No place for the squeamish

CHOW: You don't need to read the menu because there isn't one. Nor do you need to order. Food will simply arrive.

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Joe Bennett

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OPINION: There may well be protocols to eating in China. I never discovered them. As far as I could tell, the only rule was to get stuck in.

Food is cheap, varied and sometimes alarming. Most of the country is still intimately acquainted with poverty, so the Chinese eat what they can get, especially with regard to protein.

I saw dog restaurants and donkey restaurants and entered neither. In a country market I saw kebabs of candied insects. The insects resembled cockroaches but may have been cicadas. I was told that, in some parts of China, scorpions are a delicacy. The word delicacy probably just means available.

I did eat some creatures that resembled giant millipedes. They were delivered to my table alive. I had to boil them. This was entertaining as an activity but disappointing as a gastronomic experience.

The Chinese work harder than we do. They eat out a lot because it leaves more time for work. The choice of restaurants is overwhelming. Many consist only of a gas ring, two black saucepans, a standpipe and a couple of plastic tables overseen by a woman who cooks. And serves. And washes up. And collects money. And carries on several conversations at once. And has lived through a lot of tough times, so is she isn't going to be fazed by a big nose Westerner sitting down to be fed. She will merely be stunned into momentary silence, along with all her customers. They'll stare for a bit. Smile at them. They'll smile back. Then normal service will resume.

You don't need to read the menu because there isn't one. Nor do you need to order. Food will simply arrive. It will consist of a bowl of rice or noodles in a thin liquid, along with some shreds of cabbage. There may also be some meat-related scraps.

The concoction won't taste a lot different to drinking from a drain, but then it won't cost a lot more than drinking from a drain.

If you go upmarket a bit, the food will no longer be effectively free but it will still be cheap and there may be a menu.

The menu may have illustrations and even translations into Chinglish. The Chinglish won't help - twice fryed mats with pee is typical - but the illustrations will.

A Shanghai menu showed a bird in a bowl of water. By way of preparation for serving, the bird had been plucked, but that was it. The beast lay on its back with its head flopped over the side of the bowl. Beneath it stood an abnormally informative caption. Pigeon soup, it said.

You can't go wrong with dumplings. In my childhood, dumplings meant balls of suet that lurked just below the surface of a casserole like shipping mines. In China they mean savoury parcels shaped like miniature Cornish pasties. The casing looks like human skin. The stuffing is unidentifiable.

Don't try to identify it. It's probably pork of sorts, but you're better off not knowing what sorts. China grows half the world's pigs and, when it kills one, it wastes nothing.

The dumplings are steamed in little wicker baskets and are generally served with dunking vinegar. Whether you dunk or not depends on your command of chopsticks. If that command is poor, ask for a spoon. They may have one. They're unlikely to have a fork and won't have a knife.

Eating should be social. In China it is. The word companion means someone you break bread with. The Chinese don't eat a lot of bread but they do companionship better than we do.

Restaurants are noisy, dishes communal. If you can get in with a group, let them order. Then enjoy the surprises. I didn't notice any rules. Just grab bits of whatever, stop when you think you've had enough, smoke a cigarette, realise you haven't had enough, start again, and keep laughing and, if possible, shouting.

Don't ask where the toilets are. The word for toilets is unpronounceable. Just mime what you need. It's quicker and it's guaranteed to get a laugh. Contrary to Western preconceptions, the Chinese laugh more than we do.

There's only one phrase you must master. It sounds something like chao foon. It means fried rice. Ubiquitous, absurdly cheap, glistening with fat, dotted with egg and sundry coloured bits, it's a meal for an impoverished but happy king.

- © Fairfax NZ News