Eating Myself Silly
This vibrant new world was filled with all sorts of exotic wonders, but nothing was more exotic or wonderful to a plump future restaurant critic than the delicious things we ate for dinner. In Canada, my brother and I subsisted on gray, irradiated casseroles and the occasional hot dog from Howard Johnson’s. But in Taichung, we feasted on bowls of soupy, egg-laced rice crowned with jellied “thousand-year-old eggs,” crackly pancakes laced with scallions, and stalks of sugarcane, which vendors shaved and sold like Popsicles on the street. In this provincial little town, there were dumpling restaurants, seafood restaurants, and restaurants—set up by old cooks who’d fled the Communist revolution of 1949—devoted only to Peking duck.
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Source:
Conde Nast Traveler
Published: Jun 18, 2011
Length: 10 minutes (2,613 words)