The Dudes of Food

It all began with the humble suckling pig. What did it suckle on, one might ask? We leave that up to your post-pubescent imagination. The petite hog was hung by its snout over a wood fire oven. The pig was evenly roasted and the skin crispy. And that’s where we come in, searching for roasted meat to fulfill our every gastronomic desire.

The origin of the roast duck is up for grabs. Western historians assert that the Chinese got the idea to roast a duck whole from the so-called “explorer” Marco Polo who may have brought the whole roasted white goose native from west to the east. Asian historians, however, negate the Polo (not Ralph Lauren) theory. In their ravenous and well-read eyes, the roast duck is a sibling of the roast pig, a tradition that dates back well before Marco Polo’s arrival.

We don’t know or care who is right. What scholars call the “duck duck goose dilemma”™ (trademark Dudes of Food, 2011) teaches us that history’s greatest questions often remain unanswered. We study history (by eating delicious duck) to pick at the bones that have made us who we are today. To most, the story of roast duck over rice is meaningless. But to those whose identities are shaped by cultural interactions, there lies great valor in every bite. Maybe the world is more interconnected than we think. If Europe and Asia were connected far before Columbus accidentally arrived in the Americas, then imagine the influences that have helped shape the lives of many dear readers of this goofy blog.

Duck is a Dudes of Food staple. A good roast duck over rice, Chinese style, can cure a hangover and a bad break up, but a good night of partying or a great relationship will never cure the pain of eating a poorly roasted duck.

With these expectations in mind (and a couple of hangovers and break ups trekking behind), the Dudes embarked on a journey to find the best duck that Providence had to offer. What we found, however, was much more. We found a new family and were adopted as children, metaphorically speaking, of course. The chances of finding a family and being adopted in a Chinese restaurant on our budget are minimal and not exactly plausible or realistic. But we digress.

As we took our seats at the divey Lucky Station BBQ, we were promptly brought flimsy plastic spoons and, insultingly, white plastic forks.

How dare they! Exclaimed Dude 1.

Chill yo dill (the poet, who didn’t even know it), countered Dude 2, I’ll just ask for some chopsticks.

Logic prevailed over emotion, and the Dudes were brought the finest packaged wooden chopsticks Lucky Station had to offer. We thanked the owner who brought us the duck devouring devices. But she kept standing over us, watching patiently. The stare off ensued. She waited. And watched. And waited some more. And watched some more. Then, in her fragmented English, she popped the question:“do you know how to use chop sticks?”

Dude 1 answered energetically, “yes, of course”

But before he could finish the sentence, she nippily demanded, “Show me.”

Although a tad surprised by the request, the Dudes masterfully depapered, separated, and properly positioned the wooden sticks.

With a twinkle in her eye, the suddenly kind owner exclaimed, “you know Chinese food! Where did you learn to eat it?”

And with that glimmer, the glimmer of approval, the Dudes knew we were in for a treat. Momma was cooking for us today.

Consumer Hint: At a Chinese BBQ house, please, for the love of everything that is crispy, moist and tender, do not order from the “menu.” Find the piece of paper, often laminated and found stuck to the wall or the glass housing the whole ducks, with the BBQ specials.

We decided to sample the various meats being showcased behind the glass. After a minute of swift and incessant chopping, arrived the roast duck, bbq pork, and soy sauce chicken over generous portions of rice and complemented by cooked cabbage.

The BBQ pork was a group favorite. The sweet flavor battled against the chewy texture for supreme recognition, but in the end, working in perfect unison, they both ended up winning.

The soy sauce chicken was moist throughout and chickeny throughin, the perfect choice for anyone from a chick to a Chicano.

The duck, however, conquered the loyal poultry-lovers’ hearts. It was well roasted with crunchy skin and a meaty interior. The sauce was sweet and savory. Perfection.

Consumer Hint: Ask for extra duck sauce to throw over your rice. Trust us. Do it.

The sauce, we noticed, was sprinkled with cinnamon. Hmm, thought the pensive and stuffed Dudes, cinnamon is not a typical Chinese spice…or is it?

Before you, dear reader, go to grab yourself some duck, take a second to Google Cinnamomum aromaticum and think about the cinnamon we might have tasted.

If you are for some ungodly reason still hungry after your 6 dollar meal, grab a pork or vegetable bun for 99 cents.

Remember, we are new in town. Although we write with immense confidence and impeccable style, we are always looking for suggestions. If you know of a gem, please, let us know. We encourage all of you to explore and share the adventures