Entering China Through the Express

I find I have to confess another bias, I love Chinese, and I am a Self-Confessed Sinophile, I love the culture, rich heritage, film and food! And say what you like Bruce Lee rocks!!! Enter the Dragon Baby!!!

Like I mentioned in my last post the Chinese are everywhere, one billion trillion of them, China isn’t big enough; the healthy import of this is that they have exported considerable parts of their culture to the world. Their recent predominance in world affairs (leave me I studied it in school) means that like the many colonialists genuine businessmen before them, they have new-found interest in Africa.

As Nigeria is known never to carry last (Insert Translation: Nigerians have a healthy appetite for competition and always win!!!) we have been experiencing our own influx, and it is evident from the less suspicious Chinese restaurants springing up around the capital city, and the more ominous giant CCCC- Chinese Colonialist Construction Corporation- Ripping you off since 2010- Allah that is their slogan!!! (Honestly can anyone get that CCCC acronym right)?

And while I am wont to discuss the benefits of Foreign Direct Investment or the disadvantages of Corporate Imperialism, Goodluck hasn’t commissioned my humble submission that I- yes I- should be made Minister of Foreign Affairs, so I took a day off from my posturing and political grandstanding and swung by the new Chinese restaurant in the Wuse II District of Abuja, and I will tell you all about it after a message from our corporate sponsors.

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I walked into the Chinese Express and I will say this much, the greatest testament to any Chinese restaurant is to see actual Chinese people eating there –no not Lebanese- actual Chinese people, with that said I sat down, confident that the proceedings could only get better. The Chinese Express has a dual system- operating with both A la Carte and buffet- for the person on the go and those that can spare time.

Like most non-gourmet restaurants the furniture is functional, wooden tables and comfortable steel chairs, they however go to elaborate lengths to create the feel of a Chinese den, expect to see Ceiling lights draped in red paper fabric in what looked like a bamboo cylinder with tassels- and while I visited in the afternoon I imagine they give a pleasant luminous feel at night, resembling homely lanterns. The massive flat-screen was tuned to a Chinese station and as is custom it was muted while the speakers softly gave out sounds of the orient- gentle string music. 

The owners were leaving you in no doubt what the nationality of the establishment was, which is fine, it is after all named Chinese Express. While I waited to be served, the waiter who was attending to another table tripped over a table leg and the Chapman cocktail he was taking to a ladies table, flew off his serving tray and landed on mine perfectly, emptying its sugary-syrupy contents into my unsuspecting mouth- True story!! I only drink masculine drinks like Cognac and Jack Daniels and stuff, and that’s the only plausible explanation of how that drink would end up on my table. True Story!!!! Not like I ordered it- Tiger Rwwarrhhhhh!!!! See, very masculine.

After apologizing profusely for his folly, the waiter who we should call- hmmmm- Pooch, yep Pooch!! (Honestly restaurants need to get their waiters name tags or tell em’ to introduce themselves) Pooch refilled my glass with masculine content, and asked me what I would like, skimming through the menu my eyes settled on yet another plus for the restaurant, Aromatic Duck , that is yet another standard by which I judge a real Chinese Restaurant. I however didn’t subscribe to the Avian Platter, I opted to try a meat dish, and I opted for the Lamb with Green Pepper in Black Bean Sauce. Simple.

After a proportionate amount of time, my meal arrived, I was impressed and disappointed in equal measure, impressed that the chef obviously understood how to manage time, but disappointed that this restaurant wouldn’t provide me with fodder to dwell on or eavesdrop on. Just as the meal had arrived on time, everything else was happening within expected parameters. Then It Happened.

A bunch of armed robbers dressed in Halloween costumes ran into the restaurant, armed with Bow and Arrow and horsewhips, they ordered all of us on the floor while threatening to either release the bow or the whip, and as Yoruba men are always known to run to live to fight run another day, I gently and quietly- masculine drink in hand- lay down, after demanding that the till be emptied, they also demanded that the frightened manager pack a takeaway meal for them. True Story.

While this was happening, the Chef who up until now had remained hidden behind clouds of steam and the kitchen door, snuck out spatula and whisk in hand, he promptly disarmed the first bandit with a flash of the hand, and swift movement of the leg.........See you!!! You too like ‘tory. Na Lie o....I must have drifted off.

The Chef actually did make an appearance and he was a comely, wizened tall Chinese gentleman, he looked like he had fought many a battle in the kitchen. As I mentioned earlier, the restaurant didn’t provide much in the way of conversations to eavesdrop on or human interaction to spin. The group that I met there, the Chinese contingent was just about rounding up; they had obviously enjoyed their meal and were clearly suffering from the Itis (watch Season One: Episode Ten of the Boondocks) they were having a rapid staccato conversation, and the sole Nigerian who I imagined was their guide was seated quietly, occasionally checking her wristwatch and probably calculating mentally the exchange rate of the Chinese Yuan to the Naira.

One of the ladies in the contingent stood up to go to the bathroom, dear readers if you encounter a Chinese lady with Beyonce-esque features, let me know.

While casting my eye across the spread of the Express, I had failed to notice that Pooch didn’t bring the meal with the natural accompanying rice dish, and while I had assumed that the meal came with rice, Pooch should have pointed out what he saw to be an anomaly. What is it with waiters and not serving the complete meal, same thing happened with Vero at Cafe 24 (whose real name I have since confirmed is Euphrates: she should be happier called Vero).

Luckily I was able to order rice from their buffet section and not wait for it, while Pooch once again apologized. The meal wasn’t elaborate, and after tasting it, it didn’t have to be. There was no flourish or embellishment, it was simply Chinese and by that I do not mean the type of food, I mean it was lean, efficient and functional- like a Toyota- which I am well aware is Japanese. And while comparing a meal to a Toyota might not be the best description that is what the meal was to me, functional.

Perhaps I have had too much Chinese, but the meal did not hold any surprises for me, the lamb was coated in sauces when it had to be, rubbery when it had to be, tough when it had to be and then soft all at the same time. In other words, my meal was either a Transformer or schizophrenic, which in the end cannot be an easy feat.  I think I might have to have another dish there, and if the worst thing I can say about the meal I had was that it had split personalities, then I am sure the next one will be yet a surprise.

I emptied the remaining contents of my very masculine drink and exited expressly (see what I did there) N3500 lighter, as I walked out of the premises I was met with the obvious structure that is Banex Plaza immediately opposite Chinese Express, quite visibly I could watch my Igbo brothers scurry around as they tried and succeeded to convince many a buyers that their wares and Cds (all doctored and pirated from China) were the latest and Original, I mused on how the Chinese and Nigerians are not so different, Chinese sef No dey carry Last.

   

The Chinese Express Restaurant & Takeaway is Located at 44, Monrovia Street, Off Aminu Kano Crescent in the Wuse ll District of Abuja . They can be reached on 07043067888 & 08032413557 or emailed at chinesexpress@yahoo.com

**Sidenote: I am happy to announce that the Chicken Hurricane Meal I have been campaigning to have re-instated on the Cafe 24 menu has been (drum roll please) re-instated!!!! I have since been told that it was there ever since and I must not have seen it, I will continue to believe that it is my relentless advocacy and the countless amounts of Naira spent on me by others. And Vero or Euphrates is actually called Eucharia but I heard Euphrates and I think we all prefer it (just kidding).

Disclaimer: All views expressed in this are for comic effect, and not entirely the view of the author, I say this confident in the abilities of the likes of Jackie Chan, Jet Li and their compatriots, I will not like to have my ass kicked, my own muscles are simply cosmetic. I also harbour intentions to travel to Hong Kong one day and in case there are any Chinese Embassy Officials reading this, I was clowning. We are all God’s children. Gimme Visa.

On a more serious note, while speaking on China Let us all, spare a minute to pray for Japan, in the end we are all truly God’s Children.

One Hour Outta 24 in a Cafe

Now I must confess a bias before I continue with this review, I like Cafe 24. A lot. It is by any standards my favourite watering hole, and the fact that it hosts an interesting menu doesn’t hurt. Rumoured to be owned by one of Obasanjo’s son (Baba is the greatest!! Now gimme a free meal or contract, I see you rolling your eyes, shame has no market value o!!) It is the business model more than anything else that appeals to me. It is the first 24 hour establishment in the city, and it should be emulated, in a city with more cash than sense and discipline (hard to be sensible when your fada is a thief) it is a welcome development.

Plus some of us are in relationships (read: shackles) we need a place to run and soak in alcohol at all times of the day, I asked- Tantrums do not own wristwatches. (Insert Mandatory Just Joking Baby!!!) Listen, the logic works, if ATMs and Debauchery can run at all times of the day, so can alcohol and food- Salamander, Grow up and open late!!! In the full sense of the word, I cannot make this a review as I have been there a hundred dozen times, but the fact that I always go back is reason enough. So I will review my most recent experiences.

It is factual that humans are creatures of habit but when an establishment becomes De Facto, it is also a testament to their strength- or their customers’ lack of taste- whatever the case, Cafe 24 is “my local” and I can be found there every Friday night nursing a green bottle – Sprite boo!!- and No! I will not sign any autographs!!!

Cafe 24 is nestled right next to popular sports bar & club –Play- and opposite the also popular slave master expatriate haven Peniel Apartment in the Wuse ll District of the city. It has undergone a facelift in recent times, comfortable before in the strength of its business idea and plastic chairs and open air, it now wears a thatch roof and is surrounded by a stone finish, almost gives it a quarry feel. It works, simple still distinct.

In the middle of the floor is a raised bar cut in a semi-circle that covers a nice spread, central and focal, the location of the bar is the first handshake of Cafe 24 and it is a strong one. There is a close air-conditioned room for the faint of heart who don’t want to be one with nature; the menu is simple, two choices of Continental, Chinese and the obligatory Side Dishes. Their menu for drinks & cocktails is another story, with the standard Sex on the Beach , it isn’t a stretch to see Flaming Orgasm or Slippery Nipple- true story. Next they will hit us with Discounted Contraceptive, or Sexually Repressed Bartender, what? I am just saying!!

Walking into the Cafe that Friday I was more familiar with their sandwiches – they make a killer Salami Sandwich- & their more adventurously named dishes (Chicken Hurricane) than the new “professional” menu. Apparently there is a craze for Chinese these days ‘cos they are everywhere, no, not the Chinese, the restaurants, well the Chinese are everywhere but-back to the story at hand. I sat down in my comfortable straw chair, to the news that Hosni Mubarak had made like his ancestors and let his people go, to celebrate I ordered One – please note the number- Green Bottle, sweating, Ice Cold. I then proceeded to ask Vero- Yes I have assigned her the name- for the menu, when she brought it over I asked for Chicken of Cream Soup, and for my main Course Diced Chicken with Cashew nuts. And waited. And Waited some more.

Now, a place, anywhere, is as interesting as the people that are in it, while I waited for what I am certain was an eternity, I observed several things, for one all the people that emerged from the air-conditioned room-  and they were all women by the way- had blackberries and wore revealing Maxi Dresses, and walked with the air of someone who would invent a way to defy gravity and float if she were smart enough. Secondly, Rich Men talk a lot of sewage. I know, because I am not rich.

A group of men walked in, they all appeared to be well over middle-age but with signs that their arthritic fingers were still holding on to youth, and they belonged to a group of men who believe they can substitute personality with currency- don’t blame them- it works. The waitress walked over to the table to collect their orders, one of our hip geriatrics asks

Geriatric One: “Ahn Ahn Fine Girl, are you from Benue, You are so Pretty”

Fine Benue Girl: “Good Evening Sir, Can I take your order”

Geriatric One: “You won’t answer me, Are you from Benue, Benue Girls are fine”

Fine Benue Girl: “It doesn’t matter sir, I would like to take your order”

Geriatric Two: “Geriatric One, don’t mind her she doesn’t have manners, Fine Benue Girl you can go, I won’t play with you again, do you know who I am?”.

I repeat “I won’t play with you”!!! In this age and time, who says that, honestly? All this while, my meal hadn’t arrived, I am convinced now that Cafe 24 has a trap door which chef’s can use to escape when they have forgotten an important ingredient, because s/he, it must have jumped through the trap door, surfaced on the other side, hopped a cab, drove to a farm, pointed to a chicken and bought it, came back, slaughtered it and then began to cook. True Story.

The Un-cut version of The Old & Senseless continued to play itself out beside me, luckily my soup arrived. As Vero brought the soup to me, my spidey senses went off, the bowl was notably smaller than what I am used to. Ah well, don’t judge a bowl by its size but the contents of its character. Sigh, there is something amiss between Abuja Chefs and Cream of anything soup, yes there was chicken, yes it was the right colour, but not the right density. Cream means thick, I want the soup so thick I can stretch it against my spoon and use as a catapult against Geriatric No 2, still- Who says I won’t Play with you!!! No catapult for me, but it scalded my mouth- which is good- was the right temperature, and hit all the right places, like a fine tune instrument, revealing itself with subtle hints of all its ingredients. But no weight, when it comes to soup I want it thick like Serena!! Shout to Piccolo Mondo In Lagos!!

While I savoured my soup, the Geriatrics had a visitor, Nikki Nike Minaj, she had what appeared to be botox in her lips or flapjacks for lips, and her eyes constantly channelled lost or confused, and if that’s not the case then let’s just say she is always aware. The Geriatrics didn’t mind, matter of fact one of them declared his intentions, loudly announcing and displaying Two Hundred American Dollars, my eyes caught the dollars, hers caught mine, don’t know if she sneered or smiled, too much going on with her face. How does someone manage to look scared and alert at the same time?

Luckily as the episode of Benny Hill played out, my main course arrived. Now scroll up and see what I had ordered. Now that you have scrolled down, you remember when I said the chef had a trapdoor for ingredients he had forgotten and such, well he forgot the cashew nuts and thought it was fine to make up for it with another type of nut. Yes, you guessed it, Peanuts, Groundnuts, Ekpa!!! In my diced chicken meal. Sigh. The entire enterprise was defeated by just that one simple act of vapid abandon, the structural equivalent of having completed a building only to find out it has no stairwells, then stringing rope from the roof for people to use for ascension. It is criminal.

I ordered my second (2) green bottle which Priscilla- the Fine Girl from Benue served- Yes her name is actually Priscilla, Vero had forgotten to bring a straw for my main course. Straw? Yes straw, as she forgot to serve my meal with rice as ordered, I only imagine her and her chef had intended me to drink the ground-nutted-diced-chicken. When she gets my order right I will find out her real name. At this point I simply crossed my legs in my pristine starched blue traditional wear. As a bad guys is concerned.

I don’t know what I was waiting for, but then it happened, he swooped in without his cape to save my meal, he being Elijah one of the more reliable waiters there, just starting his shift and noticing the despair on my face, he came in and remedied my meal. But the nuts were still there, the Geriatrics were still chattering and Nike Minaj was still side-eyeing me, well I can’t be sure, she probably cannot control the muscles in her eyes. I battled on.

The design of my meal was botched, but it did taste good, an almost citric taste to the diced bits, once you could shuffle the nuts to stay out of the way in your mouth and the plate, the spices and tastes of the meal began to come out of their hiding places. Like a smile from a shy girl, it wasn’t immediate, a gradual settling & agreement between your palate and what the chef intended- then you tasted the nuts. Sigh. A good experience if not the intended one. I finished the meal and began to walk out, N4500 short for the enterprise.

On my way out I walked past a Nana-Who-Doesn’t-Know-Her-Name (Rihanna) lookalike, apparently she was a friend of Nike Minaj, who mind you was still looking at me, in my mind I thought “O je Gba Dollar” (Insert Translation: You are better off acquiring dollar from the Geriatrics) . I walked out and watched them watch me walk, with a full belly, heavily starched attire, and all the waiters knowing my name- they must have thought I was a big shot. Perception only Cost N4500. Sweet!!

Cafe 24 is Located on Adetokunbo Ademola Crescent, Wuse II
Opp Penniel Apartments
Abuja

Sidenote: Elijah and Priscilla happen to be the best waiters at the Cafe and should you venture to the Cafe 24 ask for them, if your service needs to be better than what you are presented with. I will be staging a campaign to re-induct the Chicken Hurricane into the menu, if you agree please show up every Friday with a full wallet as I will drive the human end and you can pay. I will be the one with the green bottle, feeling like a big shot. Thanks.