Food

Dining out in China is a communal experience.  A great way to dine for an indecisive person like me.  Each person has a small plate and in the center of the table is a lazy susan.  The food spins, giving each diner a turn to sample a little of everything until eventually it all disappears.  I no longer have the guilt of wishing I ordered what the Jones' got  Our experience, however, has been quite wasteful as we have not adjusted our digestive systems to finish all the delicious and sometimes disgusting delicacies. Using my somewhat refined chopstick skills, I pluck away a little of everything.  Although it takes me a few attempts to successively manuver the food from plate to plate.  I force myself to try it all.  Even if it looks like the insides of my stomach. My taste buds are awakened to crunch jellyfish, juicy pork dumplings, and a a green something I never found out what it was.  And that was just day one.  We discover duck, duck brain, duck feet, duck skin with sugar, and duck eye.  Outside of that is so much more, sea cucumber, a slimy texture that is not favorable to me.  Chrysanthemum tea, a floral taste that smells just as good as it feels going down.  A plain salad with a tangy dressing, cooked spinach with a crunch spice, and seasoned spicy lamb.  Big bowls of eggplant noodles that disappear before all the dishes are carried out.  Mysterious meat that fills rolls of fried dough that usually never tastes like chicken.  I am reassured however that if dog is included it is listed on the menu.  A delicacy such as that is usually expensive and is chosen, not accidental.  Dining can be expensive, like a five-star restaurant in the United States or can be as cheap as a handful of kuai. Depending on the currency exchange and the decreasing value of the dollar, this is usually equivalent to one George Washington.  As a group of college students, we prefer to keep it thrifty.  Either way, I haven't left a Chinese restaurant hungry yet.