Liang Hongfu

Tasty Beijing snacks lack broad appeal

By Liang Hongfu (China Daily)
Updated: 2006-03-28 05:42

Last weekend, a friend who grew up in Beijing took it upon herself to introduce me to the almost mystic world of traditional "small foods," or snacks, that have been the favourites of the capital city's natives for centuries. I have read about these delicacies in many Chinese novels, including the world famous Dream of the Red Chamber, and heard them mentioned in numerous historical dramas. Although I have been living in Beijing on and off for nearly two years, I've only had a chance to eat a few of the vast variety of traditional Beijing snacks.

That is not because I have been unadventurous, but because the shops serving and selling these foods are mostly located in alleys, or hutong, that are known only to the city's natives. Even if you happen to pass by one of these shops, you'd most likely be turned off by its grubby appearance and the unsavoury foods on display in greasy cases.

That's a pity. Even for a Cantonese who is used to "dim sum" of a hugely different style, I found some of the Beijing snacks quite tasty, and they were cheap. But as an elderly gentleman sipping pungent dou zhi, or fermented bean juice, lamented, traditional snacks seem to hold little appeal to Beijing people, especially younger ones, who have deserted in droves to US fast food outlets like McDonald's and Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Like many other quality products that are long on tradition but short on packaging, Beijing snack foods are loosing out to the many Western-style varieties such as hamburgers, pretzels, donuts, cream cakes and breads. It doesn't have to be this way.

Take the lowly wonton (dumpling) noodle soup in Hong Kong. It used to be served mainly in the many roadside cooked food stalls in poor neighbourhoods. A small bowl cost no more than 10 US cents. Patrons sat on folding chairs or squatted on the pavement curbs while passing cars threw up a cloud of dust.

When the Hong Kong economy took off in the 1970s, wonton noodle soup was going the way of the Dodos as the many cooked food stalls where it was served shut. That was the time when McDonald's and Kentucky Fried Chicken opened in Hong Kong and Western-style pastries became the rage.

Wonton noodle soup were underground. The few places left that had continued to serve this snack were known only to a few nostalgic food lovers who didn't mind making the trek to these hole-in-the-wall eateries in some run-down inner city neighbourhoods.

Recognizing the inherent appeal of traditional Cantonese fast foods and snacks, an enterprising caterer opened an up-market restaurant specializing in such cuisine in the posh neighbourhood of Happy Valley. It was an instant hit among the many young professionals living in that area. Word spread and the restaurant began drawing crowds from around the city.

There, wanton noodle soup served in bone-china bowls cost US$5. The bill for a regular meal for two could easily amount to more than US$20, which was very high indeed in the early 80s when the average household income was about US$300 a month.

Since then, traditional Cantonese fast foods and snacks have gone up-market instead of down the drain. Now, wonton noodle restaurants that serve a wide variety of other foods and snacks can be found in all commercial and residential districts. They are fighting on an equal footing with the many McDonald's and Kentucky Fried Chicken's outlets for market share.

The traditional Chinese cakes with a vast variety of fillings, ranging from the simple bean paste to an elaborate combination of ham and nuts, have also enjoyed a resurgence as a niche snack for the discerning few. Each cake, the size of a small tea cup plate, is individually vacuum-packed in fancy wrapper. This is a big step up from what it used to be. I remember when I was a kid, a housemaid gave me a one wrapped in old newspaper.

That image resurfaced in my mind on the morning when I bought a few pieces of the wonderfully delicious wandouhuang, a kind of pea flour mousse, from a small food stand in a hutong off Huguosi main street in the western part of Beijing, and the shop keeper dumped them in a thin plastic bag.

Email: jamesleung@chinadaily.com.cn

(China Daily 03/28/2006 page4)