Revenge is a dish best served in a hotpot

In the spirit of this column's title, I feel the need to share a very bizarre experience, in which I became the main course of a fish-filled hotpot. I was soaking in the pot and the fish were eating me, not the other way around.

The latest craze in Chinese spa treatments involves getting naked and sliding into a lukewarm spa pool teaming with hundreds of little fish. They nibble away at your dead skin and this is allegedly good for you.

Fish bites feel like little suction cups. It is not painful, however watching wild creatures eating me was way out of my comfort zone. I took deep breaths and repeated my much-used mantra: "I'm in China, things are different. All is well."

I was at peace with the world and also with these little snappers who wanted a piece of me. The fish really enjoyed nibbling on my hands. I had been spreading extra chili on my jiaozi dumpling hours earlier so I assume these carnivorous critters must be from Sichuan.

If you haven't tried a hot pot yet, here are the fast facts. Raw food is brought to the table and you toss it into a pot of flavored broth, which creates a unique taste.

As an Aussie, I can relate to this "throw it all in, and hope for the best" style of cooking. Barbeques Down Under in Australia are just like that. However, instead of a hot pot, we use a hot plate and sizzle everything in sight. Vegetables, sea food, fruit (you haven't lived until you've chewed on a burnt banana) and copious amounts of red meat we burn the lot.

It is mandatory to arrive with a carton of beer under one arm and your girlfriend/wife on the other. Then the fry up begins. Aussie "barbies" are mostly held in backyards, and the men make a bee-line for the fire. We discuss whether the hot plate is hot enough, drink beer, talk about football, drink more beer and boast about our rising property prices.

Inside, women prepare salads, side dishes, drink white wine, talk about their hair cuts, drink more white wine and boast about their rising property prices.

It appears that Chinese and Australians talk about similar issues, however hot plates and hot pots are worlds apart.

During my first hot pot experience in China, I was canoodled by a giant noodle. Entertainment at this hot-pot joint includes a dance by a young cook who spins out a long noodle like a cowboy with a lasso.

He was crafting a longevity noodle, which is supposed to give long life but his niggling nearly scared me to death. He flicked the noodle at my face, like it was a wet beach towel, to the delight of my fellow diners. With the help of my much-used mantra, my terror passed, and the noodle tasted great.

I reckon I taste great too, because those little fish couldn't get enough of me. After paying 48 yuan ($6) for the privilege of being eaten by fish, I left the spa and planned my revenge.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But not on that night. I went to the first hot pot restaurant I could find, and after being led to my table, was asked for my order.

"Little fish please."

(China Daily 02/09/2007 page20)