Erik’s Chinese Peruvian Arroz con Pollo

Two chicken breasts, two chicken legs
Salt, pepper, cumin
2 teaspoons (ish) grated ginger
Olive oil
Diced pork, about a hand full
5-6 cloves crushed/minced garlic
½ large yellow onion, finely diced
Cilantro, about one bunch
Spinach, about one Chinese bundle (maybe 4 cups?)
1 really large carrot, finely diced
1 ear of corn, kernels separated from stalk
Some form of green bean, beans removed from pods and pods discarded
Seeds and pulp from one tomato
Seeds and innards from one hot green pepper
Chicken stock, half a packet
1 bottle dark beer
Water
Lemon juice
2 cups long grain rice, rinsed until the water runs clear
Splash of Coca-cola

Begin by acquiring all ingredients from a Chinese supermarket on Sunday morning, the busiest shopping day of the week. Jostle the little old ladies who are trying to cut you in the produce weighing line. Lament the lack of authentic ingredients, and scoff scornfully when you ask a worker where the rice is and she answers, “There is no rice.” No rice in a Chinese supermarket? Right. And Italy is out of pasta.

When you return to the kitchen, wash the chicken, then coat it in some salt, pepper, grated ginger, and cumin. Let it sit while you prepare other ingredients.

Tell Erik you don’t have a blender for the spinach and cilantro, but remember that you wouldn’t be cooking in China if you didn’t have to improvise a semi-vital step. Let Erik try his idea of asking the students at the bubble tea shop to put the spinach mix in their blender. Act surprised when he tells you they said no. In the absence of a blender, use your cleaver to chop the heck out of the spinach and cilantro. Use it as a therapeutic moment and hack out your irritation with students who participate less enthusiastically than the white walls which imprison them.

Heat about 2 tablespoons of olive oil over a hot wok, but when the oil starts smoking, remind Erik that perhaps 220 Celsius is a wee bit too warm. Add the pork, watch for splatters, and after a moment add the chicken. Brown both sides of the chicken for about three minutes, until the outsides are whitish but the middle of the chicken is still obviously raw. Remove the chicken and pork pieces from the pan, but leave in the animal fat.

Take a moment and enjoy rendered animal fat. Mmmm, rendered animal fat.

Add the garlic and onions to the animal fat and stir-fry.

Then add tomato pulp and seeds, hot green pepper, about two cups of water, half a chicken stock packet, and about a third of the bottle of beer. Add the spinach cilantro mix, add some salt to taste, and stir.

Add the chicken pieces and simmer, covered, until the chicken cooks through. Make Erik wash the dishes.

When the chicken has cooked through, remove the chicken. Add the washed rice that they didn’t sell, some more water, the carrot, corn, and green beans, and about another third of the bottle of beer. Take a sip for yourself, and then maybe finish the bottle when Erik isn’t looking. Cover the rice and add liquid as necessary, then feign ignorance when Erik asks where the rest of the beer went. Add a dash of lemon juice while lamenting the lack of limes and then add a splash of Coca-Cola. Ask Erik why, but don’t expect an answer.

Watch as Erik removes a packet of Huancaina sauce that he brought over from Peru. Marvel at the fact that it is the ONLY one in Huzhou and YOU are about to eat it.

Watch as Erik mixes it with some oil and milk. Dip a finger in while he’s not looking, and then cry because even though it is a mix it is SO good and creamy yet spicy and savory and just a little sweet and so CREAMY.

While you wait for the rice to finish cooking through, figure out how to uncork a bottle of wine in the absence of a corkscrew. Inform Erik that no, you do not live in a jungle, you just don’t drink wine, so a corkscrew would function only as decoration. Tell him he’s the wine drinker, HE should open the bottle. Give him your Leatherman and then Google “I don’t have a corkscrew.” Curse the fact that you don’t have a hammer and screwdriver either, because if one does not have a corkscrew, quite obviously one would and should have a hammer and screwdriver.

Reassure Erik that it is not impossible to open the bottle of wine without a corkscrew. It WILL be done. Contemplate breaking the bottle of wine open at the neck, but decide you don’t want to drink glass shards or stain your floor. It is now time for you, the one who hasn’t had wine since December, to open the wine bottle. Use the knife part of the Leatherman and push the cork (not a cork made of cork) down into the wine instead of pulling it out. Proclaim victory—you’re about to mix beer and wine at 2 in the afternoon!

When the rice is nearly cooked through, add the chicken back to the rice. Acknowledge that it is impossible to evenly and quickly cook rice in a wok, but since you own as many flat-bottomed pots as you own corkscrews, just test the rice every two minutes because you don’t care if the rice is still crunchy after 30 minutes of cooking because god dangit you are HUNGRY Erik.

When the rice has acceptably cooked through, turn off the heat and just see if you can wait while Erik plates and garnishes your food.

Snarf down three helpings, adding the Huancaina sauce to everything you can. Scrape the remnants from the serving bowl.

Chat at the table for four hours over the bottle of Chilean red wine, then go back and pick at the leftovers. Do not look at the mess in the kitchen—it will clean itself up. Also, don’t worry about how many calories you may have eaten, because the store didn’t sell rice, remember? So you weren’t actually eating rice just then. It was the world’s first Chinese Peruvian Arroz con Pollo sin Arroz.

As you clean everything up, thank Erik for leaving all the extra ingredients (which he paid for) in your refrigerator. When you finally get around to washing the dishes at 11 that night, plot your next trip to Peru, which will come right after your next trip to the gym, because you can feel the rice they don’t sell bee-lining for your hips.

Do not let this stop you from buying candy for dessert.