Odds and Ends

There is a not insignificant subset of the population in the areas we frequented in Hong Kong, who felt it of utmost importance that I know at all times what time, in fact, it was. To this end, they would approach me and ask if I wanted a watch. An invitation to join them in their shop invariably followed. To a degree, I found this rather odd, as I was at all times sporting a watch large enough to consume most of my wrist. An impressive and, I might add, elegant device.

I would have preferred to be left alone by these well-meaning individuals, but could not devise a strategy for accomplishing this. So I did the next best thing. I invented a game: Watch Salesman Photo Safari. The way you play is the moment someone asks you if you want a watch, you take their picture. The conversation goes like this:

Watch Salesman: “Watch? You need a watch?”

Me: “Do you sell watches!?” (pulling camera out of pocket) “May I take your picture?”

The initial response was always the same – a bemused pause.  The non sequitur of offering to sell watches being followed by a request to have one's picture taken simply takes a moment to recover from. Sort of like having whatever you are doing interrupted for the fifteenth time that morning by someone offering to sell you a fake Rolex.

Typically, the watch salesman would remain stunned until I had a camera poised in front of his face, and then would recover in time to try to smile. I would snap a picture, say thank you, and then we would continue on our way without a further comment.  In a few cases, the watch salesman failed to appreciate the jest.  It never failed to crack both of us up, though.

Did not see the humor

One of our guidebooks singled out Mak’s Noodles as a nifty hole in the wall where you could get excellent noodles and awesome wontons, for a great price.  Naturally, we had it on our hit list.  The food was in fact delicious, and I got a chance to work on my noodō (the Way of Putting Noodles Inside).  It’s not as easy as they make look on television, but it’s helpful to think of imitating a seven year old doing things with pasta that your mom would have asked you to stop doing.  It was just as much fun, too…

Trying to put noodles in

We’re chilling in Kathmandu now.  Tomorrow we helicopter to Lukla to begin the trek proper. Before I left Norman, I teased a coworker who is from Kathmandu, asking him to recommend the best place to get pizza while we were there.  He smiled and simply said, “No. Momo.”

Chicken momo with a pepper sauce

Wise advice.

Night of the Ox

At sunrise, the message lights on our hotel room phones were blinking. The message awaiting advised that two pieces of luggage had been delivered to the hotel during the night. The ever important Duffels O’ Gear had caught up with us, and we could breathe easy.

The day featured a visit to the Hong Kong Museum of Art where, among other things, we took in the Xubaizhai Gallery of Chinese Painting and Calligraphy. A collection of works from the fifteenth through seventeenth centuries that pretty much blew our minds. 

The other two high points of the day were meals.

Lunch was at a dumpling shop, Din Tai Fung. We got soup-filled dumplings. You puncture them, letting the soup leak out, and then eat them. The straight pork are the signature, but we didn't fully realize what we were ordering, and got the pork and black truffle. Given that they had the truffle thing going for them, they did not require extra seasoning, and so we had no need to use the specially prepared soy + vinegar + ginger concoction that we had made. We were a little disappointed that we didn't get to use our specially mixed stuff, but the dumplings were exquisitely tasty. We also got some pork and scallion wontons in some kind of sauce of their own, as well as some Chinese broccoli.

Can't think of a catchy caption.  Stuff was damn good, though.

Din Tai Fung is a chain restaurant, though perhaps not quite in the American sense. If I recall anywhere close to correctly, they have something like twelve locations worldwide. They also have a Michelin star. I wondered exactly how a dumpling joint could score a Michelin star. I believe that the answer is, aside from the fact that the food was superlative, the service. The staff was ever present, efficient, friendly and helpful, taking time to make sure that the American tourists understood how to mix the sauces, for instance. I noticed that we were not offered forks, and the lack of condescension pleased me. Nevertheless, the very first time one of us dropped a piece of food while using our chopsticks, forks instantly appeared next to both of our plates – without a word and without a fuss. Well played, Din Tai Fung.

That evening, we had reservations Dong Lai Shun, an upscale restaurant known for its mutton hotpot and Ox Tail in Black Vinegar.  Those were the things we planned to order.  To accompany dinner, we selected a 2005 Pauillac Bordeaux from the wine list.  I wasn't familiar with it and so was not quite certain precisely what we would be getting.  It turned out to be rocky and somewhat tannic; it made a fine compliment to the savory spiciness of our dinner selections.

We opened with the oxtail, which arrived in a ceramic pot, bathed, along with carrots and some kind of tuber, in a thick sauce with a fulsome mouthfeel. With ‘vinegar’ in the name I did not know what to expect, but the sauce was not vinegary or sour, nor overly sweet. It seemed complex, but I couldn't put my finger on any particular flavour. All I knew is that I wanted a lot of it slathered on every bite I took. The tail pieces consisted of sprocket-like cross sections of bone, with the meat in between the ‘teeth’. A gentle tug with the chopsticks and nuggets of rich meat came free, ready to delight the palate. All in all, it was simply spectacular.

Ox will make you sigh with joy at being an omnivore. Even its tail.

The hot pot followed the ox tail.  A pan is presented, divided into two sections, containing two soups the diners select from a list. For one soup, we chose “spicy clear broth”, something of a misnomer or so it seemed to me, as it had large quantities of spicy things – which lent their spice to the broth – floating in it.  For our second soup, we selected “traditional chicken soup”.  The pot is set in the middle of the table, and then by some strange sorcery (as well as a unit concealed within the table) the soup is made to boil.  Various foods are then cooked in the boiling soup, lowered into it by means of small, long-handled wire baskets.

We selected the signature mutton, as well as some shrimp meatballs and some Chinese lettuce.  

Explosive spiciness followed up with a dip in seasoned peanut sauce,
or laid-back chickeny goodness?  Yin and Yang, baby.

When cooked up in the soup, the foods took on the character of whatever broth they had been cooked in, and then could also be augmented with a variety of available sauces. All in all, quite good, and a fun thing to do, though it rather struck me as Participatory Food Theatre (a phrase that totally made sense after half a bottle of Bordeaux…)  It was good and it was fun, but a lot of the enjoyment was getting to play chef.  Julia pointed out, however, that the hot pot lent itself to a group dynamic.  There was a shared experience of more than just consumption.  People could cook for each other.  The whole experience could be observed, discussed, bonded over, and the like.  I think she’s got a good point. 

But still…  Ox.

Feet, Large And Small

We arrived safely in Hong Kong. However, our duffels, containing all the gear we would need for the upcoming trek, did not. Our connection had been too tight in Chicago. We filed a notice with the Cathay staff, and they advised they would keep us posted.

Setting worries about baggage aside, we turned our attention to food. Mandy, a friend and coworker, had arranged a dim sum lunch for us and a number of folks from the local office. Having gotten in quite late the night before, we had simply gone to the hotel café for dinner. A bit muzzy and still getting our feet on the ground the next morning, for breakfast we had done the same. We were now eager to get out into the city and actually start sampling the food for which Hong Kong is justifiably famous.

Serves twelve

I would love to be able to describe all of the various items that we had, but the unfortunate reality is that most of the time I didn't know what I was eating. All of it was quite tasty, though I confess that I had difficulty with the chicken claws, because I didn't know how to eat them. Julia, being possessed of a much greater degree of cool than I... asked. As a result, she didn't do what I did, which was to crunch down on skin, bones and all, make an attempt at chewing it all up, and then look for an opportunity to furtively deposit the wad into a napkin when that approach didn't work out.  For the record, the proper method is to bite a joint off at the knuckle, work it around in your mouth to nibble off the skin, and then spit out the bone.

Chicken claws (left) posed a challenge.
Pig stomach with pepper (right) was a tasty slam-dunk.

As we cast about after lunch, Julia noticed that we were standing in front of an establishment that offered foot massages. She suggested we go for it. We entered, and commenced being pampered. I would have thought that if someone spent fifty whole minutes just rubbing my feet and calves that they would run out of ideas. This, however, was not the case. We both left feeling pretty blissed out. I can see more massages in our near future.

As Yoda is reported to have said, “Bliss leads to napping.  Napping leads to hunger,” then, leaning in closer and with great intensity, “Hunger leads to dinner…” On deck for dinner was another rendezvous with Mandy, who had arranged a reservation at a restaurant that offered a good Peking duck – something I had never had before and very much wanted to try. Roasted slowly until the skin turns into a crisp, fatty shell, the duck is then thinly sliced and arranged on platters. It is accompanied by wraps, into which one placed the slices of duck along with spears of cucumber and leek. Hoisin sauce completes the scenario. Rich and succulent.

A moment I had been waiting for.  It did not disappoint.

Along with the duck, we also ordered a sweet and sour fish. The fish was ‘yellow fish’, and was quite mild. In fact, the sweet and sour sauce and seasonings seemed to overshadow the flavor of the fish to a fair degree. The presentation, however, was dazzling.

Gaze upon me.  Do it now.

We had made plans to head out into the Hong Kong evening after dinner, and explore the night markets in Mong Kok. Unfortunately, we both started feeling lagged out after dinner, and we decided to call it a night.  This was fortunate, as we both crashed hard moments after we returned to our room.

Having A Ball

Our new flight to Chicago had gotten off the ground late, and by the time we exited the jetway into O’Hare there remained thirty-five minutes until scheduled departure to make a connection.  Fifteen minutes later we pulled up breathlessly to the Cathay Pacific ticket counter to check in. From that point forward, it was an easy glide, because CX staff rocks the universe. We were escorted to security, greeted with myriad smiles at the departure gate, and with sighs of relief inserted ourselves into our comfy business class accommodations.

I will readily confess to never having flown like this before. Each compartment contained a fully adjustable seat – which would recline all the way to a lie-flat configuration.  A broad selection of visual and audio content was available, also high quality over-the-ear headphones. There were a host of little amenities almost too numerous to mention, but including things like a dedicated over-the-shoulder reading light (with two brightness settings).

The kids – and here I am referring to individuals whose ages begin with 2’s and 3’s – refer to this as “balling”. Balling, in addition to being an expression someone of my generation might assign a different meaning to and be surprised to hear used in polite conversation, currently refers to living a lifestyle of monetary and influential prowess. Large and in charge, as it were. They would say that we, snug in our posh pleasure pods, were “ballers”. Who am I to argue? Balling is a blast. It feels great; I love being a baller. It is my firm intention on this trip to be balling pretty much constantly, or at least for as long as I can keep it up.

Not long after we took off, the real pampering began. There were the obligatory glasses of champagne, but they were delivered along with tasteful small porcelain bowls of warmed, seasoned almonds. Bear in mind that this touch alone trumps pretty much the sum total of my previous in-flight dining experience. But soon it was time for lunch. We learned this because we were provided with menus. I felt only mildly put out at the extra effort required to keep looking back and forth between the menu – which listed the selections available for the multi-course meal – and the wine list I received at the same time.

Balling

For starters, there was prosciutto with grilled vegetables and balsamic glaze.  Also a fresh spring salad with Portobello mushroom and a piquant Asian dressing. I selected a sensible Sauvignon Blanc to accompany. I kept the same wine for the main course, braised abalone with chicken, steamed jasmine rice, baby pak choi and carrots. I had never eaten abalone before. Now I have. Abalone tastes good.

At this point, dessert might be in order. But moving straight into dessert would be just so terribly pedestrian, don’t you think? Cathay Pacific thinks so. And so it was time instead for the cheese course, and fresh fruit. Some outstanding fresh pineapple, honeydew, and papaya. 

That reddish cube is quince.  Ballers eat it.

The cheeses included a meaty Danish bleu, a cheddar, and some Camembert.  I changed up the wine to a relatively young Bordeaux.  Only after this was it time for dessert.  Pumpkin cheesecake with whipped cream.  Coffee would have been a prudent choice here, but I went for more champagne, because balling.

Then finally, for a hobbitesque Second Dessert, chocolate truffles.  And why not, indeed?

Suspense!

We settled into our cushy first-class seats, replete with comfy blankies and ample legroom. Then a few minutes later we, and everyone else aboard, got out of our seats and left because (essentially) the plane wouldn't start. Starting the plane is something that many airlines can do, but apparently that was not on the roster of things that our airline could do today with this particular plane.  After we all got off the plane, they even tried unplugging it and then plugging it back in, but to no avail.

We have been booked on to a later flight to Chicago. We will, therefore not be breaking our fast at Tortas Frontera, the oasis of yummy gastropleasure that Rick Bayless opened in O’Hare. I feel significant disappointment because of this. They have a guacamole bar. I've been fantasizing about guacamole and a margarita for breakfast for a few weeks now, and my dream is dashed. Fractured. Smushed like an avocado I’m not gonna get to eat today. But hey, we have had a fulsome and satisfying breakfast of egg scramble with goat cheese, washed down with mimosas here in our very own Will Rogers World Airport Route 66 Grill. 

A place that is not Chicago

Our new flight leaves us 70 minutes to connect to our flight to Hong Kong once we arrive at O’Hare. Our overseas flight leaves from the international terminal, and there is no secure pathway from our arrival point to our departure gate.  We will have to travel a fair distance through the airport before we can check in and get our boarding passes, get through security again and get to the gate. I think our baggage actually has a good chance of making the connection. Will we??!?!?

To Be Continued…

The Biggest Dork

I had a nice enough watch, but not a watch I wanted to take on a journey. Not anything that would withstand punishment. Or do tricks. I needed a travel watch. And so it was that shopping occurred of a fanciful sort, culminating in the purchase of a watch more suited to my needs and temperament. The Casio PAG240T-7CR Pathfinder.

It supports more than twenty-four different time zones. Water resistant to 100 metres. Of course, it has a stopwatch and countdown timer. No big deal. But it additionally tracks barometric pressure. It's also a compass. It is solar powered. It has a thermometer. You can set five different alarms. The watchband is made out of titanium.

Included with the watch is an application to be a contestant on Fox Television's new reality series "The Biggest Dork". Prospective contestants are required to undergo a seven step audition process. For owners of this watch, the first four steps are waived.

If you wear PAG240T for more than thirty-six hours straight,
it will begin to try to assimilate you.

In preparation for our upcoming trip, I have watched a series of educational DVDs containing classes on photography, presented by a National Geographic photographer. The instructor spoke, repeatedly and at length, about how important the quality of the available light was, and how the best light was to be found at sunrise and sunset. Having skimmed a couple of additional articles I found on the internet, I am now armed with all the skills of a crack photographer, and can appreciate the delicate yet awesome beauty afforded by dawn and dusk lighting conditions.

Well, if you input your latitude and longitude into this watch, it will, at the press of a button, display on the dial the times at which the sun will rise and set. This excites me greatly. With this watch, I will easily bond with others on my upcoming journey. For instance, at breakfast I will be able to turn to them and say, "Check this out! This is when sunrise was. If we had gotten up then, we totally would have had some awesome light! Hey, you gonna eat that yak bacon?"

Finally, the watch has an altimeter, which should be fun to use. There is a function where you set the base altitude, and it displays the differential, so we will be able to see how much altitude we gain each day.

I am trying to resist giving it a name.