Monkey on the menu!

I am typing from 32,000 feet on Cathay Airlines. No Napa wines here, but I had a decent New Zealand pinot with my rather unexotic eggs, rice and toast. Let me tell you about my dinner in Beijing.

The dinner banquet that followed my day at the factory was not a typical Chinese approach blending old and new. None of the pan-Asian California fusion I’ve come to love a whole lot. We’re taking tradition, and this scared me. Of course I’d been to China before, which made the dinner that much more frightening. I knew there would be at least eight courses and that I’d be able to identify a food item in maybe one of them. This is a good thing as it’s sometimes better not to know. I dreaded dinner. I also knew it would be impolite to refuse at least a small bite of monkey meat if that was what was served. I was fixated on the possibility. Monkey on a bed of rice? Monkey brain ceviche? That, and the potential for inclusion of various insects, beaks, feet, snakes and…dogs (!!) Such tales (no pun intended) comprise the horrific lore of business travelers to China. And how stupid must we look, choking down mystery bits? Are they laughing back in the kitchen? Silly American intractability?! I am reminded of a commonly used family cookbook in our household, One Bite Won’t Kill You. And I do hope that it won’t.

The banquet was both sumptuous and mysterious. Thankfully, they served several wines from Napa in my honor. I drank as much as I dared, in hopes that the medicinal properties would kick in if needed. I was actually hungry, which also helped. And I can’t say anything tasted bad, dangerous or truly deadly. Unusual comes to mind… I choose to believe that what tasted like roast duck may well have been roast duck. But if monkey was served, so be it, the adventure brings me closer to knowing the Chinese. And in fact, I stayed a second day. Not to work, nor to dine adventurously, but to see the Chinese Art Museum. So much of what I saw there would not have been permitted a few years ago. The rain had cleared too. This city was no less urban, but instead of choking dust and pollution I saw the promise of greater things for this country. My first trip to Beijing ten years ago stands in sharp contrast – everyone in dark Mao suits and baggy pants. No more! Color is what has changed the most. Red signifies happiness in China and on this trip I saw a lot of red. And speaking of happiness, I’m just about two hours from returning to RED House!