Six Bowls of Noodles in Taiyuan

The knife-shaved noodles (刀削面) I saw cut off of dough on top of somebody's head while they balanced on a unicycle at Shanxi Huiguan are a famous style of noodles in Shanxi province. The knife, cutting style, and dough are critical components. Placing the dough on your head or having a unicycle handy is not.

Many other styles of noodles can be found in Shanxi, and trying all of them is a bit of a challenge. The Taiyuan Noodle Shop, another well-known restaurant, makes things a little easier with its set meal of six noodle styles accompanied by various sauces and meats.

You can mix and match as you would like. Admittedly, the combo made by a server to help get me started was better than any of my own creations. In terms of the noodles, the cat's ear noodles (猫耳朵), named for their distinctive shape, were my favorite.

Unicycle Head Noodles in Taiyuan

Does cutting Shanxi-style noodles off of dough on top your head sound impressive? How about cutting noodles while on a unicycle?

Cutting noodles off of dough on top your head while on a unicycle? Now that's really something.

The noodles I had just finished before watching this performance last night at a well-known restaurant in Taiyuan were another type. On one hand, I doubt they were cut by somebody on a unicycle. On the other hand, I can't completely rule out they were cut by somebody on a tricycle.

Barbecue and Baijiu in Taiyuan

It was late, and I hadn't yet had dinner. So I went out and headed to a late-night barbecue place in Taiyuan. Due to the recent rains they didn't have any vegetable options. I am unclear about the connection, but "tomorrow" they said.

As I waited for my meat kebabs, the cook took a drink of a clear liquid from a thin plastic cup. When I see people drinking water I sometimes joke that I think they are drinking baijiu, a rather strong Chinese alcohol. But as I made the usual joke, I realized that the cook was probably really drinking baijiu.

He smiled and spoke to his assistant. A jug of baijiu appeared, and soon I held a plastic cup with a healthy amount of baijiu.

And so, we drank.

Cleaning Crayfish in Taiyuan

Tonight at a famous food street in Taiyuan, Shanxi, I saw a man cleaning live crayfish one at a time with soap, water, and a toothbrush.

Because who wants to eat a dirty barbecued crayfish?

I share this because there are so many perspectives from which to view it. Choose one. Choose them all. I lean towards the latter.

A Big Bowl of Rice in Historical Sujiawei Village

Look at this — another family-sized portion of rice.

The bowl was served alongside some excellent Hakka-style chicken and snow peas in Sujiawei, an old village in Heyuan, Guangdong. At the time, the traditional surroundings where I ate this meal were far more notable than the large bowl of rice. Even some talkative geese in the village were more worthy of attention.

Buckets of Rice Abound: China Expert Gets It Wrong at a Chinese Restaurant in the U.S.

Although acknowledged by a seemingly growing number of people, China's immense diversity remains difficult to grasp. It is also easy to forget. A story in The Washington Post about a recent incident involving a group of diners and a big bowl of rice at the Chinese restaurant Peter Chang in Arlington, Virginia, U.S., touches upon this:

One of the diners, who had lived in Beijing for much of the 2000s, was surprised [when a server brought out a family-style bowl of rice] and made a comment to the server, saying "'Oh, you guys don't serve them in individual rice bowls?'," related another diner in the party, who asked to go by his first name, Matt.

The server told the group that when rice is served to three or more diners at Peter Chang, it comes in a large bowl. The former Beijing resident thought that was odd, considering the family-sized portion ran counter to the personalized bowls he encountered in China. The server then asked if the foursome would like individual rice bowls instead. They declined.

"She said, 'No, no, I can bring it for you,'" Matt related. "He said, 'No, no, don't worry about it. It's fine. Just wanted to let you know that's the way it's done in China. It's not a big deal.' . . . It just got really awkward."

Read the rest of story for the sarcasm and insults which followed and the resulting fallout. I will just focus on the claim made by Matt's friend. Had I had been there, I would have felt compelled to respond.

But before sharing what I would have said, I would like to take a slight detour and introduce a wonderful, spicy chicken dish (茶油鸡) I enjoyed in Hengyang, Hunan.

Looks delicious, right? It was. But what I really want to highlight is in another picture I hadn't expected to ever share here. It shows the dish in a more-consumed state.

The photo also includes a family-sized portion of rice served in a shiny metal bucket. I wasn't surprised by it at all. And I didn't question the waitress about it.

How the rice was served at a nearby trendier restaurant did surprise me though.

It is hard to see in the above photo, so I will share a cropped version.

At this restaurant, you can have your family-sized portion of rice served in a rice cooker which sat on your table. In my experience, this is rather unusual.

But what isn't unusual in Hengyang is restaurants serving family-sized portions of rice for diners to share. In fact, it is quite common. Part of a rice bucket can be seen in this photo of a tasty chicken dish at another restaurant in Hengyang.

And at yet another restaurant, one can be seen in this photo of my favorite eel dish in Hengyang.

Are family-sized portions of rice just a Hengyang thing? Nope, it is common elsewhere in Hunan province too. For example, here is a photo of a spicy chicken dish (earlier shared here) I enjoyed several times at a restaurant in Hunan's capital, Changsha.

In this case, a lovely wooden bucket was used. They are common as well. Please don't complain to your server about these. Wooden buckets of rice are the best.

So are family-sized portions of rice just a Hunan thing? Again, no.

Here is a part of a meal I enjoyed over nine years ago in Wuhan, Hubei.

In this case, a big glass bowl for the family-sized portion of rice worked just fine.

But the glory of wooden buckets shouldn't be forgotten, so here is one with a lot of rice at an incredible vegetarian restaurant in Guiyang, Guizhou.

At another restaurant in Guiyang, this one with meat on the menu, a big metal bowl sufficed for the family-sized portion of rice.

But Peter Chang isn't famed for serving the local-style food found in Hunan, Hubei, and Guizhou. Instead, it is described as an "authentic Sichuan outpost". I happen to be a big fan of Sichuan-style (Szechuanese) food. On that note, here is a rabbit dish I ate in Zigong, Sichuan.

Now that is a stunning wooden bucket (with rice).

Here is another rabbit dish I ate in Zigong.

Both of these meals in Zigong came with family-sized portions of rice. Like rabbit meat, this is common there.

I am not familiar with the details of Peter Chang's menu, but many Sichuan restaurants outside of Sichuan province base their menu on the style of food found in its capital Chengdu.

So here is a dish I enjoyed during my most recent visit to Chengdu.

I am not sure whether this is a rabbit or a chicken dish, but there was definitely plenty of rice in that beautiful wooden bucket.

Undoubtedly, many places in China serve "personalized bowls" of rice. In my experience, region is one key factor affecting the likelihood of receiving a family-sized portion of rice at a restaurant in China. Other factors matter as well. Even in a city such as Hengyang where family-sized portions of rice are especially common, single servings in small bowls are typical in some environments — for example, cafeteria-style restaurants.

I don't know the percentage of restaurants in China which serve family-sized portions of rice, and a guess wouldn't be very meaningful. But I am confident it is significant number. I don't take photos of every meal I eat, when I do photograph a meal I rarely capture how the rice is served, and in preparing this post I only searched through a small percentage of my photos for relevant examples. In other words, these photos represent just a tiny portion of the many times in China I have been served a family-sized portion of rice. This is all the more remarkable, since in a majority of the above examples I was eating alone and would sometimes point out I only needed a small bowl of rice. But the bucket or big bowl of rice would still come.

So if I had been at that table in Virginia, I would have asked Matt's friend what in the world he was talking about and pointed out that serving family-sized portions of rice is certainly another "way it's done in China", particularly in a place such as Sichuan. I would be curious to learn about his own experience in China to better understand how he came to his conclusion. Perhaps we would discuss how China's "different colors" trip up even the people who may know it best.

And hopefully it would have been possible at some point for me to say "pass that authentic and awesome wooden bucket of rice".

Tasting Kinmen

Making fresh oyster fritters (蚵嗲) at E Dia Zhi Jia (蚵嗲之家) in Kinmen

Nearly-finished oyster fritters

Customers in a slow-moving line at the popular snack stall

Glorious Fermented Eggs in Kinmen, Taiwan

When a sign for fermented eggs beckons

Recently near the historic Wentai Pagoda in Kinmen, I noticed a sign for "Yeh's Fermented Eggs" (葉氏酒釀蛋) and a group of tourists in a short line. I can't say I was craving fermented eggs at the time, but I figured it was worth trying one for posterity. I didn't expect much.

Beautiful fermented eggs

Now I will write something I had not expected to write. Yeh's Fermented Eggs are tasty. Really tasty. They might not be enough on their own to justify a trip to the Taiwanese island near Xiamen. But if life brings you to the Wentai Pagoda, I heartily recommend giving an egg a try. The Yehs will appreciate it and so will your fermentation-craving tastebuds, if you have those.

Based on some online photos, it appears Yeh's Fermented Eggs have been sold at no less than two different locations near the pagoda. So my best advice to find it is to ask somebody or follow people who have a twinkle in their eye due to knowing some fermented eggs are about to make their day a bit more special.

When you wonder if you should buy a few more eggs for the road

Eggs aren't the way I had expected to first mention that I am currently in Taiwan, but it will do. More about the journey I made from Jieyang and other non-egg topics are on the way.

Ordering Chinese Takeout in Jieyang

Rice Noodle Roll Steam in Jieyang

Pizza Hut Introduces Its Own Durian Pizza in China

Last month I tried an unusual and odoriferous pizza at La César in Shenzhen. One half had a black mushroom topping, and the other half, more notably, had durian — a strong-smelling fruit people often describe as either glorious or revolting. Although I would be happier with just plain durian, my first experience with durian pizza was mostly a success, especially when eating the leftovers for breakfast.

About a week ago in Jieyang, I noticed Pizza Hut is getting into the durian pizza craze too for a limited time.

Tempted by this durian pizza?

Normally in a city such as Jieyang I would want to immerse myself in the local food offerings as much as possible. But I have been here long enough that I found it reasonable to sacrifice a meal to give Pizza Hut's durian pizza a try. So I stopped by for lunch today.

Partially-opened durian sans pizza

The menu included a special for a half and half pizza. I went with the durian and "New Orleans style" toppings.

Can't say I found the photo enticing

I took a seat on the second floor, which offered a great perch to watch the flow of traffic at the adjacent street intersection. Happily, no accidents occurred, and soon my pizza arrived.

As expected, a bit different from the photo

It was smaller than the La César pizza I ordered, not surprising given the lower cost, and the durian appeared to be distributed in larger chunks.

Like before, I started with the less sweet non-durian side. Also like before, one drawback to the split pizza was the strong durian smell somewhat interfered with enjoying the other side. Disappointingly, the New Orleans toppings reminded me far less of the American city than the New Orleans roasted chicken street food I ate last year in Hunan. Unlike most food in New Orleans, the pizza tasted rather bland. After just one bite I made a dash for Tabasco sauce. It didn't help that much. The durian side was also rather unspectacular, though the large chunks of durian on two of the slices were appreciated. I didn't consider adding any Tabasco sauce to it. One positive is all of the pizza had plenty of cheese.

This is an easy call. I don't expect to order the pizza again. Both halves of the pizza I had at La César were far superior in taste and texture. In all fairness to Pizza Hut's durian pizza, I am not a big fan of their style of pizza in general. There are other places for pizza I prefer in cities such as Shanghai, Hong Kong, or even Zhongshan. I am not familiar with Jieyang's pizza world, though, and could imagine Pizza Hut is one of the better options here.

So if you like Pizza Hut and also durian, their durian pizza may still be worth a try. But if I develop cravings for a durian pizza, I will hold out for somewhere else. And for dinner tonight, I will be returning to Jieyang's local delicacies.

A Sunny and Fishy Day in Jieyang

After a number of cloudy days Jieyang, today's clearer skies inspired some to head outdoors.

After all, the weather was good for sunning your fish.

Signs of Goat Meat in Jieyang

As was evident with the previous lunar year's zodiac symbol, the Chinese character 羊 (yáng) can refer to sheep, goats, rams, and other related animals. Professor of Chinese Language and Literature Victor Mair uses the term "ovicaprid" when translating instances of 羊 (yáng) which are ambiguous. "Caprinae" may work as well. My earlier idea to go with "Year of the Yang" never took off.

Although adding a preceding Chinese character provides more clarity, it is still common in China to see 羊 (yáng) without one. For example, a man I recently saw selling goat milk in Chaozhou evidently felt that no additional character was needed. But at a market in Jieyang I passed through the other day, I saw several instances of 山羊 (shānyáng), which typically refers to goats.

They weren't selling milk like the vendors with goats on tricycle carts I saw nearby. The third character in these signs means "meat".

Elsewhere in Jieyang, I saw a restaurant sign which used 羊 (yáng) alone, once again with the meat character following. During my earlier days in China I would have assumed this meant sheep meat was on the menu. Given how I have seen the character used elsewhere in this region, though, I wasn't shocked to see a picture of a goat below.

So what do they write in Jieyang when referring to sheep? I haven't explored this fascinating issue, but I did see one man selling sheep meat who didn't write anything at all. The head and skin did seem to communicate enough on their own though.

More on Foods with Durian

Durian hawker in Hanoi, Vietnam, five years ago

In response to my first taste of durian pizza and my stated preference for plain durian, a reader in the U.S., a country were I doubt most people could even identify the fruit, shared his own durian-related preferences:

For what it's worth, my first exposure to durian was in ice cream. I didn’t like it. I also tried durian muffins — also not so good. I then discovered that I do quite like plain durian — so long as we’re outside and the smell can dissipate.

I had previously wondered whether treats such as a durian ice cream could be a way for more people to gain an appreciation of durian. The reader's experience made me question that, though the unenjoyable treats may have primed him for a more pleasurable first experience eating plain durian. Perhaps if he revisits the muffins he may now have a different impression. It is also worth noting that people can have strong preferences for a specific durian variety, of which there are many. There are so many variables to consider, but at least the reader's story has a happy ending. He may be heartened to learn I ate the strong-smelling durian pizza outside.

As planned, I ate the leftover durian pizza at room temperature (inside) for breakfast. I must say, it was a great way to start the day. I now see durian pizza in a new light and am wondering if I could get a durian pizza delivered in the early morning — with extra durian, of course.

No Donkey Today, Just Durian Pizza in Shenzhen

For a late lunch today in Shenzhen, I headed to the COCO Park — a trendy shopping mall with a number of restaurants. After all of the recent posts about donkey meat, I was in the mood to try something different.

In the mall's central courtyard area outside, an advertisement for a Vietnamese restaurant tempted me.

But the restaurant didn't fit the "different" category for me.

Inside the mall I saw a banner inside advertising the Sajiao Chilli Restaurant. It promised "ALL FOODS ARE USED ONLY ONCE!"

I typically eat food which has only been used once. So, again, tempting but not different. Or at least I hope so.

Next, from afar I spotted WareHouse.

Their pizza was tempting too, but it still couldn't pass the "different" test.

But I didn't have to give up hope on enjoying some pizza. Fortunately, I was able to find an appropriate restaurant next to a large sign promoting it.

Like WareHouse, La César specializes in pizza.

More important for today's goal, it specializes in a pizza I had never tried before. No, not donkey meat pizza (still haven't seen that). The main ingredient for their famous pizza is durian — a fruit that evokes a wide range of responses from people. Some can't bear the smell. Some are attracted to the fruit so much they wonder if people have died from durian overdoses. I fall into the latter category, and someday I will write an ode, or perhaps just a post, about durian. Today is just for durian pizza.

The restaurant allows you to order a pizza with two different toppings at no extra cost. So for one half I ordered the standard durian topping (there are pricier varieties of durian available) and for the other half I went for a black mushroom topping with tomato sauce (they have a number of other non-durian options as well).

The half and half option is an excellent offering since the durian pizza is sweet and could serve as a dessert. One drawback is that the strong durian smell can coverup some of the smells from the other pizza. Ideally, I would want the durian half of the pizza brought out later, though it's hard to escape durian smells regardless since the durian pizza is a popular choice.

The results? Keeping the dessert theme in mind, I started with the more savory mushroom side. It was good although more fresh basil would have been appreciated. The crust reminded me of Little Caesars in the U.S.

The all-important durian side was pretty good as well. It works, though I'm not sure the cheese was really necessary other than for texture. Which leads to my common impression when trying durian ice cream, durian cookies, etc. I like them but often feel like I would be better off just eating a plain durian.

If you like pizza and you like durian, the durian pizza will probably pass. As long as the half/half option remains, I can see myself returning someday. Tomorrow, I look forward to seeing whether leftover durian pizza works for breakfast.

Tough Choices: Lamb, Donkey, Noodles, or Food With a British Theme in Zhuhai

I have seen many restaurants in China serving donkey meat in addition to the ones I tried in Handan and in Huizhou. These restaurants often specialize in donkey meat. But some offer options, such as this restaurant in Zhuhai, Guangdong:

Lamb or donkey both readily available

If those options didn't appeal, across the street in front of the New Yuan Ming Palace (a place deserving a post of its own someday) another set of options were available.



I didn't take advantage of any of these choices. And I am not sure whether Sweet Home serves authentic British food. Pizza appears to be on the menu though. I doubt you can get donkey meat as a topping, but it's worth asking.

No Freshly Baked Buns: A Donkey Meat Restaurant in Huizhou

Mention of a donkey crisis in China and its possible impact on donkey meat dumplings inspired reader wallaby78 to write:

I love my local donkey meat place! They serve the meat in a freshly baked bun.... I'm hungry now.

This brings to mind places I have tried or seen in Beijing. Due to a technical problem, I can't share photos of them at the moment. So instead, I will continue the theme by sharing where I ate donkey meat over 4 years ago in Huizhou, Guangdong.

The restaurant offered a variety of donkey meat dishes. I went for something simple and also ordered some greens.

No freshly baked buns, but of course there was rice.

Hungrier now?

Gelatin and Dumpling Woes: China Needs More Donkeys

Rare are the days when The New York Times mentions a "donkey crisis" and "ass glue", but such occurred today. Chris Buckley reports a shortage of donkeys in China increases the likelihood your donkey skin gelatin is a fake. This poses a problem especially for people who believe the gelatin has medicinal properties and can't be replaced with even mule skin gelatin or horse skin gelatin — those are completely different.

To my knowledge, I have never ingested donkey skin gelatin. I may have been affected by China's donkey dilemma in another way though. The news made me think of a restaurant in Handan, Hebei province, where five years ago I ate my first donkey dumpling.

Restaurants serving donkey meat generally aren't difficult to find in China, and Handan isn't the only place where I have eaten it. My first experience was at a restaurant in Shanghai and later experiences occurred in Beijing and Huizhou. I didn't expect any special benefits from the meat and selected the dishes out of curiosity and the desire to immerse myself in China's food culture. Donkey dumplings definitely aren't for everybody, but I haven't heard a convincing argument as to why eating donkey meat is ethically very different from eating other meats such as beef.

In dumplings, sandwiches, or hot pots, the meat had a distinctive flavor. When friends have asked about the taste, I stated the obvious: it tastes like ass. But now I have more reason to question whether all of the dishes I tried included genuine donkey meat. Am I more of an ass if they did or they did not? I can easily imagine how some friends might reply.

Hakka Mijiu in Xiamen

I had another second post in mind for tonight. In mind . . .

But then I sought food for dinner. By the time I arrived at my first destination the finer offerings were gone. So I retraced my routed through some alleys. Or roads. It can sometimes be hard to tell the difference. But I made my way to a hole-in-the-wall seafood restaurant which had earlier caught my eye and settled on some green veggies and octopus.

And then something happened. Sitting next to me was a group of friendly guys.

And before I knew it I was being poured homemade Hakka-style mijiu.

Those who know their Chinese alcohols will know this is a sweet and sometimes rather tasty drink but not especially strong. So I will add that this followed the more typical industry-made baijiu — neither tasty nor weak.

I escaped relatively unharmed. The mijiu was a nice change of pace. The baijiu was your typical passable Jiangxi baijiu. In other words, it didn't burn a hole through my throat, so all is grand.

That post I had in mind, maybe tomorrow.