One of the reasons for this is probably that the population of Shanghai, like most major population centers in the world, is composed very much of people who are not from Shanghai.  Thus you encounter a lot of food from various other regions of the country, not to mention the world, whereas the cuisine of smaller cities tends to be considerably more regionalized.  With that in mind, I wanted to give a little sampling of what has been traveling through my digestive tract over the last week and a half.  And if you’re wondering about the apparent dearth of bona fide Shanghaiese cuisine, consider the above.  I plan on heading out to Anhui next week, and should be able to get a much better sampling of the local fare.

铁板牛肉 (tie3 ban3 niu2 rou4), a mainstay in just about any part of the Middle Kingdom.  This is definitely not a representative example.  I ate it in a restaurant which claimed to be Anhui style.  I only thing Anhui about the restaurant I could detect was the waitresses.

Here’s another poor example of one of my favorite spicy dishes 干煸牛肉　(gan4 bian1 niu2 rou4).  Spicy beef fried up in a bunch of oil and hot peppers, a typically Sichuan dish.

While we’re on the topic of beef, here’s one dish I’d never previously tried called 航椒牛肉　(hang2 jiao1 niu2 rou).  The beef is cooked in what I am presuming to be oyster sauce and a lot of sugar similar to 蚝油牛肉.  As for the peppers, they’re not the typical green ones you see in most markets in China, and I’m not sure what you’d call them in English.  As a beef enthusiast, it wasn’t my favorite Sino-bovine dishes, but still a nice way to change things up from time to time.

Ahhh…this was possibly the best (not to mention cheapest) meal I’ve had yet this trip.  I’ve never actually been to Guilin, but I’ve eaten their famous rice noodles，桂林米粉　(gui4 lin2 mi3 fen3) all over the Middle Kingdom.  This spicy snack usually consists of rice noodles (duh!), small shards of beef, leafy greens, peanuts, and a ludicrously spicy broth.  Out of curiosity I asked the waitress what was in the broth and she replied by saying “It’s a complicated mix of Chinese herbs and spies, I don’t even know what exactly is in it.”  I wasn’t sure if she really didn’t know or was afraid I was going to open up my own Guilin rice noodle shop across the street.  FYI:  There was already another one two doors down.

Here’s a picturesque (but unfortunately not as tasty) example of another one of my all-time favorite Chinese dishes, hot and sour soup (酸辣汤 suan1 la4 tang1). The secret to hot and sour soup is white pepper (the hot) and vinegar (the sour).  Apparently these guys were out of white pepper, and just dumped a heaping teaspoon of hot sauce on top.  The result was a little disappointing…yet rather photogenic, eh?

One of my co-researchers is from Hong Kong, and whenever she gets sick (as we all have been all week) she craves a meal at a 茶餐厅 (cha2 can1 ting1), a typical Hong Kong style restaurant, which serves most of its meals in individual portions, rather than family style, as is most common in China.  Cha Shao Pork （叉烧肉）, pictured above (coupled with another kind of pork for which the name escapes me), is one of the most typical dishes in the 茶餐厅, and usually a pretty consistent order.

Reminescent of American Chinese food, gu lao rou (characters are escaping me right now), is the candy of Chinese pork dishes.  I like to think of it as lots of oil and sugar, with little bits of pork inside.  As you can expect, the crispy result is mouth-wateringly delicious.

Due in part to the inclinations of several clients and colleagues, I had a stretch earlier this week where I ate Sichuan food on four consecutive meals.  This would be enough to repulse your average Chinese diner, and maybe even some laowai (Sichuan cuisine is generally the most Westerner embraced cuisine in China), but being somewhat of a hyper-spicy food masochist myself, I was much obliged to consume massive amounts of hot chilis and peppercorns for 2 days straight.  It all started with some pickled Sichuan vegetables (四川泡菜 si4 chuan1 pao4 cai4), one of the best ways to clear a pallet, before the onslaught of fireyness begins.

This is Chinese kung pao chicken (宫保鸡丁gong1 bao3 ji1 ding1), served slightly different from that of Sichuan, and completely different from the kung pao chicken we grew up with in the Midwestern United States.  Kung pao chicken, when made properly, derives its taste from a variety of sweet, salty, and spicy ingredients, including vinegar, soy sauce, ginger, garlic, chiles, peppercorns, salt, sugar, and MSG.  The complex, thick, flavor probably explains why it is arguably the most popular authentic Chinese dish among Westerners.

Here’s another Sichuan classic, mapo tofu (ma2 po3 dou4 fu2).  One of our clients who had come out from the Bay Area, was eager to eat Chinese mapo tufu, because according to him, Californian Chinese restaurants never mix pork with any tofu dish, under the assumption that the only reason Americans would want to eat tofu was because they were vegetarians. (Maybe they just all keep kosher?)  Personally, I must say I like a little bit of pork with my tofu from time to time.  I eat this dish at least once a week.

Here’s another one of my all-time favorite dishes. 腊肉炒烟笋, or as I call it in English, “Bacon n’ Bamboo.”　(I may be butchering the Chinese name of this one too)

牙签牛肉 (ya2 qian1 niu2 rou4) is a spicy Sichuan dish which is almost as fun to eat as it is tasty.  Watch out for the toothpicks.

Currently, my new favorite Chinese dish is 干果茶树菇 (gan1 guo3 cha2 shu4 gu3).  I’m not sure exactly how to translate it into English, other than dry wok Agrocybe mushrooms.  The stringy mushrooms are cooked along with hot peppers and peanuts, over a bed of onions, and allowed to slow cook in the dry wok.  It’s probably more of a Hunan dish than a Sichuan if you want to be technical, but most Sichuan restaurants in Shanghai serve it nonetheless.

China is no exception to this rule.  For most foreigners living in the Middle Kingdom, acclimation to Chinese lunch and dinner cuisine takes but a matter of weeks or months.  Breakfast, however, is a completely different matter, as foreigners often either stockpile a cache of foreign breakfast products at the nearest Wal-Mart or Metro, or simply skip breakfast all together, and take their first food of the day at lunch.

The same generalization can be applied for Chinese living in Western countries as well.  I can honestly say I have had several Chinese people tell me that they have never tasted anything more disgusting in their lives than a donut (except maybe cheese).  Most of my Chinese friends in the US either stick to Chinese fare as best they can in the morning, or reluctantly subsist on toast until lunch.

So what exactly do the Chinese eat for breakfast?  The continental breakfast at my hotel in Shanghai provides a typical sampling.  Here it is.

In the first steamer, we have tea eggs, a common breakfast snack in most parts of the Middle Kingdom.

Next we have 2 kinds of baozi (steamed buns).  The first ones on the left have pork balls inside, while the ones on the right are stuffed with vegetables.

This unappetizing-looking dish is stir fried cabbage.  It actually tastes a lot better than it looks.

boiled sweet potato (left) and fried Chinese bread (right)

Probably the most common mainstay of the Chinese breakfast is white rice porridge, which consists of nothing more than rice, and a lot of water.

To give the porridge flavor, porridge is usually topped with a variety of toppings, such as (clockwise starting from bottom) peanuts, fermented tofu, spicy pickled radishes, and pickled mustard.

In addition to the standard porridge, there is also dark porridge: It has a little more flavor than the white stuff so it usually doesn’t require any toppings.

Although the Chinese stay close to their roots for their morning meal, elements of Western cuisine are beginning to seep in, as we can see from the morning beverages which include soy milk (traditional Chinese drink) along with fruit juice and milk (both relatively recent imports from the West)

In addition to beverages, other common Western breakfast foods have becoming more and more common in Chinese breakfast as well, especially in large cities like Shanghai.  Here we have toasted white bread with peanut butter, jelly, butter, and a sugary dairy spread (not sure what to call it in English) which I find quite tasty.

For my own breakfast, I have generally been combining the Western and Chinese elements together like so.  Bon Apetit!

All I want for Christmas is 孜然牛肉 and 红烧茄子

Going back to when I was just a little boychick, I have fond memories of celebrating Christmas with crab rangoon, sesame chicken, and good ol’ General Tso.  Yup, nothing tops American Chinese food on the day when most other Americans are home with their relatives, exchanging gifts, and enjoying the spirit of the season.  After Chinese food, the Jewish tradition is to visit a local movie theater, one of the few establishments other than Chinese restaurants which remain open on the 25th.  At the theater (and at the restaurant) it’s not uncommon to bump into other Jews from the community.  We ask each other where we ate Chinese food, complain about the weather, and wish each other a Merry Christmas.  It’s all in the spirit of the season.

So to those who do celebrate Christmas, may you have a joyous holiday season and a 圣诞节快乐, and to all those who don’t, enjoy your Chinese food and your movie.  You are part of a tradition which is sure to last for years to come.

And in the meantime, why not check out my own personal favorite Christmas-related website.  It’s called How To Order Chinese Food Dot Com.  Enjoy your holiday season…whatever that may be.  I’ll be in Chinatown, celebrating the season with some 孜然牛肉 and 红烧茄子 .

Baozi, slow cooking in a Tokyo 7-11

Baozi can be found in virtually every region of China.  They are typically cooked in large bamboo steamers, and sold in the morning as a breakfast snack.  Their flavors tend to vary from region to region (i.e. the “soup” baozi common in Hangzhou and Shanghai, or the “cha shao” baozi found in Guangdong), but for the most part this variation is regional, with each region having a rather unvaried baozi selection.  (While I know several shops in Beijing putting everything from mapo tofu to stir-fried pork and cabbage in their baozi, this is the exception, not the rule.)

In Japan, baozi can be found in 7-11’s and various other convenience stores.  Rather than using metal steamers, the baozi are slow cooked on metal cooking racks which in the US would probably contain hot dogs or taquitos.  But what sets Japanese baozi apart from the rest is the barrage of flavors in which they are available.  Each level of the cooker contains a different flavor:  pork, beef, high grade pork, red bean, curry, and my own personal favorite:  pizza.  In addition to the insides being varied, the steamed bread itself is modified with the different flavors too.  For example, in the pizza baozi, the bread is cooked with cheese flavoring, and in the curry one the yellow buns, in addition to their flavory insides, carry the scent of Indian curry.

As they are in China, baozi are now a common staple in the Tokyoite diet for all walks of life.  With their portability, and ease of production and variation, baozi are perfectly suited for the busy Tokyo lifestyle.  Accordingly, they are also probably the most visible Chinese culinary product in Tokyo today.  Now if only some American company would take wind of this trend, and pick up the baozi slack in the US…or did we already learn our lesson with the automobile?

Yao and Zhou are hot items now, but only time will tell if they have the long-lasting star power of the great Kongfuzi.  Arguably the most influential figure in all of Chinese history, his image is now used to sell his specialty Confucius Family Jian Bings in his hometown of Qufu.

However, I can’t imagine the royalty payments are too lucrative. 20% of the residents of Qufu alone are surnamed Kong, and claim to be a descendant of the Great Master. In addition to the flagship jian bings, Qufu locals have also created an entire cuisine known as 孔府菜, allegedly the food of Confucius and his aristrocratic progeny.  The stuff wasn’t bad, but I have a little trouble grasping the fact that the 孔府豆腐 (Confucius tofu) I ate was in any way similar to what the Kong family dined on during the last few centuries B.C. I’m not really sure whether they had jian bings back then either.

As I was wandering around downtown on my first day in town, I accidentally discovered a small alley called Furong Street.  Tucked behind clothing stores and fast food restaurants, the entrance to Furong Street is barely visible from the busy street.  Furong Street is what Chinese people commonly refer to as a 小吃街 (xiao3 chi1 jie1), or snack street.  For those of you who have never been to one (and no, the “snack street” on Wangfujing in Beijing does not count), here is what defines a proper Chinese snack street.

-Various booths and stands, mostly run by migrants from the countryside, each selling individual, cooked, snack items.

-Nearly everything sold on snack streets is portable, and can be consumed without the aid of chopsticks.  Items are commonly served in a plastic cup, wrapped in paper, or served on a stick.

-oil, lots and lots of oil

-Prices start at around 1 RMB (approx 15 cents USD) per item, and don’t get too much higher than 4 or 5.  One can easily fill their stomach for under 20 RMB ($3 USD).

-Random smells, both aromatic and wretched, permeate through the air, competing for real estate in patrons’ nasal cavities.

-Beer is always available and never sold for more than 5 mao above the retail price.

-There are no trash cans.  Instead, bones, shells, cups, sticks, and other miscellaneous garbage is all disposed on the ground.  Every night just after the stalls close, a massive sweep through cleans it all up.  In a proper snack street, a more sophisticated trash collection system simply wouldn’t be practical.

-Seating is all at temporary tables and chairs, many of them only big enough to fit the average 6 year old

Furong Street, in every way, fits these parameters, and I spent the better part of an afternoon grazing my way through it.  Here’s what I found.

The main drag of Furong Street

patrons enjoying snacks at temporary tables

烧烤 (shao1 kao3), a mainstay in any Chinese snack street

Why not add a little 辣椒?

Here is a popular Shandong snack which I have seen in many parts of China.  I like to call the “Shandong egg burrito.” It consists of an egg tortilla with cilantro, beans, and other veggies inside.  If anybody knows the proper name, please let us know.

fried quail eggs on a stick

fried cicadas on a stick

crabs on a stick…being several hundred miles away from the ocean, Jinan is not exactly known for its seafood. I decided to pass on the crabs and wait until I got to Qingdao.

In addition to snacks, several shops along Furong Street also had 盖饭 (gai4 fan4), a small portion of a Chinese dish, topped on a plate of rice.

Here is one of my favorite new discoveries. These little fried salty bread rolls are called 油镟 (you2 xuan4), and I have never encountered them outside of Jinan.

The 图尔基烤肉夹馍 (Turkish roast meat wrap) or as I would probably call it, schawarma, is now becoming a token “ethnic” food in Chinese snack streets.

Another tasty snack, this little curly-cue is made of flour, and aptly referred to as 面经 (mian4 jing1), or “flour vein.”

Vendors in Furong Street also sold various forms of breads, some of it similar to the nan bread found in Xinjiang

The most interesting snack I found on Furong Street were these little guys called 窝窝头 (wo4 wo4 tou2). Made from corn flour, yellow bean powder, sorghum, and green bean powder, 窝窝头 are both cute and delicious.  The boy who was making them told me they were a traditional Jinan stack, which have recently seen a resurgence in popularity.

Most large Chinese cities have a snack street similar to Furong, and I always keep a lookout for one when I am in a new locale. But I must say that when it comes to ambiance and food selection, Furong Street now tops my list. (honorable mention goes to Kaifeng and Tianjin).  Chinese snack streets are not for the pampered Westerner, or even for the Chinese upper-middle class suburbanite for that matter.  They are dirty, gritty, crowded, and stinky, but in order to truly feel urban China, it doesn’t get any more real than this.

***I also want to mention as a disclaimer that I have never once gotten sick off of anything I have eaten from a Chinese snack street, and I’ve tried just about everything, regardless of how scummy or dirty it looked.  From my own experience, I have found Chinese cooking methods to be inherently more sanitary than those in the West, and thus many of the sanitation precautions commonly taken in Western restaurants would be redundant within a Chinese context.***

At a typical Beijing watering hole, a Tsingtao usually costs around 20 RMB, and we were expecting to pay at least this much to drink at the Olympic Games. You can imagine our surprise when we found that beers (Tsingtao, Yanjing, and Budweiser) were all being sold for 5 RMB (71 cents) each. You are even allowed to carry open containers around inside the park. After two rounds of beer, we entered the gymnasium to watch the match. I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, so I bought a Snickers bar, also for 5 RMB. By the time handball was finished, we had each gone through three more rounds of beer.

Now for those of you who haven’t been counting, that’s a ticket to an Olympic event, a Snickers bar, and five beers…for the grand total of 60 RMB. At the current exchange rate of roughly 7 to 1, that comes to a whopping eight US dollars and fifty seven cents! It doesn’t take a mathematician to figure out these Olympics are cheap, dirt cheap.

Even granted that the cost of living in China is considerably lower than the United States, price gouging is not uncommon in the Middle Kingdom. Wealthy Chinese will often intentionally dine at extravagant restaurants or purchase over-priced event tickets as a means to garner face with guests and invitees. Likewise, many private establishments in Beijing cater to foreign clientele who are not accustomed to China’s low cost of living, and are more than willing to pay Western prices. Last weekend I had dinner at Houhai, a glitzy outdoor entertainment district in central Beijing. At the restaurant where I dined, a bowl of rice was 5 RMB, coke and sprite were 30 per can, and even a glass of ice water was going for 10. To watch the Olympic Opening Ceremony, I attended an all you can eat buffet at a Scandinavian style restaurant. The food reminded me of my junior high cafeteria and the price tag was 188 RMB (approx $27 USD) per head.

With many event tickets as cheap as 30 RMB and concessions sold just slightly above retail value, these Olympics are surprisingly affordable, even by Chinese working class standards. Knowing in advance that hordes of foreign tourists and their favorable exchange rates, as well as masses of affluent middle-class Chinese would be flocking to the capital, Beijing could easily have charged far more than they have been for tickets and concessions. Over the past three days, I have attended judo, handball, basketball, and boxing, and loaded up on concessions at each event. My total expenditures thus far…just a hair above 50 US dollars. Welcome to the 2008 Beijing Econ-O-lympics.

With prices this low, it’s actually cheaper to eat in drink inside the Olympic grounds than it would be to patronize local restaurants and bars.

For those who are not already familiar with it, How To Order Chinese Food Dot Com is a site that I started last summer just before I left China. The idea behind the site was twofold. Firstly, it’s a guide for ordering food in China for people who can not speak Chinese. Secondly, it’s an educational tool for those who can already speak some Chinese but want to improve their culinary vocabulary. In addition to providing information on ordering Chinese food, there is also an extensive Chinese culinary glossary with everything from a leafy vegetable disambiguation page to a page on the Chinese terminology of American fast food.

I got the idea for How To Order Chinese Food Dot Com from my own first experiences in China. At that time I could neither speak nor read Chinese. I found that the most efficient way to order food was to have Chinese friends write the names of all the dishes I liked in a notebook with the English translations next to them. I couldn’t read or pronounce a single character of what they wrote, but that didn’t matter. Whenever I dined out, I would go armed with my notebook. When the waitress came to my table, I would point to the different characters in the notebook and the waitress would know exactly what I wanted to order.

How To Order Chinese Food Dot Com is designed to do all of this for you. The site is broken down into multiple guides. Each guide is based on a theme. The different themes are based around particular foods (i.e. pork dishes, veggie dishes, rice based dishes), as well as by region (i.e. Hunan, Sichuan, Dongbei). Each guide contains a list of entrees, with the name in Chinese characters and pinyin (Romanization), as well as an English description and a photo. With the guides in hand, you will no longer be confined to eating only in restaurants with English menus, or bringing along a translator. Try them out, and be sure to send me any feedback you might have.