The evening at Ying Garden started well. As I wandered through a courtyard searching for an entrance to the highly recommended roof-top restaurant, two women on their way to dinner saw my confusion and invited me to follow them. They asked me why I was in Chengdu. "To eat Sichuanese food," I replied. They greeted this always-safe-in-Sichuan answer with hearty laughter and we struck up a friendly conversation during a short elevator ride. When the door opened we stepped out into a miniature tropical rainforest. During my first two weeks in Chengdu I'd been haunting noodle shops and dumpling stalls that put little premium on décor and bustling hot pot emporiums that thrived on over-stimulating every sense. Ying Garden was of a different class. It exuded laid-back elegance. The air was filled with the fragrance of flowers and the umami scents of Sichuan cooking.
On Becoming a Barbarian
On Becoming a Barbarian
On Becoming a Barbarian
The evening at Ying Garden started well. As I wandered through a courtyard searching for an entrance to the highly recommended roof-top restaurant, two women on their way to dinner saw my confusion and invited me to follow them. They asked me why I was in Chengdu. "To eat Sichuanese food," I replied. They greeted this always-safe-in-Sichuan answer with hearty laughter and we struck up a friendly conversation during a short elevator ride. When the door opened we stepped out into a miniature tropical rainforest. During my first two weeks in Chengdu I'd been haunting noodle shops and dumpling stalls that put little premium on décor and bustling hot pot emporiums that thrived on over-stimulating every sense. Ying Garden was of a different class. It exuded laid-back elegance. The air was filled with the fragrance of flowers and the umami scents of Sichuan cooking.