I dunno, maybe you would. I’m just asking. Would you also lick up that limpid runoff along the side of the bun? How ’bout those jellybean dollops of tart hanging off the lip? What if I told you all the above was organic? And that it can be found at Dog on Fire, in Sanlitun? Huh.... Read more »
Kick-ass Wang Shu won the best fucking award ever yesterday, picked by a bunch of nearly-as-awesome dudes for building kick-ass shit and being generally kick-ass-ish. Step aside, Frank Gehry. Step aside, Tadao Ando. Step aside, Renzo Piano, if that is your real name. And what the heck does Eduardo Souto de Moura even mean? The... Read more »
“Undie Run” at Beijing’s Olympic Forest Park, via Shanghaiist On a evening when it’s absolutely impossible to get a cab for no reason I can think of, your post-weekend links.
So the NBA All-Star game yesterday came down to the final shot. Big deal. Anyone can make basketball entertaining when they're among the best players the world has to offer. A much tougher task is to make basketball entertaining when you're not blessed with seven-foot wingspans and 40-inch verticals, just a regular guy persevering through the marshes of life with the rest of us: earnest, hard-working, perhaps even talented, but not superhuman like Dwight Howard, freakish like Kevin Durant, or LeBron James like LeBron James.
More than an hour after we published the latest edition of Yishus, in which Lola B wrote, “Chinese students go to art school to make money,” but the “the main path, if not the only path, into a top art school is through the art gaokao (college entrance exam) that judges technical skill alone,” China... Read more »
While huffing bubbles into my coconut’s milky core, I told my Beijing-born friend nonchalantly and without embarrassment that I had graduated from art school with a major in painting. Her response? “Great! Well, at least you can sell your paintings!” My nasal passages flooded with fruit juice. This was a far cry from the more... Read more »
It's unlikely you'll ever see jianbing given a more doting treatment than in the above video by Tim Quijano. The font is stylized, curled like a Victorian moustache; the sauce is "hoisin," not "that brown shit"; the chili is "paste"; the music is new-age classical with a lot of cello overlaid with digital keyboard, which seems fitting; "crisp fritter"; and the camera is obviously on a tripod.
