Club Jin Mao, Grand Hyatt, Shanghai - a fragment

I am basking in the gentle haze of Shanghai’s early afternoon sunshine and I feel like I am on another world. In fact, I am sitting here at an elegant table previously set for six (now just for one) at the Shanghainese restaurant on the 86th floor of Pudong’s Grand Hyatt. The sun outstretches a lazy arm across my table and the fine china glows, matching the subtle golden tones of my chrysanthemum tea, served in one of those old-fashioned glasses with the silver handles. I’m surrounded by a very “old Shanghai” feel and the sun feels so much closer up here. Nice to be able to step away from the daily din and hang with the big guy for lunch.

I look down to my right and the river winks back at me, while boats move in slow motion up and down along its berth. I am definitely having a much better impression of Shanghai from this very excessive and over-privileged vantage point. It is so hazy here, is it pollution, I wonder, or just the by-product of the frenzied momentum generated by millions of entrepreneurs and opportunists below?

The food has arrived – three tiny but perfect looking xiaolongbaos still steaming in their bamboo crib. Baby bokchois laid out just so in a mustard yellow ceramic boat, their green crispness contrasting perfectly with the subdued browns of the ox-tongue slices layered in a similar ceramic dish beside it. Quaint and perfect. Must break for awhile and actually dig in.

First, a sip of tea to neutralize the palette. A cluster of chrysanthemums float atop the fragrant tea and I breathe in the calming fragrance. Mmm…the xiaolongbao is an exquisite explosion of soup and crab flavors, accented by a splash of black vinegar and a fine sliver of fresh ginger. I eat all three in quick succession after the waiter stops by to remind me that they won’t be very good if they’ve gone cold! What sweet service!

I move on to the next dish and the baby bokchois are as crisp as their coloring suggests. The mustard sauce adds a real kick as well. Looking out at the silhouettes across the river, it’s just unreal how expansive Shanghai looks, and well, actually is, I suppose. High rise after high rise form shadows along the skyline and deep into the fog (or smog?). I try a piece of the thinly sliced ox-tongue and am happily surprised by the gentle sauce that is tasty but not overpowering, allowing the ox-tongue’s natural flavor to come through. The combination of these distinctly flavorful dishes and the soothing tea is taking me back into a time I don’t even remember, maybe because, well, a) I’ve never lived in Shanghai before and don’t believe I have any roots here, and b) I have an over-active imagination so this “time” most likely never existed.

My eyelids grow heavy and I feel as if I’m in a strange swoon. Perhaps I am falling in love with this hazy city at my feet – full of new adventures and possibilities! Hmm…or is it just PCL, post-consumption lethargy? It’s not as if this vantage point allows me a clear view of the city below – I can’t really see much, in truth. The haze prevents clarity and clairvoyance. Hah! Maybe I’ve hit the nail on the head there…it’s probably the unknown factor of this upcoming move that’s getting to my head. I think I am finally starting to warm to the idea of moving out to this gi-normous, crazy city.

I finish my last bite of ox-tongue and set my silver-tipped wooden chopsticks down with a satisfied clink! Only one more delicacy left to top off this memorable lunch for the tastebuds and the mind – a hot soup dessert featuring pumpkin and hasma, otherwise known as frog’s testicles. Yup, you heard right. Frog’s balls. Didn’t think they had any, eh? I grin and lean back in my seat, taking in the view and contemplating the ridiculousness of what I am about to eat. The Shanghai sun is flirting with my eyesight and everything is taking on a golden hue now. Perhaps someone spiked my tea? Or is it just this heady eagle’s eye view sending me into a pleasant stupor?

My first mouthful of pumpkin and frog’s balls does not really impress me at all. This may be one of those Chinese delicacies that your mom swears is good for you, and you just gotta have faith in its secret healing powers and gloss over the fact that it tastes like absolutely nothing. I push the empty bowl away from me and am stuffed like a suckling pig…someone come now, gut me and hang me upside down in a Cantonese roast shop. I’m ready.

I stand in front of the floor length windows and am surprised when I don’t get vertigo looking all the way down. The sun is glowing brighter now and a rainbow halo surrounds its brilliant yolk. Better "mai-dan” and cross this big fat satin ribbon of a river below me, head back into the frenzy beneath the haze. Or, I could stay up here forever and just hang out with the sun. Also good. :)