What is the quintessential food of China? If you said rice you wouldn't be wrong, but, as I discovered recently during a week of cruising along the Yangtze River, you wouldn't be completely right either.
The Yangtze divides China roughly in half -- not only geographically, but culturally as well. As "The Cambridge World History of Food" observes, "Once travelers from Beijing have crossed the Yangtze River they are in the south and everything is different for the palate." Thus, in the south, to be sure, rice is the major staple. But in the north, noodles reign supreme.
Noodles, of course, are ubiquitous all over Asia, except, curiously, in India. In Japan their popularity has even generated heated controversy over the traditional practice of energetically slurping while eating them. But, as food writer Joy Davies, who spent a year traveling in Asia and Central America in pursuit of the best noodle and pasta recipes, declares, "China is the heart of all noodle making." Thus, some pasta scholars even maintain that in the ancient dish Beijing noodles the Chinese actually originated spaghetti with meat sauce. After all, even an Italian, Marco Polo, during a trip to Hangzhou was captivated by the Chinese way with noodles, though contrary to popular myth he was not responsible for introducing them to Italy, where pasta was already well known.
Though the origin of noodles is somewhat obscure, with some suggesting that they may have begun in what is now Iran (where, ironically, today they have been eclipsed by pilaf), once they were introduced to China, which some credit as the first country in Asia to make them, they took off. There you'll find a noodle shop on nearly every corner patronized by customers not only at lunch or dinner but at breakfast as well. In Guilin, for example, they offer a special version which I ate every morning while I was there. As the "Oxford Companion to Food" notes, noodles are important to Chinese culture. Because of their length they symbolize longevity, and therefore no Chinese birthday celebration would be complete without them.
It should not be surprising that the Chinese have elevated the noodle to a high plane because cooking itself is a high endeavor in that country. Whereas other cultures regard food preparation as a craft, the Chinese consider it an art. Confucius himself helped raise cooking above the level of a menial task by setting forth culinary standards which are still followed today, such as the practice of cutting foods into bite size pieces during preparation and not at the table. The latter is considered primitive and in poor taste by the Chinese which, ultimately, implies that the use of a knife and fork is less advanced than the use of chopsticks. Confucius also decreed that harmony among ingredients with respect to their size, shape, fragrance, taste and texture should be the goal of the chef.
The Chinese have always considered cooking as one of the first steps out of savagery and into civilization and even in ancient times assigned it a major role. Thus, during the Zhou dynasty (1066-771 B.C.), half of the staff of the imperial palace, more than 2,000 people, was engaged in preparing food for the emperor and his family. Legend has it that cooking and food were so important in ancient China that the Emperor Tang, founder of the Shang dynasty nearly 4,000 years ago, appointed as his prime minister Yi Yin, a renowned cook.
No wonder, then, that in China even the method of making noodles, let alone cooking them, involves movements that, as cookbook author Yan-Kit So explains, can be likened to a dance. After making a smooth dough out of water and flour and kneading it many times, the noodle master rolls it into a tubular shape. Then holding each end at shoulder level, he stretches out the dough, then folds it back to its original length, and stretches it again. This rhythmic "dancing" of the dough continues until the mixture is elastic enough to stretch so long that if falls into a semi-circle. Then the noodle master deftly, using one hand, twists the dough into a rope hanging in mid-air. This action is repeated several times before the dough is finally placed on a cutting board where it is folded and split. Each split doubles the number of strands and in only eight cuttings there are 256 individual noodles created. Having seen this process first-hand I can assure you that it requires dexterity and poise sufficient to make even a Barishnykov envious.
This procedure produces noodles which, unlike Italian pasta, are not diverse in shape, being either wide or narrow, but which are quite varied in the kinds of starch on which they are based. Wheat, rice, beans, corn and even sweet potatoes are all employed and Chinese noodles may also be flavored with shrimp or squid. In Japan, green tea is a common additive. The major types of Chinese noodles include mian (wheat noodles), sha he fen (rice noodles), mi fen/lai fen (rice sticks) and fen si (mung bean noodles), often called cellophane or glass noodles. Some work best in soups while others are well suited to frying. But all of them are delicious, and, as any ramen-reliant college student will tell you, if you are looking for a meal that is quick, convenient, and economical, try using your noodle.
Spicy Asian Noodle Salad
This delightful recipe is adapted from Sharon Tyler Herbst's "Cooking Smart," a book whose recipes never disappoint. You could substitute some other hard sausage for the Chinese variety or even use chicken, but it's worth seeking out the genuine article. This dish makes a great main course for a hot summer day.
Ingredients:
1 pound Chinese wheat noodles
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup sesame oil
1/3 cup light soy sauce
1/4 smooth peanut butter
1/4 cup brown sugar
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon molasses
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons minced ginger
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 cup chopped green onions, both white and green parts
1/3 cup chopped cilantro
1/2 pound thinly sliced Chinese sausage
1/4 cup sesame seeds, toasted
Directions:
Cook noodles in boiling water to al dente stage and drain. In a blender or food processor combine oils, soy sauce, peanut butter, sugar, vinegar, molasses, garlic, ginger and red pepper and blend until smooth. Pour dressing over noodles, tossing to combine. Add onions, cilantro and sausage, cover and refrigerate for at least 8 hours, tossing occasionally. Before serving, toss noodles, adding a tablespoon or two of warm water to moisten if necessary, sprinkle with sesame seeds, and allow to come to room temperature. Serves 4.
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