China Crumpet

So I was getting water from the cooler at the office and glancing around to see if any new mooncake shipments had reached our lonley administrative part of the hospital. Alas, it had not. However, I was intregued by these:

On the bag it said beef orchid bean. I know these characters, part of them are in my Chinese name, so I knew I was not making a horrible error and that it actually said “marinated century livers” or something. And yet, it did not look like any kind of beef, or any kind of orchid.

My curiosity got the better of me and I grabbed a handful and tried them. They were pretty good, a sort of spiced up, dried broad bean snack. They tasted salty and savoury and sweet at the same time and were very fragrant (fragrant is my new favourite word, it sums up China so perfectly all year round). I suppose they are meant to taste a little floral and beefy, hence the name.

Perhaps it is time to explore other uneaten snacks in the capital.

The end of an era. This is how I often feel when confronted with a career change, and this time especially. Over Christmas, I not only went back to Sweden and had obseen amounts of food (and gained a few pounds) but also mulled over my life and decided to quit my job as manager and sales executive at a neurosurgical stem cell clinic. Reading that last sentence, I wonder if I am at all sane… but then I think back on the past year and I think about the coming year of the ox and I relax again, well aware that I have made the right choice. Anyway, on January 1st I wrote to my employer and, as politely as I could, informed her that I would be leaving at the end of the month. Since Chinese New Year is early this year, it means this week is my last. And so, with no regrets, I went in to the office today and had a little cheese cake on paper plates and got my celebratory bunch of flowers. Yay.

When I was last in Sweden, I visited a farmer who had specialized in every imaginable tomato. Everything was completely organic; they had special dudes who came in and analyzed the pests that sometimes attacked the vines and recommended spiders that particularly enjoyed eating them! I was impressed to say the least. The vines were so beautiful and the tomatoes were delicious. Anyway, the farmer himself (yes, we got a tour!) told me that in order to check if the tomato had been sprayed with a bunch of pesticide, one just has to look at the root of the tomato, where the vine attaches to the fruit, and see if there is a green “halo” around it. As it turns out, the bigger the halo is, the more pesticide has been sprayed on the unsuspecting tomato. Who knew?? So, I have been on a mission trying to figure out which tomatoes are the best. I have to say, I was completely shocked see some of the tomatoes that are sold around the normal supermarkets here. But thankfully, I have found some very un-haloed tomatoes at our favorite market even though my friend, the tomato-obsessed fabulous farmer in Viken, Sweden, wins by a mile.

Since there is so much in the news about the horrific food that exists in China and how many pesticides and poisons there is in it, I have decided to post a little tale about our fabulous market and what we can get there.

Every week, Jonas and I visit the friendly neighborhood fresh food market along with all the other foreigners who have made their way there, and some select Chinese customers. There is literally nothing they don’t have. The other week we even managed to find some batteries for our Mac remote control at a little stall on the corner. I guess the dude figured “people always need batteries… Why not sell it to them when they are doing their weekly shopping?” This is the kind of pragmatic thinking I need to learn. Anyway, the market has saved both our taste buds and our wallets and I can only recommend similar small shop/market shopping if it’s available.

Our veggie lady is a champ, she has learned what everything is called in English (even though she barely knows how to say hello, she still knows what kaffir lime leaves are) and she gets the stuff she doesn’t have for you if you ask for it. I can honestly say that I have never seen such fresh and fantastic veggies. PESTICIDES! You scream! (yes, I can hear you through the computer). Well, I have carefully inspected all the veggies I buy there and sometimes I will find a little cabbage-munching-friend or a broccoli-eating worm. I have therefore concluded that they are fresher and tastier and less poisonous than most of the produce I get in a supermarket in Sweden. I mean, if it’s good enough for Calvin the caterpillar it’s good enough for me.

So, as a weekly ritual, Jonas and I will sit down and make a weekly menu, and then we shop. I have found this to be a very effective weight loss method and a great way to make sure you are getting all the nutrients you need. It takes some time every weekend but we’re getting quicker by the week and browsing around the market is actually quite fun and inspiring… and I get to hang out with my man all day.

Perhaps my dream of becoming a cheese farmer is not so far off?

Yesterday we went out with a good friend of ours and had some Chinese at our local haunt. As we were discussing my job and stem cells, we got on to hospital tales in general. She told us a story of when she was a young girl. It was the most outrageous thing I had ever heard so I have to share it with the world.

Throughout her middle school, this young lady (who I will not name for fear that her parents may read this blog) took guitar lessons. She absolutely hated her teacher, who according to my friend was a total tyrant. Anyway, one day she had not done her guitar homework and was really scared of going to class. So, she decided it would be a good idea if she faked a stomach ache so that she could go home and wouldn’t have to go to her lesson. As it happened, her school doctor was lurking in the hall and caught her using the phone saying she wanted to go home because of a sore stomach. He insisted he take a look at her and my poor friend had to fake her way through the stomach check too. Finally he decided she had appendicitis and she was rushed to hospital where her appendix was promptly taken out.

She hasn’t told her parents to this day that her appendix was completely fine. She told us rather sheepishly however, about the large scar she now has on her stomach.

I told her not to worry; we’ll fix the scar with some stem cells and unless her parents figure out who I am writing about they need never know.