shiso mama

The other day, we were all at my grandmother’s house, gathered around their large, circular dining table, ravenously eating our lunches. My grandmother, who often becomes very busy during mealtime, monitoring everyone’s intake to make sure that you eat just one more piece, or remembering yet another thing that we need at the table, suddenly got up and made for the kitchen.

Lots of under breath speculation swirled around the table. What is she doing? What could she possible need now? Why is she so busy? Oh, she must be getting a soda!   We’re a nosy family, you see, and would not rest until we had an answer. With the mystery solved, we returned to the business of finishing our lunches and discussing Otis’s every move and utterance (not my hobby, of course)

We all nearly jumped out of our seats when, minutes later, my grandmother yelped and sputtered, “PahhhhhhhhhhhHHHHH!”

My grandmother had gone to the refrigerator seeking a bottle of cold, refreshing water and had sat down, twisted off the cap, and had taken an enormous swig of … cooking wine! Which, strangely enough, was in a small, plastic bottle with a paper label, just like a bottle of water.

Consternation erupted from everyone at the table. Ma, if you want something to drink, tell us and we’ll get it for you! You don’t have to get it yourself! And WHO put that cooking wine in the fridge?? Frowns and stern looks everywhere, but soon, everyone started staring intently at our food, trying our best not to laugh out loud, for fear of incurring the wrath of the boss of the Chinese mafia.

I feel very sorry for my poor grandmother, who will soon be going in for cataract surgery. But I saw a bottle of alcohol in my mother’s cabinet this morning, and I promptly fell to the ground, laughing. Then I said “cooking wine” to my mom, and she promptly fell on the ground, laughing. And still, no one in my family can figure out how that bottle of cooking wine ended up in the fridge.

And last but not least, for you Otis whores out there (really, just F):

I’ll see you soon!

Friends, how is it possible that it took me this long to discover the joys of googling old boyfriends, friends and acquaintances?

I’m heading to Hong Kong in a couple of days to visit an old friend and then I’ll meet Otis and my parents and head to Shanghai for about a week. If anyone has any suggestions on Shanghai destinations not to be missed, I’d appreciate the advice! Be well, friends.

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One of the first things I have to do when I come back to Taiwan is head over to Shiao Ding’s (Little Ding’s) and have some traditional Chinese breakfast food. Shiao Ding has been around for at least 20 years, serving up breakfast in their little shack of a building. They moved away for a while because their building was condemned, but business at their new site was poor, so they moved back, at reduced rent and with the understanding that the landlord was not responsible if the roof caved in. It adds to the air of authenticity to eat street food with the possibility of the building falling on your head, don’t you think?

Here are a few things you can eat:

soy bean milk

This one’s salty, with pickled mustard stems, tiny dried shrimp, crispy pieces of you tiao (chinese donut), cilantro, scallions, chili oil, sesame oil, soy sauce and vinegar, which gives it a sort of curdled look. Maybe sounds a little gross, but it’s tasty. You can also have soy bean milk sweetened with sugar, hot, warm or cold.

Here’s you tiao, which is a long piece of fried dough, airy inside. A bowl of hot sweet soy bean milk with you tiao used to be my favorite meal as a kid, but now I’m more of a salty fan.

This is shao bing, which is a flaky sesame flatbread. Many people split them open and fill them with fried egg, you tiao or sliced meat (although you really eat that in restaurants rather than at streetside vendors). The one in the picture is actually a sweet one, with a slightly sweet sugar filling.

Another one of my favorites: fan tuan. It’s a glutinous rice ball, with filling inside. I like mine sweet, with you tiao, ground peanut powder and sugar, but it’s more common to find salty ones, filled with picked mustard stems, pork or fish sung (which is dried and fried) and you tiao). It’s chewy and crunchy at the same time, and I love them.

I don’t eat these that often, but they are very popular: dan bing. It’s an egg, fried with scallions, and just as it’s about to set and finish cooking, a pancake is thrown on top. They slice it up and serve it with thick soy sauce.

Shiao Ding serves a few other things, but these are my favorite.  I can get most of these things in California fairly easily, but it just never tastes as good.  And newer, cleaner, safer places have opened up near my parents’ house, but I think my heart will always belong to Shiao Ding.

The other day, Otis and I were on our way out to the park during a lull in the interminable rain. Unfortunately, by the time we got outside, it had started drizzling again so we headed back upstairs. During that time, I was miraculously bitten six times by mosquitos. Tell me, why are these mosquitos attacking me when there’s fresh, luscious baby meat right beside me? It’s like my flesh sings an irresistible siren’s song, beckoning to the little flying monsters from far far away. From now on, I’m going to strip Otis naked and drizzle him with honey before we go out anywhere together.

I finally found a scanner here, but the color’s still not right. Oh well….

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Add to the list of things I miss: my scanner. I had to wait until F went back to California to scan these for me (there’s more to come once I find a scanner here). Speaking of which, in the days since F’s departure, I, as the primary naysayer, become as good as the bubonic plague in Otis’s eyes.

I’ve been feeling a little unmotivated here - for some reason, the lack of anything to do but to say no to Otis has made it hard for me to concentrate on much. I was just about to put the finishing touches on my first collage here when I set it under the air conditioner, which proved itself to be broken and leak-prone. So we have a waterlogged collage that spent an hour or so in the trash. What’s interesting to me is that I tried to recreate it, but it just didn’t look or feel right, and I eventually gave up. I guess it’s why I work the way I do. It took a few days after that to get back into the swing of things.

Since there’s so little to write about, and so few accessories to show off on Sundays, I’ll probably be mostly writing about food while I’m here. I’ve been compiling pictures of breakfast foods and street foods and will fill you all in soon.

How are you, friends? Any folks have any good stories to share with me?

Add this to the list of things at home that I miss: accessories. Really, they make the outfit, don’t they? I feel rather at a loss without my selection of hats, scarves and thigh-high socks. But it’s too hot here for that. In fact, look what happened to our Sunday outfit today. We started off with a new pair of overalls from Lao Lao with a button-down shirt:

But right after breakfast, it became this:

Forget the Village People. We’re going Chippendales all the way.

I’ve been getting the pressure to cut Otis’s hair because it’s so hot. Do you really think it matters that much? He’s sweaty all the time, but I think he would be no matter what. I’m happy putting his hair up into a ponytail, which he now likes to tell everyone is “so pretty!” but I guess I’m just adding to the poor guy’s gender confusion.

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This afternoon, we took Otis to Toys ‘R Us, which we’ve never done before. As F pointed out in the middle of our visit, there’s nothing like taking a kid to a toystore to teach him how to articulate what he wants. In a very clear and loud voice when he was sitting next to the Thomas the Train display, Otis said, “I want to get it!” And when we were laughing about it in the cab on the way home, Otis said, “I want to get the train!” I think those are the longest sentences he’s put together without stuttering so far.