My first "Chinese" food came from the takeout counter at a grocery store in south Anchorage. The local chain grocer sold two varieties of Asian fare: slimy meat and slimy vegetables. Whenever my parents ordered it, they had to reason with me: "Leslie, we can't eat pizza every night we don't cook." Chinese food night was a bummer in those days.
Fast forward 15 years: I live in Taiwan. I like Chinese food, and I can speak enough Chinese to buy it myself.
Last night I ordered noodles and fish ball soup at a shop up the block from my apartment. James and I eat there often, they make Fuzhou (Southern China) cuisine. Their noodles are only garnished with green onions and a little bit of spicy sauce, but they're delicious. They make them some special way, so they have this meaty delicious flavor - not plain at all. The fish balls are also fabulous - hearty and not fishy.
I'm really pleased with how my Chinese is progressing: I was able to order my food; say thank you when the cashier complimented my Chinese; affirm that I was an American; and say "He's at work" when she asked where my boyfriend was.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment