Blood and Guts (and Conch)

Regular readers of this site will remember that I spent six months in France in the winter and spring of 2002. It was with some trepidation that I quit America. After all, I'd heard that the expression "haute couture" had originated in France. In brief, I was worried that I wasn't sophisticated or clever enough to appreciate the rich layers of refinement that I'd surely encounter in Toulouse and Paris.

I needn't have worried; nearly the first thing I saw upon my arrival at Charles de Gaulle was a naked man bathing at a sink in the lavatory of the TGV waiting room. My first meal in France (a late night omelette in Toulouse) was interrupted by a drunken street brawl that spilled into my cafe. When Mr S. and I visited this same cafe five months later, we were drawn into conversation with two shabbily dressed gentlemen who'd recently been released from jail. These men attempted to entertain us with "magic tricks," examples of which included:

1) Drinking numberless bottles of Fischer beer

2) Extinguishing cigarettes on their tongues

3) Extinguishing cigarettes on their forearms

4) Making euro coins "disappear" in our ears

5) Crumpling napkins up until they vaguely resembled jungle animals

Needless to say, I was quickly disabused of any lingering concerns that I wasn't good enough for France. In fact, I was surprised to find many things in France that suggested a low baseline level of gentility and taste. Here are five things I saw there that I'd never seen before:

1) Socialist Majorities

2) Dreadlocked, Homeless Jugglers

3) University Student "Strikes"

4) Big McDonalds "Le Big" Burger

5) Blood Sausage, Cooked in Blood

The inclusion of item #5 clearly obviates the need for a longer list. I'd heard French cuisine described with such words as "rich," "delicious" and "orgasmic." Why, then, was this boudin noir such a delicacy? Was it to suggest that an ordinary sausage isn't sufficiently disgusting in its contents? It's perverse logic, but perhaps the French think it hardly a stretch to drink blood (more for me, please!) when they're already eating intestinal casing, capillaries, "recovered" meat, etc.

I should confess that for all my bad-mouthing, I've actually eaten boudin noir. Twice. I brought with me to France a cavalier attitude. Above all, I didn't want to be seen as just another American. I made necessary revisions to this policy as events warranted (I opted, for instance, to go for cow in my hamburger in Nice, rather than horse), but for the most part, I wanted to do as the French did. I wasn't a huge fan of the sausage, but maybe it was just the fact that the pigs I ate had been kept on a strict sodium-only diet. In any event, the sausage, didn't subject me to nausea or undue discomfort.

In most places, I'd imagine that intrepidity helps one's cause. After all, if you've already had to eat rabbits, goose fat and frogs, what's the harm in having one more gross-out story to tell your friends? My classmates in France seemed to have oodles of fun buying overpriced American clothing in Europe, so I was kind of stuck in the blood-drinking camp, anyway.

After my visit to Full Kee's Restaurant in Chinatown yesterday, I'd have reservations about adopting a similar attitude on any potential trips to China. I've read that the Chinese are fond of strange foodstuffs. The problem with traditional Chinese cuisine is that menu items are chosen almost exlusively for their purported enhancing effect on virility, intelligence and endurance. The taste factor generally seems to be only a mild inducement to consumption. How else to explain monkey brains and pangolin?

Well, Full Kee's doesn't quite go to those lengths, but rest assured, the point is made. At first blush, the menu appears to be fairly tame. It's only when you turn to the "Delicacies Dishes" insert that things get a little wild. I was tempted to sample "Duck's Blood Sauteed with Ginger and Scallion." But that dish seemed a bit reliant on the raw ingredients, so I kept looking. "Pig skin with sauteed pig's intestines"? Getting closer.

I eventually opted for "Fried Conch with Green Peppers," which was predictably delicious. The texture of conch meat is a cross between squid and mussel. There's no unpleasant fishy taste, and the flavor's generally pretty consistent with squid or octopus. If you take your chances with the hot sauce provided on the table, you may find yourself tempted to run to the bathroom, and drink directly from the faucet, as I nearly did.

I'll need to go back with a companion, so that we can sample one of the more exotic dishes. But Full Kee's really won me over on atmosphere. It's a restaurant on two levels, whose decoration is exclusively reliant on the use of mirrors. This creates the effect of a restaurant on sixteen levels. Every square inch of unmirrored wall space is painted a dull mustard yellow. Full Kee's soup bar is at the front of the restaurant. This counter is constructed entirely of aluminum. Behind it sits a man who makes noodles and dumplings at lightning speed. He mutters while he works, seemingly inducing the wheaten delicacies to make themselves even faster. After every fifty dumplings, the man leaps to his feet to fill twenty-five bowls of soup. He speaks to his broth cauldron, as well. When it comes time to fish out the requisite vegetables for each soup portion (boiling away in another cauldron), he employs a long spoon and becomes yet more animated. He reels in broccoli rabe stalks as though they were sea bass.

The waitstaff also earn high marks. One threesome of tourists was properly chastised by the lead waiter for taking too long to arrive at their table: "You want to eat? Then move faster! Faster!" When a man next to me attempted to order tripe, this same waitress assumed the role of kindly schoolteacher: "You want tripe? You never had tripe? You want to try tripe? No! Bad for your mouth! Bad for your taste!" When a man at another table requested water, the waitress sprinted back with a pitcher, which she placed on the table in front of him: "You want more water now? Pour!"

I ate my meal quickly, and asked for the check. Everyone else I'd seen had received a rice candy with their check, as well as a fortune cookie. My check came with only the cookie. When I asked the hostess about the seeming oversight, she shook her head impatiently.

"You have one candy when you come in. I saw you eat!"

Full Kee's Restaurant
H St., @ 5th, Chinatown

Food: 89
Atmosphere: 95
Service: 53/100 [Again the split rating system for those readers more comfortable with the conventional definitions of "good service"]