lay an open courtyard with potted trees and mosaic-paved paths. Four rooms with ornate covered verandahs faced inward.
“This is the old layout of a Beijing-style house. There aren’t many left. Up here,” he said, and took her three steps up to the covered porch of the room facing the gate.
“Did you rent it, or buy it? Can you buy property here now?”
“Yes, though you don’t have the same long-term security as in the West — things can change. But this house has been in my family since 1925. It was much bigger then — eight courts, not one. By the time we got it back, a few years ago, it had been whittled down to this.”
“I didn’t know people got property back.”
“Some did — if the government had no use for it. And I know there’s a chance I might not have it forever, either. But for now it’s mine, so I’m going to use it.”
“Great room,” she said, following him through a dark, highceilinged dining room, empty but for one table and a gleaming expanse of black tile floor.
“You see the floor? They soak the tiles in oil for a year. They did that in the Forbidden City. Yesterday I took the tables out. I put them in storage. Couldn’t stand to look at them after my investor backed out. Here’s the kitchen.”
He held open the metal swing door for her to walk in ahead of him. She caught her breath. She had been in a lot of kitchens, but this one was stunningly organized. Every inch of wall was lined with shelves that held bowls and containers and bottles and jars filled with pastes, sauces, and spices. Down one side ran two Western-style restaurant stoves and a formidable line of wok rings. Behind were the large refrigerators and prep sinks. An island formed a raised counter down the center, with three cutting boards that were polished, circular slabs of tree trunk. “You have really thought things out.”
“I had great teachers.”
“Who were?”
“My uncles. Two here, one in Hangzhou.”
“It’s a beautiful kitchen.” She eased toward a stool that was tucked under one end of the island. “And I meant what I said, I don’t want to hold you up. Go to work. Shall I just sit over here?”
“You can sit there. That’s fine. How long have you been in Beijing?”
“This is my second day.”
“What do you think of the food?”
She looked up, face brightening. “Amazing! I’ve had only a few meals so far, mind you, but it hasn’t been like any Chinese food I ever tasted. Not that I’m an expert.”
“You don’t write about Asian food?”
“No.” Maggie dug her little book out of her bag along with her pen. “I do American food, and not the haute stuff, either — everyday food, regional food, the human story — you know, cook-offs, fairs. Festivals.”
“What a lot of people really eat,” he said.
“Exactly.”
“To the Chinese way of thinking that can be very profound. We have a long tradition of valuing the rustic. Of all food we find it the closest to nature, the most human. How long have you been doing it?”
“Twelve years.”
He studied her. “So why’d they choose you for this?”
“Because I had to come anyway.”
“Right. You said something about other business.”
“I did,” she said, and moved on. The less he knew about that, the better. With him she had a job to do. Besides, nothing made her appear old and pitiful faster than saying she was a widow; she had seen this fact clearly since Matt’s death. “To your question, though. To me the Chinese food here is completely different. I may not be a specialist, but, I mean — I work for a food magazine, for God’s sake. I have eaten in my share of Chinese restaurants. And what I’ve had all my life does not taste like what I’ve had here. Not even remotely.”
“But anybody who knows the food here could have told you that.”
“Really?” She folded back the book to a clean page.
“Chinese-American is a different cuisine. It’s really nothing like Chinese-Chinese. It has its charms, no question. But it’s not the same.”
“How?”
“Chinese-American evolved for a different reason — to get Americans to accept a fundamentally different way of cooking and eating. They did this by aiming at familiarity, which was kind of weirdly brilliant. From the time the first chop suey houses opened, that’s what they were selling, the thing that seems exotic but is actually familiar. Reliable. Not fast food, but reliable in the same