Excerpts from Chinese Gastronomy

I was so excited when I read the first pages of Hsiang Ju Lin and Tsuifeng Lin's 1969 book Chinese Gastronomy that I literally could not sleep that night.

All of these things I've sensed eating my way around Hong Kong, and which were hinted at in books like Fuchsia Dunlop's Shark's Fin and Sichuan Pepper, were laid out so plainly and concisely in the first pages of the Lin's book.

After seeing the same arguments play out again and again on the China & Southeast Asia Chowhound board in which a Chinese-speaker says something like...

"[we] try hard to unblock your bias so that you can learn to appreciate Cantonese cuisine like the locals do, and I know you do try hard, you go for street food that most gwailo don't do....but you still have this western mentality that is blocking you."

To which a non-Chinese speaker eventually replies,

"Who is to say that one persons bad isnt another persons great? What makes a great meal, that you like it or that the majority likes it? To me, it is about me liking what I eat. I.e., I really hate eggplant, so any dish with eggplant inside is bad for me. But for someone else, it will be great."

(For the entire thread, read here.)

This makes me want to pull my hair out!

No, we non-Chinese speakers are not genetically inferior lower life forms who are unable to appreciate Chinese cuisines (and yes, I know that there are five or more regional cuisines, not just one). And also NO, the difference between good and bad Chinese food is not entirely subjective. There is a real philosophical or conceptual foundation to Chinese gastronomy that makes some things simply right or wrong in a technical sense. I think that "Westerners" need to learn it and Chinese speakers need to teach it explicitly. I mean come right out and tell non-Chinese speakers this stuff instead of pretending like it's some magical thing that we are incapable of understanding because of our "Western bias." The truth is, Chinese cuisine is not about naturalness. If you didn't learn these principles from family and friends throughout your life, you're probably not going to figure them out any time soon with just your tongue and your teeth.

In service, I hope, to the community of folks who care about Chinese cuisine, I have transcribed what I think are essential passages from the first pages of Chinese Gastronomy and hope that it will elevate the discussion somewhere somehow.

Without further ado...

"if there is anything [the Chinese] are serious about, it is neither religion nor learning, but food." (Forward by Lin Yutang, p. 7)

"Recipes can be followed, but the whys and wherefores are not gone into, tactile and gustatory sensations can be experienced directly but the raison d'etre and the critical standards are unknown."
(p. 7)

"'If something is not right, this is due to carelessness, and it is the cook's fault. If something is good, say why, and when it is bad, pick out its faults. If one does not keep the cook in line, he becomes insolent. Before the food comes, send word down that the food tomorrow must be better.' -- Yuan Mei"
(p. 11)

"the cuisine did not come into its own until the critics became articulate. They found fault with the food. They developed ideas and harassed their cooks. The gastronomes contributed their sense of form to the cuisine. Their prompting made the cooks masters of flavour and texture."
(p. 11)

"We had to learn how to eat before we could learn how to cook."
(p. 11)

"[Chinese cuisine's] peculiar character comes from the realization that cooking is a form of artifice. This attitude accounts for its triumphs, its faults and its sophistications. Because of the trickery involved, the psychology of eating is different."
(p. 12)

"Cooking is a form of artifice, because the taste of food is both good and bad. Good taste cannot be achieved unless one knows precisely what is bad about each ingredient, and proceeds to correct it. The curious, omnivorous cook knows that the taste of raw fruit is quite delicious and cannot be improved upon. Raw fish is insipid, raw chicken metallic, raw beef is palatable but for the rank flavour of blood. It is pointless to talk about the natural taste of these things, as many people like to do. We take it to mean the characteristic flavour of each thing, which is mainly in the fat and in the juices. This is brought out by artifice and appreciated as the hsien and hsiang, the flavour and aroma. Here is the pivotal point where Chinese cuisine swings away from the others and takes off on its own. Note that Western pastry-making is a departure from the natural form and perhaps the 'natural taste' of food. The patissier works only with butter, eggs, flour and sugar. But because he does not feel compelled to preserve the natural form, and present the flavour of each ingredient individually, he is often able to evolve something better. The palate can then perceive the taste of the ingredients interlocked in his inventions. The Chinese cook has done the same for food in general."
(p. 12-13)

"Criteria of Excellence

The unique qualities of the cuisine are contained in some almost untranslatable words. The words hsien, hsiang, nung, and yu-er-pu-ni are the criteria of excellence in flavour. 'Flavours must be rich and robust, never oily, or they must be delicate and fresh without being too thin. A flavour which is nung means that the essences are concentrated and the scum has been removed. Those who like greasy food might just as well dine on lard. When some dish is hsien, its true flavour is present. Not the least particle of error can be tolerated or you will have missed the mark.' (Yuan Mei)

Hsien Sweet natural flavour. Usage: to describe the delicate taste of fat pork, or the taste of butter; the taste of fresh fish, bamboo and prawns (shrimps). It may be simulated by a combination of seasonings, principally sugar. In an exceptional case, the hsien of fish is simulated by a mixture of seasonings and pork (Mock Fish, 66).

Hsiang Characteristic fragrance; aroma. Usage: applied to those dishes which can give pleasure by their smell as well as their taste; characteristic fragrance of chicken fat, of roasted meats, of mushrooms, of sauteed onions, etc. Hsiang is almost impossible to duplicate by artifice, for it depends mainly on the oils present in each ingredient.

Nung Rich, heady, concentrated. Usage: in contrast to hsien, which must always appear natural and effortless, dishes which are nung are strongly flavoured with meat essences or spices. Applied to richly aromatic food (Glazed Duck, 121); to Cream Stock (16), composed of three kinds of meat. Nung is not always used in a complimentary sense: it may mean too rich, like overripe cheese.

Yu-er-pu-ni To taste of fat without being oily. Usage: applicable to the yolks of preserved eggs, to roe, to properly cooked belly pork. Compare the taste of these: caviar, cold fresh unsalted (sweet) butter or avocado. This phrase occurs frequently because of the importance of solid fat in the cuisine. Always used as a compliment.

The two following words describe texture. They are interesting because cooks try to achieve tsuei and nun textures with foods that do not naturally have them.

Tsuei Crisp, crunchy. A texture often brought out or concocted. Usage: applicable to dipped and sauteed snails, tripe, squid, Dipped Snails (93), Blanched Kidneys (124), prawns (Rule for Prawns, 25) and Fish Balls (31); pork crackling, roasted skin of fowl (Peking Duck, 57).

Nun Soft and tender; non-fibrous. A somewhat resilient texture brought out by skillful cooking, to be distinguished from another word ruan meaning soft and loose-textured. Usage: applied to texture of perfect soft-boiled egg, Velvet Chicken I (29), texture of quenelles de brochet.

These words are by no means sufficient to describe the range of flavours and textures, but they are most important and interesting worlds which have provoked a lot of thought. They embody qualities aimed at in cooking. The most famous dishes of Chinese cuisine combine several of these qualities. The skin of Peking duck is fragrant, crisp and rich without being oily (hsiang, tsuei, yu-er-pu-ni). Fish balls are at once fresh, crisp and tender (hsien, tsuei, and nun). The combination of these qualities in a single dish suggests the complexity of classic Chinese cuisine. Note how no one quality contradicts any other.

Blending of Flavours

Plain flavours. The plain flavour appears simple because all the seasonings blended into it are undetectable. Cooks are satisfied when people appreciate the 'natural' fragrance and taste of the food, unaware of the seasoning that has gone into it. They keep perfectly quiet about the amount of art that went into bringing out the 'natural' taste. The fragrance and taste (hsiang, hsien) of many foods are brought out by the use of supporting ingredients which should merge intoa single flavour. It was once suggested that bamboo be sauteed with marbled pork to extract its hsien juices, and then the pork be discarded before serving (Li Liweng). This is an extreme case to illustrate the importance of undetected seasoning.

Once supporting ingredients have done their job, they should be removed from view. If wine or vinegar is added, it can be evaporated away. If ginger and spring onions (scallions) are included, it is better to remove them before serving the dish. Light soy sauce should be used when seasoning prawns (shrimps) or vegetables. Sugar must not be detected in grains, nor should salt, unless it is served in a separate dish. Things are either served with or without sauce. Make it very obvious which you are doing.

Complementary flavours. Chinese cooking has been called 'the marriage of flavours'. This is very apt, for the individual ingredients should preserve their identity while complementing each other. This principle is discussed at length in Chapter 2. Unlike the subtle alterations of flavour discussed above, the second type of blending depends on showing up the flavours of individual ingredients by contrasting them with similar or totally different ingredients. The delicate taste of bird's nest is matched with very finely chopped winter melon (blending of similar flavours) or with minced ham (matching of contrasting flavours). This is comparable to matching several shades of white to each other, or contrasting black with white. The combination of cheese with other ingredients in French cooking comes closest to this idea of mutual support.

Variation of Texture

The refinement of the cuisine is most obvious in its control of texture. Classic cuisine stresses the creation of crisp or tender textures, demanding of the cook a certain virtuosity. Fundamentally, textural variation is an effort to improve upon nature. For example, every piece of meat is encased in invisible membranes, with sinewy connections and silky ligaments. Even after all these substances have been cleared away, the texture of meat remains a problem. The beginner knows well that it is difficult to keep meat tender while cooking it. Any error will make the meat fibrous and dry and all the tricks used in cooking it have the common aim of keeping it tender.

Variation of texture runs like a minor theme throughout the whole of Chinese gastronomy. At the most sophisticated tables it became an end in itself. It led to the search for texture-foods, things that have interesting textures but no taste. Today, there is no banquet without bird's nest or shark's fins, both texture-foods. These ingredients brought on yet another development in the cuisine. The cook was confronted with the problem of creating flavours for things which had no flavour in themselves. In Chinese cooking at its most sophisticated, substances with texture but no flavour were wedded to stocks of great flavour but no substance.

Use of Parts

The search for new flavours and textures led naturally to the use of parts. This was carried to an extreme. People distinguished between the cheeks of the fish, its soft under-belly, the jelly-like tissue at the base of the dorsal fins. Country-style cooking was by necessity a cooking of parts, quite aside from the art of eating. The inherent textural variation of innards is interesting to gourmets. Chinese tongues and teeth are perhaps unusual. Many people can split a watermelon seed, extract the meat and carry on a rapid conversation at the same time, pausing only to expel the shell. Others, with a little practice, are able to tie one or two knots ina cherry stem with tongue and teeth. The Chinese tongue is a sensitive thing. So the grainy quality of liver, the unctuous intestine, the figrous gizzard, the spongy maw and crunchy tripe all stand apart from each other, to be appreciated as delicacies, each with its unique texture.

The use of parts is also favoured by the cook, who knows that the white meat of chicken is done earlier than the dark, and that the wings must be stewed, the legs fried, the skin roasted or fried, the breast meat sauteed or minced. Each part must be cooked differently to bring out the best, and by separating the parts one can bring out the best in each.

Use of Fat

Fat is a delicacy. Despite the term yu-er-pu-ni (to taste of fat without being oily), which belongs more to gastronomy than to common taste, all oil is considered good. Pork fat can be made to soak up juices, chicken and duck fat to flavour vegetables. Sesame oil is used to suppress the fishy taste of seafood, to fry sweets and to flavour food. Sesame, peanut and vegetable oils are used in vegetarian cooking. The flavour of meat and fish is in the fat. Hence the cooking of fat as such has developed in step with the techniques for cooking meat. The use of fat is particularly appreciated with the main substance is rice or wheat. The lean food of peasants was enriched by fat. 'The fat in meat, fish, ducks and chicken must be kept in the meat and not allowed to run out, else the flavour is all in the juices' (Yuan Mei)"

(p. 12-16)