EIGHT: 8 Treasures

She says....

Pig trotters lie heavy in the stomach. Particularly when combined with beef stomach hotpot. I discovered this at restaurant #8. The only sure cure was a lemoncello sorbet. Bless the Italians for inventing a tasty version of washing up liquid to clean you out after a meal consisting mainly of fat.

But apparently we’re just a couple of  lilly-assed kids who know nothing as the waitress informed us there’s a local Chinese contingent in there everyday about 5pm to get their trotter fix.

That must keep the place going to be honest because, despite the rather impressive interior, it was entirely empty when we arrive about 7:45pm on a Friday. I guess a Chinese is a takeaway or late night kebab substitute for the population of Ealing.

We had to do it though, and I’m glad we did. When the texture of the stomach started to make me heave, the tender sliced beef making up the rest of the dish kept me going back for more.  When I couldn’t bring myself to bite into the blubbery blanket wrapping the trotter I just licked the delicious liquoricy honey and soy sauce off the surface.

But maybe next time I’ll stick to large portions of the salt and pepper spare rib starter. Now, that DID go down well.

Restaurant #8: 7/10



He says....
 

After a quick pint in Ealing’s North Star, we left id a chill in the air tht air tht friend Niall chatting with his bearded chum Barry and walked over the road to 8 Treasures, and it was… completely empty. I guess people in Ealing don’t go for a Chinese at 7.30pm. 

It’s one of those Chinese restaurants that’s really quite unnecessarily big - from back in the days when going for a Chinese was the height of fashion. Sadly, these days 8 Treasures has had to introduce a karaoke room to (attempt to) get the punters back in with the promise of 'It’s Raining Men' with their crispy duck.

And so we were treated to the full complement of staff desperate to get a drinks order out of us until we finally gave in to their weedling and ordered a bottle of something or other. 

And then a rather friendly man – perhaps the manager - probed us about where we were from, much like the waitress at Table Seven. Are we noticing a trend here? Could it be that word is getting around about our quest? Probably not if our stats are anything to go by.

In courageous mood, we decided it was offal time, and chose for our main course the risky-sounding beef stomach in hot pot, which we decided would be happily accompanied by braised pigs trotters shanghai style… a sumptuous meal of guts and feet, basically. 

Could it be that we order things like this just because our parents would be horrified, like the cuisine equivalent of teenagers listening to Marilyn Manson in their bedrooms?

We decided to precede the offal with the far more normal ‘8 treasures spare rib’... and the deep fried cocktail crab claw served with sweet chilli dip. We went for the ribs coated in garlic, salt and chilli.

The crab claw didn’t seem real somehow, like it was actually a deep fried cheese stick with a pincer shoved into the end, but the spare ribs were a satisfyingly meaty treat after a day of hard graft in the office.

As more people filtered in we started to feel a little less singled out by the staff and tucked into our rather daunting main courses. The stomach was rubbery and had a fascinatingly corrugated texture and wasn’t exactly good. But the trotters were swathed in a rich honey and soy sauce that had an uncanny similarity to liquorice. 

Sadly too much offal is not always a good thing, and after devouring the lot we both came over all queasy and regretful, like we’d performed some dark sex act. I turned to banana fritters to lift me from this gloom, with all of the associated memories of childhood innocence. 

After that, sleepiness took hold and we decided to head home with our tummies full of tummy and without even doing the karaoke.

(The name 8 Treasures refers to the Buddhist Eight Auspicious Treasures, or ‘babao’.)

Restaurant #8: 6/10