During breaks, I ultimately fall into my old routine of reading. I usually check out some books I want to read and some more that are “classics” as a justification, so I feel better. this was a book I wanted to read.
One Fifth Avenue is another book from Candace Bushnell, of Sex and the City fame. Like any young woman, especially one highly interested in fashion and wonderful conversation, I love that show. And I respected Ms. Bushnell until I reached the bottom of page 231 in this book.
Specifically, these words:
“She ordered a dish called ‘Ants Climb on Tree’, which was only beef with broccoli.”
Umm, excuse me? Perhaps most people would have overlooked this and continued on with the very juicy reading. But because I am half-Chinese (and proud of it!) this pissed me off. Major.
You see, I have had Ants Climb on Tree before. My mother makes it deliciously. And it’s not the translation that bothers me, no, that’s on point. But the dish is not beef with broccoli. It’s rice vermicelli (aka glass noodles) with some type of ground meat, usually pork, and chopped green onion on top.
I couldn’t turn the page for a good five minutes, I was so shocked. I expected Ms. Bushnell’s authorial integrity to be stronger. A simple Chinese dish, and such a blatant mistake?! Maybe I’m overreacting. But I expect more from accomplished authors, which brings to mind…are there any great authors of our day anymore?