Since the wife’s family is Thai with a strong dose of Chinese, we’re going out to Queens today to celebrate Lunar New Year, which begins tomorrow. You know the drill, sit around eating pickled ginger chips and chicken feet, watching the Thai College Kickboxing Playoffs on TV and staying up late to see the countdown from a 98-year-old stroke victim before the ball drops: Sip-gao-baht-jet-hohk-hah-see-sahm-song-NEUNG! Yaaayyyyyy!
Ok. Maybe not. We’re just going to sit around and eat. Sadly, the New Year is one time when we’re not treated to Thai flavor sensation. Instead, the traditional dish is this boiled chicken dipped in ginger sauce. The chicken’s fresh (I’m told), but the Asian butcher it in a manner alien to most Americans. Instead of working through the joints, they just bludgeon it with a meat cleaver or something, releasing delicious marrow and bone shards! The only American I ever knew to treat a chicken like that was my grandfather, who had a band-saw in the meat department of his grocery store and didn’t much care which end of the chicken went through first.
But because my wife lacks the tact gene, she told her parents my views on boiled chicken–instead of just letting me sit there and eat it in peace. So now they may serve up a plate of fried chicken with the ginger sauce as well.
Oh, and lobster too.
And, probably, moms-in-law is going to rock some Thai side dishes. And by side dishes, I mean full on meals that would stuff an army.
Anyway, enjoy the year of the Ox. I’m off to eat.
KEN WHEATON 