Chicken Feet in China

When I went to China for the first time I was invited to dinner by the people who were hosting me. We climbed up the stairs of a seemingly transformed industrial building, where I was forced to lustfully gaze out of the window at the nearby KFC as various dishes were presented to me for my approval.

The various dishes were nothing new, except for one.

The chicken foot.

Drenched in a sort of thin orange gravy-type substance, it came with a block of orange-tinted tofu. There were also two little bread things, which did little to satisfy my hunger. A single tomato and piece of broccoli placed precariously in the corner.

They give you clear plastic gloves as well, because you have to pick up the limp, soggy foot with your hands and then bite pieces off as if it were a rib.

As you can imagine, there isn't a great deal of meat on a chickens foot, evolution having long ago destroyed any chance of me having a decent meal in China. The only substance that your body will accept as nutrition is the thick rubbery skin.

You have to tear it off in your teeth, inevitably spraying yourself with the mysterious orange liquid. You find it hard to chew the fatty skin, so instead you tear off small bits and then just swallow them, all while praying that you don't choke to death in some anonymous back room restaurant.

I did my best, and by the end my chickens foot had been transformed into a slightly damaged chickens foot.

I thanked my Chinese hosts, and quietly hoped that there would still be time for KFC.