MORE REFRESHING THAN THE MORE COMMONLY PRACTICED CRISPY FRIED HERBS,
BUT FAR MORE ADDICTIVE…
MY relationship with dining-out for western cuisines in Beijing has been for the past 5 years, at best, a struggle of love and hate. The incentive for attempting such silly missions is simple. If you were living in Beijing, most of the times your best shot at some happiness at least is to make yourself feel like, you weren’t. And sometimes, you know, the right restaurants can do that.
But unfortunately, for far too many times, I’ve sat on a taxi-ride home fed with the fury of underwhelming meals, overcharged bills, and all together more often than not, a complementary cocktail of clueless and laughable services. In the end, I guess one could argue that all along, the true idiot had always been, perhaps, me. Because I was the one who’s been looking for cow’s milk in a rat’s asshole, trying to match the standard of what’s available here with that of New York.
I was the real joke.