Free Bird

It was Magical—love at first sight. If such a thing were ever possible, this was it. I don’t know what caused it, but it was the kind of thing that would we’d be describing in stories to our children someday. I couldn’t look away. Everything was perfect—the setting, the mood, the ambiance. Truly, the stars had aligned. Was it the way her dark, forbidden eyes glistened in the fluorescent lighting? Or perhaps her words that flowed like a song over the intermingled backdrop of Chinese families and reggae beats? Could it have been the way her hair flowed as it danced with the windblown steam of hotpot and rice?

Perhaps I’ll never know what instilled this fervor in me, but the words that came from my mouth could not be stopped.

“Mamacita,” I whispered.

“Marisella,” she corrected.

“Mamacita,” I whispered, “will you share this pigeon with me?”H

I’ve made jokes about this before, but I’d never actually seen it on a menu—or tried it—until today. That’s right; I ate one.

Flying rat.

Street chicken.

Tuscaloosa firehawk.

…Pigeon.

I ate my first earlier this evening. Actually I shared three pigeons with three other people—which in all actuality means I only ate ¾ of a pigeon—but let’s just round to the nearest bird. I may have romanticized the scenario a bit, but it was a life-changing moment nonetheless. Having eaten this, I now consider myself part of the Chinese “in” crowd; which, by the same standard, also coincides with the Westernized “out” crowd.

I guess this means that I still don’t know who I can eat lunch with in the middle school cafeteria.

…Damn.

Anyway, I’ll give it 4 out of 5 stars. This, despite my relatively modest palette, should hold some clout, as I’ve been eating nothing but Chinese food for the last 3 months. It was slightly gamey, moderately boney, but with a hint of ginger which really set the tone for the tone rest of the meal—which happened to be more pigeon. Perfect. If you’re ever in the Zhongshan neighborhood, be sure to stop by and try some. It’s the little restaurant on the right (between 4 others that look exactly the same except for different colored signs), with the crowd of Chinese people sitting in lawn chairs outside. There should be a man nearby displaying his pirated reggae wares via his moped’s over-powered speaker system, and a floral awning in front of the restaurant. The subtle tones of energy-saving white lights, draped artistically from the awning with extension cords, will let you know you’re in the right place.

…Or just try making flying hand-gestures towards your mouth, while repeating “gezi” (guh-zi) in an exaggerated first tone. The locals will know what you came for.

Ask for Willy, and be sure to preorder any wings for your Superbowl party ahead of time, as they get pretty busy that time of year.

Zai jian,

Jhw