It all started with a list.
So one of my friends said I HAD to try dim sum. I’d categorize it as Chinese tapas. So the other Sunday we ended up on the T to Boston en route to Chinatown.
We didn’t have a plan, but it appeared that 11 am is a very popular time for dim sum on goings. Case in point: the first restaurant telling us we’d have to wait a half hour and then share a table with strangers.
With an approving nod we were on the same page, and headed around the corner and found another location: Great Taste Bakery and Restaurant. I mean it said “great taste” in its name. Gotta be good. This one was busy, but we slipped into an open table right away. It was then I took a look around. There was not one sign I could read or a special I could understand (further indication that I need to learn to read more languages if I want good food). So I let my friend pick the food. (Okay, the menu had English on it, I was just being lazy.)
When the plates started coming out, I realized I shouldn’t have had anything to eat before. It seemed like it would never end. Seven plates later, we could begin noshing on shrimp dumplings in what I think was rice paper wrapping, some sort of beef wrapped up in a pillow of dough, a really scary looking crunchy ball I couldn’t break into, and way more.
The hardest part was not that I had to use chopsticks (I’m actually really good at that from eating countless pounds of Chinese takeout as a college student), it was trying to cut things in half without a knife. See Exhibit A:
That was actually delicious. But my favorite was something I’d never order because I didn’t know what it was before. Taro. It came in these little fried cubes of goodness. I could have eaten my weight in it. Taro, from what I gather, is a tuber, like a potato.
So now I’m just planning my next Sunday to go back. Who’s coming with me?