liuzhou

Here in China, every day I carry sachets of salt in my wallet in case I come across hotels serving what they imagine to be western food. They never season it! I think that is largely because they are more used to reaching for the soy sauce for seasoning. When travelling wider I also carry ground coffee (which I grind myself).

For many years I have made my beer money by writing and translating for one of China's top wine trade publications. The editor-in-chief is an old friend. This is one such article of mine which appeared bi-lingually in their flagship magazine, several years ago. I have spared you the Chinese version. I would say it still holds true. In 1985, the organisation I was then working for moved offices to the top floor of an office block in London. I turned up on the Monday morning to find all my files scattered around my new office in cardboard boxes. The phones and computers were yet to be connected. Work was all but impossible. On the way in, I had picked up a coffee and a bacon sandwich from one of the many kiosks around the office building. The coffee tasted like mud and I’m sure the bacon had never met a pig. I sat back in my chair to “enjoy” this late breakfast and stared out of the window. All I could see were the rooftops of the buildings to the immediate north. After day-dreaming for a while, I found my nose begin to twitch. A faint hint of cumin drifted through the window. Or perhaps it was star anise. And Sichuan peppercorns, too. The scent was getting stronger. I began to smell roasting pork – the bacon in my sandwich had no smell. Then, I could smell caramelising honey and duck. The roofs looked the same as they did at 9 am, but the air had changed. It was a symphony of scent and I was sitting at my desk drooling. It was then that I realised that the roofs I had been staring at were those of London’s Chinatown and I could smell a hundred Cantonese restaurants preparing for the day. Today, many years later, every time I visit Hong Kong, I am transported back to that morning. The smells are the same. The Chinatown restaurants were not that great and, on the whole, still aren’t, but by noon I was famished! Fortunately, I was being wined and dined at the company’s expense – but not in Chinatown. An very important guest was visiting and I would take part in a lunch meeting in one of London’s better French restaurants – The Boulestin in Covent Garden, which sadly closed in 1999. And there my life changed. My boss considered himself a bit of an oenophile, and as a measure of the client’s importance (or his own pleasure) ordered a couple of bottles of Chateau Talbot 1975. While it is only a 4th cru, it was the first Grand Vin I had drunk. It was a true eye opener. In my ignorance, I had always assumed that anyone who bought wine which cost more than the taxi home was a bit stupid. Now I knew different. I still can’t describe the epiphany I felt. This wasn’t just wine. This was something much, much more important. I can’t remember what I ate, but I remember every sip and savour of those bottles. And so, that day, was born a connection in my mind between fine wine and China – a temporal connection, but not a culinary connection. I was still in the “beer with Chinese; wine with French” school of thought. And to be honest, with very few exceptions, London’s Chinese restaurants are still not noted for the quality of their wine lists. What I didn’t know that fateful day, was that several years and several bottles later I would end up living in China. The move, for work reasons, almost ended my life in wine. In 1996, there was little foreign wine in China. And what wine could be found was, to be kind, very poor. Things have improved enormously. My local supermarket carries wines from across the globe, some of them extremely good. And China is beginning to produce top class wines. But the basic problem still remains. How to combine Chinese food and wine? The internet and the press are full of conflicting advice and often the writers don’t even seem to know what Chinese food is, or how it is served in China. They are talking about American Chinese food, which is something else entirely. Of course, to answer this we have to say “What is Chinese food in China?” which immediately throws up even more problems. Is it the delicate but complex flavours of Cantonese food, or the robust fire of Hunan, or the numbing spice of Sichuan? Perhaps it’s Xinjiang food. Perhaps Beijing duck. Perhaps… Then we have the biggest problem. Serving style. I have been lucky enough to visit European restaurants and sample tasting menus where each course is matched with a different wine, the overall range finely balanced. But then, European food is served serially. One dish after another. We eat the fish, then we eat the meat, then we eat whatever is next. Between each course, the table is cleared and, at formal meals, a new wine served. Each course has its own matched wine. In China, the concept of courses doesn’t really exist. All dishes come together, so that I might have a mouthful of beef followed by a taste of the fish, then a bit of duck, etc. Matching wines to each dish becomes impractical. I can’t have twenty different glasses with twenty different wines in front of me, switching between them with each mouthful, although it might be fun to try. One way round this problem, for many writers in the past, has been to recommend one wine to cover all tastes- usually a dry, fruity white. This can work. Certainly a Bordeaux red is going to overpower the subtleties of Cantonese food, clash with the spiciness of Sichuan or Hunan and give a metallic taste to most vegetable dishes. Riesling or Chenin Blanc are often recommended for Cantonese food and they also sit well with Sichuan. Reds can work with the robust flavours of say, Beijing duck, which is well matched to a burgundy such as Pinot Noir and Bordeaux wines can pair excellently with “red cooked” dishes, provided they are not too spicy. But for a mixed banquet or family style meal, whites are always going to better. There are those who say that a properly cooked Chinese meal incorporates all the flavours and a fine balance is achieved between the salty, the sweet, the spicy and the delicate - and that a European style grape wine interferes with that balance, whereas western cuisine treats the wine more like a sauce integral to the dishes. I don’t quite buy that. For an excellent celebratory breakfast, try champagne and dim sum. In fact, drink champagne with everything – if you can afford to! But it still surprises me that, in China, most imported wines seem to be reds, yet in general whites are much more suitable as dinner wines. So, as a compromise, why not go for a rosé- especially a sparkling rosé? Back, all those years ago, sitting in my office, I didn’t need to worry about all this. A glass of Tsingtao beer was considerably more exotic, and a fine balance to anything the restaurant could serve up. Today, some of London’s Chinese restaurants are becoming more than cheap tourist traps and serious owners are carefully developing wine lists that do go a long way to both giving a great drinking experience and complimenting the vastly improved food they are serving. At the end of the day, there are no rules. Drink what you like and experiment.

These monstrosities may look like white bread for toasting or sandwiches. No such thing! Described by the store as 黄金芝士条 ~ 流心芝士下午茶 (huáng jīn zhī shì tiáo ~ liú xīn zhī shì xià wǔ chá), Golden Cheese Bars ~ Lava Cheese Afternoon Tea Collection. What kind of cheese they use is not divulged but I would bet heavily on it being American ‘cheese’ which isn’t cheese! Of course, I've never bought it to test!

I wouldn't worry about your adding oyster mushrooms to beef and broccoli being 'inauthentic'. Beef and broccoli isn't 'authentically' Chinese anyway!

香辣鱼炒饭 (xiāng là yú chǎo fàn), Spicy Fish Fried Rice, The fish are dried rice paddy minnows.

About 25 years ago, a family owned bakery opened here in town by the name of Maison Cherry. The master baker was a family member who had trained in Paris. I got to know the family quite well, especially the eldest daughter who had studied English, used the English name Cherry and liked to chat when I went in. The bakery made many cakes which didn’t interest me but also made great French bread of several types – pain de campagne, boule de pain, etc and real croissants. The one thing they didn’t do was baguettes. I asked why and was told it was because ‘people here don’t understand them’. They had trialled them but got tired of people coming back next day complaining they had gone stale too quickly. But, for about four years, I lived happily. They reserved me a loaf every couple of days and called me when it was ready. Then, one day, I was passing their bakery shop and it was closed. Permanently. I tried to call the daughter but her phone service had been cancelled. They just disappeared. I’ve never been able to find out what happened. Their store is now a Chinese KFC knock-off. I weep.

Very common here. The one labelled stewed doesn't look stewed. It very much looks like quail century egg. These are sold in every mom 'n pop corner store as well as supermarkets. And, yes. Always rubbery. I never buy them. I buy fresh and D,I,M, (Do it Myself)

Another bread I used to bake myself but now routinely buy is this pita-like bread from Xi’an, where I lived a long time ago. It is the bread most often used in 肉夹馍 (ròu jiā mó), Rou Jia Mo. Rou Jia Mo The bread is called 白吉饼 (bái jí bǐng). There is a recipe in the first post of the Rou Jia Mo topic linked to above. Unusually, it is not steamed, but dry-fried then baked. Bai Ji Bing

Hunan food never skimps on chilli!

For complicated reasons, tonight's dinner was a delivery app favourite. 青椒肉丝 (qīng jiāo ròu sī), green chilli pork slivers, a Hunan favourite, but found in homes and restaurants all over China. Served with rice, of course.

The only way to get a bird, chicken, duck, or goose, with the giblets is to buy a live one and slaughter it yourself. Many people do. Otherwise, both supermarkets and market vendors remove the precious giblets and sell them separately. This can be in mixed giblet packs like these and include parts I suspect most don’t come with the birds in the west. Intestines? Or, you can buy each type of giblet separately. Hearts, livers, gizzards, intestines, necks, etc. I always have chicken or duck livers and hearts in the freezer but until very recently was unable to find goose liver or hearts that hadn’t been pre-cooked or, in the case of livers, turned into foie gras. I can now buy both online but have to buy a minimum of 2½ kg / 5 pounds at a time. I’m guessing they are mostly sold to the restaurant or foie gras trade. Goose intestines are especially prized.

In drinks I use stainless steel 'ice' cubes. never wet, never dilute your drink.

If you wanted to be "authentically" Xinjiang, I would suggest using your honey, but as I said, there is zero reason not to use maple syrup.

I should say that maple syrup is unknown in Xinjiang or anywhere else in China. It is uber-North American. That's not to say you shouldn't use it should you find a recipe. It is nearly al produced in Canada and the USA and used there, although limited amounts are exported to Europe. I've never had it, ever.

No. That's about a different type of cake. Not the ones I showed. Ba Bao (8 Treasures) is a very common term in Chinese, especially in food names - not only cakes and not only those 8 ingredients. Ba bao soup, ba bao congee, ba bao tea, ba bao beef, ba bao rice, ba bao vegetables, ba bao pickles .... The list is endless.