Christmas day in Beijing, and the small matter of Christmas dinner still needs consideration. With turkey, sprouts and Christmas pudding most likely not on your typical Chinese restaurant menu, Christmas-dinner-with-a-difference was always going to be on the cards. Just how different, however, I hadn’t quite anticipated. Would it be Fried Enema to start followed by Three Kinds of Explosion? Or maybe Fried Lamb with Cumin with Another Small Rape before desert? A tough choice in any situation, let alone on the day of little baby Jesus’s birth.
Having felt on the verge of three kinds of explosion myself for most of the day thanks to something not quite right I’d eaten for breakfast, all I could manage, in the event, was a bowl of pumpkin congee to try and settle my stomach and prevent the turmoil raging within from defiling this most festive of days. It stayed down about as long as it took me to pay up, dash out of the restaurant and find a dark corner of the nearest hutong in which to leave my own mark on Christmas 2013, but at least I’d avoided some of the less appetising consequences of all that was on offer. The enema will have to wait until next time.
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