Street food in China makes being human tough.
From Beijing to Xian, from Guilin to Yangshuo and Hong Kong, displays of food-in outdoor markets, in street stalls and on carts pulled by vendors on bicycles-unleash an appetite that never diminishes.
Compared to this active, aromatic and affordable cuisine from the city streets, Chinese restaurants tend to pale.
”Street food” is an umbrella term that can cover a variety of hot and cold snacks-soups, noodles, pancakes, stir-frys, candied fruits, ice cream, dumplings and other fare sold by vendors.
Good as this food is, its appeal also is enhanced by its round-the-corner accessibility. Food sellers are everywhere, their cries inescapable. The air seems to simmer with an odor of garlic, ginger and frying oil.
For the tourist who does not speak Chinese, street food can be a liberation from the language barrier. What you see and what you get depends on how well you point and where, not on your phrase book.
The pursuit of street food becomes a consuming pastime and challenge:
roasted peanuts, tangerines with skin the color of limes, apples that taste like pears, warm sweet potatoes, skewers of barbecued mutton, bananas the size of fingers. Successful purchases become graduation badges.
It is not impossible. If you adopt a loose definition of sanitation;
maintain a strong stomach while trying to ignore the sounds and sight of chickens, dogs and eels succumbing to their fates; and approach the game of culinary roulette with a sense of adventurous caution, China rewards with interesting gastronomic adventures.
One rule of thumb works well: if you can hear the sizzle of the wok, if you can see the contents of the cauldron boil-try it. When in doubt, don`t.
Restaurant dining cannot compare to the adventure of eating from stalls. Restaurants range from poor to very good, depending on how much money you spend, if you know the owner or how fluent you are in Chinese.
A breakfast or dinner in a restaurant which caters to Western customers in Beijing can be $10 or more. Menus are translated into English and sometimes members of the restaurant staff understand English. There are tablecloths, napkins, bottled water, imported ingredients and-among the amenities-separate toilets for men and women.
In restaurants that cater to the Chinese, in contrast, a meal consisting of one entree, rice, a side dish and beer costs from $4 to $7. Though the customer forgoes a fresh tablecloth (if cloths are used at all), his/her toilets, napkins and privacy (diners usually are seated at tables for six or eight), a meal can be a bargain by Western standards. The communal seating arrangement can prove rewarding, because ordering becomes a matter of pointing to the plate of one of your tablemates.
The third choice-the same meal purchased from vendors-might cost about $2. A vendor`s stalls offer minimal comfort to the diner, though some provide stools or folding chairs. Most serve food with disposable chopsticks. Some use glass plates or bowls that are then rinsed in dishpans, but rarely with fresh water.
Our group of travelers, eight adults on a 15-day bicycle tour, followed a route which began in Beijing and took us to Xian, Guilin, Yangshou and Hong Kong. The days were mixed with cycling to famous sites, pedaling around city streets and markets and getting lost on back roads during free time. But the constant lure of the food will remain in the memory.
Mention the Forbidden City, that palace in Beijing that sits smack in the middle of the city like a rust-colored brooch, and skewers of candied apples loom larger in the mind than the huge portrait of Chairman Mao that hangs over the entrance gate.
They are the same candied apples that are a popular snack all over Beijing. Just beyond the arch is a vendor who sells a skewer of six apples the size of nickels for about 2 cents. Dipped in a boiled sugar glaze, they glisten like cut crystal. (On days when the pollution level is higher than normal or bike and tourist traffic swells, the apple buyer needs to be cautious. Unless the apples are inspected closely, you could wind up with a mouth full of sweet, chewy dust.)
In Xian, the ancient walled city that is famous for one of the world`s most recent archaeological finds-the tomb of life-size terra cotta warriors-we`ll remember an alley in the Moslem sector that becomes an outdoor kitchen. From 6 a.m. to midnight, more than a dozen food vendors hawk everything from mutton sandwiches to rice pudding.
The guide recommends it. There are food stalls lined up on both sides of the alley, each consisting of woks or coal-fired braziers with workbenches, griddles, tables and stools. Each is lit by a single bulb, creating a line of dangling bright lights against an unfriendly, midnight sky.
Cooks vie for attention by shouting the praises of their food in rapid-fire Chinese, crying ”come here, try here.”
One flips crepes and stuffs them with scrambled eggs and onions. Another entertains a crowd with a few swift motions: tossing a wokful of vegetables in the air, adding shreds of cooked meat, then sprinkling the mixture with salt, cumin and ginger. The stuffing is used for sandwiches made with bread similar in looks and texture to an English muffin.
His neighbor, a soupmaker, teases prospective customers by raising the lid of a tiny clay casserole, allowing the steam to rises from the hot, spicy contents and unfurl under the nose. The stomach growls and his sell is hard to ignore.
It seems the vendors are arranged in order of tastes: those selling savory items (meat and vegetable sandwiches and stir-frys) come first, followed by sellers of bland foods (egg dishes, pancakes, dumplings) and ending with the dessertmaker.
The latter sells rice pudding. Not the creamy kind your mother used to make, but a mold of rice, studded with candied fruits and topped with a sweet sauce of diced ginger, chopped raisins and sugar syrup. The syrup is made fresh, upon order, in a copper wok.
It is in the night, especially, that the idea of carrying a spare stomach becomes most appealing.
Almost as memorable as the fairy tale landscape of Yangshuo, a village frequented by American and European college students, is the breakfast there. It is a departure from the usual Chinese breakfast.
Normally, Chinese breakfast is a grazer`s dream, with a bowl of rice gruel, a cloudy, bland-tasting soup, as its base. Although the taste of the gruel fails to fails to entice most Americans, natives chase plates of stuffed dumplings with huge bowls of it.
It is served with a platter of steamed dumplings or buns as well as an array of condiments such as pickled vegetables, marinated greens, shrimp and shredded meat. Bites of condiment are alternated with sips of gruel. The neutral taste of the gruel works as cleanser. Buns are used as blotters and jasmine tea is usually served.
One breakfast staple stays with us all day: boiled dumplings stuffed with leeks and sprouts and fried scallion pancakes. The pancakes are heavy, slightly greasy and as addictive as a warm donut. The first few hours of cycling after eating a few turn into a nightmare. Even the gruel fails to clear up the breath.
But in Yangshuo, gruel gets competition from restaurants serving enormous breakfasts of Bircher Muesli (a Swiss-inspired porridge of oats and dried fruit), freshly-squeezed orange juice, banana pancakes and yogurt the consistency of sour cream. The banana panackes have the same effect on the stomach as the scallion variety.
After mornings of pickled vegetables and steamed buns, the European-style breakfast is a delight and surprise.
Some tourists return from China a few pounds lighter. That seems improbable. Though most Chinese do not consume Western-style sweets such as cookies or candy, they use oil generously-and if the cook is aware of Americans among his clients, he uses a few extra splashes to show off. It is not unusual for vegetables or whole fish to appear on the dinner table embalmed in oil.
But other than a cup of espresso-strength coffee, nothing in terms of American food is sorely missed. An antidote for the weak coffee is buying a jar of instant coffee (about $4) in Beijing and hauling it out every morning. Hotels supply tea bags and an insulated bottle of hot water every evening and morning.
What China imprints on the memory is a mosaic of tastes, colors and smells. Hard to forget is cycling in Beijing behind a boy pulling a wagon full of leeks and scallions and becoming engulfed by the aromatic wake.
Or meandering through a market in Guilin and seeing cilantro piled two-feet deep in a wheelbarrow. Or browsing the stalls, using the nose as a compass, aware of a parade of smells-the pungency of preserved fish, the acidic perfume of limes and tangerines, the musty sweetness of cumin.
Or pedaling along a road outside of Xian one misty afternoon and catching a streak of orange and black out of the corner of the eye. A closer look reveals a favorite image-a vendor, her face covered by a straw hat, squatting by the roadside, arranging persimmons over a patch of rain-slicked, black asphalt.
The following recipes try to recapture some of the tastes of foods from the streets of China.
The strong flavor of mutton, not to mention the explosive taste of the spices, separates the real lamb lover from sissies. The following recipe approximates the type of snack sold by street vendors.
ROAST LAMB ON SKEWERS
Preparation time: 25 minutes
Standing time: 3 hours
Grilling time: 10 minutes
Yield: 6 to 8 servings
3 large eggs
3/4 cup each: flour, finely minced green onions
1 tablespoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons each: pepper, ground Sezchuan peppercorns
2 pounds lamb or mutton filet, cut in 1-inch cubes
1 cup toasted sesame seeds
1. Beat eggs lightly and mix with remaining ingredients except lamb and sesame seeds. Spread mixture over lamb and stir to coat. Cover with plastic wrap and let stand for at least 3 hours. Stir occassionally.
2. Heat broiler or grill. Toss lamb cubes in sesame seeds and thread onto lightly oiled metal skewers. Use 6 or 7 pieces of lamb for each skewer.
3. For best results roast over a charcoal burner with gently glowing coals or broil 6 inches from heat source. Turn skewers once to ensure even cooking. When the meat turns reddish-brown, 3 to 4 minutes on each side, it is done.
Note: More tender cuts of lamb should be crisp and browned on the surface but still pink inside.
A street fight between two Romeos and a Juliet broke out one evening in Beijing, right outside the newly-opened Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant. So incensed was one of the young men, he grabbed several ceramic bowls from an egg vendor and hurled them like firecrackers. The sound of breaking glass caught our attention and the aroma of onions brought us closer to the action. From his giant wok, he served up an egg dish that reminded me of egg foo yung. GREEN ONION CAKES
Preparation time: 45 minutes
Resting time: 1 hour
Cooking time: 10 minutes
Yield: 24 pancakes
The following recipe from ”Classic Chinese Cuisine” by Nina Simonds
($19.95 Houghton Mifflin Co.) is a refined version of the vendors`
pancakes.
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup cake flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup boiling water
1/4 cup Oriental sesame oil
1/2 cup minced green onions
1 cup peanut, safflower, or corn oil
1. Put flours and salt in a mixing bowl and stir to blend evenly. Add boiling water, and using a wooden spoon, mix to a rough dough. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes. If dough is very sticky, knead in 1/4 cup flour. Cover dough with a cloth and let rest 20 minutes.
2. On a lightly floured surface, form dough into a long snakelike roll and cut it into 24 pieces. Put each piece, cut edge down, on the work surface. Using a small rolling pin, roll it out to a 4-inch circle. Brush the surface generously with sesame oil and sprinkle with minced green onions.
3. Starting at the edge closest to you, roll up the circle jelly-roll style. Pinch ends to contain green onions and sesame oil. Lightly flatten the roll and roll it up from one end to the other, pinching the end to seal it. Let the pancake rest for 20 minutes. Turn each one so that it lies flat on the work surface and press down with the palm of your hand. Roll outto a 4-inch free form and put on a lightly floured tray. Stack pancakes between lightly floured sheets of wax paper. Again, let them rest 20 minutes.
4. Heat the oil in a large frying pan to 350 degrees. Add several of the pancakes to oil and fry on both sides, turning once until they are golden brown and crisp, about 3 minutes. Remove and drain on paper towels. Fry the remaining pancakes in the same manner. Serve immediately.
COLD NOODLE SALAD
Preparation time: 40 minutes
Cooking time: 10 minutes
Yield: 6 to 8 servings
The following recipe is from ”Chinese Regional Cooking” by Lucille Liang ($10.95 Sterling Press).
1 pound fresh fine egg noodles
2 tablespoons Oriental sesame oil
1 tablespoon dark soy sauce
1/2 pound cooked roast pork or skinned chicken (optional)
1 whole cucumber or 1/2 cup sprouts or chopped bok choy
2 large eggs
Pinch salt
Peanut or vegetable oil
2 tablespoons sesame paste, diluted with 3 tablespoons warm water
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons sugar
2 tablespoons dark soy sauce
1 tablespoon white rice vinegar
2 teaspoon hot oil (chili oil)
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 green onions, finely chopped
1. Drop noodles in boiling water and cook according to package directions, 4 to 5 minutes. Rinse under cold water and drain thoroughly. Add 2 tablespoons sesame oil and 1 tablespoon dark soy sauce to the noodles and toss well. Cover and chill.
2. Shred pork or chicken into 2-inch long strips. Peel and shred cucumber.
3. Beat eggs with a pinch of salt and set aside for 10 minutes. Heat a litle oil in the wok, pour in 1/4 of the beaten egg and make an egg sheet by swirling egg onto sides of wok. Lift up and flip over and let cook briefly on the other side. Repeat procedure to make 3 more sheets. Let the egg sheets cool, then shred them into 2-inch long strips.
4. Mix remaining ingredients to make the combined sesame paste sauce. When it is time to serve, pour the sauce all over the noodles and toss well. Transfer onto a large platter. Top with shredded cucumber, roast pork or chicken, and egg strips and serve or chill before serving if desired.
PRECIOUS RICE PUDDING
Preparation time: 25 minutes
Steaming time: 1 hour
Yield: 8 servings
This easier version of the traditional Eight Precious rice pudding was developed in the Tribune test kitchen with a twist of ginger and diced dried fruit.
1 cup glutinous (sweet) rice
1 cup water
2 teaspoons sugar
2 tablespoons peanut oil
2/3 cup canned sweetened red bean paste, available in Oriental stores
Sauce:
1 cup water
1/2 cup diced dried fruit, such as apple, apricot, dates, pear, raisins
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons almond extract
1 1/2 teaspoons minced fresh ginger root
3 teaspoons each: cornstarch, water
1. Rinse rice under cold water. Put rice and 1 cup water in a small saucepan. Heat to boil. Cover, reduce heat. Simmer 15 minutes. Remove from heat, add sugar and oil. Mix well.
2. Line the bottom and insides of a shallow 3-cup bowl with plastic wrap. Put 2/3 of the warm rice in bowl and gently press some rice up sides of bowl. 3. Put red bean paste over rice and cover paste with remaining rice. Cover with plastic wrap.
4. Put the bowl on a rack in a large deep pot. Add water just to level of rack. Steam rice over moderate heat for at least 1 hour, checking water level occasionally. Invert rice onto a plate.
5. Make the sauce by combining water, fruit, sugar, almond extract and ginger in a small saucepan. Heat to boil. Reduce heat. Cook until fruit is soft, about 5 minutes. Mix cornstarch and water. Add to pan. Cook and stir until thick, about 3 minutes. Pour hot sauce over rice and serve. –
