Kung Pow Chicken and Fantan Fanny

Dinnertime for my family over here is usually fraught with nervous tension at the table. When my brother and I were much younger, we usually left the important decision making to my father - who assumed the autocratic role of household head through some nefarious politicking and illegal vote-buying. But since we've grown somewhat more savvy with age and experience, these days we like to make our voices heard when the menu is read.

After all, not everyone likes having sweet sour everything on the menu all the time.

Unlike Western restaurants with their formalized beautifully scripted menus, most Asian diners here rely solely on the collective memories of the harassed cook and his equally hapless waiter - who has to memorize at least two dozen fan favourites to recite regularly in a heavily accented, sing-song manner to the clueless patrons. Easy enough to pick out a number from a Chinese takeaway menu in the west ( damn I miss that! ) but over here, it's more of a puzzle wrapped in an enigma as you try to discern exactly what's cooking in the kitchen which judging from the sheer breadth of Chinese cuisine could be anything from pig's trotters to snake flesh.

While the more experienced waiters are able to rattle off an amazing plethora of dishes in an awe-inspiring breath, the newer, ditzier ones ( such as the Fantan Fanny in our neighbourhood diner ) regularly fumble and stammer even over egg foo-yong, surely one of the most basic dishes in Chinese cuisine. Takes a while to even pry out some of the cook's signature dishes, usually some esoteric delicacy such as Szechuan flying chicken braised in golden millseed oil and falling autumn leaves from the mountains of Shenyang - or sometimes in whispered breaths sotto voce, there'll be talk of steamed pandas on fresh bamboo shoots much to the consternation of animal conservationists everywhere. Astonishingly enough, the Chinese really do eat almost everything.

This peculiar habit of ordering dinner has always been part of my dad's milieu and it's only been in recent years that I've actually started making orders of my own. Quite a significant milestone making my own order in a Chinese restaurant since I never actually paid attention to my father's rapid-fire conversations with the waiters previously. Time enough that I made a stand though since my poor dad persists in the deluded fantasy that we all partake of his choices in equal enjoyment.

Which is so not true since there are some dishes that I particularly loathe - and will possibly never touch unless it's slathered on a naked, submissive Brandon Routh. Even then, I'd have to think twice on whether to wipe it off first.

1. Deep-fried fish - not in the delicious English Fish and Chips manner but in the Asian fried till everything's golden crunchy manner. Sorry but YUCK!
2. Anything dipped in sweet and sour, be it pork, chicken, beef, rabbit or whatever else they can toss in it. Why does everyone believe that sweet sour sauce makes everything alright? It doesn't! YUCK!
3. Claypot anything. I despise anything that's left to simmer and boil in a claypot! YUCK!
3. Baked beans. Not particularly Chinese but I still hate it. Bleargh.

Certainly not easy to cater to everyone's tastes of course but aren't my dislikes pretty obvious? Definitely have far more varied tastes now in comparison to my youth when I had an odd predilection for yam and potatoes. Surely there are many other ways to fry a fish which is why my brother and I stared for almost five minutes when Fantan Fanny placed a dish on the table. Deep-fried fish slathered in sweet sour sauce.

Thank God it didn't come in a claypot with baked beans. :)