A PINWHEEL OF DUMPLINGS AND BAO

      In 1986 I partnered with down-home restaurateur, Stan Tankursley, to create a dim-sum catering and delivery service called Big Yum Dim Sum. We contracted with John Sung, the manager of Sun Hop Singh on the Bowery, to provide us with formed, uncooked dim sum that we would then take to the final stages by steaming, frying, baking, etc.The plan was to train caterer-cooks to bring each small dish to completion and final cooking, which they would then serve up at clients' apartments for dinner parties, soirees, etc.
     It was an idea before its time. And due to conflicts between Stan and the owners of the restaurant the dim sum service was to be based in, it was a plan that ended virtually before it began. But before it all came down there was that Saturday when I trained a dozen waiters and waitresses from Stan's various restaurants on the basics of dim sum cooking and catering.
     After buying the half-done dim sum from John Sung, I carefully biked the tubs of food to Acme in Soho, set up the training kitchen and spent three hours demonstrating the how to's to the gathered future employees of Big Yum.
     It all went well, and when it was over I greedily eyed all the dishes I had cooked and, after handing out a few samples to the trainees, realized a bounty of about ten more pounds of dim sum and bao in various stages of completion.This was all mine! A small treasure of Chinese delicacies that would bulge out the shelves of my fridge and feed me for the next two weeks.
     So as soon as the food was bagged and hung from the handlebars of my bike, I was off--heading crosstown to my place on Bank Street a mile or two away.
     The ride was uneventful. I was careful with my delicious hoard, pedaled carefully. That is, until I got to the corner of Seventh Avenue South and West 4th Street. The Boston-friendly bar, The Riviera, has been a fixture on that corner for half a century or more. And since this was a warm early summer day, the tables along the sidewalk at The Riviera were packed with diners enjoying a late lunch.
     I don't think those Riviera patrons expected entertainment that day, but they got it anyway--thanks to my careless bike riding. What happened was, as I was angling my bike close to curbside while passing those tables, one of the dangling bags of food got snagged in the spokes of my front wheel. As this began to wobble the bike, the other bags jiggled enough to also get caught in the spokes.
     This was followed by a virtual pinwheel of food. The spinning wheel caught the contents of the bags and hurled them upward! Crystal shrimp balls tumbled in midair, little pork shu mai scuttled across my handlebars, giant flakey puffs of pork pie disintegrated and spewed their red pork stuffing on the street, shrimp in rice noodle slid across the pavement, and hand-rolled silver noodles were everywhere.
     Diners gaped at this, stopped eating, held forksful of food suspended in front of their mouths. I didn't stop to count how many were laughing. I just dismounted and gathered up what I could. Wounded and damaged containers were shored up, a few dozen pieces escaped the disaster and went on to become breakfasts, but it was all done rapidly. I never cleaned up the mess, I'll confess, I just cut my losses and ran away.
     Sometimes, running away is the best option.