Tantine. Competition or cooperation?

Tantine

There is a French bakery in Shanghai called Tartine.  I had heard that name before, or was it Tantine?  I was on my ebike making a delivery to a customer, riding north through the center of Changzhou downtown, when I saw a shop with the name Tartine.  It took nanoseconds to consider my choices.  I was carrying an insulated pack of frozen Calzones, with not that much ice packed into it.  I was still maybe 20 minutes away from my destination.  On the other hand, how often do I get downtown?  My curiosity, leavened with my chronic feeling of isolation in my chosen avocation, pushed through the objections.  I looked for the next sidewalk access curb and turned my bike around.

Today was Sunday afternoon.  My good customer, Theresa from Kentucky, had messaged me through WeChat last Monday, the day after my first Sunday Brunch at the new and unfinished larger shop I had rented, next door to the bakery.  The Brunch had been a marathon push, up at 4 a.m. and running full bore until late afternoon.  I remember only this about Monday:  I was brain dead and physically exhausted. 

A few days ago on Wednesday morning  Randy came to the bakery.  As his coffee was brewing he was chatting.  He said that Theresa would be coming, and he was eager to talk with her about his idea for a tourist magazine or ezine for Changzhou.  Still, nothing clicked in my brain.

Theresa arrived, and she and Randy sat at the table outside.  I made her a cup of coffee, and let them talk as I went about my business.  I was able to join them for a short time.  Theresa opened her web page, Tguide.org, on her smart phone. It was slick, professional layout, interesting articles.  I listened to them discussing things, like content, distribution, calcitrant self-proclaimed writers.  From my seat at the outdoor table I noticed a figure walking away from the glass elevator, and thought I recognized Rich.  He is the American at the Information Technology College who took my baby, kitten Spock.  I called out to him, and he joined us.

He is that kind of guy, that if he isn’t buying anything he feels guilty just dropping in.  I hate that.  Rich is a tall guy well padded.  Prior to coming to China he spent a number of years in New Jersey.  He wears his hair short except at the forehead, where he lets it grow long.  It would fall over his eyes except that he combs it up, and it drops to the side of his forehead like an exhausted spring.  While he talks he has a habit of pulling on a strand, alternately tugging it and winding it between fingers.  The summer heat is rough on him, so as he stood at the table talking with his characteristic lisp, his skin glistened.  Occasionally he ran a thumb over his forehead and flicked away the accumulated sweat.

We shared with him the topic of our discussion, writing and publishing on line.  It was then that we all discovered he was a published author of at least one novel in the horror genre, and travel articles in ezines.  He pulled up his blog on his smart phone to show us, and it was packed with reflections on his experiences with life in China.

Theresa and Rich exchanged phone numbers, and then he left.  The next day I was delighted to see that he had contributed an article to Theresa.  He also posted it to the Ex Pat FB page.

As the conversations wound around, encompassing many topics, it kept returning back to the main stuck point.  Publications in China are tightly controlled by the government.  Theresa’s web page cannot go online until she has a publishing license.  This is a huge obstacle.  They each knew someone who had currently or in the past such a license, and speculated whether or not these people could be as an umbrella for this Tguide.

I went into the bakery for something, and came out with a slice of cake for Theresa, perhaps it was Almond Cake.  These cakes take a long time to sell, and I’ll throw them out after two days, so I saw no loss in offering her a piece while it was still fresh.

Towards the end of her visit she asked me if her calzones were ready.  It was then that my memory retrieved a vaguely imprinted WeChat message from her asking for 20 calzones and five loaves of multigrain bread, to be picked up on Wednesday.  I looked up the message on my WeChat history, and there it was, posted on Monday.  Hard to imagine that I would blow off such a significant order, but there you are.  Believe it when I say I feel overwhelmed these days.

She brushed it off and said she’d be back in a week, if I could have it ready by then.

Theresa is married to a Swiss named Christian.  They have two children, Nico and Serafina, ages about 5 and 3.  Both children have her burnt copper hair, both bright and confident children raised by a gentile southern woman.  They are global citizens, home being defined by their current location.  Christian works for an international company here, and is well paid.

That afternoon I went online and ordered mozzarella cheese.  There was nothing else I could do, but wait until its delivery in a day or two.

On Thursday Julie, the current baker-apprentice, made up 20 150 gram balls of pizza dough, wrapped them and put them in the fridge.  Each time I opened the fridge they were there, glaring at me.  I started every time a delivery man came near our door, tensely waiting for the arrival of the mozzarella. 

The cheese finally arrived on Saturday, a little worse for wear from the summer heat.  I put the soft cheese into the freezer and waited as long as I could.  Finally it was hard enough to grate, and XiaoLan got right to it.  Meanwhile, I thawed and cooked up four of Randy’s sausages to put into the calzones.  As they cooled, I rolled out the dough in an assembly line.  It took perhaps 90 minutes to get them all done, wrapped and into the freezer. 

On this Sunday morning Julie made a fresh batch of multigrain bread.  When it was mostly cooled off, I packed the cooler bag with ice packs and loaded up the calzones.  The ebike battery had a fairly fresh charge, so I was off for the long journey north.

I was traveling north on the Hua Yuan Jie new extension.  This had been a major construction job, tying up my neighborhood roads for more than a year, but now that it is open I can leave my shop and head directly into downtown Changzhou and beyond, without needing to make a single turn.  In large sections it is still lightly traveled, and so it is a pleasant drive.  It takes me over the main canal on a long bridge, where the hot summer air is stirred by a stiff breeze. 

I was on the northbound road just east of the People’s Park.  Just west of that park is the main shopping area of downtown Changzhou, commonly referred to as NanDaJie, or South Road.  When I worked for Web I was lent out to the NanDaJie Web campus for many weeks running, and so I felt comfortable in this place so far from my own community.

I had almost reached the main ‘east-west’ (though not true to compass) road, JiangLing, when I noticed a shiny block-print sign above a shop, ‘Tantine’.  For some reason, the name rang a bell although I couldn’t make a connection.  A hand written sign on the window, on a piece of white paper, said in English ‘We need your help’ and the rest was in Chinese.  There was a hand drawn loaf of bread there.  I turned my bike around and parked.  The windows were otherwise blank and dark. The door, however, when I pulled it opened easily.

A dark wide-planked hard wood floor met my feet.  After a few feet of industrial concrete wall the white kitchen tiling began.  At the back there is a white kitchen area through a glass that extends from ceiling to waist height.  A three-deck stainless steel oven is against the left wall, then a cooling rack, and then the entrance to the L-shaped kitchen.  Through the door I saw the proof box, and the pastry extruder.  This is a moving belt from 1 to 2 meters long, ending at a right angle where there are a pair of rollers.  The pastry is passed through the rollers, and as it moves along the belt the baker catches it, folds it over and puts it back through the rollers.  In four quick mechanized passes it accomplishes what it takes me a half hour to do by hand, with a wooden roller and copious amounts of flour.  One batch put out by such a machine would equal four of mine, each laboriously rolled by hand alternating with waiting while it hardens in the fridge, to be brought out again and rolled.

A large bread mixer, small work table and sacks of flour filled the rest of that room.  The other part, seen by the customers, has two long work tables.  The walls have mounted racks that store the tips, bags and other accoutrement of pastry and cake decoration.

The young man I first meet is tall and thin, with a long thin face, a tiny goatee and hair that is slicked back at the sides and high on top.  He is, of course, Chinese.  The pants he is wearing must have a special name, of which I am ignorant.  Black, broad waistband, loose fabric draped and pleated that falls to the knees almost like a dress, then tapers to the ankles.  He is a striking figure, to state the obvious.  I introduce myself, and he recognizes the name.  On that first visit I feel pressured for time, so after a brief introduction I ask if I can return the next day.  He graciously assents.  This is their countdown week, the hope to open the next weekend.

I continued on my journey to Theresa’s home apartment complex.  I managed to pick the right road to cut west, and quickly found myself at her intersection.  I called her for further directions, to bring me to her apartment building.  Since she is a VIP customer, no money changed hands.  I simply deducted her order from the prepaid balance.  Honestly, she is not the customer I was thinking about when I devised the VIP system.  She uses her balance up within a month, and gets a 5% discount on everything she orders, including Randy’s meats.

I returned directly to the bakery and hooked the battery up for a recharge.  I was scheduled for night shift, since Han Dan has left us after less than a month.

That evening Libby texted our WeChat Ladies group that there would a luncheon in Xin Bei on Monday, organized by AnnMarie who is apparently back after two months of traveling.  The event will welcome the newcomers.  I was eager to see AnnMarie again, and other old acquaintances in Xin Bei.  However, I had already arranged to go back to the Tantine Bakery.  I was torn.  I thought I might pop in to the bakery on the way north and just reschedule.  I did not have any contact information for them, so I couldn’t call or text.  I was in a quandary.  Randy came into the bakery, moments after I had texted him asking if he was aware of the luncheon.  He hadn’t read the text, so I asked him.  His reply was that he had been in touch with AnnMarie all week, and was indeed planning to go.

I was busy in and out of the kitchen, while Randy went out to smoke.  The next thing I know, a woman calls my number and asks for Randy.  Taken aback, I tell her he’s not there at the moment, but he can’t be far.  I see his bike bag on the floor.  He had asked me for some flyers for the Sunday Brunch, which I was printing out for him to take.  Not knowing what else to do, I searched out Randy’s phone number on a label and dictated it to her.  As it turned out, Randy had left without saying a word, going by himself, probably by bus, to the luncheon.

I fixed myself a  lunch, and headed out to Tantines to get there around 1 p.m.

The same man met with me, and showed me around.  We sat and chatted.  He had worked at Tantine in Shanghai for many years.  With this training, he was well prepared to go it alone.  I did not ask what kind of support and how much he received from the home bakery.  Is he a branch?  An independently owned franchise?  We didn’t get into that side of it, mostly because my Chinese isn’t good enough.  What I did want to know was materials.  What flours did he use?  Did he do his own sourdough?  On Sunday I had shown him my multigrain bread, packed into my ebike for Theresa.  He was surprised that I could sell such a crusty bread to Chinese and westerners alike.  He was told the Chinese would not accept such breads.  I reminded him that it was all about Healthy.  If you tell them it is healthy, they will at least try it.

A young woman came in halfway through my Monday visit to Tantine.  She was friendly, excited about this new venture.  She also had trained in Shanghai at Tantine’s.  She agreed with me, that we should not feel competitive but rather collaborative, since we share a passion for bread.

I mentioned the best flour we had come across, the Golden Statue from Hong Kong which costs us 150 rmb per 50 lb sack.  He dismissed this flour as no good.  He says he buys imported flour from France, also costing 150 per 50 lb or 25 kg sack.  There is a delivery fee of 100 rmb, but it does not change whether you order three sacks or 20 sacks.  I raised my hopes that they would share some of this booty with me.  Let my order piggy back on theirs, to save on shipping costs.

I left, with a warm feeling that maybe I wasn’t so alone in this work.

Back in my own kitchen over the rest of the week, I tried some simple breads that relied heavily on quality of flour to induce flavor.  They laid flat on the tongue.  I finally texted the young lady on her WeChat, and asked if I couldn’t please please please buy one sack of flour from them.  She checked with her boss.  He said no.  And that was that.

Maybe what I need to do is ask to be a volunteer there, just like people ask me.  Of course, they will probably say no for the same reason I say no; I don’t wish to share my secrets.

On Friday night I will go to the Spanish restaurant, Viva, next door to Tantine.  My dinner group, Stephanie, Emilio and Ricky, will gather there.  I hope to pop in to say hi, if the doors aren’t locked.  And then after dinner, I hope to bring my friends with me to the Blank Space, where AnnMarie will once again be ‘holding court’.  I am ready to kick loose, sit with familiar people and listen to some good jazz.

bear claws

Wondering into what new products I could branch out.  I tried buying frozen puff pastry from Metro, but it was unwieldy to use.  The portions were too large, but I couldn’t defrost just the amount I wanted.

Bear Claws, for some reason, has stuck in my mind.  I have heard them referred to, both on the Bread bakers Guild group page, and people anecdotally mentioning them.

I looked the recipe up, on the internet.  It requires puff pastry and almond paste, both of which are not available on TaoBao.

I studied up further.  I knew that puff pastry was made by slowly working butter into flour, that some recipes are actually 95 percent butter.  I understood that it much be rolled out and folded over many times.  I’ve seen the machine that does this.  Aroma Hut has one, and I saw a YouTube video of one in use.

Did I want to tackle making puff pastry by hand?  I had dismissed the thought out of hand, assuming it would be impractical.

I read some more recipes and instructions.  Gradually I thought I might could do it.  There are some neat methods to achieve it.

Mix together flour and water, and a little yeast.  Separately, grate butter fine and then add a little flour to it.  Roll it out very thin, wrap it and chill it.  Then fold the butter into the rolled out dough.

Then it is just a matter of doing the folding, chilling and rolling many times through the day.

I tried it.  It worked.  The instructions said to use copious amounts of flour while rolling the butter, and that indeed was very necessary.

This way I could cut up the end product, a folded roll of pastry, into small portions and freeze them separately.

Almond paste.  What is in it?  I asked a friend to photograph in the supermarket a can of Solo almond paste.  She could not grasp the concept, though.  In the time it took to exchange clarifications, given the time differences, I did more research on the internet and found a recipe for almond paste!

This involved blanching almonds, drying them out, then grinding them.  Once ground, add an egg white and a pinch of salt.  Whiz the heck out of it in the blender, and then store it in fridge.

One glitch.  The almonds I found at LiJiang wholesale market were salted, perhaps even roasted.  I wanted raw almonds.  I used them anyway.

This month of July we have a gaggle of summer volunteers, from a small boy who says he's 15, to a PhD candidate who is going to Minnesota in September.  Business is extremely slow this summer, worse than last year.  Mostly they sit around and joke with each other, or each bends over his smart phone and plays a computer game.  I was glad to give them the job of blanching a pound of almonds.

The Bear Claw recipe has an almond filling.  It begins with almond paste, and gets complicated from there.  You have to begin with a smidge of paste, then beat it with more egg whites and sugar and stuff until it is somewhat fluffy.  Then put it in a piping bag.

So I grabbed a piece of puff pastry out of the freezer, and rolled it as thin as I could.  Then I tried to imagine the size I would want the end product to be.  I cut rectangles, then piped the almond filling in a line across the pastry.  I wet the edges with egg white, and folded them over.  Next, they get the five claws cut into them.  Brush egg on the surface, and sprinkle with sliced almonds.  They go immediately into the oven, they don’t seem to need time to rise.

I don’t know how close the end result comes to store-bought bear claws, because I have always avoided them when exposed, knowing they were a fattening treat of empty calories and fat galore.

Now I have a new product with which to fatten my skinny Chinese customers.

visa run to Hong Kong 9-13

I find myself in Hong Kong.  It has been a long and circuitous route.  A year ago I was a proud owner of a business visa.  Now I am a humble tourist once again.  The new government has ripped the rug from under my feet.

I went to book a train ticket, but three days before my expected travel date all the hard sleepers were sold out.  I could have chosen to sit up for 24 hours and pay a mere 222 rmb (less than $50 US).  But my bakery team decided that would not be taking good care of my health.

So let my bank account health suffer instead.

We went to the local official train booking/travel office, and booked me a flight for two days later, one way to Hong Kong.

Before I bought this ticket I took one last visit to my friendly PSB (public-or police-security bureau) officer and verified with him that I had no other option.  He confirmed it, so I bought the ticket.  His friendly, helpful parting remark was, 'Be prepared for not being allowed back into China.'

My young German friend Silvio, who lives and works in Changzhou as a chef, told me what he was told the last time he enquired.  He was told that on his next run to Hong Kong he would have to wait a week for his next tourist visa.

In order for the PSB to renew my business visa, I would first have to get an Alien Registration Certificate, with either an Expert Certificate or a Work Permission.  None of this could happen without a Criminal History Report from my home country, the U.S.  This proves very difficult to do if time is of the essence.  Courier services in China would not allow me to include a prepaid label for return to China of this document.  In the end, I used FedEx and enclosed a blank check.  But of course, FedEx drivers are probably not allowed to accept personal checks.  I am still waiting for that letter.  I think it will never come.

The other requirement that is flashed in my face by the government office, no matter what other question I ask them about this application process, is that no one over 65 may apply.  I have passed that milestone some years ago.

I spoke with my acquaintances in the Foreign Affairs Office.  They were philosophical.  The political climate is hot right now, 'a new broom sweeps clean,' the rules have changed and the higher echelons are breathing down the necks of the government workers to make sure that the rules are followed to a T.  Wait a while, and the political climate will cool.  It will be back to business as usual.  Exceptions can be made, at the discretion of the local officer.

So it is off to Hong Kong, for the ritual visa run.

Gratefully, Changzhou now has an airport, with direct flights to Shenzhen.  None of my foreign friends could tell me how to get the shuttle to the airport, but Rachel, one smart Chinese gal, heated up her keyboard and brought the answer back quickly.  It only cost 15 rmb.  She was afraid if I took a later shuttle, 4:30 for a 6:50 p.m. departure, I wouldn't make it.  I got the airport at 2 p.m., with lots of time to cool my heels and no computer to play with.

Although the flight arrived after 9 p.m., it was no trouble at all to find the shuttle into Hong Kong.  There is a desk right at the airport building exit that sells the tickets to we bewildered travelers, sending us quickly on our way.

The bus costs 120 rmb.  It stops at the border and returns to the airport.  We walk across the border, lickety split and are ushered into waiting coaches, which leave only half full in my case.

It was probably about 11 p.m. when I reached Nathan Street, the Jordan exit from the shuttle bus.  But I was on the wrong end.  A passerby gave my query a quick reply, that my destination was one stop further. But being unfamiliar with the transportation system, I just walked.  It was good to see the scenery, anyway.  I found myself walking up hill, and remembered reading Lonely Planet descriptions of Nathan Street from 15 years back.

I think not much has changed since then.

The Chungking Mansion is a very large block of a building. One of many on that strip.  The ground floor was a warren of walkways and shops.  One could buy food (Indian food dominates), soft drinks and water, internet service, passport photos, and whatever else the weary traveler needs.  Tucked in along the walls at various junctures are elevators.  On the wall there is a directory.  The big building is divided into 'blocks', A B C D E F and such.  I slept the first night at the Angel hostel on the fifth floor of E block.  The Ashoka, for the next two nights, was in A block on the thirteenth floor.

Rachel had booked me two nights in a hostel dorm, but then texted me that she inadvertently had me checking in on the 25th, not the 24th.  Well, by the time I checked in it was indeed the 25th, but that's a mere technicality.  The Ashoka Hotel was full that night, so I needed another place for one night.  No problem.  Lots of people on the sidewalk offering beds.  I took one, for the same price I'd be paying at the Ashoka.  It was tiny, compact but clean.  Just long enough for a bed.  Next to the foot of the bed was a folding door leading to a compact toilet.  Cold water sink, shower head over the toilet.  The mattress was firm foam, quite comfortable.  Of course, with no windows, one could feel a tad claustrophobic, but there is a fan, an air conditioner, and an exhaust fan in the ceiling.

Easy to estimate that there are a hundred different hostels in that one building, with tens of hundreds of beds.

I went to the consulate by subway.  I got on at the Tsim Sha Tsui station, which is the name of that neighborhood.  It was just one stop on the number 2 line to Admiralty, where I transferred to another train for one more stop, to Wan Chai.

I was looking for the China Resources Building.  Now, how did I figure that out?  It took some cogitating.  Finally I walked in to the Holiday Inn, which stands among all the cheap rate 'Mansions' on Nathan Street.  There the concierge took excellent care of me.  One person changed my rmb to Hong Kong dollars.  The other gave me detailed instructions on how to find the Visa Office, a map, and a complimentary Holiday Inn pen.  I asked for the toilet.  I was directed to the Mezzanine Level, where I found one locked, waiting for a room key.

Hey, Nathan Street reminds one of Skid Row, with all these international dark characters very active on the streets at midnight.  (Not that Skid Row evokes necessarily an 'international' flavor, but of dark, scruffy characters.)  No doubt, use of public toilets is an issue.  Maybe a NY Times Square analogy would be more appropriate here.

I set my alarm for 6 a.m.  I washed up and packed up, before leaving.  It took me a while to figure out where I was going, before I wandered into the HI, so it was 8:18 when finally I found myself on the snaked line outside the China Resources Building.  A government worker occasionally came by handing out visa application forms, which I filled out while waiting in line.  Lots of lively conversations flew about our heads, as we all shared our limited knowledge; we all had so many questions.

I had brought with me my apartment lease, and my bank account statement showing my monthly retirement pension deposits.  The clerk was happy to see my lease, had me make a copy of it, included it with my app.  I also had to make a photocopy of the front page of my passport.  I guess that is just an ordinary requirement, so if you are planning this run, come prepared.  A passport photo of yourself, and a copy of your passport.  The receipt I was given said it will cost 1400.  Is that rmb or HK$s?  I forgot to ask.

By 9:40 it was done.  My fate was sealed, no more wondering and worrying about being locked out of China, or stuck in Hong Kong for a week.  I can pick my passport up the next day, with a 30-day tourist visa.  I incredulously asked the young lady who was serving at that counter if that meant I had to come back every month.

She said, "Or renew it locally."

"You mean at my local police station?"

"Yes," that is what she meant.

Now there is only to book the return flight to Changzhou.  Or if I am lucky, I might find a hard sleeper ticket for the train.

Now, as I wait overnight, I have to struggle with the temptation to buy an iPad and an iPhone.  They are much cheaper here.  It is true, I need both.  I lost my smart phone, just one year old, a month ago.  I am lost without it.  My netbook is so old, it barely connects to the newer technology of the current TP-Link type routers. However, my funds are precariously low.  I would have to buy them on credit.  If my business picks up, as we all expect it will, any day now, no sweat.  But if sales remain lack luster, I'm in deep trouble.  Decisions, decisions.  Yeah, maybe I'm 71, but I'm not so different from my college students.  I need my electronic toys.  Life is so much easier when you are connected; that's just the age we live in.

The Media

It has been a strange week.  Take sandwiches, for example.  One day we sold 20 sandwiches, where the maximum to date per day has been 7.  Another day our sales were above average, but we did not sell one sandwich.

Word must be getting out.

I've been receiving calls from various media.  There are quite a few newspapers in Changzhou, so I'm not clear on which is which, but I've had a couple of phone calls about requests to do interviews.  I stipulated that there must be an English speaking member in any crew they sent.  Some weeks ago a crew came, and no one spoke English.  I have no idea if they ever used the material.

A man came in, a customer.  His English was quite good.  I asked him what he did, and he said he was a TV reporter.  What's your beat, I asked him.  Human Interest, his reply.  He called a couple of days later and asked if he could come and do a piece.  Thursday or Friday, I said, were good days.  Another crew called me, the lovely lady called me 'grannie' during our phone conversation.  I told her also, Thursday or Friday were good days.

Yesterday was Thursday.  I received an invitation to attend a ceremony sponsored by the Foreign Affairs Office, unveiling a new program for 'foreigners' to help them integrate better into Chinese community.  Anything involving the FAO is attractive to me these days.  I am having trouble renewing my visa, and it is under their auspices.  Spending a day rubbing elbows with some of their staff seemed desirable.  And it would include a free lunch of good Chinese food.  I texted the TV reporter and told him Friday would be better.  He confirmed.

I did not have the phone number of the newspaper, to tell them I would not be at the bakery Thursday.  They came, and found me absent.

Friday at 9 a.m. the English speaking man with his camera man arrived.  I had a heavy baking schedule.  I had started at 6 a.m., and was coaxing along not a few recipes of various stripes.  We chatted, he asked me the predictable questions.  Why did you come to China, why did you open a bakery, what was your life in American like?

When I could take a break, while the bread was rising or the oven heating, he would pose me at certain tasks.  They wanted a shot of me writing on my Grandma's Nook blog.

It went on and on.  They went and took a lunch break, timing their return for when the bread would be coming out of the oven.  Meanwhile, the newspaper crew arrived.  They past at the threshold.  The new cameraman told me that he and the other fellow were colleagues.  Cool, better than enemies.

So the photo shoot went on around my baking.  Their thrust is a photo story, which was already done in a Wujin Daily issue Jan. 3, but who was I to tell them that.

They went off to lunch, just as the other crew came back.  The TV crew wanted a more varied background, so they took me to the local supermarket, following me around with a camera.

We get to the checkout, only to find the newspaper crew with their camera swooping down on us.  The checkout girl said, in Chinese, Who are you?  I replied, that's a good question.

I wanted to try baguettes today, using a new recipe from the Bread Bakers Guild of America.  I thought I might finally get a baguette that was crisp on the outside and having large holes inside.  But all this commotion made me put the bread in the oven too soon.  Then they took me away, and Xiao Lan had to take the bread out.  But the oven needed to be dried out of the steam I had added, ten minutes before the finish.  I wasn't able to explain that to Xiao Lan. The crust came out too soft.  The taste was really good, but not so many holes.  I used expensive stone ground wheat for this, too.  I don't know who will buy these seven long loaves.  Jason, my one customer (he is an interior designer) who actually orders this kind of bread, last night told me he would be here in the afternoon.  It is now 2:30, and he hasn't arrived yet.  I am eager for his reaction to this new recipe.

When I lived in Sichuan, teaching at the Kangding Teachers College, two separate networks came and interviewed me.  They promised they would send copies of the final cut, but neither did.

I asked this English speaking TV reporter if he would be allowed to give me a digital copy.  He said he could and he would.

We'll see.

summer 2013

I see I have woefully neglected this blog.  I have three or so documents I've drafted, to be uploaded here, but haven't had time to focus on editing them and uploading.  I'll try to do that soon.

In May I was anticipating that this summer would see foot traffic drop drastically, because of the hot weather.  It seemed last year that business in the summer was poor, not just for me (it was my first month open, after all), but also for the German restaurant.  I had asked Peter to try to find summer jobs as a swim instructor, so I could lay him off or cut back his hours.

I needed some time off.  Haven't had a vacation for two years.

XiaoLan strongly advised me not to close for the summer.  She said I'd lose customers.  I have a couple of retail customers, and they too worried about who would supply them if I closed.

My fears were unfounded, it seems.  I'm not saying sales are great, but they are much better than I anticipated.

I decided that I would, indeed, take time off, and leave XiaoLan and Peter to run the place.  Fortunately, we have a volunteer to lend a hand, filling in on the others' days off.  He is a college student in Nanjing.  He is very bright, and has learned how to make our staple recipes.  He's very good with customers, as well.

I call him Xiao Zhu.  That's like 'Mr. Zhu' modulated for his age.  A more mature person would be 'Lao Zhu'.

There are a couple other volunteers, less dedicated than XiaoZhu, but also helpful.

I am finally getting my vacation.  Before I could make my travel plans to visit Angela and Rinpoche in the mountains of E. Tibet, a Chinese professor friend of mine called.  She is taking a trip to Sichuan, organized by her publisher.  Apparently a small group of writers from all over China will attend.  Since I am listed as co-author on one of her books, we decided to travel together.  She is a traditional Chinese, not at all comfortable with traveling alone by train.  She called to ask my advice on what mode of transportation to take to Sichuan.  I suggested train.  She said that would work only if I accompanied her.  So I am finally getting my first experience traveling by soft sleeper, after all these years of train travel.

Fortunately, there is a train ticketing office not far from the bakery.  I booked our tickets.

Her English name is also Angela.

Our tour is to two sacred Buddhist sites.  One is Emei Shan.  This is the home town of my dear friend Mao Wei Mullin.  She and Tenzin were there two summers ago, as Tenzin used that site as a topic for his Master's program in New Zealand.  We met, and I got to see their little Tara, already three years old then.

On that trip I traveled to the top of Emei Shan, by myself.  It was a wonderful experience.  I am looking forward to doing it again, this time as a tourist rather than a pilgrim.

We will also go to LeShan, the site of a very large sitting buddha on the edge of a river.  I've seen so many pictures of that site that I have no curiosity about it anymore.  I had crossed it off my to-see list.  However, I will go with the group and I am sure it will be worthwhile.  I'll finally get MY picture taken dwarfed by the ear of the giant Buddha.

I was in a bit of a panic at the thought of sharing hotel space.  My 'lingerie' is a bit worn and tatty, having brought everything from the States almost three years ago.  I tried a shop next to the bakery, but the price was extravagant and the bras tacky-ugly and uncomfortable.  Not to mention too small.

Marks & Spencer is a British department store.  In my mind it was an upscale store.  Some months ago I was Skyping with a friend, and I mentioned that there was a new one opened locally.  She, being British, would appreciate that.  When she lived in Changzhou M&S outlets had not yet opened.

She tipped me off that it is a good place to shop for 'our' size underwear.  Sure enough, I had a successful shopping adventure this evening.  I need not blush when climbing into my jammies with my Chinese friend, Angela.

After days of unsuccessfully searching for apricots, I finally went ahead with a new muffin recipe.  I substituted Japanese plums for the apricots.  It is called 'fruitburst' muffin.  It includes fresh blueberries, dried raisins, cranberries and apricots.  It turned out very well, and I felt justified by raising the price for that special item from 4 rmb to 5 rmb.  I made an extremely small batch of them, and froze six.  I don't want them sitting on the shelf growing stale for a few days.  I expect them to sell out this evening.  A 'special' should indeed be special, available only briefly.

I've been experimenting with different German breads, and also German Bretzels.  The Germans are passionate about bread, and there is a fairly large German population in this city.  Many of them frequent the German restaurant upstairs from me (which gets its bread from Shanghai).  After the summer doldrums, I will get serious about targeting that market.  Right now, I'm experimenting with new rye and sourdough bread recipes I got off the internet.

Our sandwich trade is picking up.  .It may not sound like a large number to you, but we are selling between 5 and 7 sandwiches daily.  Enough to go through a special pullman sandwich loaf each day.

A friend gave me the idea of buying a cart and setting up at the night market in a local strip mall, in University City.  Selling only sandwiches, to the college kids there.  This could be profitable, so I have asked Peter to take over that project.  So far I haven't seen results (the place to begin is to find carts, develop a strategy for delivering it and picking it up).  School starts again in five short weeks, not too soon at all to be planning such a new venture.

Economically, I just laid down a huge chunk of savings to pay for yearly rent on the shop and apartment, and internet for a year. Not to mention insurance and, soon, taxes on the house in Florida.   That has dangerously depleted my account.  The shop is still not self-sufficient.  My brain is whirring with ideas on how to bring in a jolt of cash flow for August's bills.  I offered one set of baking classes in July.  It would be logical to offering more in August.  But baking what?  I am mulling this over now.

The first class was a series of three lessons, spread over three weeks, a two-hour lesson once a week.  We learned to make scones, muffins and bread.  As a time filler, I made a lemon ice-box pie.   I'm thinking about doing more pies, but making a pie crust is an intimidating idea, with 8 novice bakers.

Any suggestions?  BTW, does the 'comment' link work?

Ciao, y'all.

Socializing in Changzhou

On June 22, the Wujin ex pats had a gathering at Monkey King.  On the previous night there was a farewell gathering at Canal 5, at the Zeeland Pub.  It was an unusual weekend of socializing for me.  It took me to new places, and new friends. 

It was another of those times, that are occurring here but haven't occurred much in my life, where I was included in a group that broke away from a larger group.  The ex pats organize dinners once a month (and now there are more such groups, so these gatherings are more frequent).  This one was at the new Monkey King, a few doors down from Chocolates German bar.  The MK is a full Italian restaurant, with a geeky Sardinian Italian chef.  We all love it when this is our meeting place.  Most of the year we can sit at outdoor tables.

I took a bus there and walked some, and by the time I arrived I was hot and sweaty.  There were two long tables outside; it was a good turnout.  I just couldn't bring myself to sit out there, because even with the cool breeze I was roasting.  I went inside and sat at the tiny bar, and ordered a beer.  I didn't have the buffet.  The heat had taken my appetite away.

I was content.  The bar is next to the toilet, so a friend would wander by now and again and stop to chat.  Eventually I cooled down enough to brave the outdoors.  I moved among the tables and greeted folks.  Ozmat was there, a beautiful lively slender Turkish woman whom I met for the first time in my bakery some months before.  We had met again at another ex pat gathering, and really hit it off.  I sat with her for a while, then moved on.  

One fellow I chatted with lives and works about an hour outside Changzhou.  I told him about the bakery and the android app that AJ developed.  He downloaded it immediately.  He will be our trial run.  I think his order is supposed to come through my email inbox.  Then we'll have to find a courier to deliver the bread, and figure out how to pack it.

I have no idea how much time had passed, when Ozmat and Rachel came to me and said, "Come on.  We're going to listen to some music."  We found two cabs waiting outside the restaurant, and we all piled in.

The place we went to is known as Canal 5.  The sign above it says something like 'Creativity University'.  It is about a kilometer west of the NanDaJie (or the Big North Street) shopping center, on a main canal.

Changzhou is riddled with small canals, many bus stops have the word 'bridge' after them.  Canal 5 is one of the larger tributaries.  

It is an amazing place.  When I first arrived in Changzhou in 2009 I couldn't imagine such a swinging place happening.  And of course, it wasn't, back then.

An old factory, perhaps a textile mill, had been turned over to create this extensive center for the arts.  There are art galleries, I'm told.  Some very nice restaurants, of course, and lots of unique bars.  One is the Zeeland, a Dutch bar run by a Chinese guy who lived seven years in Holland.  The ex pats have organized a few things there that I have attended over this past year.  There are also a number of venues for live music.  The one we went to was more the soft rock, jazz, blues style than the previous one I had visited.  The latter was in the old boiler room, and it was loud rock and roll.

I am not sure who all was in the two cabs that took us from the Monkey King and dropped us off at the Blank Space.  I seem to recall that we were all women, some of whom had left their mates behind at MK. Once there, led by Ozmat, we joined a few Turkish guys (including Dogan) and took up this space.  I was offered a coke.  I took it, with thanks, then went to the bar to get a glass, ice, and a shot of rum.  Maybe these Turks figured the girls didn't drink alcohol.  I couldn't very well refuse this drink, but I was in a party frame of mind and plain Coke wasn't going to cut it.  Somewhere during the night a bottle of Johnny Walker arrived.

This club, called the 'Blank Space', is one large room.  On the right half the floor is slightly raised, and a counter runs along the raised lip.  There are two bars;one on the right end wall and the other on the left end wall. In the center against the wall is a stage.  I saw and heard some amazing stuff on that stage that night!

The main attraction was a Chinese girl singer and her guitarist.  She sang in both English and Chinese, a very pleasant sound.  As the night progressed, she was joined by two 'white guys' with wind instruments.  You name it, they had it.  Saxophone, clarinet, slide trombone, french horn.  They did some great jazz improve over the music of the Chinese couple.  When I had the chance, I asked where they were from.  They told me they are from the Ukraine.

And then Dogan took out his guitar and joined them.  Apparently, he does this often at this club, and was welcomed onto the stage.

Apparently, this pic was taken late in the evening when the clubbers had begun to thin out. I see the bottle of scotch is empty.

I had spoken to Dogan the night before, at the expat gathering at the Zeeland Pub.  That was a night of farewells, for many of the ex pats would be leaving over the next few weeks.  We discovered that we had both been living in Changzhou for more than three years, he in the north, me in the south.  It is such a large city!

I am so not used to drinking anything stronger than wine and beer.  It was a bottle of black label that we guzzled. At some point in the evening, beyond the point when my perceptions were fuzzy, the group got up. left that place, and moved on. After the jazz club we went to one of those noisy discotheques in the Landmark area of Nan Da Jie, the club street.  I remember sitting at the very long, square bar and being fascinated by the many bartenders. I remember that Dogan was hovering quite near, pleasurably so.  I don't remember leaving, though I do remember the cab ride home.  I don't know the name of my new place yet, so I had to watch the driver carefully, telling him 'right' here and 'left' there.

My Turkish girlfriend messaged me the next day saying I had 'disappeared' and they were worried about me.  So did I just hop off the bar stool, wander out to the curb and hail a cab?  Ah, it was a lovely, fun evening.  Wish I could do it more often, minus the booze.

I'm so tired of the bakery.  Especially now when sales are down, there seems no reason to bake.  I wish I could just stay home, wait for the weekends, and party.  

But methinks I need a new wardrobe.  See pic.

Leading up to the festival

I'm enjoying a week off from the bakery, having closed it for Spring Festival.  I've been spending the time catching up on bookkeeping for the bakery, and studying to figure out why my breads are so crumbly. I haven't taken the time to seriously write and edit what I write.  However, as I do maintain correspondences with friends, I have copied snippets from these epistles to include here.  Once I've retired and have time and focus to shape this into a book, I will of course smooth its roughness.  Ha Ha.

The visiting Cat

Two of my friends have hooked up.  He is from New Zealand, she is an American.  They both are pariticpants in my Cat Loaner program.  They have three cats between them.  They are taking a holiday together for about a week, traveling the Pearl Delta area of China.  It is my joy to take care of ‘my’ cats while they’re gone. 

 Danielle has Ami.  Ami is a friendly cat who hung out in my apartment building courtyard for many weeks.  She would sit and visit with the old folks who spend their days out there.  One day I scooped her up and took her to the vet to have her spayed.  No one complained, although one or two did mention to me that they hadn’t seen her around.  When she was sufficiently recovered from surgery I let her out again.  But then Danielle was looking for a cat, so in the end, Ami lives with her.

Stewart has a brother and sister from the litter born in my home in August.  The female is gray tiger-striped.  She loves to climb.  One day she climbed up the mosquito netting around Stew’s bed, and must have fallen down.  He found her unable to move.  We took her to my vet’s and discovered she had broken a bone close to the pelvis.  I took her back to my home for a week or so, to give her a chance to recover.  Her brother is a ginger cat, and a bit rambunctious.  I was afraid he wouldn’t give her peace and quiet that she needed for healing.

Since then, she has not thrived.  She is skinny.  She is shy and retiring, even listless.

I have taken her back to my home while Stew and Danielle are away.  Both Ginger cat and Ami are pretty lively, larger animals.  I feared Grey cat would regress.

Now I have the pleasure of her company.  On a rare afternoon I came home early, lay on the couch, and rested with the TV on.  She curled up on my chest and spent the afternoon bathing me with affection.

She and Felix vie for the closest spot at night, in bed.  Last night I awoke to one of them cuddled in my neck, and the other cuddled up against him.

She finally has a name.  Lila. 

Spring Festival and the New Year

The spring festival is fast approaching. There's been an increase in fireworks noises over the past week, and it will continue all month.  All hours of the day and night.  It's a phenomenon to be experienced.  What a difference from the states, where fireworks are so tightly controlled!

Peter, my god-sent apprentice, is taking almost three weeks off.  I don't know how I'll manage without him.  His last day was yesterday, so they all gathered and gave me birthday gifts.  Linda is a part-timer who has been off this past week, to stay home with her twins during their school holiday. She came in also.  It was very sweet.  Xiao Lan is my other worker, she whose name is on the business license.  Her daughter Rachel hangs out at the shop each day when she doesn't have classes scheduled upstairs at Web, where she's a tutor.  So it was a nice little gathering.

We're approaching the year of the snake, which is my birth year.  They all agree it should bring positive energy, should be a good year, the store should flourish. We'll see.  I feel like I'm still not making any money, yet the urge to expand is strong.  I have two options.  One is to lower the ceiling and make a lounge area upstairs.  The other is to break a hole in the wall and take over the empty shop next door.  There's a chain in China in the larger cities called the Book Worm.  It is a private lending library (foreign language books) and restaurant. The shop next door was renovated with shelves lining the wall.  The gal in a boutique across from me remodeled it, thinking she'd expand.  But now she's changed her mind and it's for rent.  To buy her out would only take about $15,000, which is so cheap by western standards.  But my money has run out.  So I'm waiting to see if this expansion impulse is from God.  If it is, someone will come along interested in taking over that part of the expanding business.  Having a small version of the Book Worm here would be a huge hit.  But as with any business, success ultimately depends on good management.

Managing the shop now is a full-time job, but I'm still having to bake.  I need a partner!

We created special packages for people to give as New Year gifts.  Cookies seemed a natural choice, although my workers insisted on adding the occasional muffin and brownie.  Not my choice, as they go stale too quickly for such a situation of pre-packaging.  Cookies were my intention.  

Trip to Suzhou

Enjoying a week off.  It is too short!!  Took the train to Suzhou yesterday with an American friend my age.  I wanted to check out the Bookworm there.  I like the idea and would like to incorporate into my bakery.  We had a really nice meal.  I had a veggie burger!  It was nice to have a burger again.  It was squishy, but overall a nice experience.  the British owner does all his own cooking, having gone through five Chinese cooks before he accepted the inevitable.  You want western tasting food, have it cooked by a westerner.

We spent a lot of time walking.  Getting lost in a loop at the Suzhou train station upon arrival; from the bus stop to the Bookworm (we detoured a while when we stumbled upon one of Suzhou's many and ancient gardens and temples), then back again to the train station where coming and going we waited.  In fact, the return train was delayed an hour, so we waited even more.  We didn't want to pre-book our travels, because we didn't want to limit our freedom to be spontaneous.  So we accepted the waits, and enjoyed each other's company.  me, I just enjoyed having no responsibilities.

Sober Gregg

I received a surprising message the other day, on Google groups.  I had blocked Gregg's email from my inbox but apparently he was still within my Google groups, which I don't interact with.

This very brief message informed me that he had suffered cardiac arrest, and was now cold sober in Louisville, Kentucky.

I have thought of him often over this past year and a half.  Deep feelings are there, which I combat by forcefully recalling his ill treatment of me.  This note from a sober Gregg in the States stirred up deep, deep feelings of attachment.  Steady, girl, I had to admonish myself.

I replied with a sympathetic note.  I even went so far as to offer him a room in my Florida house, bunking with Charley.  A token gesture, as I was sure he would not want that.

It has put me back on the roller coaster, although much muted emotions.  I can't help but wonder if life with a sober Gregg would have been possible.

The reality is, he always treated me with utter disregard.  He was unfaithful to me when we were in a relationship, when we tried to be just friends he was clearly a taker and not a giver.

It felt good to be with him when he was nice to me.  We liked the same music, had great intelligent discussions about music and literature.  I loved loving him, but I saw no sign that it was mutual.

That having been said, there is something at the gut level that links us.  And maybe I have just described the core of co-dependence.

And then there were brownies

Shoehorning a moment in here, when I should be searching the internet for special boxes for the holiday.

Peter is proving his worth.  He is conscientious to speak out when we are out of something.  At first it was me texting him to please pick something up on the way to work.  Now I am the recipient of such texts!  This is a relief.

We reviewed our scones.  Tina had been making them.  I was not pleased with how they looked, and I noticed it took her a long time to do them, including putting them in the fridge for long periods.  All the crew joined together at the work bench when I took out the recipe book, and step by step went through the techniques.  'Tina didn't spend that much time on that step' was one murmur.  Another was 'directly in the oven with refrigeration?  So fast!'

I demonstrated how to develop flakiness.  We fold, turn, and gently roll it out.  We do it again and again.  Peter had been making thin scones.  I showed him how to build up the dough until it was almost an inch, and then cut them.  We used a ruler to get even cuts.  We had quit offering scones last December.  We re-introduced them about a week ago, and they are more popular than ever.  Some long-time customers will buy 12 at a pop, for fear he won't find them here next time he comes.

Chinese wives come in and buy them with the comment, my husband loves these for breakfast; he asked me to pick some up.

Cinnamon bun is another treat that has gone on holiday.  They were beginning to sit on the shelf too long, so I stopped putting them on the bake schedule.  This weekend I decided it was time to try again.  Peter was inspired by all the brownie-making, and the new cocoa we found from our Changzhou distributor.  He passed it by me first, and I said, 'Why not?'  He substituted cocoa and sugar for the filling, instead of cinnamon and sugar!  Hm.  I worked the night shift that day, so after he left I graced the buns with icing.  I left out the lemon, and instead added walnuts.  That day I had roasted some quality walnuts, and when I went to grind them they released an unusual amount of oil.  The batch came out more like a paste than loose chopped walnuts.  They worked well on top with the chocolate filling inside.

Innovation!  We English teachers, and engineers working with the Chinese, mutually agree that the Chinese are singularly lacking in the ability to think out side the box and come up with something totally new.  I see that my work with Peter is not going to waste.  Although this is a small step, I anticipate some interesting developments from him, as he gains skill and confidence in the kitchen.

I've been wanting to make brownies for a long time, but there has been too much else going on.  Now with Linda here, I decided to go for it.  I tried a couple recipes before settling on the one I found on the Hershey's chocolate chip bag.  I tried it out a couple of times, and then today I turned it over to Linda.  She'll be making them now daily.

Wesley, an old friend from the Web days, a former student, invited me out to tea with him the other evening. It had been a long time, he had changed jobs which now has him traveling within China.  I could see the changes for the better.  First of all,  I could finally understand his English!  His accent had been so bad, it took a lot of concentration to converse with him.  Not any more.  He works for a German company and must speak English every day.  He also looks much more relaxed, self-satisfied and at peace with himself.

While we were at this lovely tea house, Tian Fu's House of Teas, I noticed all the holiday gift packages.  This shop is in the same shopping mall as mine, a block away.  However, it is not of the same architecture.  It is a round building with a lot of glass, two stories.  It is a cultural experience for all the fine art enhancing the walls and packaging, the traditional furniture in comfortable semi-private sitting rooms, and lovely flower arrangements.

The seed was planted.  Next day I called the staff together and presented a challenge.  What would we offer our customers as New Year's Gifts?  Given the time sensitive nature of our product, we couldn't very well make up packages of muffins and breads and sell them over the next two weeks.  We had a good and lively discussion.  They reviewed the gift exchange traditions for the Spring Festival.  What they finally came up with was cookies.  We would develop a few packages offering cookies.  Not just the three types we offer now.  We'll have to do some research and come up with more variety of color, shape and texture.

And that leads me to what I should actually be doing during this stolen moment.  I should be searching the internet for the appropriate packaging materials for our gift boxes.

The winter lull

Sandwich production has started up again, at least with one customer.  We provide sandwiches six days a week.  That puts an end to my two-week mini-vacation, when I could come into the bakery at 8 or 9 in the morning.  The sandwiches are picked up at 7 a.m., requiring me or Peter to start at 6 a.m.  Our second customer, who orders twice a week, hasn't started up yet after the holiday break.  I hope we haven't displeased them.  I am assuming the workers haven't come back from their holiday break.  I should call, though, and find out.

The latter customer special ordered from us one day, on very short notice...less than 24 hours.  I produced what I could with what I had on hand, and charged accordingly.  They were not pleased with the price tag.  That was perhaps a month ago, and they still have not paid me.

I must distinguish, though, between the two.  That is, the special order came from the company.  The weekly sandwiches are ordered by the individual workers, who themselves pay for the sandwiches.  I bill them monthly.  They haven't paid yet for December.

Rather than writing the same thing twice, I'm copying here this week's entry to my 'grandmasnook' blog.

The new year came in with a bang.  Will it go out with a whimper?

The cold weather is keeping people off the streets.  This means fewer customers for us.  I suppose it will remain that way through the Spring Festival holiday.  We need to tighten our belts, to cut costs.  We had to let go one of our favorite workers.  Tina was the first one hired, back in July.  We all miss her.  

Linda is a part time worker.  She was at the bakery in the afternoons, which wasn't very helpful.  By then most of the baking was done, and I was too tired to be a good trainer.  But now she comes in three mornings a week.  Peter is training her, under my supervision.

Peter gave me a scare.  He sat me down for a serious discussion after a three-day visit to his home town.  His family is putting pressure on him to produce a grandson.  He's only 24!!!  But he is in love, so why wait.  At least in the States, that's what we'd say.  But here in China he has obstacles he must overcome before he can be permitted by families to marry.

Buy a house.  Which means get more money.  I could see where this conversation was heading, and it gave me quite a fright.  He is becoming a good bread baker.  He is able to work independently, with little supervision.  He takes a great burden off my shoulders.  Without him, I wouldn't have the heart to carry on.  So I did what I had to do.  I offered him a raise, not knowing where the money would come from.

One day soon I'm just going to have to raise prices.  I like keeping my prices affordable 'to the masses', but it's not very practical if I want to have enough money to stay in business.

What's New?  We've bought a new workstation so that we could add services.  We'll buy a microwave this week, so that we can offer hot sandwiches.

Customers come in the evening looking for something for breakfast.  I was alone in the shop one evening, doing the counter person job.  So when this lady asked me to suggest something for breakfast, I put some BBQ pork in a plastic container, and suggested the lady microwave it in the morning and serve it hot on bread.  Our BBQ pork is very popular, but the Chinese don't like to eat meat cold.  This solves the problem!  I need to encourage Xiao Lan to make this suggestion to more customers.  She does the night shift four nights a week.  I do two, Peter does one.

We keep the bakery warm to encourage people to come in and stay for a while.  We make coffee one or two cups at a time, so it is fresh.  We can make fresh milk tea, and have a variety of other teas.  Maybe once a week someone will sit and enjoy a cuppa.  This service has not yet taken off.

We are keeping the freezer full with all our fresh-baked breads.  I wish there were another way to offer you whatever kind of bread you want, fresh out of the oven.  That's only possible when you can tell us a day or two in advance that you're coming!  Not very spontaneous.  Other artisan bakers in the States tell me that freezing fresh-baked bread is common practice. It changes the texture slightly, but it is better than stale bread.  A good compromise all the way around.

I am a big fan of sourdough.  Breads made with natural yeast keep much longer.  Experts say the taste just keeps getting better with time.  The taste changes, that is true.  In olden days, people would buy bread once a month, made with sourdough.  The last crumb was as edible as the first. I'm experimenting with different methods, different cultures, and different recipes.  Come try it out and tell us about your experience.

Well, that's it for now.  Here's a shot of our cozy corner at Christmas time.  It has become my office.  When I need to work on the computer, I camp out here.  

Christmas Day

Stewart and I had been talking about the big Christmas Party that was scheduled via our Facebook group page.  We both agreed that Christmas eve was what mattered, and it should be at home with intimates.

The venue for the big party is the Fudu Hotel, an elegant international hotel, with its Shangri-la restaurant..  That is where Rolf is the head chef.  He's the one I finally got to meet and talk with at the Hutang Shangri-la Christmas lighting ceremony, and old German gentleman.  It is to be a six hour event, with games and food.  It cost 288 rmb, and BYOB.  They waived the corking fee.  In US dollars that's about $47.  Maybe it doesn't sound much to you, but by Chinese standards it's a lot.

The other problem with the big party is that the Fudu is in Xin Bei.  That's the far away northern part of Changzhou, turning a six hour event into 8 hours.

My good friend Ann Marie organized the event.  Last week I saw her at a book club meeting in Nan Da Jie. That is the city center, between Xin Bei and Hutang.  We were riding the escalator up to the public toilet, and I said to her, "it saddens my heart to go to a shindig in Xin Bei and meet all these neat people and then not see them again.  I need local friends."  Case in point, I haven't seen Ann Marie in at least two months.

I hope I wrote about the Christmas Lights ceremony at the new Shangri-la hotel Dec. 6, because that was IT for my public Christmas celebrations.

So I decided to have Chrstmas eve at my place.  I told Stephanie about it, and her circle of friends.  That's Danielle who now lives in my old apartment at Mechatronix school; Aoife who is Irish and an adventurer; she travels each week on her two days off to a different city locally.  And josh.  Josh works for Web Kids, a new school down the block with a special kids program.  He is in his twenties, tall, and outgoing.  He was in my shop with Danielle, to whom I gave a kitty, Ami.

Ami is a street cat who hung out in the courtyard at my apartment.  She was tame, not like the other wild cats.  yet no one wanted to take her into their home, so she scrounged for food. She is a gray tabby, about two months older than my kittens.  Often the good folk would put food out for her, their table scraps.  I took her to Dr. White, my vet, and had here spayed.  One day Danielle was saying how she loves cats.  I told her about my loaner cats, and she jumped at it.  She now has Ami, and they are very happy together.

Josh said he loved cats, and would like one too.  So I bought a cage on Taobao, and set the trap early one morning.  A couple hours later I went to work, with the cage filled with a young calico.  She stayed at the bakery until afternoon, when Josh came for her.  It was hilarious trying to get her out of the cage and into a sack so he could carry her home.  He really should have just taken the cage.  We caught her once, but he let her out of the sack accidentally.  She ran all around, leaping up at the windows in the kitchen, throwing everything above the sink to the floor.  I finally caught her, getting some teeth marks on my hand along the way.

So the four of them planned to come over.  I told them I wasn't up to cooking, but I could supply the wine.  We set a price for gift exchange.

They came over late.  Stew never did come, because Jenny and A.J. had invited him to their place.  Jenny's baby is over due.  Aoife (like eva, with an f) turned out to be the cook in the lot.  She brought about five dishes.  Danielle came early, and cooked a pot of brown rice in my steamer.  She served it with a dressing of Pesto from the bottle, a small amount of raisins and halved cherry tomatoes.  It is amazing!

So we ate, we chatted, we did the gift exchange, and then what.  A movie was playing on my TV during dinner, but clearly we didn't want to waste the evening glued to the TV screen.  So I suggested Mexican Train.  Stephanie had played it before, and was eager.

We played a long time.  Finally, at 2 a.m., Stephanie and Danielle left.  Josh and Aoife weren't ready yet.  During the evening there was this exchange between them, after about two bottles of wine, a beer, and just before I cracked open the bottle of scotch.

In a voice of mild curiosity Josh said to Aoife, "I like you."  She returned, in a puzzled voice, "I like you too"  He said, "I really like you, I don't want to but..."

It was sweet.  What I didn't know was that Josh had bought a plane ticket, wiping out his savings, for his girlfriend to come visit him.  She was due in a few days.

The two of them stayed on until 4 a.m.  They spoke about the folks who had just left, and analyzed them as if putting together bits of data to make sense out of phenomena.

I can't remember what else we talked about, as even I had a wee drab of the scotch.  They insisted on cleaning up before they left, hauling things to the kitchen and doing some dish washing.  I was very grateful in the morning, not having to face a mess in the living room.

They wandered out into the dead of the night.  The city is almost quiet then.  I wonder how long it took them to catch a cab.  They don't live in the same neighborhood, and neither of them speak Chinese.  But they were two good friends together, and it must have been a perfect ending to Christmas eve, for them.

I slept in the next day, til 7:30.  It was lovely.  Ricky texted me and arranged to come down from Nan Da Jie for lunch.  I took a shower, shampooed what was left of my hair after a trip the hairdresser last week, and finished the toilet with a dab of perfume, and mascara.  I got dressed in non-working clothes, pulling out my Earth Spirit ankle boots that I had bought in Vermont in 2008.  They were dusty; I took the time to find the boot paste and polish them.

We agreed to meet at the bakery at noon.  As it turned out, both of us were running late.  I grab a taxi (waiting probably ten minutes for it!) and pulled up to the bus stop as the B11 was approaching.  We exited out vehicles seconds apart.

We wandered over to the Maoye mall, where the Jackie Chen movie theatre is.  We had heard that there is a new restaurant just opened, on the fifth/top floor of the mall.  Michael Dent is a Canadian, apparently.  I don't know if I've ever met him.  We found the restaurant, but it wouldn't open until 6:30.  We wandered around the empty mall, Ricky stopping frequently to take pictures.  She was fascinated with geometric patterns, and appreciated the mall architecture.  I led her to the Jackie Chen movie.  We went into the lobby, but there was no western movie playing.  On the door there are big polka dots in dark to fading colors.  She laughed to see polka dots on a door.  She stood inside photographing them, and as if on cue a couple walked past.  it is actually a great shot of two people framed in large dark circles which fade to a cloud at their feet.

We continued our way down to the ground floor, walking down unmoving escalators.  I wanted to show her the Sunshine coffee place, but when we got there it was locked.  We peeked through the windows at the lovely cozy decor.  Then I noticed on the glass that they open at 1 p.m.  I looked at my watch and saw it was 12:50.  We were too cold and restless to wait.  I was hungry for real food.

Just then Stephanie texted me and asked me when I was coming.  Then I remembered that Lasalles had invited me (through Stephanie) to come for Christmas dinner.  We walked from the mall to his house, though I wanted to take the bus.  I am getting so lazy!  It was probably less than a kilometer.

We entered the apartment to find two young tall Chinese guys, and Stephanie.  Lasalles was moving swiftly from room to room.  He was in the kitchen, then greeting his new guests, then to the bedroom or toilet, then back to the kitchen while his Chinese friends played the role of hosts.  They took our coats, and invited us to sit.  Lasalles called me into the kitchen and handed me a package of paper cups and a couple of plastic mugs.  He said, I have lots of tea, here are the cups.  So I carried them ten steps to the table in the living room, and made a cup of pomelo tea for me and Ricky.

We were seated, chatting with Stephanie and the Chinese young men.  One of them was a college student, the other was a violin teacher at the college.  The student had a very expensive digital camera, that we played with intermittently through the afternoon.

Stephanie had already cut up a bunch of vegetables.  They were sliced fine, ready to be sauteed.  Green and red sweet peppers, onions and celantro leaves.  Another pot held sliced mushrooms.  A third dish had chunks of celery.  None of it looked like hors d'oevres.  The small coffee table was cluttered with these things, and with three cutting boards.

Lasalles came in and regalled us with all the wonderful things we were going to eat. He loves the spotlight, and so these presentations or previews of things to come were spoken in parsed melodic phrases.  He punctuated each phrase with a drawn pause ending in a rising tone.  The gist of it, unravelled over about a half hour of these speeches interrupted with his wandering between the kitchen and us, was that he had two kinds of potatoes, and chicken in various forms.  Chicken wings, and chicken for making curry, are two he mentioned.  At one point he talked to the two Chinese guys, and they disappeared out the door.  They came back after almost an hour, with a coconut.  They hovered around a machine on the dining table which was against the wall.  He let the guys do the work while he was telling us again that he had all kinds of tea, oh and there was lots of wine on the end table in the corner.  The guys turned to him holding a plastic pitcher with a couple ounces of coconut juice.  Then Lasalles turned his attention to that project, giving further instructions.  This was the coconut milk that was to be used in the dishes.

He asked if anyone wanted to help cutting up stuff.  I was off kitchen duty, so i kept silent, much to Lasalles' dismay.  Stephanie shrugged her shoulders and said she didn't know how to cook.  Ricky piped up and said sure, I'll help, what do you need.

She attacked a head of garlic with gusto. She layed it out on the cutting board and smashed it with her palm. Then she slipped off the loosened skins.  By and by the cutting board had about twenty cloves of shiny garlic bordering its edge.

It was now 2:00.  We were all starved, having expected to come for lunch. Each time he would make an appearance, we all asked if any of that great stuff was actually ready for eating.

He brought out a pot of boiled potaotes and asked  Ricky to slice them.  He became elaborate again, describing what he was going to do with these potatoes.  He turned his attention to the Chinese guys.  The three of them stood at the table, as our host assigned them another task.  Ricky looked at Steph and me, and we speculated about how to cut the potatoes.  Quartered?  Thick slices, thin slices?  Finally Ricky dove into the task and had them nicely sliced.  Lasalles took them into the kitchen.  About a half hour later, I went once again into the kitchen, and helped him unload the potatoes from the pans into a bowl.  They had been dipped into a mixture of onion powder and black pepper on a cutting board near Ricky, and he must have then dipped them in egg before sauteing them.

I set them on the coffee table, and we pack of hungry wolves made them disappear quickly.

The whole apartment was quite small, maybe 60 square meters.  The kitchen was too small and cluttered to allow two people to work in there.  I suspect Lasalles had hoped that I would be the one doing the heavy lifting, and he would just be giving instructions.  But it was my day off.  I did go in to see if I could do something, but it wasn't possible.  Lasalles, a light skinned Canadian who would have fit in like a native in New Orleans, was a man of large gestures and exaggerated speech.  He filled that tiny kitchen to overflowing.

I dug into the bottles hiding behind a lamp and a green plant on the end table in the corner.  There was nothing recongizable on the labels of the five bottles.  I found one white wine. I asked for a cork screw, which Lasalles was able to find, but then discovered that it was a screw top.  The label said it was a white savignon and chardonnay.  It tasted more like vinegar.  By the look of the labels on the other wines, I suspect they were all of equal quality.

At one point while Lasalles was visiting with us in the living room, I asked him why he didn't buy my bread.  He said I didn't have the kind of bread he liked.  What was that, I asked?  Whole grain stuff, healthy stuff.  Like what?  Anything, he said, with whole wheat, maybe rye.  He said when he comes into the shop the counter person says we don't have any of the things he asks for.  I told him we had a freezer full of fresh baked breads.  All he has to do is ask.  Obviously, it must have been a long time ago that he came in, before we got into this rhythm of keeping the shelves and freezer full.

He tried once, it didn't satisfy, and he never came back.

The two guys got up and started to leave.  We asked them where they were going.  They said that the Christmas environment was lacking, they were going to find some Christmas hats.

Moments later, one of my former Web students walked in the door for a visit.  She stayed a while, and left.  Meanwhile, she pulled from her bag a loaf of my New York Deli Rye and grinned at me.  'Lasalles!' I called, 'look at this.' He was coming out of the bathroom.  He wouldn't look at me.

The other lady, as Chinese always move in pairs, was Zoe.  She is one of my favorite Web students, I was happy to see her again.  I had recently bumped into her at Shirley's new spa.  She is witty, she speaks her mind, often in zingers.

The ladies were expecting to see the two Chinese guys, and were disappointed not to find them.  They stayed for a while, hoping to see them.

Lasalles sat with us, the conversation was lively.  Then Stephanie said, is there going to be any food soon?  We're starved.'

After a while he returned to the kitchen.

The pile of cut vegetables was beginning to dwindle. The Chinese don't' like raw stuff, nor cold.  They watched us nibbling on slices of red sweet pepper and yellow, on celery.  Eventually one of them picked up a celery and tried it.  The other marveled.  the first picked up another, and they had a conversation about it.  Yes, he said, it is good.  it's okay to eat it like this.  They groped for a word....pet...pest...pesticides!

We all assured them that the vegetables had been washed.  A colander of raw spinach had materialized on the coffee table.  Ricky wondered if the roots should be cut off.  They had obviously been washed.  We agreed the roots needed to come off.  She did that.  The guys pointed to it, and said it needed to be washed.  It was washed!  we chorused.  But it needs to be washed again!  The pesticides   So he took them out into the kitchen and washed them again.

And so the talk of food continued.  Finally it was 5:00.  Ricky had a dinner date in Nan Da Jie.  We all agreed she should give travel plenty of time, as it was rush hour and the bus ride would take longer.

We said our farewells, and left.

Down in the street, we agreed it was a fun day.  She was glad that we only grazed, as at least she didn't over eat.  The potatoes had filled me up, too.  We never got to taste his exotic dishes, his two kinds of fried rice and three kinds of chicken, but we were satisfied.