Chinese Food in China

“Do you like Chinese food” is a question that almost always comes up sooner or later in casual conversation with Chinese people. The speaker usually means, “Do you like Chinese-Chinese food” as opposed to American-Chinese food. For a better understanding, check out this TED Talk http://www.ted.com/talks/jennifer_8_lee_looks_for_general_tso. The answer is, “yes but.” 

I eat most of my meals in the canteen or cafeteria for university faculty and staff. The food is good--although not fancy. Meals are inexpensive: breakfast costs about 16 cents, lunch is about 32 cents, and dinner maybe a little more. Most days I eat breakfast in my room partly because I don’t want to get dressed to go to the canteen and partly because it isn’t what I want. It includes some familiar items, like hard boiled eggs, and other offerings that look more like lunch, such as cold pickled veggies. Millet porridge and steamed bread are also on the menu. Once a week, breakfast includes fried bread sticks which are broken up into in hot soy milk. One of the breakfast dishes I do like is very soft hot tofu. The consistency is like pudding, and it’s eaten in a bowl with a savoy soy gravy. I also like the rice porridge, but I add a hardboiled egg and a few pickled veggies.

Lunch and dinner include two dishes with meat--beef, pork, chicken, or seafood, a couple of sides with cooked mixed veggies, two selections of pickled or salted raw veggies, steamed or baked bread, rice, rice or millet porridge, and a version of egg drop soup. This day, lunch featured chicken with tree mushrooms and gourd (upper left), fish (upper right), pickled cucumber and salted cabbage (lower left), and rice, which is always served with lunch and dinner. About every other week, we get noodles.

Within five minutes’ walk of campus and the hostel, there are dozens of restaurants, small take-out operations--some more stable than others--and street food vendors with carts. I steer clear of the street food as it looks none too sanitary and rely on friends’ recommendations for restaurant food. In September, not long after I arrived, a Chinese student invited two American students and me to a party at one of the restaurants. As is the norm in situations like this, food is served family-style. Everyone is seated at large, round tables, the food is brought out and placed on a “lazy susan,” and guests serve themselves from all of the dishes. Although the dishes featured mostly recognizable ingredients, the presentation was different. To be polite, I tried a bite of everything, but didn’t opt for seconds on some items. So here are some pictures from the dinner party.

 Fish in a fiery broth loaded with dried chiles. 

 Shrimp in the shell. 

Sautéed greens and peanuts. 

Squid in a spicy sauce. 

Beef and cabbage.  

Peeled shrimp with carrot, peppers and peanuts. 

An aside: Dalian is a coastal city, so fish and other saltwater seafood is abundant and fresh. Fish is most often served whole and tends to be bony but worth the work it takes to pick around the bones. Shrimp is also served whole and frequently not shelled before cooking, which presents a challenge. The question then is to peel or not to peel. Initially I did because I didn’t like the texture of the shells. This is messy especially if it’s in a sauce or breaded and fried. So, I avoided shrimp. More recently, I experimented with eating it shell and all, and decided that I liked it enough to overlook the extra crunch from eating the shells.

Another delicious discovery has been the bread and pastries. More on that next time. 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To Market to Market

Street markets abound here. Recently, I accompanied a friend to shop in a neighborhood market in an older section of Dalian tucked away from the noise and bustle of downtown and snapped a few photos of the more unusual offerings. 

Sea creatures of some sort. 

More sea creatures. 

These I can name--sea cucumbers.

Various pickled vegetables. 

On the right side, cubed dried potatoes. 

Fresh tubers of some kind. 

Duck and goose eggs. 

Mushrooms. 

Live silkworm cocoons--yes, to be eaten. 

Tree mushrooms (fungus).

Noodles. 

Making Dumplings

This week, the university were I teach is closed for the National Day Holiday, so I I went to Dalian to visit a friend and her parents for two days. Yesterday, her mother taught me how to make dumplings from scratch. Here are some pictures on the process. Like any skill it will take some practice, but according to my teacher, I did okay. They were certainly delicious to eat--hao chi!

Body Check

After learning that no hospital would endorse the US doctor’s report on the results of my physical, my host arranged for a local “body check” a couple of days later. I was to meet one of the Chinese students who would accompany me to the city to meet up with my host and then to proceed to the location for the physical. Oh, and don’t eat breakfast.

That morning, my escort met me at the hostel and we went in search of a taxi. An aside here. Despite the number of cars one sees on the streets here at rush hour, many people in China don't own them. According to Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_vehicles_per_capita), the US ranks third at 809 vehicles per 1000 inhabitants, while China ranks 69^th with 188.

Major metro areas do have public transportation, but taxis are also a popular way to get around. A ride to most anyplace in the local area is just 10 RMB per person, or about $6, and there is no tipping. The catch is drivers usually won’t  depart until they have at least three passengers, so occasionally one may wait a few minutes until another fare comes along. Most days, a fleet of taxis awaits passengers outside the gates to the university, so snagging one is almost never a problem. At 6:30 am however, there are fewer people wanting rides and therefore fewer taxis available, so my escort and I watched as the only taxi pulled away before we could get to the stand.

We waited for a while hoping another taxi would replace the one that departed, but nothing showed up. We decided to walk a short distance to a larger thoroughfare, found a taxi was waiting for two more passengers and were quickly on our way. Not, however, to the body check clinic. Instead, the taxi deposited us at the bus station in the local area. Tickets were secured and not long after, we boarded the bus for Dalian city.

By this time, it was nearly 7:30 am and traffic was definitely building up. As the bus neared Dalian, traffic slowed to a crawl. Some 10 miles and an hour later, we arrived at the stop where we had arranged to meet our host. We left the bus, crossed the street, and caught another local bus that would take us to the neighborhood where the body check clinic was located. Rush hour was at its peak by the time the second bus departed, and we crept along moving just a few feet at a time through the heart of Dalian. It was nearly 10:30 when we arrived and stepped off the bus a few blocks from the clinic. My host explained that unless we had checked in by 11 am, the body check would not happen today, and we hustled to the clinic and took a number to await the check in.

According to my host, the sole purpose of the clinic is for body checks. Anyone who plans on staying more than a few months is required to have one. The Dalian students in the summer institute two years ago were also required to have body checks to get their US visas in order to attend college in the US, so this is not so unusual.

As we waited for my number to be called, I casually observed others in the waiting area. On the right, a long line of international visitors were also waiting. A few of the women wore saris and scarves, and several of the men looked like they might be from India or Pakistan. A few might have been from other parts of southwest Asia. All appeared to be college-aged. Across the way, a young Caucasian couple with a small son also waited. They didn’t speak, so it was hard to discern where they might be from. Most of the other people were Chinese.

As the clock approached 11 am, my host grew concerned that we might have to return the next day, however, shortly before 11 am my number was called. Soon I had the necessary forms and I began the round of body checks.

First stop was for blood pressure using a machine seen at malls and pharmacies in the US, although monitored by a man in a white lab coat, who recorded the results, stamped the form, and sent us along. Next stop was an eye test. Could I see the chart with my glasses off? No. Could I see it with my glasses on? Yes. Next person, please! In quick succession, followed a chest x-ray, heart and abdominal ultra-sound, ECG, and a blood draw. At one point, my host asked if this was anything like the physical in the US. I quickly replied that it was more like induction into the Army than any exam by a personal doctor. The last station was conveniently located adjacent to the toilet. This was the one I dreaded most.

Another aside here. If you’ve never traveled outside North America, you may not have ever experienced the alternative forms of public bathroom plumbing found in many other countries. Let’s just say that the porcelain throne one seats oneself on in the typical public bathroom in the US is not to be found. Rather, one must suspend oneself over a trench in the floor (at least if one is a female). Now, this isn’t so different that what my mother taught me (“don’t sit on that, it’s dirty!”), but hovering above the target at 60 poses a challenge, at least for moi. Getting into position isn’t too difficult, but recovering to an upright position is a struggle. (okay, so maybe I need to add squats to my non-existent exercise routine). And there isn’t anything in the stall to grab and lever myself upright with. Despite the difficulties, the required sample was obtained and given to the lab tech, and thankfully the ordeal was over. We departed the clinic in search of lunch. 

Addendum. Due to extenuating circumstances, this entry was delayed by more than a week. As of the date of this post, the results of the physical have been submitted to the proper authorities and the residence permit is in the works. Next time, the entry will be devoted to cuisine.

 

 

An Exercise in Chinese Bureaucracy and Eating Noodles

First, some background. The word bureaucracy was coined in 1818 by French economist Jean Claude Marie Vincent de Gournay and comes from the French word for desk (dictionary.reference.com/browse/bureaucracy)—think stacks of drawers one above the other in a hierarchical arrangement. While that term is only a couple hundred years old, the concept of a bureaucratic system of government goes back thousands of year. To China. The Qin dynasty (221 to 206 BC)  government was highly bureaucratic, and was administered by a hierarchy of officials, all serving the First Emperor (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qin_dynasty). Becoming a part of the government bureaucracy provided a way for otherwise non-aristocrats to become respectable, rich and powerful. Getting there wasn’t easy, and those who landed a job in the bureaucracy helped to make sure that everyone else had to go through the system in order to get anything accomplished. Not so different, perhaps, from many governments all over the world. This week, I met the Chinese version face to face.

One of the many things I had to do before coming to China was get a physical exam; it was required for a stay of more than a few months. The embassy’s website said that the exam had to be given by an “approved” hospital but did not offer any guidance on what that meant or where I could find one. So I took the form to my family physician, who performed the physical, including all of the tests and lab work required, and gave me a copy to bring with me while keeping the original.

Fast forward to this week. It was time for me to apply for a resident permit, which is required for long stays, and my host arranged for a car and driver to take us to the Bureau of Entry and Exit in Dalian, some 90 minutes away. We presented ourselves and various documents to the official, who quickly flipped through them but stopped when he got to the physical exam form. A long discussion ensued with much head-shaking on the official’s part and tapping of the document in question. After several minutes, my host translated and explained that a copy of the form was not acceptable, and that the original would be required to process the application. We visited several other offices, my host appealing to a series of officials but without success. It would be necessary for my host to return the next day with the original. We departed the immigration office, and went in search of lunch. Here is where the noodles come into the story.

A Chinese acquaintance explained recently that there are four general types of cuisine in China: sweet, salty, hot and bland. The same friend also said that cooked food that is eaten warm tends to be less salty, and food that is eaten cool or chilled will be more salty. Food in China is regional, or perhaps more accurately, provincial. That is, the cuisine varies from one province to another; for example, Sichuan and Hunan provinces are known for their hot dishes and Liaoning, with its proximity to the sea, is known for its seafood.

Food can even differ from one part of a city to another. Our driver that day led us to a small restaurant not far from the immigration office that specializes in a particular kind of noodles—fat, round ones made from rice flour. If you’ve ever tried to eat noodles with a spoon then you know they can be difficult to capture. They tend to slither off of the spoon and land back in the bowl in the best case or the lap in the worst case. Imagine trying to eat noodles with a pair of chopsticks. Although I’ve had some experience with chopsticks in the past and do quite well according to my Chinese friends, these noodles defied me. My dining companions were half way through their bowls and I had managed only to pick out the strips of chicken.

Sometimes observation is the best teacher. Without being obvious, I watched my companions tackle their noodles. The trick, I discovered, was to get one’s mouth close to the bowl, grasp several noodles at a time with the chopsticks, and quickly lift them into the mouth and slurp. Yes, slurp. In China, it’s not only permissible, it’s necessary. Once the bowl had cooled to a comfortable temperature, I succeeded in slurping most of my noodles up.

Fortified with lunch, we climbed back in the car for the trip back home. When I arrived in my room, I checked the suspect health report and learned that in fact, it was also a copy. My host speculated that a local hospital might be willing to endorse the form if presented with the lab reports, which I provided. Alas, no. The only way to process the resident permit would be to have a “body check”—that is, another physical—and submit the results to the immigration office. Next time, body check, Chinese style.

 

Mid-Autumn Festival

Like US Wal-Marts, the center aisles feature seasonal items. On our previous trip to Wal-Mart, my friend pointed out the huge bins of mooncakes—which were being sold for the anticipated Mid-Autumn Festival. Mooncakes are to the Mid-Autumn Festival as fruitcake is to Christmas. Almost no one makes mooncakes at home because it takes a lot of time and they readily available at bakeries and in stores.

Most Americans are aware of the celebration typically referred to as Chinese New Year, or Spring Festival in China. However, not everyone is familiar with the Mid-Autumn Festival, which takes place in early September—this year on the 8th—when the moon is said to be at its fullest and roundest. This is a time when families gather together and eat mooncakes. The festival dates back thousands of years and probably began as a harvest festival but later became associated with a story about a beautiful lady. Chinese folktales relate that the Earth at one time had 10 suns revolving around it. One day, all 10 suns converge and begin to burn the Earth. An expert archer, Houyi, shoots down nine of the suns to save the Earth. He steals an elixir of immortality from a goddess, but his wife drinks it and floats up to the moon. On her way, she catches a rabbit for company, but is forever separated from her husband. Legend has it that if you look up at the moon on the evening of the Mid-Autumn Festival, you can see a rabbit mixing an elixir. The full moon is a symbol of reunion, so families like to gather to look at the full moon and eat mooncakes.

A Visit to Wal-Mart

The nearest shopping district clusters around a large public square and features a mixture of small independent shops and larger retail stores. The largest store is a multilevel department store that sells a variety of goods. In the basement is a Wal-Mart surrounded by a collection of smaller specialty shops.

The Wal-Mart is at the same time familiar to anyone who has ever shopped in one and distinctly foreign. Most older Wal-Mart shoppers would likely recognize the displays from an earlier time before the décor in US stores was upgraded. Row upon row of floor to ceiling shelves hold goods arranged haphazardly. Can’t find what you want? Just dig around and it might come to the surface.

The grocery side of the story resembled a discount chain more than a modern Wal-Mart superstore. Like the department store side, tall shelves were stacked with food items both strange and familiar. The produce aisle held fruits and vegetables one might see in any grocery store, plus many more unidentifiable varieties. Perhaps the most unusual section was the one displaying meat, poultry and seafood. Here, open bins held fresh fish, chicken, and pork legs on beds of ice. The display looked like pictures from an open-air market of the 19^th century in the United States, complete with swarms of flies.

Among the unfamiliar grocery items were ones with familiar logos, like Kellogg’s Cheerios. The box was smaller than in a US grocery store and it was expensive compared to US prices, but it was a welcome find, since I have been eating breakfast in my room most days.

Checking out wasn’t so different than in the US. When it came time to pay, I was not able to use my credit card because I had forgotten to look up my PIN. Fortunately, I had sufficient cash. One thing on the agenda for next week is to open a Chinese bank account and secure a debit card.

Slowly, the living space is coming together, and I’m feeling more comfortable in it. There are still a few items to add, but nothing urgent. The next two weeks will be devoted to preparing to teach classes, which start September 22.

Monday, September 8, is Autumn Festival, so the next entry will be about that.