Plain abalone buttons up the duck
Can you speak or spell Chinese? Personally I know a lot of Chinese words. I think it’s what used to be known as Cantonese, after the city of Canton in southern China, but they change the spelling of Chinese cities every twenty minutes or so, so I think Canton is now Guangzhao, but give it time. The language is still called Cantonese as opposed to Mandarin which is spoken in the north. Can you say chop suey? Of course you can. So can I. How about chow mein? Is that all? If so, you have no right to laugh at Chinglish, which is often found on signs in those Chinese shops that are politely trying to serve English customers.
Personally, I like to collect Chinglish menus. The first I remember was “twice stabbed beef,” but sadly I don’t have a photo of it. I enjoy a plate of “scorrops” whenever I see them on the menu. Should you see any wonderful examples of Chinglish menus on your rambles, please feel free to send the photos to me. My mailing info is at the bottom of this story. Don’t forget to include a stamped, self-addressed envelope.
To get started, one of my faves is a tasty item named “Man and wife lung slice.” Doesn’t that sound appetizing? Sadly I seem to have cut off the edge of the accompanying photo that illustrates this bizarre menu item, but it does appear to be a slice of lung, but whether it’s the man or his wife’s lung is difficult to ascertain. This raises the question of where do you obtain lung slices for your restaurant? Perhaps it has something to do with lung cancer and hospitals. I’ve always wondered what they do with the bits and pieces they cut off. Now you know. The picture comes with a price. It’s 18 something or other, which is beyond my budget, so it’s up to you to find out. Let me know when you know.
Second up is a photo of a sign indicating Unripe food. Hey, you can get unripe food anywhere, but how often does the store put up a sign admitting it’s unripe? On the other hand, you can get “past its due date” food anywhere too, but I’ve never seen a sign boasting about it. There are Chinese characters above the English letters and chances are the characters say the same thing. Then again, maybe not. Maybe in Chinese they mean “only for westerners.” This is when it comes in handy to know more words than Chow Mein and Chicken Foo Young. You may note that this sign is posted on a dirty old board and the paint is peeling too, so perhaps it’s been there a long time. There is something to be said about truth in advertising, and this is a prime example. Also, if it’s unripe, all you need to do is wait a while, perhaps for as long as it took this sign to deteriorate.
Now we work our way towards illustration number three, one of my favourites in my entire menu collection. This is a restaurant with flair and imagination. You won’t see these items on any old McDonalds menu, that’s for dang sure. Black pepper cowboy bone is definitely an item that would go over well in Texas, for instance. The wording is a bit unclear. Is it a cowboy whose thigh bone has been sautéed, braised, broiled or barbequed? Or is it a meat that would appeal to a cowboy, as if cowboys liked Chinese food? One thing for sure, whatever it is comes with black pepper, so if you like pepper be sure to order this selection. If you are prone to sneezing, remember to jam your nose into your elbow when you blow.
Finally, we come to my favourite menu selection of all time. Plain abalone buttons up the duck can be interpreted in many ways. First of all, let’s agree that these are plain abalone buttons and not the other kind, which we shall not speak of here. This raises the question of what an abalone button is, or even what it looks like. This is a menu selection that should come with a picture. I’ve never seen an abalone wearing a jacket, never mind one with buttons on it. Perhaps it’s a mistake and the food in question is actually a geoduck because I’ve seen some of those before and they look well-dressed if placed nicely on a plate with some asparagus.
It’s the “up the duck” part that has me confused. That could be interpreted in many different ways, some of which I am not permitted to describe in a family publication. Nonetheless, there is a duck involved somehow. Think of it like your mother sticking stuffing up a turkey and you could easily work up an appetite. Think of it in another way and you lose your appetite immediately. Perhaps the duck comes separately, on the side, like French fries come with a cheeseburger, but now we are losing track entirely and it’s time to move on.
The same menu offers “jadeite fries the perch” and now I am lost completely. Fries we already know. You can get fries everywhere in the world from Siberia to Carl’s Junior, but I would give anything from Carl’s a pass if I were you. Carl’s gets its supplies from what Burger Death throws into the recycling bin. It’s the jadeite that confuses me. Jade is a lovely stone and makes for great jewelry, but I don’t want it for dinner, even with a generous dose of black pepper or up a duck, whether fried or not.
Then comes the perch. Is that a perch like you find in a bird’s cage, bringing to mind the Monty Python sketch of a Norwegian Blue parrot, long expired and nailed to its perch for quick sale. Or is a perch the kind of cheap fish that you find for sale in discount seafood marts, scraped from the sea bottom along with a healthy dose of sludge? This menu item can be imagined in a wide variety of ways and I would suggest you ask your server for an explanation, which you could only do if you spoke Chinese. Which you don’t, do you?
At this time it seems convenient to move forward quickly to the juice selections. I would rather have a cool glass of mango or orange juice over a can of pop any old time of day, and a glass of lemon juice would be great on a hot day if in fact it meant lemonade, because I am a lemonade freak and can down a glass faster than Bob’s your uncle. But “strange juice?” Now that certainly piques my interest. Curiosity killed the cat. I would order a glass of strange juice so fast it would make your head spin. I would even do it with a blindfold on. But that raises the question whether I would drink it if I couldn’t see what it looked like. Suppose it had tiny creatures in the glass doing the breast stroke, as I have observed in tap water in more countries than I wish to admit. Also, if it’s a colour not found in nature I’m not going to drink it, no matter what it doesn’t taste like. The photo on the menu shows six Chinese characters so perhaps there is an explanation for its strangeness, so don’t you wish you spoke some Chinese?
Finally we arrive at the “piece de resistance,” as the French would say if they spoke Chinese. This menu shows a global influence, as you somehow have Sicily Assorted Garlic Bread mysteriously appearing on a Chinese menu. You’ll also note Tartar Sauce and Anchovy Dressry which seldom appear on Chinese menus, whether Mandarin or Guangzhao-eze. Sure, you can get Golden Braised Pork or Roasted Prawns with Herbs damned near anywhere except when you are looking for them, but how often can you find Deep Fried Sesame Children, especially on a stick?
You are wondering, of course, where they get the children from. I refer you to “Man and wife lung slice” as a place to start your search. There are many parents I can imagine who would love to assist you with your endeavors. For me, it’s the sesame that catches my eye. Is that sesame sauce, or just sesame seeds? I hate picking seeds out of my teeth. And why deep fried? Everything is deep fried these days and that’s bad for your health, never mind fattening.
I look forward to hearing from you when you find answers to any of these pertinent and intriguing questions and when you have photo proof of your discoveries. I’ve already given you mailing directions and eagerly await your correspondence. Donations to the cause are greatly encouraged. Meanwhile, I will wait here for you.