cheese in china.

After about a month in China, I had the chance to attend a UW alumni reception with some other expatriate Beijingers. After the cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, and a short video from the Honorary David Johnston, then - UW President but now - Governor-General of Canada, we stumbled through a quaint alleyway named 南锣鼓巷 [nánluógǔxiàng]. It was then that a native Beijinger and fellow UW alumnus pointed out the place to go for homemade "yogurt". I made a mental note to go back - it only took about a year and 4 months, but I finally made it. 

Delhi belly, number six.

Late-night cravings for my sweet tooth.

This was one of the moments that I had waited for all trip: Bengali sweets, named after the region where they originate. Reminiscent of childhood potlucks and family get-togethers, I still remember as a child how the shopkeeper at Mistaan Catering & Sweets would always offer free samples of jalebi and gulab jamun as I waited (oh-so patiently of course) for my father to receive his order of these precious, little delights. 

Ladoos, or what my brother used to get
on his tests according to my mother
(aka big fat eggs/zeros). 

Sweet, milky treats that always made me
question whether the silver was edible.

Delhi belly, number five.

Catering to the masses.

Oh, those infamous Golden Arches.

More of a novelty than anything, I was curious to see how the I'm lovin' it-marketing team had developed their products to this nation of strict diet-following Indian consumers. Lo and behold, the menu was mainly comprised of chicken, potato and paneer (a type of fried cheese) as the staples.

Suprisingly not found on the menu, I was really hoping to try my luck at a mutton burger. What didn't surprise me however was that these Golden Arches are somewhat scarcely found in this country (this was only my second viewing after almost 2 weeks of travelling). But considering that there are other way more delicious options out there in the food department, why bother getting an overpriced aloo tikki (a nicely spiced potato cutlet) if the only difference is a 'Mc' prefix on some fancy packaging?

The McAloo Tikki burger.

 The Maharaja Mac.

Somebody should get a hurt real bad.

Delhi belly, number four.

I have to admit when I was a kid, I used to call it Goofy, thinking it was for some strange reason named after a beloved Disney character. But little did I know, it was only my young untrained ears that were picking up my parents' Indian pronounciation of the word, taking the "k" sound and turning into a soft "g".

Kulfi is to India,
as gelato is to Italy.

A cool icy treat, it usually comes in popsicle-form on a stick, but occassionally you'll find it in bowl-form as well. Although the flavours are endless, I would recommend the traditional pistachio or mango flavours for any first-timer. It also comes in the original malai kulfi, malai meaning cream, but it's not as exciting once you've had the others. 

I know this is the real deal, but I still
think J's mom makes it way better.

Delhi belly, number three.

When it comes to certain ethnic food, like everyone else I usually have a go-to staple. If it were Korean, I'd get kimbap. If it were Italian, I'd get insalata caprese. But my Indian one wasn't to be found in northern Rajasthan, but only in the southern parts of India. So you can imagine my joy when I discovered our lovely breakfast buffet had a dosa station, right across from the omelette one.  

The Indian version of a crèpe
made of lentils and rice, fermented
so a bit on the sour side.

Wrapped with different fillings, 
in this case sambar (a vegetable stew). 

Paired with a variety of chutneys,
the combinations are endless, miam!

Delhi belly, number two.

The colours of Udaipur.

Oh Delhi belly, I've heard so much about you. And taken every extra precaution to avoid meeting you. And after my experience at Bademiya's, I thought I had.  

For those of you who aren't familiar with this term, Delhi belly isn't a cute way of expressing overindulgance when it comes to eating Indian food, but some, rather unpleasant after-effects.

Udaipur street channa.

Those three words my brother will utter, haunting me full of regret. But how can you not be entranced by those wheels? By those colours? And that intoxicating smell of fried food? I figured, it does seem like everything is being cooked, no raw, India-water here.  So we dove right in... that is, until we saw the vendor scoop water from an unknown source, and pour it over the channa, and I mean all over.

Well, at least in regards to street food, we won't have to worry in the future about our curiosity getting the best of us.

Channa to the left, pani puri
in the middle, fried shells to the right.

Just a couple of regulars,
getting their daily pani puri fix.

If you can't fight 'em, join 'em.

Delhi belly, number one.

A regular Monday night.

Bademiya Seekh Kabobs, as the sign reads. As our first night in India was coming to a close,  my dad surprisingly permitted, nay insisted, that we eat at this famous roadside eatery. Situated in Colaba, the southern tip of Mumbai, this pop-up restaurant only caters  in the evening until... well basically, until everything runs out, and boy, do these babies sell like hotcakes!  

Ordering is a little chaotic, no discernable lines with everyone shouting their orders in Hindi. Tables are hard to come by, some of the locals even had the brilliant idea to bring their own chairs from home. My dad, being the pro that he is, was able to get what seemed to be a waiter to look out for a table for us, then to bring out our food in a super timely manner.

We decided to get one kabob each and to share a whole tandoori chicken. I'm not the biggest fan when it comes to kabobs, I always find that they're over-grilled and dry. But after just one bite, my first thought was: now, what would one have to do to replace Adelaide Street's Burrito Boyz with Bademiya Boyz? 

The making of a roomali roti.

Rotis are usually very thin,
unlike their naan counterparts.

Enjoying the sweet Indian
roomali roti-scented air.

chicken soup for the "seoul".

It's been a little more than 11 years since my first very brush with the idea of living abroad. I never thought the day I would go back to Seoul would be because I was still living abroad. 

There were only three phrases in Korean that were still stuck in my memory after all of these years and surprisingly I was able to use all of them during my short trip back:

• on the plane to Seoul: joong gook saram (I'm Chinese.)
• while shopping: igo eolmayeyo (How much does this cost?)
• being approached by strangers: han gook mal molayo (I don't know Korean.)

Going back to my old neighbourhood brought on tons of new unrecognizable scenes, but there was still a strangely familiar feeling in the air. The old haunts I used to frequent (keep in mind I was only 13) such as the neighbourhood park, the Family Mart across the street from the school, the school itself, and the bakery, all were in their rightful places, just with a brand-new facelift. The stationary store where I spent hours trying out new pens, and Pinocchio's Pizza, a birthday party location fav, were unfortunately replaced by yet another slew of Seoul's ubiquitous coffee shops.



Where I first learned the difference between
"France" French and "Canadian" French.

 

Missing: the blue, white, red
bricked-sidewalk.



My old apartment!

 

What used to be Pinocchio's Pizza.

 

Kimbap.

About a week leading up to this much anticipated trip, I had the biggest jonesing for Korean food but I had to restrain myself with reminders that there were only a few days left before I would be eating the authentic stuff... 

Unfortunately I ran out of money, specifically won (TIP: the banks are closed on the weekend so exchange your currency before then!), so I wasn't able to indulge on food as much as I would have liked, but thank goodness for inexpensive street food. 

Pork bone soup.

Hella spicy garlic/BBQ chicken.

Red bean paste-filled.

 

More pork.



Ramyeon.



Dear Seoul, let's not let another
10 years go by before we meet again..
(photo courtesy of: C.)





china street eats, number one.

Quail eggs.

These little spotted egg shells are cracked over the mould, cooked, then basted with some kind of mystery sauce before being sprinkled with a spicy mix of chilli flakes and pepper.

Great little snack, but definitely not suitable when you are a starvin' marvin. I downed it in about 20 seconds.