Dumplings

(I have one post before this one about the air quality that seems not to have gone out via email notification, so check it out if you want).

We had heard that Beijing was full of wonderful little neighborhood food shops where one could pop in for noodles or dumplings, but we had yet to find one. We were prioritizing Beijing’s major sites while Kate was still here which meant that when lunchtime rolled around, we were usually in an area geared for tourists. We ate affordably and well but knew we were far from “everyday” Beijing life. Sightseeing also meant lots of walking and standing and walking some more (my Fitbit tells me we’ve averaged 12 miles/day), so when hunger struck, we were not in a mood to go wandering around a hutong (traditional alley neighborhood) to find that mom-and-pop noodle shop.

Lucky for us, Mr. and Mrs. G are back!

Mr. and Mrs. G are dear friends, former Berkeley residents, now ex-pats living in Beijing. Mrs. G knew exactly where to take us. Okay — so maybe not “exactly.”

We walked down a bustling street. Mrs. G looked around. “Hmm…the last time I was here, it was late and these shops were closed,” she said. “It looks different now.” We turned into an alley, then turned right into a narrower alley. At one point, I thought Mrs. G was going to lead us through the back door of someone’s home kitchen. I wasn’t worried, though. This was not my first time at the Mrs. G rodeo. I knew we were in good hands.

After a few moments of “yes, yes, this looks familiar” and “I’m feeling good about this,” we arrived at a nondescript storefront. We sat at rickety tables under fluorescent lights and pored over the menu as if we could read a single word of it (which we couldn’t). It didn’t matter. Mr. and Mrs. G knew the only word the mattered.

Forty kick-ass delicious dumplings, two orders of bocai huashung (a cold spinach peanut dish), and four beers = $11 US.

As a commenter wrote on a previous post: duuummmpppllllingssss!