A Treatise on Food: Vol. I

by afatpurplefig

Cíxǐ Tàihòu (Empress Dowager Cixi), of the Qing dynasty, is said to have served 100 dishes at every major meal, from which she rarely ate more than a single bite.

This was ostensibly to prevent poisoning and to maintain secrecy about her preferences, but I like to think she was just a huge fan of the buffet.

I, too, am a huge fan of the buffet.

With a buffet, you don’t have to throw all of your eggs into one basket, so there is no eyeing of your neighbour’s superior choice, with equal parts envy and regret.

Every morning, courtesy of the hotel breakfast buffet, I create my own personal buffet-on-a-plate.

My routine goes a bit like this:

Mmm, tofu pudding. That’s my chunk, right there.

It’s all about the texture. It slips off the serving spoon like it’s in a hurry. I plan my arrival time around the pudding, because I prefer it as an unbroken, silky expanse. Careless spoons make for choppy pudding.

Don’t be fooled into thinking it needs a bowl and spoon – save them for your congee or millet porridge. One swift movement, though, with the chopsticks flat to the plate, so the pudding sits atop them, like an empress in a palanquin. The do-over won’t go so well.

I generally don’t hit the toppings stand, but don’t mind a drizzle of chilli oil, or some sesame seeds, or green onion.

If the pudding is there, it’s on my plate.

豆腐脑 (dòufu nǎo) = tofu pudding (bean soft brain)

Whilst there is less actual excitement around the vegetables, they please me. Perhaps all that childhood marketing that favours ‘makes you big and strong’ over ‘delicious’ has relegated them to side status. Not so in China, where they share equal billing.

Cold? Delicious. Hot? Delicious. Throw in a bit of ‘sensible choice’ credit, and I am positively brimming.

My favourites include the diced beans (which offer the added bonus of advanced chopstick training) and spinach from the cold station, and the stir-fried cabbage and celery from the hot. I also don’t mind me a steamed yam.

蔬菜 (shūcài) = vegetables

The lucky dips rate highly. In fact, if there was any chance of them running out, I would wait at the locked door.

I especially love the first reveal – lifting the steamer lids to see what lies beneath.

Ooh, dumplings!
Yum, steamed buns!
Yam…ok, sure, why not?
Corn. Pass.
Yippee! A big mystery bun.

Soon after comes the second reveal – biting in to see what’s inside. The dumplings win ‘Most Reliably Delicious’. The steamed buns are touch and go – I often think the bread-to-filling ratio is out of whack. A teaspoon of spinach does not a filling make. Maybe that’s the point.

The big mystery bun wins ‘Best in Show’. I can’t say anything more about it.

Big. Delicious. Mysterious.

It isn’t always there, so perhaps scarcity is influencing desirability. I have also failed to photograph one (do I eat them that quickly?), ensuring it lives on, but only in my grateful memory.

蒸饺 (zhēngjiǎo) = dumplings (to steam, dumpling)

* I have discovered – 饣- the ‘food’ radical!

Eggs feature, but not as much as I might have expected. In 北京 Běijīng, the boiled egg tray was a hot ticket item, with the plates of most Chinese diners featuring at least one, beside a wheel of steamed corn.

I am a lazy eater. I will peel a prawn, under duress (duress = looks yummy), but a boiled egg doesn’t entice over and above the dual drawbacks of peeling and shells-on-the-plate.

Many of our meals (at all times of the day) feature the tomato and scrambled eggs combo. It is mocked mercilessly.

‘There’s the tomato and egg. Anybody want some?’ *giggle*

Conall, who lived in China for two years, assures us that a good one is truly worthwhile. I’m dubious, but he is a solid guy, so I keep trying a little, just in case.

I also grab a fried egg, here and there, from the Western station. I like picking them up with chopsticks.

鸡蛋 (jīdàn) = chicken egg

The Western station inspires a sense of gratitude for the effort made to produce our ‘special’ breakfast foods.

It sure is a beacon of inferiority.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m quite partial to a mini sausage (baby cheerio, anyone?) and a fried egg, or an orange juice. I just can’t believe cereal ever got a start.

This morning ritual in China is my second-favourite routine of the day.

Breakfast may never be the same again.

早餐 (zǎocān) = breakfast (morning meal)