The Olympics are ruining everything. First the Dalai Lama gets no love, and now you can’t even get a simple meal of Succulent Domestic Life Beef after watching Jamaica cream Yemen and walk away with the gold in badminton.
It’s true — in an effort to make dining in Beijing a more “palatable” experience, the Chinese government has developed a 170-page pamphlet designed to encourage restaurant owners to properly translate their menus.
This all leaves a very bad taste in my mouth (no offense, MSG). Isn’t allowing one’s meal to be lost in translation part of the fun of traveling? Is linguistically homogenizing thousands of menus really the answer? “Chicken with no sexual life” … now that says something to me. It’s certainly a more compelling and adventurous dish than “steamed pullet.” What the hell is pullet, anyway? I wouldn’t touch that with a pair of 10-foot chopsticks.