Philip and I went to our first Chinese buffet tonight. This may not seem that exciting to you, but after years of us both agreeing we did not like Chinese food and being adamant about this fact to others, it was a huge step.
The door really started to creak open when Philip first began regularly attending a Thai restaurant with some co-workers about a year into our marriage. Though the job and the lunches didn't last more than a summer, his new desire for Spicy Garlic Chicken did.
Thus, we began exploring frozen food kits that might scratch his new itch, but the idea of actually using our sparse "Dining Out" budget to venture into a restaurant of Asian descent was not high on our to-do list. After four years, however, of grocery store Wanchai Ferry and my own varieties of stir fry, I decided it might be our time to cover new ground. And so we did it.
I figured a buffet would be a good idea, since we're still new to the Chinese food market, but it did lead to some awkward moments for newbies to a restaurant where everyone is clearly a regular (Do we seat ourselves or wait? Now that we have a table, do we jump right to the food line or wait?). Many of our questions came with the whispered response, "Let's just see what the people at that table over there do." Plate in hand, we both moved slowly down the line of heat lamps and serving platters, carefully reading the yellow tags above each item (which was kind of key at first, since everything on the first table was the same golden color of fried batter - I wasn't sure I'd even be able to tell what I was actually eating when I got back to the table).
We finally found our groove, though, and after ingesting one delectable bite after another, picking through one tiny portion after another and finding none I did not think divine, I finally had to admit to Philip, "I think we have to start telling people we like Chinese food. In fact, if I were honest, I'd say I love it."
Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks? I am a changed woman, indeed.