liuzhou

生汁花甲螺 (shēng zhī huā jiǎ luó) spicy oyster sauce clams with green and red chillies, garlic, ginger and yellow garlic chives. Served with rice. Those red chillies were 🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶.

You do realise this thread and the original question is 20 years old? Since 20 years ago, Chinese food in the UK has changed a lot, at least in the major conurbations. 20 years ago most so-called Chinese food was bad renditions of Cantonese food or British-Chinese or American-Chinese with dishes no one from China recognised. Today, there is much more. Regional Chinese food has arrived in a big way with Sichuan restaurants such as Bar Shu in London as pioneers. There are Xi'an restaurants, Dong Bei restaurants, Yunnan restaurants etc. This has also forced more general Chinese restaurants to up their game. Away from the major cities, they are still lagging behind but the same is true for all types of international food. Simple economics. However, the Chinese restaurant scene in the UK is in better shape now than it ever has been. I've been in China for 27 years now, but was surprised when I returned briefly in 2019, to see how much it had changed. Although, still not much representation of the cuisine from where I live in Guangxi, but maybe one day.

It's Inner Mongolian; not Mongolian. True, it is land-locked and most of its aquatic food is fresh water fish from the Yellow River which flows through the region, but it's not far from Beijing and the sea. There is a large fresh fish market in Hohhot, the capital. So mabe not so traditional to have octopus, but they certainly have them. I ate it at a wedding banquet in Inner Mongolia in 2001. Free to use image

China’s northern Inner Mongolian Autonomous Region (内蒙古 - nèi měng gǔ) takes up most of the border with the Republic of Mongolia as well as part of that with Russia. It is mostly grassland and barren mountains. When I moved to China, I flew London to Beijing. I woke up shortly before we reached Beijing and all I could see from the window was what looked like the surface of Mars. Uninhabited, red tinged mountains for miles. Unsurprisingly, the local food is very different from that down here in the tropics. Yet, Mongolian grub is popular throughout China. The region is known for being meat and dairy heavy. It is also one of the few parts of China which makes cheeses. But perhaps most famous are its hotpots and kebabs. Mutton is the main meat, unlike the rest of China which overwhelmingly prefers pork. So tonight I went there via my food ordering app. I have been there bodily in the past. I ordered two 红柳羊肉串 (hóng liǔ yáng ròu chuàn), red mutton skewers; two 深海大八爪鱼须串 (shēn hǎi dà bā zhuǎ yú xū chuàn), deep sea octopus skewers; and two 炭烤白皮镆 (tàn kǎo bái pí mò), charcoal toasted bread buns*. These are all cooked over charcoal and generously sprinkled with cumin and chili powder. I also toyed with the idea of ordering some 碳烤东北蝉蛹 (tàn kǎo dōng běi chán yǒng), charcoal roasted north-eastern cicada pupae, but decided I had enough as I also had some egg fried rice from lunch. Despite everything being seasoned / spiced identically, the inherent flavour of each shone through. * The are the same buns which, untoasted, I use for rou jia mo (qv).

My favourite London pub date unknown Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese is a Grade II listed public house at 145 Fleet Street, on Wine Office Court, City of London. Rebuilt shortly after the Great Fire of 1666, there has been a pub at this location since 1538. The vaulted cellars are thought to belong to a 13th-century Carmelite monastery which once occupied the site. The entrance to this pub is situated down a narrow alleyway and is unassuming, yet once inside visitors will realise that the pub occupies a lot of floor space and has numerous bars, narrow stairs and gloomy rooms. In winter, open fireplaces are used to keep the interior warm. In the bar room are posted plaques showing famous people who were regulars. Some of the interior wood panelling is nineteenth century, some older, perhaps original. The pub is known for its literary associations, with its regular patrons having included Charles Dickens, G.K. Chesterton and Mark Twain. And me!

Yes. I don't buy the GK theory, either. Too late.

Yes, but there is archeological evidence that lacto-fermentation was being used in China 3,000 years before Hippocrates.

Easy on mine. I can take a screenshot of anything I can see on the phone including my own photos stored in the phone, then post that. I also have three microplanes.

Me too, I have six of the ones I pictured above, plus many more. Bought nine more last week!

That battle is long over. Korea just pretends it isn't.

Probably my most used small tool in the kitchen is a small pair of office scissors. Useful for all manner of tasks from opening packets to cutting up herbs. Dirt cheap from stationery supply stores, so it doesn't hurt when they accidentally get lost in the trash or disappear into thin air, as has happened more than once.

Tonight’s meal I think of as a Chinese equivalent of the Scottish classic of my childhood, mince and tatties. Obviously not in terms of ingredients, but there the lack of similarity ends. Both are simple fare, relatively cheap, easy to make but not particularly visually appealing. Both are flavoursome comfort food. Tonight’s dinner was one I often make, but this came from a local restaurant. Mince and Tatties Like mince and tatties, at its simplest, 酸菜肉末饭 (suān cài ròu mò fàn) consists of two elements: 酸菜 (suān cài) is literally ‘sour vegetables’, the sourness being that they are pickled. These vegetables are sometimes referred to in the west as Chinese Sauerkraut and some sources even go so far as to suggest that it was the origin for sauerkraut, having been brought west 1,000 years ago by Genghis Khan after he invaded China. Whatever the truth, there is solid evidence that suan cai was in existence 5,000 years ago. In the north of China, especially Beijing its primary ingredient is cabbage but here it is more commonly mustard greens, which is what I had tonight. Other vegetables and spices are also added in smaller quantities depending on seasonal availability. The vegetables are dried and then salted and left for lacto-fermentation to do its thing, Before making this dish the suan cai is finely chopped or minced. 肉末 (ròu mò) is minced pork (as opposed to the beef in mince and tatties). Usually, a relatively fatty belly cut is used. The two are then mixed together and fried. Most people make their own from scratch, but it is available in supermarkets. Also found is the very similar 雪菜 (xuě cài) or ‘snow vegetable’, a milder version popular in Shanghai. The dish is normally served alongside other dishes family style and accompanied by rice. 酸菜鱼 (suān cài yú), suan cai fish is another popular dish which I have posted somewhere here in the past. Suancai Pork Mince (酸菜肉末)

Once Upon A Time

In 2016, I visited Hunan for a 20-year anniversary reunion with some old colleagues. As I was leaving after a wonderful weekend, I was given a box of the wonderful local golden-yellow peaches. 2016 Fast forward an eventful seven years to 10:55 this morning when this box turned up at my door. Another box! 2023

I'm not sure how anyone can make something without the things needed to make that something. Can you explain what you really mean?

Ladles have spouts??? None of mine do and they're just regular ladles; not mythical figures. I wouldn't buy a ladle with a spout.

I'll give Paradise a miss if they only serve that pudding. But the best meal I've eaten in the last 26 years in China was leveret. It was cooked by my late sister-in-law and absolutely delicious. I've also had syllabub (not in China) and although I wouldn't go looking for it again, it was O.K.

Near my home are two roughly equidistant branches of a small local chain of restaurants called 金龙砦 (jīn lóng zhài) which means “golden dragon stockade”. This chain specialises in local Guangxi food and is where I usually take first time visitors. My granddaughter ate at the branch to the south when she was two-years-old and then volunteered to help with the washing-up. Tonight, I ordered dinner from the one to the north. Among their offerings (both menus are the same) are a number of dishes from the various local ethnic minorities’ cuisines. I chose a dish from the 瑶族 (yáo zú), Yao people, who live in Hunan, Guangxi, and Yunnan provinces as well as Vietnam where they are the người Dao and Thailand where they are the เย้า (yêā). The Yao are mainly rice farmers and have some of the worlds most spectacular rice terraces, including the famous Longji terraces here in Guangxi. 酸辣禾花鱼 (suān là hé huā yú) is literally ‘hot and sour 'grass flower' fish”. I’ve never found a real English or Latin taxonomic name for this species but they are small (10 to 12 cm / 4 to 4½ inch long) graminaceous* freshwater fish which live in the rice paddies of Guangxi. The fish are fried whole and un-gutted then served in a broth with pickled red chillies and slivered daikon radish. The dish is neither over-spicy or over-sour but nicely balanced. It is normally served as one of a number of dishes, but I had it alone with rice. I can only find one useful website on this dish but it’s all in Chinese. Some good images, though of both the fish and the dish. Being a delivery dinner, mine was not attractively plated. I could have replated it and removed half of the broth, but I’m not really strong enough for even that, yet. Hopefully, next time. So, the fish were hiding underwater. Image from 金龙砦 Jinlongzai Restaurant delivery menu My delivery Close up * Of or pertaining to grass, in this case, the grass being rice.

I'd manage to force that down! 🤣

A couple of pics. Paradise Pudding (undated) Bill of Fare 1787

I was given this. It's sold as a garlic crusher but I'm having fun thinking of other uses. Knuckle duster is my favourite, so far.

Whether you call it calamar or calamara or calamari or καλαµάριor or squid makes no difference to me. I'll call it 鱿鱼 (yóu yú) and I'll eat it like Mr. Bloom, with relish. But I seldom order it in restaurants; they rarely get it right. The best way is of course, when I cook it myself. This is not just rampant egotism; I cook it the way I like it. Fast and brief. Or slow and long. Usually the former; never anything inbetween. But tonight, I made an exception. This came from a restaurant I have eaten in often and which is close to my home, so doesn't die on the short trip to me. Billed as XO酱煸鱿鱼 (XO jiàng biān yóu yú), stirfried squid with XO sauce, it was spicy, tender, umami rich and delicious. With garlic and garlic scapes. XO sauce is from Hong Kong and is made from dried seafood and ham; it is common in Cantonese cuisine, but also adopted locally. Served with rice, 照常 (zhào cháng).