When I came back to the US from my one-month visit home, the first thing my Chinese friends asked me was always “how did you like the food”? Looking into their envious eyes, I knew my answer would probably upset them:” I only enjoyed the food for the first ten days of my trip.”
That was my honest answer, and often was greeted by the what-are-you-talking-about disbelief for the next ten seconds or so, until I broke it with the following:
“Yeah, my stomach was so overwhelmed that after ten days it just took whatever was offered and could not really tell the difference.”
My mind fast rewinded to those days in Chengdu and Beijing. Even days right before I came back. Yes, like every Chinese about to go back, I visited the food forums and downloaded the Beijing food map, Chengdu gourmet directory, etc. I’ve asked my Chinese friends here what they had last time they went back. I started to make plans for my little food tour. I couldn’t sleep for a couple of days before my trip, thinking of all the food that are waiting for me, those I grew up with, those I have read about for so many times online and those I haven’t heard about. What a joy to see, and eat, all the foods I’d been dreaming and reading about!!
It was true. For the first ten days, at least.
Then I started to realize how important the atmosphere can be in an dining experience. It’s one thing to eat the food you grew up with in the environment you grew up with–like the 卤煮火烧 I had in a small no-name restaurant in Xisi—don’t take me wrong, it WAS delicious. Yet when the food you want to enjoy is always served in a noisy, steamy, crammed setting, it takes away the joy so much that the taste simply does not matter any more. I tried to blame myself for such snobbishness and force myself to forget the environment and concentrate on just the food.
That did not work. Like foreplay to sex, the atmosphere is indispensable to enjoying good food. Yet unlike the foreplay, I found it out the hard way. :(