Chinese Broth Redeems Chinese Liquor

It's that time of year when sniffles are hard to avoid, and when the weather outside conspires with germs inside to wear down psychological and physiological resistance to winter illness.

Recently, after a couple of weeks of inexplicable health in the face of close quarter contact with a number of said sufferers, I finally succumbed, and developed my very own sore throat and cough. Perhaps as the universe's way of countering the foul treatment I received at the hands of China's infamous Fen Chiew, I found myself seeking comforting relief in Oakland's Shan Dong Chinese restaurant.

 Chinese medicine, Oakland style

Like the best nurse, Shan Dong reveals no pretensions, and pays only minimal attention to its own appearance. That appearance, by the way, consists of paper lanterns and other promotional schwag from the local Tsing Tao distributor, plus the obligatory waving-arm porcelain cat and shiny wooden Buddha sharing guard duty over the toothpicks. Everything else is strictly utilitarian. The sole priority here is not decor, but rather the treatment, by way of large doses of caloric therapy, of the customers. Shan Dong makes dumplings the size of softballs, platters of fried sweet spicy garlicky sticky chicken, and tureens of hot soothing broth with thick handlebars of hand-drawn noodles swimming within. I'm not entirely sure whether these dishes are as American as they are Chinese; for all I know they may be as foreign to people in modern China as spaghetti and meatballs are to the citizens of Italy, but when I am ravenous, cold and relatively infirm, they are exactly what I dream about.

I haven't reached a level of understanding with Fen Chiew, but if somehow this dark rich chicken broth was a sort of culinary ambassador sent to redeem the reputation of Chinatowns in general, I may consider future negotiations. For the time being, I still may not choose Chinese liquor to break my body, but for repairing it, it's just the ticket.