Tag Archives: baijiu

highlights

Posted on April 4, 2011 | 1 Comment

we fit quite a bit into 8 days. some highlights:

giant buddha, leshan.

Giant Buddha, Leshan – I finally paid a visit to the stoic, giant Buddha with my mom and brother after months of being told it was well worth the trip. The “Big Buddha” at Leshan is the largest Buddha in the world, and sits at the confluence of the Min, Qingyi, and Dadu rivers, where back in the day tempestuous waters caused frequent boat accidents that the people blamed on a water spirit beneath the waves.  The Buddha was thought to tame the spirit and protect the boats and was completed in 803 AD after 90 years of unimaginable effort. It’s now a UNESCO World Heritage Site and it’s incredible to stare up at, which validates the excess of tourists you’ll encounter there no matter when you go. To see the Buddha you start at the top and navigate your way down a steep, narrow staircase built into the cliff that doesn’t deter the Chinese habit of pushing / generally ignoring personal space. This was more obvious than usual because we were escorting my mom who a) hates heights and b) isn’t used to Chinese tourists. My friend Bev graciously guided us on our Big Buddha tour and after hiking back up led us to a much quieter, less popular temple that is connected to the Big Buddha park by the most picturesque bridge, set atop fields of bright yellow rapeseed and a river on whose banks elderly Chinese men fished; a pretty idyllic site. Hiking up to Wuyou was also amazing and clearly an oft-ignored part of the tourist trip to the Buddha. At the top of the otherwise ordinary forest, the temple is an incredible display of the Buddhist heritage of the region. If it wasn’t partially under construction when we visited (surprise!) I would probably call it the most peaceful place I’ve seen in China.

sichuan opera.

Sichuan Opera – My mom and brother told me in advance they wanted to check out a performance before they arrived, and a friend told me friends of hers booked discounted tickets through a popular hostel in Chengdu, Sim’s, who not only booked us seats but also picked us up and dropped us off at our hotel. Convenient. The opera itself was a trip; foolishly I didn’t anticipate that choosing the more authentic teahouse experience would mean the venue was completely outdoors and we were unprepared. It was freezing. But, the staff offered complimentary “overcoats” to stay warm and kept refilling our teacups. The performance was very cool, even if an obvious tourist trap.  It was basically a variety show showcasing the traditional acts of Sichuan Opera – there was singing, Erhu-playing, hand-puppet-play, shadow play, a hen-pecked husband skit, and of course the famous face changing. The show lasted exactly 1.5 hours and was hosted by a Chinese lady whose voice and English “translations” were a show in their own right. Overall we were pleased and it was a worth-while activity if you’re visiting Sichuan  and want a glimpse at a form of entertainment that has been around for centuries (and don’t mind that the authenticity has been inevitability compromised in the process).

home-cooked sichuan... + bai jiu

Dinner at my friend Jenny’s parents apartment – OK, you need a Chinese friend to re-create this experience but it was the highlight of the trip, meal-wise. Jenny is a close friend of ours and Jeff and I have had the privelage of eating at her parents apartment once before; they speak no English but are unbelievably sweet, hospitable, and thrilled to host foreigners. Her mom insisted on cooking a dinner for my mom and brother, fully taking into consideration the fact that my brother is a vegetarian, and the evening turned into a hilarious and delicious event – and rose to the level of epic when my brother happily threw back a bottle of bai jiu with Jeff and Jenny’s dad (I’ve never seen my brother take a shot of anything in his life). The food was better than anything you can order in a restaurant and it was so unique for my family to get to experience a Chinese family dinner. They also realized I’m not lying when I say people in Chengdu do not turn on their heaters, even in the wintertime.

the hash.

 

The Hash – Equal parts inappropriate banter and beautiful countryside, the Hash ended up being a great way to spend our Sunday despite my initial reservations about bringing mom along. I was punished for doing so, and I never thought I’d see my mom attempt to chug beer out of a piss pot, but it all happened. My brother was beyond amused at the level of adolescent humor encouraged at the Hash and we all enjoyed the scenic village, despite the fact that the Hash crew was missing several of it’s usual characters.

feisty panda cubs.

Panda Base – The general advice on this tourist-staple is to go first thing in the morning to catch the pandas before they sleep the day away. However, this is the second time I’ve ignored this advice and been pleasantly surprised. The highlight of the day was encountering a discovery channel crew filming the panda cubs who you usually only get to see behind glass in their nursery. For the filming all the cubs were out in the grass, climbing all over their handlers and the cameramen who looked as thrilled as I would be to have a baby panda climbing through my legs or even biting my bum, like the lucky handler above.

dufu.

Dufu’s Cottage – Another Chengdu site I’d yet to see, Dufu’s Thatched Cottage is a monument to the famous 8th century poet who is said to have experienced his most creative and prolific writing period during his 4 year stay in Chengdu after being exiled from Gansu Province. The grounds surrounding his cottage are scenic and peaceful, and the greater Huanhuaxi Park right beside Dufu’s former digs also makes for a nice walk. Just don’t get confused and think they are the same and spend 2 hours winding your way through the maze like trails looking for the cottage in Huanhauxi. Because it’s not there. Which we eventually learned.

veg-friendly hot pot.

Hot Pot – You literally can’t visit Chengdu without getting hot pot, but this requisite was difficult given my brother loyal vegetarianism and the fact that every hot pot I’ve had (so far) uses a meat based broth, whether you opt for spicy or yuan yang (half spicy, half not). On their second to last night in Chengdu, horrified that my family would leave this city without the life-altering gastronomic experience, Jenny and I remembered a Chongqing hot pot place near my apartment that does things a little differently – the circular table is covered in personal electric hot plates, and everyone gets their own individual pot of either spicy oil or non-spicy broth. It’s a little (alot) nicer than our usual hot pot haunts, and on our last visit there was a large table of tourists taking advntage of the foreign-friendly system so we decided to give it a try. Luckily, they offered a non-spicy mushroom broth that did not have any meat base (or so they said). They also offered an all-you-can-eat price AND a station to make your own sauce that offers all the regulars – sesame oil, vinegar, oyster sauce, cilantro, garlic – plus a lot of appealing extras – scallions, several chili oils, ground sichuan pepper, peanuts, sesame seeds, soy sauce, and so on. In the end, my brother was able to eat hot pot guilt-free, and my mom was spared the (for some) nerve-wracking experience of eating hot pot in a loud, smoky neighborhood joint where the soundtrack is loogies being hawked and drunk men yelling. But I gotta say I’m getting quite accustomed to the latter. (The Chongqing Hot Pot restaurant is located on First Ring Road 2 overpasses past Jiu Yan Qiao if your heading in the direction of Chunxi Lu).

my lovely world-traveling mama :)

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papaya, please.

Posted on February 20, 2011 | 1 Comment

In one of the most delicious weeks to date, we were taken out again Friday night to an amazing, high-brow Sichuan restaurant.  For these communal meals (I like to call them Lazy Susan Sessions), it’s all about the ordering, and our host did an incredible job. Usually, alongside the delicious dishes there are plenty we try to avoid – like tripe cooked every which way, or gelatinous blood with vegetables, or the disconcerting way that they serve small birds with their heads completely on – but this guy kept it palatable, but diverse. We ate everything, although it did feel weird to try roast dove. Kind of like we were eating peace. The most memorable, unusual dish, deserving in itself of a blog post, was the his + hers course – a unique concept because to some it would seem quite sexist for a waiter to present two very different looking plates to the men and women of the table. But I seriously lucked out in being a chick last night:

This is a double boiled papaya, with a jellied fungus soup. It took me 20 minutes and almost half the papaya to figure out that it was in fact, a papaya. Google informs me it is not a typical Sichuan dish, though jellied fungus soup is quite common in most places. It’s supposedly very good for the woman’s Shenti (health) and Jenny told me it makes you beautiful. I told her in that case I would eat one every day because they are so delicious, but she balked at the suggestion and said “NO! It only makes you beautiful if you have it twice a year!” (But according to her I should also cut out cold beverages entirely if I ever plan to have a child. I could write a book on the bizarre Chinese rules of eating and drinking). The soup was served with honey and coconut milk to pour inside – combined with the soft fleshy papaya and sweet broth of the jellied fungus, it was absolutely delicious, and unlike anything I’ve ever had before. It wasn’t overly sweet, and the boiling of the papaya altered its taste beyond recognition- at first I thought it was some relative of a sweet potato or yam, without the heavy starchiness. As a side note, Jenny also informed me that each papaya ran at about 300 kuai ($45), a price that would seem steep even in America. So I guess I can’t get used to it. I really lucked out with this delicacy – to my left Jeff had to dutifully suck down the man’s dish: a slimy, gelatinous Sea Cucumber covered in tentacles , in a murky brown sauce. It was only delicately implied that its suggestive form was good for a man’s … well, if Jenny didn’t spell it out for me, I certainly won’t spell it out for you.

i call this chinese baklava

dumplings dumplings dumplings

 

what remained of tender, juicy ribs.

spicy rabbit with melon

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baijiu bonanza

Posted on February 17, 2011 | 2 Comments

the cheap stuff

Last night we went out to the type of dinner that starts at 6 and ends after 11. I’m traditionally a big fan of 4 hour dinners, because they usually involve a lot of amazing food, but in my experience they’ve never involved 2 large handles of Baijiu (a clear liquor that is made from sorghum, often mistakenly translated as “white wine”…. it’s not). Chinese drinking culture is an interesting thing, especially to me because I love culture. And I love drinking.

I was discussing this at dinner last night with my (Chinese) friend Jenny. She asked me (for the 4th of 5th time) why foreigners like drinking alcohol so much. She gathers this impression from the movies, from her limited interaction with foreigners, and from the fact that during our week long China road trip back in October, once 5 pm rolled around Jeff and I always were asking for or already carrying a beer (it was vacation!).

the post-"gan bei"-expression

In China, the consumption of alcohol is much less of a normal, social thing and more traditionally tied to business – the theory exists that you can’t truly trust your business associates or potential clients until you’ve all gotten sufficiently wasted. So, Chinese business dinners often turn into 3 or 4 hour sessions of “Gan Bei”-ing with your Baijiu glass (informal translation: “Cheers”; direct translation: “Drink it all”) And they mean it – if you’re going to “Gan Bei,” it’s disrespectful to not finish what your holding. We explained last night that calling it a toast isn’t very accurate, because in America  a toast is not always about emptying your shot glass of 140 proof alcohol, it’s usually about taking a good sip of whatever it is you feel like drinking, in honor of whatever it is you feel like toasting to. It’s not obligatory, and it’s not repeated over and over throughout the meal. And while alcohol is certainly tied to business in America in some ways, it’s not usually a part of the business process, or exclusive to it. You get drunk after the deal is done, not as a prerequisite to the signing.

I was also reminded after my 2nd shot of baijiu that women are not expected and rarely do participate in the baijiu bingeing (for the record, it is a truly nasty tasting liquor and we were drinking one of the best bottles of it). It’s strange to me because when Jenny was asking me about foreigners affection for alcohol she was implying (in a curious, not mean way)  that we have much more of a problem with or dependence on alcohol which, in a certain sense, we do. But as Jeff and I reflected this morning – our heads aching just thinking about the Baijiu –   when the Chinese do drink they binge drink – the exact type of drinking we are taught in school and implored by our parents in America not to do. Basically Chinese dinner drinking could be compared to frat party drinking, or the general college mentality of getting completely smashed. I can’t count on two hands the number of times we’ve been walking down the street and watched a grown man in a suit, balancing on the arms of his colleagues or friends, puking his brains out into a garbage can or even better right on the sidewalk. Of course, young people drink here too, but even that is a more recent generational trend and arguably not as common as it is for young people in America. It’s an interesting contrast, and these are just my observations, based on limited experience and what’s been relayed to me by my Chinese friends. I am no authority on the topic, and to become one I’d have to suffer through a lot more Baijiu.

my FAVORITE dish ... fresh, meaty walnuts with chives

At any rate, last night was hilarious and so much fun - it was to celebrate introducing our (Chinese) friends Jenny and H with our (American) friend Walter, who amazes them with his Chinese language ability. They took us to a really traditional, famous Sichuan restaurant in Chengdu and while the food was very, very good it was the company and the experience that had most of my attention. We are so lucky to have met Jenny and H, and though it was admittedly initially exhausting for me to be friends with a couple we had such communication problems with, after 5 months we’ve all gotten to know each other so well – somehow defying the serious language and cultural barriers that seemed so imposing at first.

At the end of the night, I had Walter ask H if I had offended him with my karaoke skills last weekend because I distincly remember glancing over at H throughout the night, his face frozen in surprise?/ embarassment?/ awe? when I was dancing around and singing (like most of my friends would do in the same situation). The answer H gave Walter was not directly yes or no, and the translation relayed back to me went something like this… Well, Clara, it is true that you are unlike most Chinese girls, because most Chinese girls would not get up and jump around on the couches while singing karaoke. But we are friends, and I have known you a long time, and I know you are a liberal (read: wild), open (read: crazy) girl and I know you were just having a good time. As hard as we all laughed after his diplomatic response, it made me reflect on the significance of our close friendship with two people raised so differently from us, used to such different types of people, ways of life, and views on the world:  as much of a difference as Jenny and H are making in our lives here in Chengdu, we are changing theirs as well – just by being unlike anyone else they’ve ever known.

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