Return of the Three Cornered Bread

It’s been three years since I first discovered the simple but fulfilling Shanghai school cafeteria delicacy that is Three-Cornered Bread (三角并). With each additional trip to Shanghai, the legend of the aloof fried dough grew. Empires rose and fell in those three years, but the one constant was the search for this flour food.

This time I was determined. I was leaving for Nanjing the next day but devised a plan to journey back to the East China Normal University campus. The cafeteria was likely open until 10 AM at the latest, meaning I had to get up extra early to be safe. I settled for 7:30 AM and rose the next day for the packed subway.

Transferring during rush hour in Shanghai requires patience. You follow the flood of commuters, twisting and turning around subterranean corridors. You pack into subway cars like some sort of salted, canned fish. You must stay vigilant, pushing your way through at a moment’s notice or else be swept away. All the while you (or at least I) stick out like a sore thumb. There is a Chinese proverb which translates to “people mountain, people sea” (人山人海) that applies here.

I finally arrived… late. It was already almost 9. I wasn’t worried though. The first time I came to China with the University of Washington, I got lost for about an hour in the darkness looking for the student dorms. But now I’ve traveled the world! I’ve been to China four times and know my way around (pride before the fall).

If the foreshadowing above wasn’t clear enough, I of course got lost on campus looking for the dorm and cafeteria. On the way, I met a Chinese girl who was going the same way, and so we chatted and walked. About 10 minutes later I arrived at the international student dorm… supposedly. I didn’t recognize the building at all. It was then I remembered East China Normal University has two international student dorms!

Time was ticking, it was already almost 9:30. I ran into their cafeteria. There was no Three-Cornered Bread, and it looked like they were cleaning up. My heart was sinking. I asked one of the sellers what time they stop serving breakfast. He said 9:30. I desperately made a dash outside, running wildly into the wilderness of the expansive campus. I can’t blow this chance. I’ve waited three years and am leaving Shanghai tomorrow!

Panting, I ran up to a student, looking frightened by my frantic energy, and I asked him where the other student dorm was. He pointed me in a direction. I sprinted. Yes, this looks familiar. I ran for about 5 more minutes until I finally reached the cafeteria. It was 9:40. I ignored the onset of nostalgic memories and tried to concentrate. The vendors were still selling breakfast, but… there was no Three-Cornered Bread. Could they have changed the menu? I asked. They told I should have come earlier…

Dealing with Loss

Utterly defeated, I slump down in a plastic chair and thought about what went wrong. I didn’t give myself enough time. Maybe I could try again when I come back to Shanghai in a month. I ordered an oreo milkshake to treat my woes. Normally dairy in China is a bit weird (or should I say… powdered), but I remembered them serving excellent milkshakes. In fact, it was here I learned the word in Chinese three years ago: Niúxī (奶昔).

An hour passes, and I still don’t move from my chair. I read some soccer articles to take my mind off the letdown. In the distance, a mirage appears. I see a girl holding a plastic bag. I see baozi, and… could it be? Yes, I was almost sure she was holding Three-Cornered Bread! I ran up to her, not allowing fate to wash this siren away from me. I ask where she got the bread? Right downstairs, they are starting to serve lunch. I hurdle myself down the stairs, and sure enough, there it is.

Piled high, I saw the apple of my eye. The egg MacGuffin if you will. I ordered four. After snapping these pictures, I finally took a bite

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It tasted great – very solid – but to be perfectly honest, it probably wasn’t worth fantasizing over for three years. I still love the food and would eat it regularly if readily available. Looking back, though, it was a symbol of a past time; a representation of my first expedition abroad, to Asia, by myself. Finding Three-Cornered Bread in the cafeteria became a bond between my study abroad friends and I. We used to shout about it in class; a time where Chinese still had a detached foreignness when I spoke it. Now things have changed. China isn’t new to me anymore. That’s okay. I’m no longer friends with any of the study abroad people. That’s okay too. We shared a special experience in a formative time in my life. Finding Three-Cornered Bread again was a trip down memory lane, dipped in oil and nostalgia.

Reminiscing in Shanghai is usually an exercise in heartbreak. Things change so fast here that you barely recognize a neighborhood you lived in a few years ago. It’s comforting to know that Three-Cornered Bread still exists, and the real joy of the experience was seeing new groups of exchange students laughing and bonding at the same cafeteria.