bigpimpinmba's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Real Chickety China the Chinese Chicken I went to Malaysia to visit one of my customers. He picked me up at my hotel to go out to dinner and showed me around his stomping grounds a little. Ho Lee Sheet. I think that I know where they come to shoot MTV Cribs Malaysia and it�s my customer�s hood. I�m dead serious when I say this guy is living large He�s got three whips (cars), one is a BMW, which his driver picked me up in. The other was a high-end Nissan. The third was a mad-blingin, tricked-out MiniVan with video cameras and voices that talked him and talked shit to me in the passenger seat. It had curtains in it that were operated by remote control and came with a midget named Tattoo that continuously said, �The plane!� in Chinese. Let�s see your cars doing any of that, you minivan haters� Andy, IncrediPedro, and DangerSpouse Anyhoo��
And my customer lives here. Maybe I should rethink our pricing strategy. � So, he takes me out to dinner at a Chinese restaurant in the clubhouse of the country club that he belongs to, not for the world-class golf course, but for the badmitton courts. Which can be found just about anywhere in Malaysia, as it is almost the national sport. There are a lot of people with a lot of money, and this just goes to show, once again, that I�m not one of them. Well, I�m not a big fan of seafood. In fact, my motto on any sort of food from the sea is, �Throw it Back�. I�ve had so many people tell me that I don�t know what I�m missing, but, really� I do. It all tastes like fish. And fish don�t taste good because it tastes like it smells. Awful. Like low tide smells. Horrendous. Now, if anyone knows anything about southeast Asia, they know that they kind of ALL eat fish and seafood. I�m almost like a freak of nature for not liking any seafood. And since this is my customer, and I have already told him that I wouldn�t eat about 80% of what he would like to eat, I feel a little obligated to say yes to anything from the land that he would like to tempt me with. I�ve eaten Snake in China. I�ve eaten Cow intestine in Taiwan. So, when my good customer told me that the chicken soup was good at this restaurant, I thought�. Chicken and Stars sounds great!!!! Let�s get some of that wholesome goodness� ( I hope you can see where this is going) What showed up in front of me was nothing like my good old Campbell�s Chicken Soup. When the soup arrived in front of me, I could only see what was poking above the surface of the broth, kind of like an iceberg. Just like an iceberg, however, only about 15% of the danger is above the surface. There was some black, cabbage, or vegetable-looking stuff floating on the top of the broth and some bits of white chicken meat that were visible on the surface of the murky depths. I see my customer start sipping the broth and decide to follow suit and do the same� Sip sip sip. Not too bad, sir. � I get a little bold and take a bite of the chicken meat in the broth. Pretty good. Then, my customer tells me that the black vegetable is not a vegetable at all. It�s actually chicken. �Pimp, that is chicken. It is a delicacy and is very expensive.� My first thought is� It�s Chicken. It�s three bucks a pound at Shop Rite. I�ll bring you some on my next visit. But me being the very diplomatic gentleman that I am, keep my big yapper closed. Although it is against my better judgement to eat black chicken because chicken has always been a white meat and not everneverever black in color (not DARK meat�. BLACK as moonless night black), I decide that I�m going to dig in. First few tiny bites aren�t so bad. In fact, it really does taste like regular chi�. CRUNCH. WTF!?!?! That�s a bone. OK. No problem. I�ll just be careful to avoid those naughty little bones in future bites�. Next I glance into my soup bowl and think to myself, �Say, what�s that in my soup? It sort of looks like a chicken�s foot�� I look up to see my host happily digging in� To his chicken foot. Yep. There�s a foot of a chicken in my soup. And this was not by accident. The chef 100% put this foot into my soup completely on purpose. Mmmmmmm. Soup. With a foot in it. A chicken foot, to be precise. Looking at me. Taunting me. A line was drawn in my mind somewhere. That line was not to be crossed. I don�t know why, but I definitely lost some of my appetite right then and there. Call me crazy. Is it just me, or is there a part of an animal that the Chinese won�t eat? Hey Ming� It�s really OK to let those fingers and beaks go without sucking every last ounce of marrowey deliciosicty out of them. Sweet merciful crap. Chicken Feet. What�s next? 11:59 a.m. - 2005-03-08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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