Steamy baodzi and hard hats

The walk to Eliot's nursery takes us down a long, main road which is filled with flower shops, fruit stalls and snack stalls. If this conjures up images of quaint China, picture also motorbikes, cars, bicycles and builders. The whole of Shanghai is under construction. Every time I walk down the road, a different part of the pavement is blocked by temporary scaffolding and I have to launch the pushchair into the road, ignoring the cries of horror from the elderly ladies out for their morning constitutionals. If I can manoevre around the workers, we risk being struck by falling masonery or burnt by the sparks of the metal cutters so I am thinking of buying hard hats for the family or at least putting Eliot into his bike helmet.

As we get near the nursery, we hit the profusion of snack vendors. There are stalls selling what look like triangles of filo pastry sprinkled with sesame, greasy flatbreads, eggy bread with chives, baked savoury pastries, grilled dumplings and even a lady making what looks like pancakes on a parisian style crepe pan onto which she breaks an egg and then folds in herbs.

The most picturesque and typical stalls are the steaming bamboo stacks containing baodzi, steamed bread dumplings stuffed with meat and/or vegetables. Sinophiles and dim sum lovers will know what I'm talking about. Steam pours from these stalls in the morning but what should be a tasty breakfast snack stall is a scary sight for a small boy from England. Eliot has a love hate relationship with these stalls and I never know whether he is going to spend the whole trip to school moaning about going past them or looking forward to them. Today, we had the fear. "Mummy, I don't want to go to the steamy baodzi place" he whimpered as I wheeled him down the street. "But Eliot, they are just dumplings which people eat for breakfast". "But I don't like them". Well, if I buy one and let it cool down, will you try one and then you don't have to be scared any more?". "OK but then it will just be baodzi not steamy baodzi". "Yes, that's right" I said. As I got to the steamiest of the stalls, I checked again that he wanted one. Yes, he was going to try one. I purchased and broke open the dumpling. Steam gushed forth. Eliot shrunk back into the pushchair. "I don't like to try it. When I'm bigger, then I will eat one" he said. "OK, well, would you like to carry it in its little bag". "No" said my big, brave son but once the steam had stopped, he became more interested and demanded to carry the bag. He marched into nursery carrying it high infront of him and announcing to everyone that he had a 'steamy baodzi'. It was duly deposited in his favourite dump truck which he proceeded to drive around the playground and was not released when I left him. I wonder whether I will be handed it when I go to pick him up. Maybe tomorrow he will taste one.