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A Little Bit of China in Sydney - April 11th, 2007

Like almost every other city in the western world, Sydney has a Chinatown. And like so many others this one has an arched entrance topped with vivid shiny green tiles that would look right at home in China itself.

It is years since I have been there and I have been wanting to revisit it for some time. Finally, I did last weekend, with my daughter. Our timing was awful. Torrential rain from the past few days had tempered into relentless  heavy showers and of course it was Easter Saturday, so the roads were packed and parking in the city almost non-existent.

What’s more, Chinatown seems to have a higher ratio of pedestrians to cars and I have always noticed that many people become amazingly reckless in the rain, shooting out from the footpath and across in front of vehicles without looking, apparently more willing to risk destruction than a wetting. 

That said, we decided to stay dry and found parking in Market City, a several-storey shopping centre in the heart of Chinatown. Its various floors are packed with factory outlets and food. What could be a better place for a couple of shoppers on a rainy day?

While the various brand-name outlets were fun for a while, we had taken so long to get here that we were hungry (no, make that starving) and I knew exactly where to go. Dragon Star Seafood on Level 3 has long been a yum cha favourite of mine, although its 800 or so seats doesn’t mean you can walk right in, especially at the weekend. Especially at Easter, we found as we were handed a ticket and told to wait for 15 minutes. It turned out to be over thirty minutes, and by then we were ravenously ready to offer deals to people holding tickets ahead of us.

Yet the good thing – maybe even the best thing about yum cha – is that seconds after you are seated (not twenty or more minutes afterwards as in most western restaurants) you have food in front of you. Those trundling trolleys never stop and you can be sure of one looming up beside you exactly the moment you arrive. Then of course they come just as regularly throughout the meal, the attendants obligingly lifting the lids of their mini bamboo steamers or pointing to the various plates of food ready-served.

It is very much point and nod territory here, as many of the Chinese workers do not speak very good English, and my Chinese (despite many trips to China) is pretty much restricted to ni hao (hello) and hsieh hsieh (thank you). But much of the time this is no problem and we had plenty to eat, and shared the three or four dumplings or pastries from each plate, some spring rolls and cups of tea – although I just couldn’t face the chicken feet which my daughter ordered. Maybe next time…..

Finally fortified, we made our way downstairs to look for some Asian groceries which I can’t always find in my area. A reader of this site had told me about dried persimmons which she had found in Yangshuo, near Guilin in southern China and I was hopeful of finding these.  Sure enough, there they were in the IGA Supermarket.

So with no trouble at all I stocked up with garlic stalks (more of that another day), gow gee and wonton wrappers, a brand of Korean chilli sauce that I learned to like in Korea, and then – and here was a real find – a packet of dried wolfberries in the section which was devoted to Chinese herbs and medicine.

 

We have eaten these berries (http://wolfberry.org ) in China, usually in soups, but more recently have come across them being touted as wonder-cures, superfoods, and miracle-working aids to longevity, and just about everything else if you are to believe the health industry hype.

They grow in China and are members of the nightshade family (yes, the deadly one) but don’t be too alarmed. Most of us routinely eat other members of this group as it includes potatoes, tomatoes, eggplant, capsicum and chillies. Tobacco is also in this family.

Wolfberries, so named because Chinese farmers saw wolves eating them in summer, are also called Goji and as such, depending on the packaging and  brand name, can be  highly priced. Here in Chinatown, a good-sized pack was $2.80.

”Add them to a salad,” I was told by the herbalist, “or just eat them.”

 

I’ve followed her advice and while I can’t say I feel any different yet, they are delicious just the way they come. I plan to try cooking them too of course, and adding them to other dishes.

Next door we browsed in Janny’s Cake Shop with the same sort of display you find overseas: cakes on self-serve shelves behind perspex flaps – durian pies, breads, buns and all sorts of pastries.

Then, finally, a side-trip to the BBQ duck stall on the Food Court level where they’d raised their eyebrows when I  asked them not to chop my half duck into pieces, preferring to carve the meat myself (I don’t like the razor sharp shards of bone that for me spoil the enjoyment of Peking Duck pancakes) and wrapped it like a present in paper and sticky tape because it wouldn’t fit into the standard takeaway container.

Too bad. I knew our dinner was quite literally in the bag.

 

On this site Playing Polo (Journey along the Silk Road), and Lijiang Lives On

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