Tat, Alex and Justin Kwan atop the Great Wall of China at Mu Tian Yu, February 2010.

I guess there’s some saying that a Chinaman isn’t really a man until he’s stood atop the Great Wall.  For those interested in my dad’s exploits… here is proof that Tin Tat is really a man!  Haha.  Just the latest among dispatches from China — a photo of Tat, Alex and Justin Kwan on the Great Wall of China @ Mu Tian Yu.

I heard all about my dad and brothers’ trip just now via Skype.  Justin and Alex connected to Skype via wi-fi at a coffee shop (where they garnish drinks with really nice whipped cream, odd for off-the-beaten-path China?) in what used to be my dad’s mud-hut-and-rice-paddy village on Three Stoves Island.  It’s interesting to hear about the growth of China in the news — but to realize it through things like a casual Skype call is really quite amazing.

Happy Lunar New Year!  Today we ring in the Year of the Tiger.  We don’t really have much going on at the restaurant in honor of the holiday, however, I did buy a couple of lobsters for our employees to enjoy after work tonight.

Tin Tat Kwan cooks Chinese in China.

As for the “dispatch from China,” I am referring to a few photos from my brother Justin — and not actually a posting from China.  My dad is currently there with my brother Alex, too — and the three of them are spending Chinese New Year together in my dad’s hometown.  I’m doing what an oldest son does best — keeping things in line back here at the restaurant.  Normally, I’d be really jealous.  But I’m not this time — as my dad deserved a break and I volunteered to watch the restaurant.  It just so happened that Justin lives in China and Alex has the time (and apparently the money?) to travel for a couple weeks.

Here’s the funny part of the story:  Who goes all the way to China to cook his own Chinese food?  That would be my dad.

“Its funny, dad is so picky about eating,” wrote my brother Justin in an email.  ”I thought it was just about pizza and Mexican but he is fussy. It’s understandable though, he is a damn good chef.”

Justin flew in his own personal chef for some Chinese New Year entertainment.

Apparently the week my dad spent in Beijing didn’t do too much to satisfy his palate.  Justin reports that they went to a market one day and came back to Justin’s flat to cook, among other things, Cantonese-American “Shrimp in Lobster Sauce.”  Haha.

“He liked Peking duck and the mao tai white wine but wasn’t impressed by the kao yu or Sichuan-style bbq fish, said it was a failure!” Justin wrote.  ”So last night dad cooked! We went to the restaurant market and got a bunch of stuff for shrimp and lobster sauce (heaven), tomato chicken wings, choi sum, fish, black mushroom and bean curd, and lotus root. It was amazing and of course impressive. I guess it’s the best Chinese food I’ve had in China, haha.”

The Kwan boys unite for a night on the town in Minneapolis for the first time ever (for adult beverages). Alex pictured center, Justin right.

Thank goodness the Thanksgiving holiday is over.  What  a whirlwind of activity — my brother Justin was in from Beijing for two weeks, my cousin Donnie was in from California and I cooked for 15 people on Thanksgiving Day.  As fun as it was, nothing beats life at a normal pace.

I’m going to get back to blogging right away — and I vow not to let Christmas get in the way of a steady flow of thoughts.

Numerous good and bad things have been happening in Red Moon’s world.  Today our HVAC hood broke down at the height of preparing our lunch buffet.  The kitchen turned into food service hell.  Dank, thick, greasy-smoky air filled the kitchen and it oozed out into the dining room.  It’s so embarrassing when stuff like that goes wrong — but I am always heartened by how understanding most people are.

Red Moon's Holiday Feast -- a view from inside: whether the in-house marketing is working this time around.

Here’s a preview of some of the tales to come:  1) How we experimented with a coconut shrimp recipe to meet a catering request 2) A story of theft and near-firing  3) My dad’s only memory of his own father 4) Whether holiday catering promotions are working

Thank you for your patience, kind readers.  I am still here and as excited about this creative venture as ever.

The three-story ascent seemed just about right for a Chinese, village-style new construction. As my brothers and I grasped the bamboo scaffolding (which appeared to be holding the whole joint together during construction) to turn and head up the next flight of stairs, our shoes sounded like sandpaper as they pivoted and pried away bits of the clay steps. It felt more mountainside-trek than new family homestead. While we climbed with a new, quiet appreciation for our Scandinavian, Minnesota-born mom’s accusation of doing something “Chinese-style,” our dad’s cacophonous Cantonese filled the space with a glee that is just so typical of the man. He was happy to be back in Yulong Village on the west side of the Pearl River Delta near Macau that August afternoon in 2007 — happy to show his three sons what had become of the little village he called home up until his 1972 escape from China.

Ben, Justin and Alex Kwan in Yulong Village (SanZhou near Zhuhai, China), August 2007

We emerged from the dim and dirty stairwell atop the roof, one of the tallest in the village (a misnomer, if you will, the place bore zero resemblance to the rice paddy hamlet of our dad’s bedtime stories.) A lush, dense green hillside our dad called his childhood “playground” rose behind us and a distant slate of South China Sea and cloudy sky lay in the distance before us — looking as though it could swallow the equally-gray expanse of similar village buildings.

Tin Tat Kwan explains the dynamics of his old village (which isn't really a village any more), August 2007

And then the tirade began. Our dad unleashed a dissonant duet of Cantonese and English that dabbles in the occasional dirty word as he peered over the edge of the roof, looking down at the alley that snakes up the hillside between addresses that bear names like Kwan, Lo, Wong and Chin. Apparently old Yulong had become a bad neighborhood (or bad nay bo hood as dad relayed with equally stilted gestures.) We all leaned over the bricks to look down to discover how the new building, which sat right where the old, shoddy one did, jutted out into the alley about four or six feet farther than any of the other homes. In such a “bad neighborhood,” as dad told us, one had to fight back against a neighbor’s bad construction and subsequent wayward sewage flow by building out, blocking the filth and perhaps even creating a problem for the next person down the line. Continue Reading…