I’m fortunate to say
that, throughout my life there is very little I’ve addicted myself to. I’ve
picked up and put cigarettes down about 4 or 5 times. While living stateside I
got hooked on Chipotle’s burrito bowls. For a while, when things were really
stressful I enjoyed a mixed drink – only one per day, but I looked forward to
it with wanton glee, parsing out the minutes until mixing and enjoying it. That
was quite a few years back.
Fortunately for the
addict in me there were several Chipotle restaurants on my way to work, so I
could go to one on this day and to another the next. Or, I could have a burrito
bowl for lunch one day and dinner the next, thereby avoiding the people who
worked the lunch shift. With the mixed drink ‘addiction’ I would usually buy a
large bottle of whiskey that would last me about 2 months. Liquor stores being
plentiful I could go to different stores each time my supply of hooch got low
and thus didn’t need to worry about people thinking I was a teetotaler.
See how I have the
addiction mentality going on? I don’t want anyone to espy my satisfying a
craving.
And now, there are cream
puffs. They have always been my favorite treat but, in consideration of my
waistline I would not buy them very often. Until now.
I blame Jackson, a former
student of mine. I had no idea he would turn out to be my pusher. One day I met
him on The Street. He had just been to a bakery and had a bagful of puffs, from
which he offered me one. From then on I was hooked, conclusively and
irrevocably. I made him show me which of the 3 bakeries on The Street had those
wonderful treats. After he complied I dismissed him, sauntered casually into
the store and bought a half ‘Jin’ – about 500 grams worth.
I say ‘casually’. Back
then I don’t think anyone intuited I was a junkie. I think they thought I was
just a nice customer. A nice, frequent customer. A nice, frequent OBVIOUS
customer. Being the only foreigner for miles around makes me stand out a little
bit. No masquerading for me; I’d never get away with pretending I was someone
else. And there is only one bakery around here that makes and sells cream
puffs.
In China they make cream
puffs with real whipped cream, injected into phyllo dough and baked to
perfection. Not too sweet and plenty creamy. If eaten properly cream ends up
everywhere but, OH!! The heaven of them!!
When I lived in the
Concrete Bunker, close to The Street I would make the excursion about once a
month. I really felt too bad to enjoy any type of food addiction when I lived
there. Since I’ve moved to the back of campus I feel much better but I seldom
walk The Street anymore. A few weeks ago I was there again, first time in a
long time. I was meeting Zhanni and Dash for a dinner. Dash works in a
cellphone store right next to Cream Puff Bakery.
What did she do to
deserve such luck?
Instantly I was reminded
of how much I love those cream puffs. Because they are filled with real cream
they are very perishable, so oftentimes before, when I had occasion to walk The
Street they were sold out. Now that the weather is colder and the puffs keep
better, they are available into the evening hours. OH, Joy! OH, Rapture!
My stomach is behaving
and I’m feeling like my old, healthy, happy self. Oh, Trouble!!
Now that I’m out 4 evenings
a week I can satisfy my cream puff craving. It all started so innocently. The
taxi driver overshot the street that I normally walk to get through the Over
the Wall community, my usual way home. I had him drop me off at the head of The
Street. Meandering along, enjoying the sights and…
There you have me, Ladies
and Gentlemen: I am ‘casually’ walking into that bakery for the first time in
months, after those cream puffs. Of course the clerk remembered me; I am
somewhat of a memorable character around here, if you’ll recall. The clerk and
I chatted for a little bit. She commented on how much my Chinese has improved
since the last time I was in her shop. I made disparaging comments about my
language ability, as per custom over here. All the while I was calculating how
many cream puffs were in a half-‘Jin’ (8) and how I would divide them out to
maximize the pleasure of having them. Trying to keep my eyes from rolling in
their sockets or otherwise appearing too eager, I paid my 6Yuan, snagged my
‘fix’ and – hopefully – casually sauntered back out.
It was all I could do to
wait till I got home before sticking my hand in the bag, snagging a puff and
sucking the cream out of it.
Now, I’m ashamed to say I
am well and truly hooked. I must have cream puffs every day. I look at my stash
and contrive excuses to go buy more when I start running low. There being only
one bakery that sells them I have to keep coming up with excuses to justify my
purchase so that nobody will perceive I’m a junkie. Even worse: I’m buying them
more frequently because now, only one cream puff at a time no longer satisfies.
Two per allowed occasion: for dessert after breakfast and again after dinner.
The last time I bought
some was last Wednesday. It is now Friday night. I am down to 4 puffs. Is
tomorrow evening too soon to put in another appearance at the store?
I sidle up to the façade and try to appear nonchalant when looking in.
Fortunately for me the cream puffs are in the very first display case, so I can
spot them easily from the sidewalk. The baker’s assistant is making waffle cookies
right there, in front of the store. He gives me a reason to stop. I chat with
him a few minutes before appearing to notice the puffs. I then hail the store’s
matron, who comes over, beaming. And what would the big foreigner like today?
“She wants a half-Jin of
cream puffs” the assistant announces, in none to low a voice. Cheerfully the
baker grabs a plastic bag, paws my puffs into it and then heads to the scale to
weigh them. Adding insult to injury the assistant shouts: “Just a half-Jin!
Should come out to 6Yuan!”
It’s no use trying to
hide my need. They’re on to me.
Mortified, I pay up,
swallow my drool, duck my head down and go home, all the while thinking: “Where
am I going to get my fix now?”
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