My biggest misconception about China? Easy. The food.

Pre-trip, I heard all the horror stories. Food-borne illness that will wreak havoc on your system. Strange and grotesque dishes that look back at you from the plate. Questionable meat and produce that’ll have you longing for a PBJ.

I was so concerned I brought a couple boxes of granola bars, just in case.

Nonsense. The food I had in China was some of the best food I’ve had anywhere, ever.

So much better than the “Chinese” food in the states that I’ll never enjoy Kung Pao Chicken the same way again. The Chinese food I had in China was fresher, less oily and much more complex than anything I’ve had at the local sweet-and-sour pork palace.

I’d be hard pressed to tell you exactly what I ate in China (aside from almost everything). The Mandarin names were often more complicated than the dishes themselves.

But I can rattle off a few things. I had lamb, quail, duck, beef, chicken, venison, pork and, I think, horse. I ate a pigeon egg and something called “duck blood tofu.” It tasted just like you'd expect.

No dog, though a colleague tried some and said it was delicious. I couldn’t. Too much like eating a friend.

For this Kansan, the highlight was seafood. Soft-shell crab, oysters, squid, jelly fish, mussels, abalone and shrimp bigger than a banana. All fresh. And an entire school of fish.

The meat often came with its face attached. Fish stared back at you from the plate (a Chinese friend said it was good luck to eat the eyes; I decided I’d take my chances). Chicken with beak and feet attached. Some actually think the feet are the best part: I saw one plate loaded down with the scaly feet of at least three dozen chickens.

My first meal in Beijing included the infamous shark-fin soup I’d sworn to avoid. Sharks, as we all know, are endangered around the world. The Chinese, and their love of shark fin, share in much of the blame. I saw market stalls in Hong Kong brimming with buckets of shark fins, thousands of them.

But I didn’t want to come across as the high-maintenance American during my first meal in China. And besides, it was already too late for the shark in my bowl.

So I spooned it up and slurped it down and Wow. Buttery, smooth and delicious. [Note: Since writing this a day or two ago I've heard from three conservationists (one of whom is a good friend) who chastised me for eating this dish and contributing, even in a small way, to the threat against sharks. Point taken. And I would agree that no soup, no matter how silky, is worth the extinction of a species. Last bowl of shark fin soup for me.]

Vegetables are everywhere in Chinese food. Steamed, fried and sautéed with delicate and aromatic mixes of ginger and garlic and spices like anise, mint, basil and cumin. Hot peppers galore, and delicious radishes and cucumbers with crinkly skin.

And desert? Often there would be a cookie-like confection. And always fresh fruit, like watermelon or dragon fruit (a great discovery). I’ve never seen so much watermelon. Every meal ended with at least one or two bright red wedges.

Not nearly as much rice as I expected. A lot of noodles. No bread whatsoever.

And of course, there is no one “Chinese food” but rather several regional cuisines. Cantonese, Sichuan, Hunan, Mandarin, etc. I enjoyed yogurt drinks in Inner Mongolia that you’d never see in Hong Kong. Fresh fish from the Yellow River that you wouldn’t find anywhere else.

Sichuan impressed me the most, with its fiery combination of spices and peppers. The Sichuan peppercorn isn’t related to traditional pepper or hot peppers like jalapeños. It has its own devilish personality, with a lemony flavor and a powerful numbing agent that makes your mouth and tongue tingle.

Single favorite dish of the trip: something called “hotpot” that I ate in Inner Mongolia. “Hotpot” is both the name of a dish – eaten throughout China – and a method of cooking. A large pot filled with water and spices is heated in front of the diner, who then cooks pieces of raw meat and vegetables into the bubbling liquid. It’s a little like a Chinese version of fondue, only without any cheese.

Dining proved to be about much more than just food in China, but a way to meet and bond with our guests. Invariably our meals – breakfasts, lunches and dinners – were elaborate, multi-course events that lasted hours.

When one of my American colleagues suggested we shorten the lunches to save time for other activities, he was met with incredulous stares. Grabbing a sandwich on the go is a very American idea, I discovered. (No sandwiches in China anyway).

Here’s how it played out at the average meal: Everyone sits around a large round table with a huge lazy-Susan in the middle. Dishes, sometimes a dozen, are rotated around the table as diners sample each one, family style.

In some places, it was considered a sign of respect to serve your neighbor. And a sign of disrespect not to eat what he/she has served you.

Needless to say, chopstick skills help. I didn’t use a fork and knife for two straight weeks. For hygiene’s sake, the Chinese often use the back end of their chopsticks to take food from a shared dish. Neat trick, though I couldn’t master it without making a mess.

The Chinese have a thing for toothpicks. They’re handed out following every meal and well used by all, young and old, male and female. But the Chinese try to be inconspicuous, shielding their mouths while they pick their teeth.

Before I sign off, let me say a word about American food in China. In mainland China real American food can be hard to come by (many of the business hotels can make you a pseudo hamburger and their breakfast buffets have the same watery scrambled eggs as ours). But you do see a lot of two old friends: Pizza Hut and KFC. KFC in China? Yes, and it’s wildly popular. I saw several KFCs with long lines of customers. When I told a Chinese friend that I hadn’t had KFC in several years, she was shocked. Judging by its popularity in China, she assumed we all eat KFC on a near weekly basis.

Hong Kong was like coming home. The city has excellent Chinese, but by the time I got here, I was a longing for things like bread, french fries and all the other reasons we're so much bigger around the waist than the Chinese. I had fish and chips at a British pub (Freestate in Lawrence does it better), pizza at a Middle Eastern kabob shop, seafood linguine at a Spanish place and a delicious Reuben sandwich at a NY-style deli.

As a result of all this gustatory diplomacy, I returned to Kansas City seven pounds heavier than when I left. If I start dieting now, I can get the weight off in time for tailgating season.