The Joy and Wonder of Chinese Magic

I love international foods. For two years and four months I lived in an international community when employed by the English Language Service of Radio HCJB in Quito, Ecuador and there I learned the labyrinth of living with people of other cultures. In the midst of the wonder of it all, as well as the confusion and frustration, I developed a real taste for foreign cuisine.

And when I am free to chose my restaurant of choice, I almost always choose Far Eastern cuisine.

The staff of Li's Buffet know me on sight and Koi is a new local delight that opened just this year. When I sit down at these restaurants, it is with a delighted and contented sigh because I believe in magic and I have been given the opportunity to participate in the arcane relationship between a chef and his or her ingredients to make a delicacy that would have pleased any ancient emperor.

Yet nothing matches the sheer magic of the Yu Zhou Cafe in Gaithersburg, Maryland. Just across the street from Capclave, its clientele are predominantly Chinese and most of the food is traditional. It was there I learned about congee, a traditional Chinese staple and the only true Chinese dish I have mastered. Here I am quiet and observant. One can hear melodic Chinese spoken at almost every table. The aromas of exotic cuisine permeate the air. Waiters glide between the tables carrying trays of delightful mysteries. Though one can order any American version of what passes for oriental cooking, real Chinese dishes can be served if one knows what they are and has the temerity to order them.

Yes, there is magic here, magic that is delicious and delightful and alluring and, dare I say it?...even seductive.

Today, my wife and youngest son went off on a mission of their own and determined to find a new source of wonder, I drove into Gettysburg and told my GPS to list all the local Asian Restaurants. A name came up that was new to me and so I followed the directions to a strip mall and there a tiny restaurant bearing the unoriginal name of Hong Kong beckoned me.

I walked in to discover I was the only customer in the store. At the counter stood a lone individual and above him a series of pictures displayed their selections.

My General Tso's Chicken was generic breaded chicken that could have been used for any type of dish, the sauce clearly from a tin can. The pork fried rice was fresh and was the only tasty item served. The meal came on a real plate, but my fork was plastic and the soy sauce came in a generic packet.

Because of my vocation and nature, I am basically an irenic personality and it is very hard to offend me, but this little generic Chinese restaurant, no different from the hundreds of Chinese restaurants in hundreds of strip malls across the United States, committed a great sin against me.

I am very easy to please. All I wanted was a little magic. Instead, I was given nothing but a few morsels of banality served with all the grace and mystery of a sterile, plastic TV dinner.

In a few weeks, I will return to Li's Buffet and there I will once again indulge in cuisine steeped in wonder and wizardry.

I can hardly wait.