The morning after our snack meal, we woke up early (and I mean EARLY) to catch a city bus to the Chengdu Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding, which is about 6km outside of the city center. The Base was just a footnote in my travel book, but as a Gothamist reader, I already knew all about it, as their editor is panda-obssessed.
A lot of hostels in the city run package tours to the Base, but at a cost of 70-80 yuan. Seeking to preserve our budget travel mission, my friend and I skipped breakfast (the horrors!) and hailed a cab to the north bus station where you can reportedly take a city bus to the Base for 1 yuan. The cabbie got confused and ended up taking us all the way to the Base, charging us only 22 yuan for his mistake (a rarity in China!).
We happily paid the 30 yuan entrance fee and spent five hours gawking, cooing, and squealing at the pandas and generally taking more photos than necessary of the happy, fat, lazy beasts. Another reason we got up early was to witness their feedings, which happen at 9:30 a.m. -- indeed, we got many photos of them plowing through their morning supply of bamboo leaves.
When we finally got back to the city, we were starving. Capitalizing on our hostel's location in the Tibetan quarter of Chengdu, we decided to try one of the local spots.
OK, back to the restaurant. As soon as we stepped into the restaurant, you could sense a completely different vibe from most Chinese restaurants. The floors were wood and cleanly swept, and the walls painted with Tibetan designs. Patrons lounged around casually, smoking cigarettes and drinking tea. A video of Tibetan pop music played proudly in the background, but at a volume not so loud that you couldn't hear yourself speak. The calm hostess handed us a menu (thankfully they had an English version!) and drifted away till we were ready to order.
I boldly ordered yak butter tea, which I had read is a staple of the Tibetan diet. (A friend who went to Lhasa recently validated this statement, saying the whole city reeks of yak butter!). My friend gamely joined me for a cup or two, but glumly added sugar, claiming she wasn't a fan. I didn't mind it -- it was kind of like a thicker, saltier broth with only a hint of butter. If you could get the image of the shaggy, horned, matted creature out of your head, the tea was pretty enjoyable.
We had smelled baking bread when we had entered the restaurant, and being
nearly deprived for five months of plain bread, we asked the waitress what
smelled so good. She pointed to another patron's meal. I didn't catch the
name of this dish, so I named it "Yak Pot Pie". One pie was enough for the
two of us.
After breaking the crusty (!) top, the yak meat interior was revealed. It was pungent -- a bit like lamb, though with its own unique aroma. The yak is apparently a fatty animal, as there were quite a few clear fatty bits. Thankfully, these were not tough and gristly. The bread itself was a bit plain, but it was bread, so we were happy.
What made it even better was a small cup of homemade plain yogurt that we ordered about halfway through the meal. The tangy lumpy stuff, drizzled on the oily meat and dry plain bread, proved to be a winning combination. Like a gyro... a yak gyro.
We got so full we forgot about our second dish... dumplings of beef and pickled vegetables. These arrived about 3/4 of the way through the meal, and were served with a small dish of Sichuan chili oil.
The dumplings bore an uncanny resemblance to baozi, and we were unimpressed (not to mention too full to really indulge). The dough tasted identical to baozi. The pickled vegetables were spicy, and overpowered any meat taste. The chili oil seemed to be more a nod to local tastes than a necessary accompaniment. We each ate two and gave up.
I hadn't given much though to Tibetan food before I came to China, but I was intrigued. I plan to sample it again before I leave the southwest of the country.
Posted by Astrid at February 4, 2005 04:46 AM