Fuzhou Footsteps

Fuzhous are a peculiar lot.

Let me count the ways. For those who're wondering what I'm talking about, Fuzhous are a distinctive clan hailing from the treaty port city of Fuzhou in the province of Fujian, China. Proud, clannish and insular, yet the rambling Fuzhous have travelled far and wide ( due to financial necessity ) scattering across the globe from London to New York, from Kuala Lumpur to Sydney. And that's only from the diaspora of my own relatives.

Easily recognizable with their tall, broad physiques ( the better to till the farmlands! ) and fair, high-cheekboned faces, the Fuzhous tend to gravitate to each other no matter where they go. Which is why they frequently congregate in particular cities such as Sitiawan and Sibu. The better to enjoy each other's company.

Excessively loud, expansive and boisterous when together, they speak in a curious Neanderthal-like tongue not easily recognizable by those in other clans, a rapid-fire grunt-chatter of seemingly unintelligible gobbledygook. Surprisingly spoken only within a hundred mile radius of the city itself. The rare ability to speak in their archaic dialect ( to most curious outsiders that is ) would mean an immediate conscription into their shockingly exclusive society.

Yeah. Fuzhous are cliquish. But just make an attempt to speak their tongue and you'll be greeted as a long-lost blood brother.


Hey, bro...
Which is how I found my way to a restaurant miles away from the city. Once I heard from my father that a restaurant run by a renowned Fuzhou chef has just been opened, I knew it wouldn't it be long after that we'd be having dinner there.

Yes. Just because it has a Fuzhou chef.

Hell, even if it was hosted in a lil rundown shack declared uninhabitable and condemned by the zealous authorities, the blindly loyal Fuzhous would still flock to their own I'm sure. That's if they don't hold demonstrations ( remarkably political folks too, these Fuzhous ).

Fortunately it was a reputable restaurant that resembled a hillside mansion more closely than the dump that I feared. My father couldn't have been more pleased to see one of his countrymen doing so well - was starting to half wonder whether we were all related. He even grabbed several brochures that I'm sure he's going to pass around for recommendation wherever he goes.

And what else would I have there but the Fuzhou red wine chicken and the celebrated fishballs. Though not in the overly generous portions that the people are infamous for - my own grandmother would have been horrified at their apparent stinginess.

If you haven't guessed already, I'm Fuzhou as well.