Wei renmin fuwu : Serve the people

Chinese food, I want you.

Yes, that is what I'm craving right now. A heaping plateful of steaming, glistening, MSG-ridden Chinese food. Or, as we called it where I grew up, "Chinese." (Or, as I imagine they call it in China, "food.") Now, there is not a very large Chinese population in New Jersey. But, growing up, Chinese was a staple in our diets. There was a tiny take out place around the corner from my house called "Wah Chung" (a Chinese-looking spelling for the American Indian name of the street it was on, Watchung). No kidding. Wah Chung was, and hopefully still is, run by Steve, who insists that, although he was born in China, that is his given name. And I choose to believe him. 

Steve taught me everything I know about Chinese food. So much so that, even if I actually were in China, eating a real Chinese meal, if it didn't taste like Steve's, I would probably doubt its authenticity. Steve, if you're out there, you ruined me!

That's why I will not knock Angeleno Chinese food. I've yet to find any that tastes like Steve's, but I know that that doesn't mean it's necessarily bad. And so I've tried many a Chinese dining establishment in LA, in hopes of recapturing that very memorable taste. 

In my quest for "authentic" Chinese food, I've even gone international.

It started out in Puerto Rico. Okay, so that's not quite international, but their Chinese population is even less than that of New Jersey's. So let's go with it. 

In Puerto Rico, the plan was to take a day trip to see these apparently breath-taking caves. But, just my luck, only a few days prior, a rock had fallen in one of the caves, killing a female tourist, so they had been closed to visitors. Instead, the concierge at my hotel suggested I take a drive down to Ponce. A quick skim of the guidebook told us that one thing to look forward to in Ponce is its famous fusion cuisine. One guess: was I psyched???

You bet I was. However, after stumbling around Ponce for several hours (and, believe me, my thoughts on the town could take up a whole separate blog), my blood sugar was dropping rapidly. And I mean that. Yes, I am afflicted. Luckily, I happened to spot a Chinese restaurant just ahead of where we were walking. Sweet relief!

However...

The menu looked a little strange. Maybe I should I have been confused because much of it was in Spanish, but what really took me was the part of the menu that explained that all entrees come with your choice of french fries or plantains. Could this be the fusion to which  Lonely Planet was referring? 

Long story short, I was not a humongous fan of Puerto Rican Chinese food. And, believe me, it's best if I don't tell the rest of the story.

My other international Chinese experience also did not take place in China (that would be too easy). Instead, someone convinced me that it would be a swell idea to try Chinese food in Florence, Italy. 

Hm. 

It was an off-the-beaten-path type place, close to the house I was living in, and I went with my roommate and a pretty decent-sized group of adventurous young people. The name of the place? Fu Qui. Sounds funny in English, but it translates to "I was here (a long time ago)." Aptly named, of course, because I was.

The first surprising thing about Italian Chinese food is that the menus is in Italian and English, but not Chinese. This menus bore no resemblance to Steve's, but boasted dishes like "fried cloud of dragon" and "four colors dumplings." My absolute favorite part was the attempt to Italianize the names of the dishes. Even the English translations read "ravioli soup" for what we call wonton soup, and, instead of "lo mein", "chinese spaghetti." 

I have to give the Italians a bit of credit on this one. Their food, while "interesting", was not half bad. (And they had one-up on Steve... a full bar). Plus, I swear, you could order as much as you wanted at that place and still not break €4. 

Ravioli soup actually led me to a revelation. If Florentines can make Chinese food, and so can Puerto Ricans, Angelenos, and Steve, and none of it even remotely resembles each other... maybe "Chinese food" is just a label we stick on vaguely-Chinese-inspired menus. Maybe the food being offered in these places is a modified stereotype of Chinese food, altered to appeal to the palates of the locals. And maybe, just maybe, none of it is actually anything like what they eat in China. Kind of like how the US has bastardized the pizza and, in turn, Italy got its revenge on our hamburger. 

But perhaps it's not such a bad thing to see food cross borders, because maybe crossing those borders opens doors of opportunity for immigration and cultural awareness. 

And THAT's your (Chinese) food for thought.