After two weeks off and a long winter of promises it is time to christen my new yard and BBQ this Sunday afternoon. For those of you that where bored to contemplating antipodecide by my endless ramblings on the great renovation this is some small recompense. For the rest of you, if you have a few hours I can recap the highlights for you...
Friend and colleague Ben Shaw (饕餮在北京 - Beijing Gourmand) commented, after the kind of deep contemplation that can only be devoted to a meal now only evident through a scattering of empty dishes and a thick faggot of denuded bamboo and steel skewers, that this might be the finest purveyor of chuanr in Beijing.
Friend Serwat just emailed me, settling some indecision about this week's dinner. The most over-participated national holiday of the calendar falls next Tuesday. Yes, it's St. Patrick's day... and the world over, people no more Irish than a Massai warrior's sigh of relief at finding the missing member of his favourite pair of shoes, will celebrate all things Irish. Well, hazzah, I say, that bandwagon has a seat with my name on it.
So it is off to Paddy Oshea's we head this Sunday for dinner, but more to the point for general Irishness, which in this case involves a selection of ales and the Bublingers. The Dublingers play a variety of more traditional Irish music and are one of my favourite bands in Beijing. They start at 5 so I have scheduled dinner a little earlier than normal, but eating won't be formal - so turn up when you like.
The Dubliners (left) and the Dublingers (below). The former are easily confused, but not with the latter.
Last week a great night was had at Cafe de la Post. This week we continue the foreign theme heading to a restaurant named for the town with the rudest name in the world. (I am hoping I am completely wrong on this front and am provided with a slue of even ruder options...)
Muay Thai and Mou Tai, both of which can leave you in a horrible state and both of which are unlikely attendees on Sunday.
This week, sad news. Ken Mallot, dinner stalwart, font of quiz answers, dashing running-back, wooer of ladies, propounder of etymological theory, raconteur and general fun guy, is leaving Beijing to pursue something he refers obliquely to as 'his future'. In greater detail, he is off to England to learn something about translating Chinese into English.
This week's dinner is inspired by the Kylin... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kylin Mythical or no 麒麟碑胡同 the hutong named after the beast is definitely there... just east of the Kuan Jie intersection running north from Zhang Zi Zhong (who also really existed).
This is a very humble, though clean, hole in the wall place serving locals. They have a simple printed on both sides A4 menu, which is be no means a culinary adventure for those who have lived in these parts for any length of time. The walls are tiled in white, as is the floor, the chairs are 5 RMB stools and the tables much the same, the disposable chopsticks are the cheap kind and the only alcohol they seem to sell is hong xing baijiu and yan jing beer.
Dinners are back for those of you who have missed them. And this week, I steal wholeheartedly from an acquaintance who invited me to the 'oldest restaurant in China' this last Sunday afternoon. If imitation is a form of flattery I am about to gush forth with saccharine adoration, and just copy and paste from his email invitation. Conversely some of you will note the similarity, though with greater adherence to the principles of grammar and good writing, that his style bears to my own: