I recently
returned from a trip to Shaoxing (绍兴), which is a fairly small city near
Hangzhou in Zhejiang (杭州 in 浙江) province. Zhejiang province is
famous for its spectacular economic expansion, with such axes of Chinese trade
as Wenzhou and Yiwu. Shaoxing is of more classical importance, being the
ancestral home of Lu Xun (鲁迅), the famous Chinese author, a man
who is of great importance due to his role as a cultural bridge between the old
and new China (he was active during the end of the Qing dynasty and the
beginning of republican China in the early twentieth century). Shaoxing was of
considerable importance due to its proximity to Hangzhou, which was the capital
of the Southern Song in the early twelfth century and was, as the provincial
government love to remind you, visited and written about by Marco Polo.
Considering it is merely a subsidiary of a city many outside of China haven’t
necessarily heard of, Shaoxing has a disproportionate amount of figures of
historical importance, from the mythical Yu the Great, tamer of floods, to Ming
dynasty artists and female revolutionaries during the late Qing era (Qiu Jin at
the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries).
My reasons for visiting
were initially more pedestrian than wishing to pay homage to such people of
historical importance. In a moment of cosmopolitan obsessive compulsion I felt
the need to visit Shaoxing in an effort to dash it off my Hangzhou-to-do-list,
something I’d felt unable to do despite previously living in Hangzhou for a
year (it’s half an hour away by train). After reading a little about Shaoxing it
quickly became apparent that it held rather more of interest than a way of
satisfying my curious compulsion to go through life by way of lists.
Importantly for this particular blog it became clear that there were a lot of
culinary reasons to visit, a good way to satisfy my other compulsion, something
of a genetic tendency toward gluttony assuming the form of cultural tourism.
Shaoxing is famous for the production of
particularly fine rice wine of various sorts. This is made possible by the
presence of a lake with unusually potable water, free of the usual green sludge
that can often be found in lakes in this region. The most common type of wine
is the yellow variety (黄酒), which can be bought in supermarkets across the country.
Slightly less common, but rather more delicious, is the red variety, Nu’er Hong
wine (女儿红酒),
traditionally consumed by brides in honour of their new husbands. The presence
of rice wine becomes immediately apparent, the heavy alcoholic odour pervades
many of the city’s streets, whether this is from production or the saturation
of wine shops is not clear. The ubiquity of rice wine spreads into the local
cuisine, much of it is prepared in rice wine, either soaked, cooked or
otherwise marinated in its vinegary alcoholic tang. The town also has the
dubious glory of being home to one of China’s snacks most offensive to the olfactory
organs, the aptly named stinky tofu (chou doufu 臭豆腐), of
which I will report on shortly. Finally, the town’s cuisine is known for its
use of dried fish and vegetables, to round off a pickled cuisine that I found
at times delicious, but that others would perhaps find overpowering.
A glass of bayberry wine on the left and yellow rice wine on the right. A plate of weird dried soy beans behind, I think I'll stick to a packet of McCoy's, thanks all the same.
On the evening
we reached Shaoxing I was determined to try out some of the local cuisine, so
we headed into a restaurant that was dotted with typical Chinese decorations,
the omnipresent carved stones, subdued wooden sculptures and dark wooden
furniture. I tentatively made choices from the menu which was all in Chinese
characters, simultaneously quizzing the slightly bemused waiter. By Chinese
service standards slightly bemused is equivalent to regal treatment. Eventually
we chanced upon a fish dish with an unreasonably long name involving soy beans,
some braised cabbage and a Shaoxing speciality; the famous Shaoxing chicken (绍兴鸡).
The fish was delicious and didn’t have the almost inescapable muddy flavour
that much of China’s tank-incarcerated seafood provides, the fishy flavours
being punctuated by soy beans that had the unmistakably alcoholic bite of the local
rice wine. Shaoxing chicken is probably one of their most famous dishes, it is
served cold and tastes all but saturated with rice wine. I found it delicious,
the spiky tang offsetting the soft fleshy chicken. It erred on the overpowering
side of the scale for Celia, however, but perhaps my taste buds have been given
immunity by my love of malatang.
Shaoxing chicken. Winey.
The abundance of
fish in Shaoxing holds a particular position of cultural importance for the
Chinese. Fish are a symbol of plenty in China, a country where much of the land
is not farmable due to its mountainous areas or largely uncultivated barren
west, stretching into the Taklamakan Desert, where China is at its most
inhospitable. This is reflected in the presence of fish in Chinese tradition,
from folk art to the pictures of fat boys with fish displayed around the lunar
New Year, and as far back as the prehistoric settlements in Banpo (半坡) nestling
in the Yellow River Valley, where it seems fish had pride of place as totem
animals. Fish ostensibly represent plenty enjoyed from great effort,
understandable in a country that has been racked by intermittent famines
throughout its history, where a fish at times could represent the difference
between life and death and at others could represent the outcome of successful
farming. The area around the Yangtze River (长江) is often known as the land
of fish and rice, providing a huge population with sustenance, and it is in this cradle of fertility that Shaoxing and Hangzhou nestle, having an undeniable
effect on their culinary culture.
The evening brought some experimentation with
the local brews, I tried a local rice wine and Celia tried a bayberry wine(杨梅酒), both of which were improbably strong and quite
acidic. These are certainly not drinks for every evening, but were somewhat
fuller in taste than previous rice wines I’d tried, which can taste quite
watery. Mine was a jaundiced yellow pallor and, like all the best homebrew, had
piles of sediment lurking at the bottom. It was at any rate somewhat more
flavoursome than it at first appeared, although it certainly held a spiky
vinegary aspect that is probably something of an acquired taste. Before our
alcoholic experimentation I’d noticed a stall where a man appeared to be frying
nuts. It turned out that he was making a local type of nut brittle, one was
more like our European variety, a dark golden bar built on a lattice of
peanuts; the other was thin and black, resembling a cracker and slightly less
sweet than its European-style counterpart. The black one seemed to be made of
sesame and tasted slightly more savoury, but still provided a good after dinner
treat.
Nut brittle of two sorts.
The next day
brought calm, beauty and a bus crisis. The calm involved Dong Hu (东湖),
literally East Lake, a delightfully relaxing scenic area where we hired a boat.
It was carved from the rock, originally as a quarry during the Han dynasty in
the 200’s, but later turned into a lake for pleasure during the Qing dynasty,
which was the final imperial dynasty, dating from the 17th to the 20th
centuries. The boat journey was wonderfully pacifying, we were gently propelled
through the placid waters by the boatman who curiously used his foot to paddle,
apparently the usual propulsion method in this kind of sampan. This calm was
destined to come to a crashing end, however, as it was the weekend. We had to
wait for two buses, after which we were packed into a bus, seemingly antonymic
of the Tardis, that time travelling police box that is bigger on the inside
than out. Thankfully there was something to sweeten the deal at the end of the
journey, a nai you xiao each. This small confection is about the size of a
cupcake and has soft meringue on the top, and a custard filling encased in a
crunchy baked base. I hadn’t seen one before and haven’t seen one since, so I
assume they are a Shaoxing speciality (tesecai – 特色菜).
The cake as a whole is enjoyable, however the filling promises a delectable
custardy flavour, but delivers only a bland pasty mulch – something of a final
disappointment. Perhaps an enterprising baker could make a small alteration to
the innards of this partly delicious confection to help it fulfil its potential
to deliver delectation. The final disappointing punctuation is a common theme in
Chinese confections, such as the tendrils of pork floss lurking deep in donuts
or the offensive sneeze of parsley topping a birthday cake. However, this
difference in palate is something that must be embraced as a sign of the
diversity that makes our world so full of endless fascination. But there is
still categorically no excuse for parsley on cake.
Dong Hu
Nai you xiao
As our trip came to a close we felt it
necessary to try some of the nasally challenging local snack stinky tofu. This
name is not a bastardisation in any way, it’s an almost direct translation from
the Chinese (chou dofu – 臭豆腐), it’s presented in cubes that are fermented, spiced
and deep fried in a wok. Thankfully they do not deliver on their olfactory
threats and are a rather tasty snack, the hardened skin crunching with a salty
tang to deliver a soft pillow of warm tofu within. This snack was allegedly
created by accident by an old lady in Shaoxing who had some herbs, spices and
(presumable off) tofu left over, so decided to throw it together and see what
happened. The culinary experimentation of a little old lady with a frugal
nature seems to be as good a creation myth as any for this dish, and so it’s
generally accepted. We visited a small street food area, but it paled in
comparison to Hangzhou’s enormous avenue of appetising snacks. One treat I also
picked up before we left was a bottle of Nu’er red wine (see above), which
turned out to be as delicious as I’d hoped, a lot fuller than its yellow
counterpart, delivering a sweet flavour somewhat reminiscent of port or sweet
sherry.
Pongy tofu
Marriage wine
In a final bid
to taste all the best Shaoxing food has to offer I tried a large beef stew for
our final lunch, which was filled with slices of beef and chopped pickled
vegetables. I believe they were rehydrated examples of the local dried
vegetables (gan cai – 干菜), they delivered a delicious piquancy to the round fatty
flavour of the beef and left behind a quite delicious pickled broth. In a final
rushed bid to try the dried fish of Shaoxing I bought a few vacuum packed pieces
of dried fish at the train station. In China it is possible to buy almost
anything dead in a vacuum packed snack portion. Everything from chickens’ feet
to pigs’ feet to pigs’ snouts to pickled vegetables and of course fish and
squid. I’m reserving the dried fish for a day when I feel suitable famished or
adventurous (either will do), and will report back as to my findings on such a
date. With that promise for the future we bade a full farewell to Shaoxing.
Thanks
for reading, 谢谢 and 再见 for now.
Beef stew with a strong pickled flavour.
Dried fish
Bibliography/further reading
I’ve
decided to include a bit of further reading so that if you found this
interesting you can read a bit more.
These are the books I’ve used or learned from to help me write this piece:
The Rough Guide to China, this series won’t need much introduction to any travellers out there. It has excellent historical and cultural information about many cities in China and has been invaluable during my time here. So invaluable in fact that some pages have fallen out and I can’t provide publishing details just now, but if you want a copy just search the net or have a look at www.roughguides.com .
The River at the Centre of the World (Simon Winchester, Penguin, 1996) is an excellent and absorbing account of a trip up the Yangtze River, for which I owe any knowledge about Da Yu Ling, the Tamer of the Floods. I didn’t have to write more about this, but I heartily recommend this book to find out more.
The True Story of Ah Q (Lu Xun, translated by Gladys Yang and Yang Xianyi, Chinese University Press, 2002), a modern classic in China, an excellent piece of satirical fiction which will be imbued with much meaning for anyone who’s spent time living in China. A great introduction to Lu Xun.
Tecknens Rike (Cecilia Lindqvist, Bonnier Fakta AB, 1989), this is a Swedish book about the history and meaning of Chinese characters and is absolutely fascinating for its information about Chinese history, prehistory and language.
Tiger Head Snake Tails (Johnathan Fenby, Simon & Schuster, 2012), and absorbing and fairly exhaustive account of modern China and the challenges it faces, both economically and politically (economics does however dominate).
I used several websites for some pieces of information, the sometimes infamous www.wikipedia.org, which while not usable for academic works is very useful for general little bits of background. For information about and proofing of Chinese characters I used the excellent and free www.mdbg.net , an endless mine of information and incredibly useful if you’re studying Chinese or living in China.
I hope these resources prove useful for anyone who wishes to further their knowledge of China.
Some boatmen by the school Lu Xun attended, which is now a museum.
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