Humotropy

So, I love Chinese food.  Really, I love Asian food in general, but lets stick to the topic for a moment.  My labmates and I have made a habit of visiting the local Asian eateries in the Ann Arbor area, one at a time, and comparing cuisine from the different regions of the continent.  Of course, my labmates, with the sole exception of me, are all Taiwanese and Korean, so ordering food is simple for me: sit back and wait for the tasties to arrive.

When I’m alone though, that is, without my Asian escort, I have a tough time at restaurants since I am immediately handed the American version of the menu and a fork.  I hate the American menu.  8Asians.com is diplomatic in their assessment of American Chinese food:

Have you ever noticed how Americanized Chinese food, really isn’t so Chinese? I’ve found that interestingly enough, the food is… well, coarsely made.

Yes, coarsely made, indeed.  Real Chinese food is not INVARIABLY doused in a sugary reddish-brown goop. Real Chinese food is well made and has identifiable parts in it - with the exception of fishballs which are awesome on a whole different level. Maybe I’m a strange one.

From a Cantonese perspective, I would imagine that some people would have trouble swallowing the thought of eating barbeque chicken feet, or thousand year old egg in congee.

See, I love that stuff.  I love the chicken feet when some of my Asian friends won’t touch the stuff.  Really, I think I’m an Asian trapped in a white-boy body.  If we can do sexual reassignment surgery, can’t we do racial reassignment, too?