*Warning: there is a photo of a dog stall. I've put the photo right at the end if you do not want to see it.*
The rural markets of China were always going to be interesting places. I had read you can buy everything there, from live or butchered animals, vegetables and all sorts of ready to eat things. Upon walking through the entrance, there is a big sign hanging up written in English advertising a dog restaurant upstairs. Each to their own.
Aside from the market staples of vegetables, fruit and meats, there is the added smell and noises of live animals in cages that isn't particularly different from many other poorer countries' markets. Also not unusual for some parts of Asia (I've only seen it here, but I know Vietnam has it also) is the dog stalls. Seeing live dogs in cages and eventually being hoisted up on hooks isn't the nicest. Welcome to the third world.
On happier news, there's nice food to be eaten too. Moon cakes and miscellaneous other sweets I didn't recognise, morning fresh mantou bread and a black sesame type hot thick liquid for the cold. I settled eventually in a local restaurant serving Li River snails with a claypot of rice.
It would be silly to go to Guangzhou and not try dim sum. I had seen pictures of the adorably cute (and hopefully delicious) items at Panxi. The restaurant is set beautifully near a park and lake and also a museum that was on my list to visit.
The har gao in the pictures included a standing rabbit which I didn't receive (maybe only for a larger serve) and the fried potato dumplings were more for looks than desire. But the food is nice and the presentation is unlike any I've had.
During the entire China trip, the only real food venue I researched was the famous Peking duck. Naturally its home is in Beijing and so I read a few online articles before settling upon a place. What struck me about Li Qun was that the setting is more discreet, amongst the hutongs of Beijing away from the crowds, and it had been recommended by a few people online including Kylie Kwong (who was probably the only Chinese-style celebrity chef I knew of back then).
On a freezing January evening, I braved the cold and dark to find this place. Armed with my Lonely Planet map and a whole lot of clothing, I eventually found the wall inscriptions showing me the way.
This quiet night had me and one other small table as guests. The host attempted in vain to communicate in Mandarin. Eventually she spoke a simple English phrase - "1 person, 1 duck". I nodded my agreement for the approximately $30 course. The ducks were hanging in a brick oven with woodfire licking their skins. One came to my table and was carved and set down alongside wraps, spring onion and hoisin sauce.
I had previously read the traditional Peking way was to eat almost exclusively skin, but this was nicely balanced between skin and tender flesh. In the end I struggled my way heroically through an entire duck before waddling out. In hindsight it was a nice experience, although I can't put any duck in front of the glorious samples from HKK in London (http://eatlikeushi.posthaven.com/hkk-london-04-2013).
In any case if I ever make it back to Beijing, I'll come here and try another place, to see how my tastes may have changed.