When in France: Beverage Tips

Willy’s post on sweet tea and my post on Jack Daniel’s (along with all the other Gadling posts on beverages) have made me thirsty. I started searching out beverage info and found this handy guide on drinking in France. Browse this write up on Travelotica.com and you’ll know what to drink, when to drink it and how to imbibe for cheap. These are all tips handy for keeping instep with the French. Here are a few of them.

Before eating, drink an aperitif to stimulate your appetite. After eating, savor a digestif to feel satisfied-coffee counts. During a meal, sip on wine (vin) to enhance your dining experience. Actually, in France you can drink wine the live-long day whether you’re eating or not. House wine is “vin de table”or “vin ordinaire” and is the cheapest offering. The fancier version of table wine is called “cuvee” but it will cost you more.

If you drink at the bar, the price is cheaper for drinks than if you drink at a table. Drinking on the patio costs the most. A few years back I was in Paris killing time and spent an hour or so drinking a cup of coffee. That’s perfectly acceptable. That’s good to know. I was on the patio, though. I guess if I would have known the bar is cheaper I could have saved some money.

A Canadian in Beijing: Fine Dining at Din Tai Fung

Sometimes you have to see what all the fuss is about. This restaurant, “Din Tai Fung,” is touted as being one of the “top ten restaurants in the world” and if people are saying that about it then I figure it had better be good. Of course, it could just have a good reputation or good “guanxi” with the New York Times (where the quote is from, 1993). Either way, there was only one way to find out.

When my school mates told me they were heading down to have dinner there and invited me along, I figured it would be the only chance I’d have to check it out. Quite honestly, I don’t really do “fine dining” here in Beijing… or, should I say ever. In fact, I’m more the type that likes to buy bits and pieces at markets and cobble it together to form a delicious meal for pennies a plate. I like cheap and back alley restaurants. I don’t mind the broken down interior if the taste is superb. In fact, the seedier the environment, often the better the food. At least, that’s what I’ve found.

So, when I arrived at this restaurant with my friends and stepped onto the plush carpeting of the gorgeous lobby, was greeted in English and then ushered upstairs into the dining room like it was a theatre event, I knew it was going to be expensive. I just hoped the taste would match the price.

The place was truly beautiful. Pristine, in fact. The bathrooms were all automated and the walls were lined with full length mirrors at all angles. My friend Daisy pointed out that “women like to see what they look like” and I laughed. I suppose everyone likes the option to see themselves from all angles once in awhile (regardless of gender).

There was also a kid’s playroom equipped with brightly coloured toys, comfy couches and activities for them to busy themselves with while parents enjoy their meal. No supervision in there, however, so I suppose it was only for slightly older kids who could be checked in on once in awhile.

The dining room was brightly lit and was more than half-filled with foreign (non-Chinese) faces. My friend Dave had been here before and so he was assigned the job of ordering food. That’s always a little dangerous with Dave as he tends to order too much – way too much – and in this restaurant, everything was priced so high that I couldn’t imagine both the food and the money waste if he ordered more than we could eat. By the look on the face of the waiter as he left our table with order in hand, I could only assume that we were going to have a feast.

And, I was right.

Dishes kept coming. This places specializes in steamed bread dumplings, or baozi. I eat them everyday for breakfast – 4 for 2 kuai – and these came in steam baskets at about 4 for 30 kuai, or fifteen times what I am familiar with paying here. They were tasty, however, and I promised myself I would stop calculating the cost of my meal and just enjoy the flavours. After all, if you think in Canadian dollars, those four baozi were about a dollar a piece, which is hardly much back home.

Eventually, we couldn’t eat anymore and Dave was able to head off the waiter and cancel the remaining three dishes that were on their way. Thankfully! We were all ready to roll away. We had eaten so much that we were starting to look like baozi!

I went downstairs and got some pictures of the open kitchen as well. They’ve positioned the windows so that people can peer in and watch these boazi (and jiaozi etc.) being made fresh by the chefs there. The windows were, of course, steamed up by the steam and so the only place you could actually see inside was through the open window at one end. I found this ironic and I smiled to myself. The chef looking out the window smiled back and motioned that I could get closer if I wanted. I practically leaned into the kitchen to get this shot, much to the amusement of the other chefs.

The lobby was also glittering with awards. This restaurant is all over the world and it has been honoured everywhere, it seems. Beijing is no exception.

In the end, I enjoyed my meal (lots of vegetarian options were available) and just handed over the $130 kuai which represented my portion of a bill that came to over $700 kuai. In Canadian dollars, that’s an average night out (and currently converts to only $18). In Beijing, that was extravagant.

I prefer the streaming baozi fresh from the dusty marketplace down the road from my school, but the experience was worth the expense. I recommend it to anyone breezing through Beijing without the time to seek out the perfect market stall for the perfect snack.

Besides, the menu was in both Chinese and perfect English.

We could easily have been in New York.

(But don’t even get me started about eating in U.S. dollars!)

How to Visit Marché d’Intérêt National de Rungis

Just outside of Paris sits the Marché d’Intérêt National de Rungis (or International market of Rungis), the largest wholesale food market in the world. Each day the 573 acre complex is flooded with 26,000 trucks worth of fresh vegetables, fish, meats, and cheeses; 13,000 market workers, restaurateurs, and distributors unite to purchase the freshest of the fresh for the lowest price. €7-billion worth of food is sold within the gates every year.

Visiting this colossal market as a tourist, however, can be challenging. Buses, passenger trains, and most taxis won’t go there, and subway lines stop well before reaching the southern commune of Rungis. Doors open at midnight, and by 7 AM, most of the days goods have been pillaged to leave only the rotten and runt. Even when you do make it, the locals want you out of their way, and they’re not afraid to tell you.

While the Rungis market may not be completely accessible to tourists, it’s still possible for the persistent traveler to pay a visit. A writer with FXCuisine.com recently went, and reported back on the best way to make a stop. You can either:

  1. Join a group tour
  2. Hire an official guide
  3. Go with a registered Rungis buyer/seller
  4. Sneak in with chutzpah
  5. Become a registered buyer

For a full trip report, including details on how you can take in the sights and smells of Rungis the next time you’re in Paris, visit FXCuisine.com. [via]

Video of Eating Spiders in Cambodia

It’s been far too long since we’ve posted about bizarre foreign street food here at Gadling and therefore I was pleased to discover a cool little video over on the Telegraph (UK) website.

Telegraph online editor Francisca Kellett was traveling through northern Cambodia when she got wind of the local specialty: fried spiders. Apparently locals took to eating spiders during the brutal Khmer Rouge regime when little food was available. Over time, this emergency sustenance has actually become a well-loved treat in Cambodia and locals merrily consume the spiders as though they are candy.

Like any travel reporter worth their salt, Kellett braved up and plucked the legs from one of these deep-fried beasts and popped it into her mouth. Crunchy and garlicky were the first words out of her mouth. But, see for yourself by clicking there. Mmm…..

(Photo by Sari78, Flickr)

The “Sweet Tea” Mason-Dixon Line

If you’ve spent any time in the southern US, you know about “sweet tea.” Pre-sweetened — sometimes mouth-puckeringly so — sweet tea is a staple throughout the south. But what do we mean when we say “the south”?

Historically, the line of separation between the north and the south has been the Mason-Dixon line. This line, set by Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon on October 9, 1767, settled a border dispute and defined Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland. During the civil war, the line stood as a separation between free and slave states.

Today, Virginia seems to have an internal conflict — a split personality, if you will — in which the northern area of the state does not generally offer sweet tea; in the southern part of the state, sweet tea is far more common. Perhaps the line of of change in sweet tea availability — a Sweet Tea Mason-Dixon line — may be the most realistic line of demarcation separating the North from the South today.

[Via Neatorama]