New York and Brooklyn and Philly and Charlotte, oh my!
We even saw bluegrass. Suuuuthern.
Yep, it was time for a Stateside visit. A baby was had (my brother and his wife) and her aunt (me) found an excuse to cross the pond, visit with family, and show her French boyfriend the states from the Eastern angle. While ze Frenchie may have learned a bit more than I did (perhaps! who knows!) I learned a lot during our stay in Chinatown NYC.
I know that I am constantly preaching in a certain way about how meat needs to be pure to eat it and that hormones and antibiotics are nearly blasphemous in meats, because they are horrible for you, for the animal, and for the taste. However, there are those tiny moments of “when in Rome”, and staying in Chinatown and eating a meat dish was just one of those.
The menu was replete with a chart detailing ingredients and the restaurant was owned by some of the friendliest Chinese I have met who were delighted and shocked when my man started speaking a bit of Cantonese with them. The more languages, the merrier, why not.
Anyways, this is a fun little tidbit I picked up on how to know if your noodles are wheat or rice in Chinese restaurants or grocery stores:
Anything that has “Fun” in the title is rice derived, and anything that has “Mein” in the title is from wheat.