BEIJING -- If Beijing needs information about traffic patterns, the government should first ask food vendors. After all, it's their job to know where the crowds are.
In Wudaokou, pineapple salesmen camp out at most major intersections, selling sticks of the tasty fruit for a yuan a pop. Outside Wudaokou's narrow strip of Western bars vendors sell meat on a stick. They line up soon after sundown, and stay there until the very end of the evening, reaping hundreds of dollars a night from the drunk munchies.
My Beijing crew's favorite wing place belongs to Wang Didi -- Younger Brother Wang -- a friendly man with a Chicago Cubs hat and three thumbs. Wang cooks his wings on a portable grill, a three-foot long trough fueled by small pieces of wood. He takes the uncooked wings from his basket, each one already balanced between two wooden sticks. Wang grills each one for about three minutes, then adds a few spices. After that they're ready to eat: 3 RMB for one, 5 RMB for two and 10 RMB for four.
They taste delicious: crispy, juicy with just a hint of spice. I could eat 20, and sometimes my friends do. There's even an idea floating around of hiring Wang Didi for a party: promise him a minimum of a few hundred yuan and transport him to the middle of the Tsinghua campus.
With some Chinese skills and a bit of friendly banter, it's possible to lower the price. Shannon -- when not popularizing "PTPA" -- gets his wings at 4.5 RMB a pair. Wang Didi cries "Pengyou!" when he recognizes a frequent customer, and takes a couple new wings out to grill.
Tonight I found out Wang's originally from Chongqing, and that his trademark Chicago Cubs hat was a gift from an American friend. It was enough to solicit a laugh or two, but not lower the price. Perhaps next time, I'll ask about his girlfriend.
