An enticing scent wafts through the air. You draw it in slowly, savoring the heady sensation for as long as possible before you exhale. You do it in private because America has hangups when it comes to legalities. We don’t trust average people to consider risky behavior and make a considered choice—and what about the children? So, we threaten to litigate the hell out of anyone who even thinks about normalizing it and the industry falters. What is it that I’m referring to? Sichuan hot-pot, of course.
Hot-pot is trendy. It’s tasty and aromatic, and it leaves your senses reeling for hours—thank you mouth-numbing spices. Also, people like sticking things into other things for a thrill, so it appeals on a primal level when you plunge strips of meat into a fiery-hot pot of savory broth. From there it’s straight to your mouth as warm juices drip down your chin and the spicy fix kicks in. It’s not something to do on a Sunday afternoon in front of your in-laws.
Like other edgy things, its carries some risk that your average dining experience lacks. There’s a modest learning curve for people that don’t normally do food prep. Serving raw meat requires trusting the customers to handle it responsibly and learn from their mistake if something goes wrong.
Despite America’s taste for exciting new experiences, our litigation-based society makes being edgy a hard thing to do. Imagine, one well-connected customer burns himself or gets food poisoning. Does it occur to him that it’s his own damn fault for mishandling the food? Maybe he should have used the chopsticks rather than his own unwashed, germ-ridden hands. But no, the restaurant takes the blame, gets sued and goes out of business. It’s actually far worse than this because collectively, we’re so afraid of being sued that no one sane would back a hot-pot restaurant in the first place. The man never has the chance to show off his poor hygiene skills, but we all lose because, like I said, living on the edge is kinda fun.
I wonder what other opportunities we’ll miss out on while we cower. Maybe we’re just not ready for mature fun. Until we are, we’ll have to get our fix from Panda Express, where it’s safe. Kung pao chicken approximates the lip-numbing, Sichuan experience—You won’t get a shot of baiju to go with it, but you won’t burn yourself on the edge of the pot either.
Here’s a fair question, when did America become the worried grown-up, and how did China get to be the fun-loving cool guy?
Sichuan, China
