Dim Sum, Floaters, Dave Barry, and Burning Plastic—All in a Weekend

Last weekend my friend V and I decided to make homemade dim sum to celebrate Chinese New Year.  Neither of us is Chinese, but as Americans we’re always up for borrowing another culture’s holiday as an excuse to party.  We searched the web for recipes, techniques, and advice to replicate the most authentic dim sum possible.

After learning more about Chinese dumplings than I ever thought possible (EVERYTHING IS A BUN), we headed to the nice, large Asian market 45 minutes away.  We probably could have found most things in our suburb, but we also craved a certain kind of smoothie that we could only get at the Indonesian shop in the same strip mall.  The smoothies have dark brown “floaters” in them, which are large balls of tapioca flavored with brown sugar.  The balls are so large they require a special, wide straw.  V and I first tried them last summer in an adventurous moment, and I didn’t like the floaters at all.  The experience is like this: as you drink your fruity smoothie, you’ll see a big brown orb glide up your wide straw.  Then, faster than you anticipate, the slippery ball will suddenly emerge from the straw and slide into your mouth.  You’ll have to engage your teeth to get rid of it, but it will be chewier and more flavorless than you’ll expect.

The sensation is unusual, and I cringed every time a slimy tapioca ball hit my tongue.

Even though we both thought the floaters were a strange/gross experience, V and I both started to crave the weirdness again.  Have you ever had a hankering for an unpleasant sensation, like sushi, the smell of sweat, or Bioré Nose Strips?  That’s what happened to us over these floaters.

It's coming...

After satisfying the slimy ball craving, we headed to the market, where we purchased far too many ingredients containing the word “glutinous.”

We also picked up a package of chicken feet for visual effect on the table.  I believe stew was their intended purpose, but we were hoping to add excitement to our tiny party.

We anticipated reactions from our families ranging from “EWWWW!” to just short of vomit, but we were sorely disappointed.  The kids and husbands were surprisingly calm.

One friend suggested that I should be careful because guys will eat anything this shade of fried beige. Only, the feet weren’t fried—they were RAW and still looked like this. Also, they were pliable and rubbery. ICK! I bet some culture somewhere puts them in a smoothie.

After the dim sum evening, I spent the next day recovering (we assumed the Chinese would drink Cab if they had it) and ridding my house of the smell of oyster sauce.  I had succeeded in no longer smelling like China and got ready to attend a Dave Barry lecture and book signing.  Dave Barry!  I was so excited!  Dave Barry is my writing idol.  I first read his articles and books in junior high, and his humor convinced me that good writing didn’t have to be serious, pompous, or boring.  My son is a fan now, reading the same books I read and emulating Dave’s style in his Language Arts papers.

Dave has a new book out, co-written by Alan Zweibel (of SNL and Curb Your Enthusiasm fame).  Lunatics is the name, and it’s written in the style of an improvisational sketch.  The plot is outrageous, but while reading, I laugh-snorted enough to make my husband leave the room.

I knew I’d have 30 seconds while Dave signed our book, so I wanted to make a good impression—maybe he’d give me 15 seconds of writing advice!  I planned my outfit and for the first time in my life actually cared about meeting a celebrity.

Oh, I’m positive that we made an impression on the whole crowd—not just Dave.

Twenty minutes before we planned to leave the house, my son made an Easy Mac (microwavable mac & cheese) for himself.

There are only THREE simple steps involved in making an Easy Mac (hence the name).

1. Fill with water.
2. Microwave.
3. Stir in cheese packet.

My son forgot about the water part and skipped straight to the microwaving.  In two minutes, our house was enveloped with toxic smoke and the bitter fumes of burning plastic.  It was horrendous.  Every fiber in our house absorbed the pungent smell, including our clothes and hair.

Easy Mac: not so easy for space cadets.

Even if we’d had time, changing clothes or showering again wouldn’t have made a difference—the fumes of charred plastic and flaming macaroni were so strong they invaded every room, including our closets.  We could smell ourselves outside, in the car during the hour-long drive, in the audience….

So, yeah, I’m sure we made an impression on Dave Barry—the same kind of impression as a refinery on fire.

Our fumes singed Dave's & Alan's nose hairs.

Someday he’ll write something about those stinky people he meets on book tours, and I’ll know it’s us.  That would be exciting in a way.  He might even start craving the smell of burning plastic for some seemingly inexplicable reason…

Dave, you are welcome to come back to Texas anytime, where we will treat you to slimy floaters, chicken feet and burned Easy Mac.  Yeehaw!