Author Archives: Simmo

December 9th: Ultraviolet

by

0

For any readers about to attend or considering making a reservation at Ultraviolet, this is your spoiler alert – do not read any further.

A few years ago, a travel company in Yorkshire set-up a holiday scheme whereby guests could stay in a hotel decorated in the style of a particular country.  Each day they would travel out on a coach, returning to the hotel later the same day to find the hotel redecorated and transformed into the style of a different nation.  Mexico one day, Brazil the next.  A way to explore the world from the confines of a hotel in Yorkshire.

With the chef, Paul Pairet

With the chef, Paul Pairet

In Shanghai, Ultraviolet offers its guests something similar, but possibly just a little bit more classy.  With a requirement to book three months in advance, Ultraviolet aims to “unite food with multi-sensorial technologies” (from their website).  What this means in reality: a 22-course tasting menu, with nearly every dish paired with a different beverage.   Each dish also paired with a unique projected table decoration,  projected wallpaper (the entire room encapsulated in projections), a style of music and in some cases, an infusion of smells to allow the patrons to experience each dish like never before.

View to the kitchen

View to the kitchen

With one table and one setting only – for 10 people – the guests are picked-up at a pre-defined meeting point and taken to a  “secret” location.  All-in-all, 25 staff taking care of 10 bewildered but delighted customers.

It’s difficult to fully explain with just pictures and words; this was an utterly unique experience.   The dishes themselves would have been fantastic on their own, but consuming them in this type of environment took them to another level.

For prosperity, the menu as follows (in sequence with the first photo below):

  • Ostie: Single bite of frozen wasabi
  • Foie Gras – Can’t Quit: Foie Gras shaped like a cigar
  • Pop Rock Oyster: Flavoured with green tea
  • Micro Fish no Chips: Battered fish flavoured with capers and anchovy
  • Cuttlefish Guimauve: Sliced and served in front of us
  • Lobster Essential
  • Bread: Truffle Burnt Soup Bread – probably my favourite of the dishes.  Very hard to explain!
  • Charred Eggplant
  • Encapsulated Bouillabaisse: The raw ingredients of soup in a single bite
  • Cucumber Lollipop
  • Seabass Monte Carlo: Seabass cooked inside a bread loaf
  • Engloved Truffle Lamb
  • Wagyu Simple: Kobe beef
  • Tomato Pomodamore
  • Cheese & Salad: MW Calvamembert
  • No Shark Fin Soup: Tomato & Peach flavoured
  • Suzette Carrot-Cake: Carrots and coriander
  • Mandarine: Mandarin flavoured cake
  • Hibernatus Gummies: Gummy bears with Coca Cola Rocks
  • Mignardises: Egg Tartlette
  • Ispahan Dishwash: Dirty dishes?  All edible, including the foam.

December 9th: Bacardi and Charity

by

0

Rachel, Bron, Yulia, Stefan, JB and the unknown lady

Rachel, Bron, Yulia, Stefan, JB and the unknown lady

Bron and Rachel at the Mao Livehouse

Bron and Rachel at the Mao Livehouse

“Can I take your photo?  We don’t normally see white people at these events” asked the photographer at Saturday’s Bacardi sponsored (i.e., free) evening at the Mao Livehouse.  How to describe… A room full of (mostly) Chinese people all drinking Bacardi Breezers, with a woman on stilts walking around topping up everyone’s bottles with more Bacardi rum.  A glass cage in the middle of the dance floor containing leather-clad dancers being doused in water from a giant Bacardi bottle (I’m assuming it was water and not rum).  An on-stage dance competition featuring Gangnam style music compered by China’s Timmy Mallet.  And free Bacardi all night long.

JB and Yulia consider entering the glass cage for a dance

JB and Yulia consider entering the glass cage for a dance

Bron and Rachel at the Mao Livehouse

Bron and Rachel at the Mao Livehouse

Our Bacardi evening was preceded by a far more civil event – a meal for a local charity called Bean (organised by Teresa, a lady we’d met on the Moganshan trip) where the guests paid a fixed price to experience food eaten by orphans, standard Chinese food and a few Western dishes.  And free wine all night long.

We ended the evening in a cocktail bar.  It’s winter: a hot rum cocktail is always going to be a winner.

Tuesday evening’s encounter at a venue called “Ultraviolet” deserves a blog of its own (coming soon) – primarily so I don’t spoil it for anyone considering going.

Argos Collection Point near People's Park in Shanghai

Argos Collection Point near People’s Park in Shanghai

Work continues to be demanding, challenging but never dull.  Friday night’s quick drink after work – somewhat necessary since we left the office around 8pm – lasted a little longer than planned.  But for once we managed to have a lie-in on Saturday – either so tired as not to notice or the many construction workers who normally start at 7.30am every weekend decided to have the day off.  A late start and a trip to a nearby Argos pick-up point made for a very relaxed Saturday.  Marks and Spencer – please note – we’re British and desperately in need of mince pies at this time of year.  But £5 for a box of six!  Come on…

A more exciting-than-planned journey to work on Wednesday.  Advice for foreigners during most conflicts in China, big or small, is generally “don’t get involved”.  When you’re sat in the back of a taxi, stopped in the fast lane of a motorway having been side-swiped into the wall by a lunatic driver, it’s difficult not to.  A police car arrived – as if by magic – about 30 seconds after the incident (literally), and after a little pointing, shouting and smoking, forced the drivers to follow to a safe place: the chevrons by a slip lane.

My Mandarin skills not being sufficient to understand loud, shouty dialogue, it looked as if lunatic driver was pointing at the taxi’s damaged front wing and exclaiming “Look at the dent in the right hand side of your car that you forced me to make”.

20 minutes later we set off again.  We took the taxi, rather than the Metro, as we needed to get to work earlier than normal. Alas.

Today (Sunday) – yet more music with Felix.  Going well…

December 2nd: Shanghai Islands

by

1

The eggtray decorations (with Isaac, Chong and Bron)

The eggtray decorations (with Isaac, Chong and Bron)

Why pay for expensive paintings or photographs with which to decorate your bar when you could instead affix empty eggshell cartons to the wall.  Or maybe a little polystyrene packaging.  This in keeping with the bar pump “just for show” and the world’s wonkiest darts.  But since this was the only bar available to us on the resort of Sun Island (“The only natural island in Shanghai”) we had little choice.  Until 10pm when they decided to close.

Mao Pagoda - acting as a lighthouse in the river

Mao Pagoda on Sun Island – acting as a lighthouse in the river

Isaac, Chong, me and Bron (thanks, auto-timer on camera)

Isaac, Chong, me and Bron by the Mao Pagoda (thanks, auto-timer on camera)

Sun Island is about an hour to the West of Shanghai, and lies in the middle of Huangpu River.  A retreat sort of place, with golf, go-karting, horse riding, spas, etc, at the visitors’ disposal.  We didn’t know we were going there until lunchtime on Saturday when Chong suggested it as a random thing to do on a Saturday in (near) Shanghai.  So yet more hot springs, a bit of swimming and an adventure challenge called “Find anywhere on the island to have a drink after 10pm”.   Another excellent, relaxing weekend away from central Shanghai (although hailing from Ireland, Isaac understandably took some cheering up after attending the Blarney Stone’s closing party the night before – one of Shanghai’s best “local” type bars is to be replaced with yet another Italian restaurant).

Today (Sunday) I’ve spent a few hours playing guitar whilst a German bloke sang.  One of these encounters that could have been horrendous, ending after a 5 minute creative nadir, but instead ended with a few songs taking shape*.  And since The Rolling Stones are (somehow) still going strong, this means I’m not too old to be in a band.  For the record – if a bloke called Felix suddenly starts releasing songs on iTunes and they sound like compositions I’ve been forcing Bronwen to listen to for the last few years, I hereby declare the songs (but not the lyrics) were composed by me.

Other than the weekend, a fairly quiet week for us.  Although somewhat unfair that Bronwen’s trip out of the office on Wednesday was to a building literally 2 minutes from where we live, whilst my trip on Thursday was to the Argos warehouse in the middle of nowhere until 11pm.  Nowt like a warehouse near midnight.

*Jude – this is what you avoided by escaping back to Canada!

November 26th: Hot Springs and Love Jenga

by

0

After the hike

Me, Rachel, Jeff, Bron, Stefan, Emily, Bruce, Anca, Patrick, Echo and Jane after the hike. Hot springs awaiting…

For those who know me well; do not worry.  What follows is not an account of some kind of spiritual awakening, nor is it an attempt to connect with my inner self (or even my middle self, content and paunch-like as it is).  And as such, If I do ever utter* anything even vaguely akin to “being at one with nature” then I vow to immediately stop the blog, come home to the UK and reconnect with my hidden Scouse self.

On Sunday we returned from another weekend away in the mountains.  This time a mere 4 ½  hour bus journey away, near a place called Anji in North Zhejiang province.  A group of 13 in total; 7 of us (including Bron and I) from a group of local friends sufficiently intrigued by the offer of hot springs atop a mountain, 5 other interested people and Jeff, our guide (a Chinese guy with a French accent  – because he lived in Denmark for 5 years).

So on Sunday lunchtime, instead of lying on the sofa watching DVDs or heading to the local supermarket, we find ourselves outdoors on top of a mountain wearing swimming gear, sitting in a Jasmine infused hot spring with the rest of the group.  We watch the cold mist spreading across the mountain through the bamboo forest (all visible from our hot spring) whilst Echo** starts to sing a traditional Chinese song (about Jasmine, funnily enough).  My brain never normally shuts off, constantly working at 100mph, so this was all a little unusual for me.  Relaxing, peaceful, and so different to anything we’re ever likely to experience in Shanghai.  No need to dress this up as anything else – just a bloody lovely way to spend a Sunday.

Bron and the waterfall

Bron guarding the waterfall

Jumping from hot spring to hot spring (for there were many) was also a great experience – a few seconds of very cold temperatures followed by long spells enjoying the warmth of the hot springs.  We also tried out the water massages, fish-that-nibble-your-feet (well, Bronwen did) and a human jet-wash – plenty of other water-based ways to keep visitors amused.

We’d met up with Jeff and co on Friday evening to begin our bus journey, arriving in the village of LongWang (literally “Dragon King”) just before midnight.  Our lodgings could be considered halfway between a hostel and a 2-star hotel – individual rooms but freezing cold.  Each room had an air-conditioner theoretically capable of blowing out hot air but in actuality only capable of circulating an asthmatically wheezed puff of tepid air at random intervals.

Narrow paths...

The start of the narrow min-canal path

On Saturday we were accompanied by the local mayor on a hike up through the mountains on 1000 year old paths leading from one village to another.  Nothing too strenuous and plenty of time to appreciate the surroundings.  High up in the mountains they’d built an ingenious mini-canal to collect the water and force it into a single point of entry in the village, providing the locals with both electricity and water.  Part of the hike involved walking along the edge of this mini-canal; the walls were about one foot wide, so with a sheer drop one side and water on the other, the hike slowed down significantly.

Before the days of technology, the village of LongWang was famous for paper made from local bamboo.  Far too much detail to go into here, but with the amount of effort required to produce a single sheet of paper (as demonstrated to us) it’s no wonder an industrialised solution was found.

House on a mountain

Our hosts for a cup of tea halfway up a mountain

On Saturday night, our evening of food (served in part by the local mayor), Jenga and cards were accompanied by a mysteriously yellow coloured rice wine, which swiftly became the drinking punishment.  I’m quite happy playing cards but I didn’t know there was a “Love” version of Jenga.  Think of normal Jenga but with forfeits written on each block.  Our version was in Chinese with an English translation underneath; sample forfeit (verbatim) “Make a queer smile”.

So following Sunday’s hike up to the hot spring and several hours of relaxation, we had a slow, reluctant trip back to Shanghai.  Nothing spiritual going on here, but one of the best weekends we’ve had since arriving in China, with a great bunch of people.

On Thursday night we were honoured (nay, privileged) to be invited by Rachel and Andrea to join them at an American (is there any other kind?) Thanksgiving event at the Boxing Cat Brewery.  I have to admit being somewhat trepadicious for fear of being whooped and hollered to death (if Brits are occasionally like Mr Bean, then Americans are occasionally like Dog the Bounty Hunter), but despite Rachel’s attempts to secure the contrary, we ended up on a comparatively quiet floor.  Shedloads of food, free-flowing drinks (including specially brewed “pumpkin ale” which tastes a lot better than it sounds) and a top night all in all.  If China is neutral territory for the Brits and the Yanks, Bron and I were understandably outnumbered on Thursday night.  The first Thanksgiving meal I’ve had since living in the US many years ago; good to experience a little bit (well, a huge amount) of Americana here in Shanghai.  Either that or my first Christmas meal of 2012.

* if one can utter on a blog

**a footnote solely for fans of the Sega Megadrive: Echo, one of the Chinese girls in the group, not Echo the Dolphin.

November 18th: An Art Deco Abattoir

by

1

Qiandeng

A bus load of people outside Qiandeng

The months of October and November represent hairy cab season in Shanghai.  Farmed in speciality lakes between Shanghai and Suzhou, the crabs draw vast crowds of visitors from neighbouring provinces.  On Saturday, our Marketing Team arranged a coach trip to experience them first hand, along with a visit to a couple of local scenic spots.  I’m aware that with some foods there’s an art to eating them, but this was the most complex thing I’ve ever been faced with; dissecting a rat in biology lessons at school was far simpler.  The crabs don’t come with instructions but require a different technique  for the male and female of the species, and different rules for which bits of the innards can or can’t be eaten.  I gave up after breaking the legs and opening the lid to reveal a mass of different coloured insides.  Bron persisted.  Bron’s hands still smell of crab.

Inside the slaughterhouse

Inside the slaughterhouse

Today we’ve been to see a 1930’s slaughterhouse restored in 2008 as a commercial building.  A vast, open space made entirely of concrete and previously used to herd cows up four floors of ramps to meet a somewhat grisly death.  A common analogy for the building is M. C. Escher’s famous painting of impossible constructs since the stairs and ramps in the building seem to cross and change angle incoherently (although supposedly by design to allow the separation of animals and humans).  Hard to picture what it must have been like.

On Friday of last week I had my first real Chinese telephone conversation following a phone call from our ayi.  Normally when this happens I  just pass the phone to a Chinese colleague and have them translate for me.  This time we were in a supermarket.  I could have passed the phone to a random Chinese person in the shop; not sure it would have helped.  According to Google Translate (after the event), what I actually said was “I am not going to work, so I cannot say to colleagues.”  Close enough I reckon.  Followed by “We go home in 20 minutes”.

She kind of understood.  I think.

Anyway, our ayi has an easy life at the moment.  We’re getting to know a few people locally, and so we’re not as home as much as we should be (or probably need to be at our age).  And so our ayi has very few dishes to clean and almost no vacuuming to be done.   We even moved the sofa cushions around last week to pretend we’d sat on it between her visits.  Although if future weeks are like this one, with Indian, Nepalese, Thai and Cantonese food on the menu, she may have to cope with bigger clothes to iron.

The end of my blogs feel like a perfect opportunity for a rant.  So here goes… I appreciate that 7.30am on a Sunday morning is obviously the optimum time to read a gas meter.  But with both of us in desperate need of sleep, this is not good.  A message to Chinese gas companies that may randomly read blogs (albeit blocked in China) – please let us sleep!  After 9am, please?

11th November: Trees

by

0

Teetering on the edge

Nicole and Bron out on a glass platform

Late in the evening, pouring with rain, dark and foggy; I’m grateful we couldn’t see much through the coach window as we gradually ascended towards our Moganshan country house.  I’m not sure how the coach driver could see much either but he got us there somehow.  Moganshan is a mountain (719 metres high) about 200km from Shanghai, and has a national park much beloved (according to our guide) of senior Chinese state officials.  Even when it’s cold, wet and windy it’s a beautiful place.  It has fresh air, rolling hills and a luscious, green landscape: all the things Shanghai doesn’t have.

As part of an Internations group of around 30 people, we arrived late on Friday evening following our 4 hour coach journey to be met with a local cuisine delicacy – beef bourguignon.  Sadly, no local Moganshan beer available; instead a couple of QingDaos and off to bed for a relatively early night in anticipation of the early rise on Saturday.

A wobbly bridge

Bron and Anca on the somewhat wobbly bridge

We’d made the right decision to bring walking boots with us, since what we thought might just be a minor stroll around the local sights turned into a circa 10 mile hike*.  Picking leaves off the tea shrubs/bushes/plants (whatever they’re called) lost its appeal when the guide told us we’d need to pick about 8000 leaves** to make enough for a single decent cuppa.  Lunch in a local restaurant somewhere near the top of the mountain with pre-picked tea was an eminently more sensible idea.

In the Moganshan house

Bron and the gang in the house

We were given an additional tour in the afternoon by a British Bloke living locally: Mark Kitto, author of a book called “China Cuckoo”.  A few insights into the ups and downs of an ambitious, but foreign, entrepreneur trying to do business in China and hitting, well, a few stumbling blocks.

Back to the house in the evening for a home-cooked meal from Shanghai chef Tomer Bar Meir – we’ve yet to visit his restaurant but will probably do so now.  Skye, owner of the most exotic of dance moves, yet again proved his dancing prowess to the amusement/bemusement of all.  An interesting mix of people in this trip, but just seven blokes.  If any single men in Shanghai are reading this – you need to be heading out on a few Internations trips.

With the weather massively improved on Sunday morning, we ignored the urge to stay in bed to sleep off any of the previous night’s excesses to head out for another walk – much shorter this time.   With much better views in the sunshine, I’m glad we did.

As is becoming normal with these Internations trips, we’ve met a great bunch of people that we’ll hopefully meet up with again soon.  Two young British girls were also there (recent graduates, working in Shanghai for their first jobs) and despite their offer to go out clubbing, I graciously declined after pointing out I was nearly twice their age.

All in all an excellent weekend – thanks to Skye and Yael for organising and hosting.  And thanks to Nicole for providing Saturday evening’s late-night entertainment (doubtless unintentional!).

Dodgy decor in Closless

Hannah, Marcel and Bron in Closless

Back in Shanghai; in previous posts I’ve mentioned a cocktail bar near us with about 10 seats in it.  On Tuesday night (following a curry in Tikka, our closest Indian restaurant) we took Marcel and Hannah there, but all the seats were fully occupied.  We’d always been aware there was some kind of small room at the other end of the bar but figured it was a private lounge or something.  It isn’t – we were ushered into the tiny room on Tuesday night to discover the walls were adorned with tasteful (honest!) photos of bums and boobs.  Hannah: “What have you brought us here for?  It’s like a sex room!”.  Admittedly, the blankets available for use by its patrons didn’t help.

On Thursday we received a parcel in the post from Rhian.  Shreddies, biscuits, shower gel and a few other British goodies – a fantastic surprise; thank you Rhian.  We were like kids on Christmas morning.

*Yes, I know some people run 10 miles on a Saturday morning and think nothing of it.  But we’re normal.

**I forget the exact figure.  Probably slightly less than that.