the crowd increases until we stumble onto Canal Street. A man comes up to us and says, "Hand bag? Hand bag?" Big leans over and whispers, "What is he saying? Translate!"
Great. Off to a wonderful start.
We have done no research and have no idea what a good dim sum place is. We stop at some fancy jewelry store and I ask where a good dim sum restaurant is. I understand none of the directions I'm given and we turn down a really sketchy side street. The doors leading into the basements are open and if you glance down, you can see ducks/chicken/other meats hanging in the basement doorways. I had flashbacks to studying abroad in Asia and the lack of FDA oversight.
As we're walking by a gaudy restaurant bedazzled (if you could explode a bedazzler all over the side of a building and then bathe it in fake gold and throw glitter paint on it, this would be the place) with all kinds of sparkly things. There is a sign that reads "dim sum special" posted in the window and Big immediately shoves me through the wooden doors. I'm trying to find a menu or have an idea of what dim sum they serve because Big eats no meat or fish, so dim sum might be kind of a struggle.
She is having none of that. She pushes me into the path of the hostess who immediately seats us. It is a giant cavern of a room, completely filled with Asian people. We are the only tourists/people who look out of place. I flag down a cart and ask her in my heavily American-accented Chinese if she has anything with no meat. Of course she does! And she starts rattling off all these dishes with seafood in them.
No, no, she doesn't eat fish. The woman pauses... and hands me a plate of bread and a plate of tofu. This is going to be a struggle. Basically, I eat some delicious shrimp and pork/shrimp shu mai. Big eats tofu, bread, and dessert. It is not a healthy meal.
We are both full, but I insist we have to go to a Chinese bakery and taste test. After I take a quick bathroom break. I have heard of soap on a string, but never toilet paper on a string. And it's not even string, it's like plastic twine tied to the door.
Next stop - Taipan Bakery. I may or may not have lost control a bit and just gotten everything that is delicious and reminded me of my childhood. Almond cream bun, coconut cream bun, almond twist, and red bean bun. That was just at this bakery. We sat down and sampled everything before I demanded we find another bakery to buy more food at.
The next bakery was this tiny store off the main road. We got moon cake, egg tart, sesame ball, rice ball with red bean, and almond milk bubble tea. I didn't take any pictures because as we sat there, we were both becoming physically ill from the amount of food we had been forcing into our stomachs. With so many baked goods left over, I packed the rest in my backpack (now with no room left for my "designer" purchases) and we headed for a walking tour of Little Italy.
It's been written that Chinatown is eating Little Italy. Not a lie. The streets that make up Little Italy have to be blocked off and as you walk by the restaurants and stores, you see Chinatown encroaching. There's an Italian restaurant with daily specials next to a Chinese "special massage" parlor. The no-mans-land between Chinatown and Little Italy is where I stumbled upon my lovely psychic.
The day continued with more eating and a forthcoming story about how I broke a toilet.
No comments:
Post a Comment