Gung Hay Fat Rat!

We are a group of people who love food. We are like foraging insects who upon discovering a quality source of pollen, nectar, or seeds pass the word directly onto the rest of our colony. We are The Eaters. Some of us can even cook, too. A few of us cook for a living, others make it their business to find the best meals in Vancouver. I feel privileged to be one of The Eaters. especially on a night when we are treated to Chinese New year's Feast hosted by our man, Lee (Mr. Crabkini 2008.)



It's a tricky thing, planning a dinner with a bunch of Eaters and their troublesome offspring, but we're in good hands. Lee arranges a private room with a special table and menu just for the kids. He's chosen to wait until the Alaskan King crabs are in season and orders a menu based around the crab prepared in a variety of ways. We go take a look at the tanks where the giant creatures with thick, bumpy shells remind me of the giant alien robots in a lurid cover illustration of The War of the Worlds. They are horrible and majestic creatures, dredged from the deep for our entertainment. Some are more feisty than others. All are doomed baby, doomed.

When we get settled, the waiters take our orders for libations: beer, soft drinks, and Perrier for the pregnant lady. Meanwhile, we pour cups of jasmine tea for one another, lulled into a semi-hypnotic state by the Lazy Susan. The first course is a slow-cooked cleansing broth made with pork and figs. The meat is placed on a dish with the figs and ginko nuts to display the pride in ingredients and provide some texture to whet out appetites. The kids start munching on crispy chicken, shrimp chips and broccoli. Next, the crabs are presented by our two waiters, whose work is a lovely twinned choreography throughout the evening. I'm sure they laughed to themselves about these crazy people who want to devour the food with their cameras before they chow down for real. Lee holds a crab up to his chest and our Jeffrey Steinesque comrade, makes jokes about crustacean nipple clamps. Ouch. There are some other photos taken by the other photographers that take the phrase "food porn" to a new level. (I'll spare you the details, dear readers, so you can sleep safely at night.) "Say bye bye!" the waiter says and they're off to be put in what must be a geezly big pot of boiling water.

When we next see the crabs they have been dressed and drenched in garlic and butter. The tops of the leg shells have been sheered off by some kind of crab dremel so we can easily pick the meat out with our crab forks. The fresh sweetness of the flavour is enhanced, not masked by the sauce. The next part of the crab that comes sends me into the food-lust swoon: crab knuckles served with a dry, salty curry and garlic chips. This is called "Typhoon Shelter Crab", which makes me wonder what kind of story lies behind the invention of this incredible dish. Whoever was trapped in that typhoon shelter sure knew how to cook a crab. Maybe they had crab seven days a week for several weeks. Crab, crab, crab, until finally Eureka! A dish was invented that made it possible to fall in love with crab every time they ate it. To triple what SC calls our "Double Happiness" of crab, the waiters toss noodles in the buttery garlic crab juices left over after we've devoured the meat.

The rest of the meal was a study of contrasting textures--the chewy, slippery abalone mushrooms, and delicate pea tips, the slightly crunchy pea pods and silky scallops, the melting texture of the start anise ribs. (Who needs sous vide?) The lamb in the stew was pleasantly chewy, complimented by the lovely umami quality of the fermented tofu melting into its rich gravy. Does that tofu come in a bottle? Gotta get some of that for home cooking. The free-range chicken was served with a galangal/salt five-spice mix, and our table mused what was to be done with the little chicken head, eyes closed in rigor mortis.
"Do they die with their eyes closed?" In our King Crab finale a la "Portuguese", the shells are filled with a creamy coconut curry and rice, which is served in individual bowls.

Our son's antennae perk up when he sees us eating a dessert made with red bean paste and tapioca baked with a rich cakey crust. What I imagine he thinks is chocolate gives his palate quite a shock at first, but I see him come back later for more. I could have eaten two helpings, three with whipped cream.

These are time-honoured cooking traditions which escaped from the Typhoon shelters and crossed the oceans, highways and byways through the Chinese Canadian diaspora. Thank goodness for that, and thanks for friends who know how to celebrate the Ratty New Year. Finally, thanks to Lee for being such a gracious host!