Gung Hay Fat Choy

I had an awesome photo essay going last night until the Internet ate my post. Die, Local ISP.

Phillip and I kicked off the Year of the Rooster up in Vancouver this weekend- okay, so the new year doesn't actually start till Wednesday, but the feasting was done Saturday night and everyone knows that that's what REALLY counts. And Phillip's family? Knows how to eat. In fact, any trip to Vancouver involves enough food to feed the entire North American continent. And this is not the Chinese food you have when you're too tired to cook and order take out. This is not the sweet-and-sour chicken that Phillip's cousin cooked for me at his restaurant because "that's what Americans like!" If taking one's rather conspicuous digital camera into a fancy restaurant to take pictures of lobster and jellyfish and little shrimps and scallops artfully arranged inside deep-fried noodle 'baskets' didn't rank in the upper echelons of Unspeakably Rude, I would have totally done it. And now I'm sitting here trying to think of all the other things we ate, but I can't because there were SO MANY THINGS.

Course 1: This is always the same. Cold jellyfish masquerading as noodles. I am all about the way food LOOKS, so I was seriously surprised the first time I tried this and the noodles turned out to be cold, rubbery and slightly spicy JELLYFISH. Yeah, I haven't fallen for that again. There are some other cold dishes and I usually head for the mushrooms wrapped in tofu lest someone tries to get me to eat the jellyfish. (Tip #1 for eating with a Big Chinese Family: Do not sit next to elderly relatives. They will ignore you every time you say "No thanks." They do not care. You can tell them you're going to be ill, but they'll probably just hand you an empty rice bowl, politely wait for you to be sick, and then heap more food on your plate now that you have room.)

Course 2-9: Chunks of lobster. Chunks of fried chicken. Shrimp and scallops surrounded by steamed broccoli. Chinese spinach. The crab meat soup that has something else in it besides crab meat, but no one will tell you what it is because then the kids won't eat it. (But I know what it is: FISH LIPS. I am so not kidding.) The fish that was deboned in front of me. Sticky rice with tiny shrimp. A mountain of beef that no one can eat because did you read about all the food that came before it? (Tip #2: It helps to sit next to someone who eats a lot and totally does not mind finishing off your fish lips for you.)

Course 10: The dreaded Red Bean Goop. I don't know what this is, really, but it is always dessert and I always have to figure out how to act so incredibly stuffed that I cannot possibly force a spoonful of Red Bean Goop down my throat.

Then, the Bonus Course I've Never Had Before, Maybe Because My Mother-In-Law Told The Waiter We Didn't Like Red Bean Goop: little lime and coconut jello thingies that looked like big mah jongg tiles. There was a thin layer of lime on top with a big section of not-at-all-transparent white on the bottom. It was a lot like jello with a bit more substance.

And because we apparently didn't eat enough Saturday night, half of the family came back for sushi on Sunday. The thing that always amazes me about these Vancouver trips is that the food is small: little shrimps, little scallops, little spoonfuls of rice and noodles, little bits and pieces to dip in the little bowls of sauces. But when the meal is over, the diners have gained a collective 387 pounds. And when you have a ten course dinner and all-you-can-eat sushi for lunch, you have NO IDEA HOW MUCH FOOD YOU HAVE EATEN.

Anyway, welcome to Monday, the day where the crap you ate over the weekend comes back to haunt you. Tomorrow: Mah Jongg! Bubble Bath! Red Envelopes! It's Gung Hay Fat Choy, The Photo Essay.