Thursday, 15 December 2011

Dim Sum and Dancers

I'm pretty sure I could piece together my life story based on what obsession I had at the time. My whole attitude of "go cashmere or go home" applies to lots of things. Some of these preoccupations are more useful than others, and I usually end up dropping the obsession once I realize how impracticable it might be. I COULD turn my apartment into a cheese cave, but I probably won't since that would require me to never allow anyone over for social affairs again as we bounce from one room of cloth-bound aged cheddar to the next, dodging huge vats of dairy products and heating tanks as we try to find a place to put down our glasses of wine. In-house cheese caves kill your social life. Also, if I were to make my own cheese seriously, it would require me to keep farm animals if I want to do it right. Now is not the right time for my fromage obsession to come to fruition. Maybe one day.

I'm not mutual with the idée fixe, either. I can always make room in my life for many of my obsessions to happily clamber for my attention all at the same time.

I've been on the dumpling wagon for a while now. Two years maybe? It started out with some gyoza, and took off from there. My weekly trip into Korea Town for a fix of freshly handmade mandu has been a bonus to my work week. Soup dumplings at Joe's Shanghai whenever I happen to be in the neighborhood. Wontons in hot chili oil at all the Schezuan places I frequent. Shu-mai and pork buns and, ya know, perogies and ravioli are dumplings as well. I don't discriminate.

So, obviously, I'm really into Dim Sum. You can go to a dim sum palace for breakfast, and get served many varieties of dumplings. These places are usually large and sprawling, with lots of space in between the tables so the nice ladies who push the carts laden with dumplings can get to you as you frantically wave them down. Once I got over the idea that there won't be pancakes and waffles for breakfast, and I've never seen anyone pour a mimosa in one of these places, I'm pretty much in heaven. I'm cautious around many items on the cart- chicken feet and tripe soup earn their places in the halls of "not breakfast food" in my book. The fact of the matter is that you're mainlining dumplings until you can't possibly have another one. It's as close to a religious experience as I've ever had.

We were overjoyed to find that one of the better places to get a breakfast of dumplings in the city was only a few blocks away from the abode. It's in a building that used to be a car dealership.


East Harbor, you are my Sunday morning home. I didn't take pictures of the actual dim sum meal, as we were sharing a table with other couples, and I find it annoying when other people take out the camera and start snapping away before every bite. I'm more likely to do that when I'm among friends and not disturbing total strangers in their quest for dim sum glory. Next time.

After sampling 9 or 10 or 30 different types of dumplings and drinking gallons of good green tea, it was nice to go out into the sunshine and take a walk. My attention shifted as I saw some women dancing on the sidewalk with drums tied to them with bright red sashes.






No comments:

Post a Comment