It's something of a truism in travel blogging that most readers are only really in it for the posts about food. And why not? I'll admit that eating may well be my favorite part of travel. Especially in a country like China, with a world-famous, and widely varied culinary tradition, getting to know about the food can reveal a whole of other things about the country. So, while I've been working on a more "social science-y" type of entry that digs into some of my research, I'm going to save that post for later. Right now, I'm going to give you what I'm sure you've all been waiting for: my first post about Chinese food.
It's worth noting here that many of China's most famous cuilnary traditions simply haven't made it over to the U.S. yet. Sure, most of us know the staples of Cantonese food, and dim-sum. You might be lucky enough to live in a city with a good Sichuanese restuarant, too. However, outside of major American cities, options from the greater range of Chinese food traditions are limited. Such is the case with Huaiyang-style dishes, the local style that is predominant here in Nanjing. Despite being regarded within China as one of the "Four Great Culinary Traditions" it's not a style of cooking well known outside the country. Partly, this is due to immigration patterns. People from this area simply didn't emigrate at the rate that their compatriots from Guangzhou, Hong Kong, and Fujian did. Still, there's a venerable and distinct tradition of cooking here.
I'll admit, I'm also a little unfamiliar with Huaiyang cooking, despite many trips to China. Why? Well, for starters, regionalism. Food staples change tremendously between north and south China (to say nothing of east and west). This makes sense, as many aspects of Chinese culture display such a north-south split. The Yangtze River helps to provide a pretty useful shorthand for where you are in China. South of the river? You're in a region that is broadly referred to as JiangNan (江南), or quite literally, "south of the Yangtze" (though this designation usually doesn't include far southern China... that's another region, entirely). North of the river, you're on North China, or what's sometimes reffered to by geographers/historians/anthropologists as HuaBei (华北). In the past I've lived primarily in northern cities like Jinan and Beijing, and so I've got only a passing familiarity with any kind of Jiangnan cooking. The woman who supervises the teaching exchange I'm working for describes the food here as "mild" and being "not too spicy, but also not too sweet." And she's right. Many of the dishes here feature clear broth, or complex, slightly sweet flavours. I'm learning a little about some local specialities (in particular fish and crawfish, which are currently in season, and are delicious).
However, despite my general ignorance regarding local culinary fare, there is one food item that deserves all the special attention it can get: Xiaolong Bao (小笼包), or its cousin Tang Bao (汤包), soup dumpings. These, as far as I'm concerned, are THE regional dish. Nothing else compares. They are to this region of China what the baguette is to Paris: a distilation of the entire area's culinary tradition. What are they? The idea is simple enough. You take dough just like the kind used to make regular dumplings, and stuff it with a filling of meat (most often pork, but in Nanjing I've also seen a beef "halal" version) and congealed fat. Not enticed yet? Just wait. Place the dumplings on a steamer tray. As they heat, the fat melts into a broth. Suddenly, you have little meat filled pouches of soup. Like this:
The idea is to eat them so that you don't burst the skin, and the soup kind of explodes in your mouth. Often what happens is that the roof of your mouth gets scalded because you're trying to bite down on a pocket of hot soup. It's a bit of a complicated process. So much so, in fact, that there are video tutorials, If you can eat them without burning yourself, they're delicious. And they're perhaps the defining feature of Shanghai cuisinse. Even world famous chef turned jaded, snarky, television show host, Anthony Bourdain has lauded the Xiaolongbao as something that will "change your life forever." He even goes as far as to refer to the broth made by the melting fat as the "soup of the gods," which is, in and of itself, worth coming to China to sample:
Either way, the Xiaolong Bao is a perfect example of how different Chinese food in China can be from what is commonly found outside of China. A delicious regional speciality, famous throughout this country, but relatively obscure to many Americans who may not have heard about or experienced them. Regardless, I feel obligated (especially since I'm in Jingsu) to celebrate them, and their tastiness.
Next time, I'll cover some more sociological/anthropological stuff related to my research, and a bit of what I've been finding out here in Nanjing. Stay tuned.