You scour these Chinatowns of the mind, translating them like sutras Xuan Zhang fetched from India, testing ways that return might be possible against these homesick inventions, trace the traveller's alien steps across borders, and in between discover how transit has a way of lasting, the way these Chinatowns grew out of not knowing whether to return or to stay and then became home.
Boey Kim Cheng - Clear Brightness
A couple of weeks ago, it was Restaurant Week in Newcastle. An initiative that takes place in many cities and towns around the country to offer reduced-price dining at better restaurants. Introducing different dining experiences to a broader customer base and thus boosting longer-term trade for the restaurants participating.
I took advantage of this and opted to dine in Newcastle's China Town. There are only five such 'towns' in the UK, the biggest and oldest by far being London's. It was in the Limehouse area of London in the early 1900s that saw the first build-up of a China 'town'. Unfortunately, the blitz destroyed much of that location. It wasn't until the 1970s that the current Chinatown off Shaftesbury Avenue became established. The ever-increasing demand for Chinese cuisine drove it—or at least the Anglo variant of Chinese cuisine.
Newcastle's Chinatown is close to Newcastle United's football ground, St James' Park, in another 'town' far older than Chinatown. This is Grainger Town, Newcastle's historic heart. The area acquired its name from architect Richard Grainger, who, between 1824 and 1841, planned and built many of the grand buildings that still stand. People said of Grainger he "found Newcastle of bricks and timber and left it in stone".
As with that in London, the establishment of Newcastle's Chinatown came in the 1970s, even though the growth of Chinese restaurants in other parts of the city had begun in the late 1940s. On this occasion, my restaurant of choice was Amaysia. Not because I knew anything of it or the other restaurants in Chinatown. In all my years visiting Newcastle, I have eaten in its Chinatown only a handful of times. The last time was twenty years ago. My decision came from strolling through Chinatown and browsing the menus, then opting for one that offered something to my taste.
I enjoy Chinese food but don't pretend to be an aficionado. And as for the use of chopsticks. Well, if I relied on my ability to use those, my meals would go on for several hours.
Being on my own, I had decided on lunchtime dining. I am okay with dining in the evening alone. I grew used to it over many years of travelling on business. But it feels a little more comfortable eating alone within a lunchtime group of diners. When dining in the evening alone, one tends to stick out amongst loving couples, groups of close friends or boisterous parties.
Lunchtime dining offers a quieter atmosphere, with diners and servers in a more relaxed mood. However, a drawback can be half-empty or even empty restaurants, but not so in the case of Amaysia. As I entered the establishment, I was to see an almost full restaurant with many Chinese and Asian customers eating and chatting. Indeed, it was only Chinese and Asian customers. So, I guess it ticked the box as a place to eat authentic Chinese food (I discovered later that it bills itself as a Chinese/Asian fusion restaurant).
With deftness and politeness, my server showed me to my table—a table on which a pair of chopsticks sat. Ummmm, I thought, given how authentic this place is, they might not appreciate my asking for a fork or spoon. Then I scanned the room and realised that other than the older diners who to a person used chopsticks, the younger ones were all using forks. A generational shift?
The menu was substantial. Not just in the usual Chinese restaurant fashion of a lengthy list of dishes, but in this case, each menu item also came with a photograph of the served food. The menu was around an inch thick in 'old money'. As I looked closer, I realised that there were other dishes not usually seen along with those familiar. They involved pig and cow offal, intestines, and other nose-to-tail offerings. I decided to stay on ‘safer’ ground and opted for chilli, salt, and pepper ribs and, to follow that, beef in black bean sauce with boiled rice. I'd be washing it down with a Tiger beer. But did I need to ask for a fork, or would one come with the food? I ordered and decided to see what turned up.
My starter arrived. Baby pork ribs, cut in small lengths, coated in the seasonings as mentioned earlier, and lightly dusted with breadcrumbs. And with them came a fork. Not strictly necessary as this was finger food, and delicious finger food at that. The perfectly spiced succulent meat fell from the bone, giving zing but not overwhelming fire.
Then came the main. Thin slivers of the tenderest beef, with peppers and onions in a black bean sauce that was sharp, pungent, salty, and spicy with the merest hint of sweetness. Not served in some sizzling dish with a separate mound of rice. It was plated up, therefore offering the correct quantity with minimal waste. Oh, and along with it came another fork.
The food was delicious, and the service throughout was flawless. Attentive without being intrusive. And best of all the bill came to just over £20 for the food and my beer.
If this is an example of Chinatown's fare, I won't leave it another 20 years to return.
Lovely stuff, Harry ... I can almost taste it! A column for the local paper with restaurant reviews?