Lao Beijing

The other day Lili and I decided to go to Pretty Cup, but as always it was full and we were waved off without a word. Sick of most of the other restaurants in the area (sick of everything, actually, but maybe that's just me), we decided to go to Lao Beijing - hadn't been there in a while.

"Two for dinner," said Lili to the fuwuyuan in his silk pajamas and beanie with fake braid attached.
"Are you American?"
"Yes."
He nodded and disappeared behind a sliding door. Lili and I looked at each other, then at one of the other fuwuyuan, who nodded and motioned for us to follow. We stepped through the door and found we were in a small room. There was a high platform with a very low table and two round wicker stools.
"Can't we have a normal table?" I asked.
"Normal tables are all full. We're very busy. This is a special room for important people. Take off your shoes."
After determining that the special room did not include a special fee and proving ourselves not important people by requesting free (i.e. used) chopsticks and free boiling water to drink instead of tea, Lili and I enjoyed our novel surroundings. There were two silk jackets hanging from a hook on the wall, old photographs of Chinese people lounging about luxuriously, and a shelf of vases and small sculptures. We ordered what looked kind of like biscuits ("Is it sweet?" Lili asked the fuwuyuan. "A little," he replied), eggs and tofu, sauteed rapeweed, and a bowl of rice. The "biscuits," when they arrived, turned out to be two lightly cooked onions, smothered in mustard. We each took a bite, rather nervously, and found that the flavor was overpowering - not spicy, exactly, we can handle spicy; we graduated from Sichuan Street Vendor Tofu Kebob University, after all, but this was just dreadful. My sinuses felt as though I'd taken in a lungful of smoke; my eyes filled with tears. One bite was enough.

Next came our rapeweed, which was greasy but all right, and our tofu, which tasted like an ashtray. I could barely swallow. Lili did a little bit better and managed a whole piece, but no more. We decided to try and pull off the American Celebrities act: I would be Jenna Bush and Lili would be Barbara. She's black, but they're Chinese, so we figured maybe they wouldn't notice. When you want the waiter's attention in Beijing you have to yell FUWUYUAN! really loudly. I once woke myself up doing this in a dream. "FUWUYUAN!" Lili cried. "We don't like this dish," indicating the onions with mustard. "May we see a menu and order something else?"

"We're having terrible luck tonight," I said when he left. "We should have known those wouldn't be biscuits. You can pick the next thing."
She chose well. We ended up with delightful balls of crisp dough rolled in sesame seeds and filled with red bean paste. EVERYTHING should be filled with red bean paste, it is so delicious.

"We should steal one of these things," said Lili, indicating the vases on the wall. "Because that onion thing was so disgusting."
"Okay," I said. "How about that small jade Buddha, that'd fit in your purse."
"I can't steal a Buddha! That's like stealing Jesus."
"Yeah, you're probably right, he'd probably haunt your dreams - 'return me! retuuurrrnnn meee!'"

They didn't buy the Bush twins act - we had to pay for the mustard. But though the food was terrible, the ambiance was terrific.