The Chinese Pancake Incident

I was born in Northern Ireland in the 70s, and lived there until I was 25. If we ever dined out as a family, the choices were rather limited. It would either be a traditional Ulster fry or Chicken in a basket (That’s chicken and chips, served in a small wicker basket. Don’t ask me why!).

Eventually, a Chinese restaurant opened in town and we would visit on special occasions. It was run by an Irish family. They tried to create some authenticity by hanging red paper lanterns from the ceiling and placing hand waving cats on the tables. The waitress (the owner's daughter), wore some kind of strange Geisha girl outfit. She would greet us at the door with a thick Irish accent and hand us the menu along with a basket of prawn crackers.

The food choices were very limited. It was either a fried rice dish, battered sweet and sour chicken balls (do the Chinese really eat this!) or my own special favourite, chow mein. Due to its close resemblance to a plate of worms, I would dangle the noodles in front of my sister throughout the entire meal, much to the annoyance of my parents.

Now fast forward to my 26th birthday. I’m living in England, and my fiancé Angelina, has taken me to my first ‘genuine’ Chinese restaurant for a special treat. The menu is handed to me by a beautiful lady in a Kimono. She is English speaking, but has a Chinese lilt in her voice. All the staff are also Chinese. I am in fact, in China! (well, Chinatown in London actually, but coming from Ireland it’s close enough).

‘I’ll have the Chow mein please.’ I order with confidence.

‘Oh love, why don’t you go for something a bit more ambitious. After all, it is your birthday. Try the crispy duck, it’s scrummy.’

Inside I was thinking, ‘Duck!, you want me to eat an actual duck!.’

Up until that point, the only ducks I knew of were the ones I would visit at the local park and throw lumps of bread at. I had this horrible vision of being served a whole duck sitting on a plate complete with beak. But when I looked across the table at Angelina with her gorgeous fluttery eyes, I got lost in the moment …

‘Ahh, Could I have the crispy duck please?’

The server nodded at me in that beautiful way that Chinese ladies do, and wrote down my order. Angelina scowled at me a little. Perhaps I was paying the server a bit too much attention!

Now, here comes the best bit …

When the food came to the table, I was surprised to see that rather than a whole duck on a plate, I was surrounded by lots of attractive little plates and dishes. Not a Mallard in sight! I realised then that my duck was in fact chopped up and shredded (poor duck!). There was a dish with little strips of cucumber and spring onions and beside that a sticky sauce. There was also a little bowl filled with hot water to rinse my fingers in afterwards, and even a basket of little towels to dry my hands with.

So as my sophisticated fiancé proceeded to eat her rice delicately with chopsticks. I tackled my duck with a good old British knife and fork.

‘God, you were right love. This is scrummy.’ I said, as the thick sticky sauce dripped down my chin.

When I had finally finished my duck feast, Angelina was looking at me a bit weird. As she did so I removed the lid from the basket to get out the towels and proceeded to wipe my mouth. I really went for it, rubbing it over my whole face just to make sure.

‘It’s great that they give you these towels as well isn’t it love. God, sorry I’m so messy.’

She suddenly looked at me as though something horrific had happened. I got really worried.

‘What is it love, are you ok?’ I asked her.

‘Those aren’t face towels you idiot. They’re pancakes!’

I felt the blood rush into my face. Then I quickly scanned the restaurant to see if anyone had seen me wipe my face with my first course!

‘I wondered why you hadn’t been using them during the entire meal,’ she laughed, her eyes dripping with tears. ‘I just thought you didn’t like pancakes.’

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Originally published at https://medium.com/never-stop-writing/the-chinese-pancake-incident-5e3a73f145cf