Chinese food is more diverse than Western eaters might think
ABOUT A DECADE ago, this correspondent attended a banquet in Guangzhou. The birds nest soup was gentle and slithery, the sea cucumber rich and gelatinous and the fish sparklingly fresh and perfectly steamed. The most memorable dish, however, was the plain white cup of broth served at the end. Made from chicken, probably with ham and dried scallop as well, it was simple, austere and perfect. Ending a banquet with soup may seem odd to Westerners, accustomed as they are to sweets at a meals close. But, as Fuchsia Dunlop, an English food writer, explains in an authoritative new book, stock is a unique, intrinsic expression of a chefs art, much as a voice is for a singer. And the transparent, almost invisible soup...in its quiet golden, ineffable loveliness is an ideal conclusion to a banquet, with its opulence and strong flavours. Invitation to a Banquet is Ms Dunlops seventh book. Unlike those for which she is best known, including The Food of Sichuan and Revolutionary Kitchen (about Hunanese cuisine), this is not a cookbook. Instead, she has chosen 30 dishes and used each to illuminate different aspects of Chinese cuisineand, in turn, Chinese life and history. This is less of a departure for Ms Dunlop than it seems. Like other outsiders who spend their lives focused on a foreign cuisineas Diana Kennedy, an English food writer, did in Mexico, or Paula Wolfert, an American, did in the Middle Eastshe is more a gatherer than an inventor of recipes. Ms Dunlops well-researched cookbooks read as mini-ethnographies. Readers will not learn how to make braised pomelo pith with shrimp eggs but how and why Chinese chefs have long prized unusual (and to Western palates, sometimes off-putting) ingredients, such as the bitter pith of a giant citrus fruit. An apparently humble, but in fact exceptionally laborious, dish of braised carps tail is a jumping-off point for a discussion of the importance of kougan, or mouth-feel, in Chinese cuisine. Westerners, Ms Dunlop argues, have traditionally assumed that the Chinese eat marginal animal parts out of poverty and desperation, when in fact turning up ones nose at gizzards, cartilage and jellyfish shuts the door on a range of foods that is wonderfully cui (slippery and crunchy, often in a wet way). In aggregate, Ms Dunlop makes a compelling case for the superiority of Chinese cuisine, but in a delighted and expansive rather than chauvinistic way. She shows how it has assimilated foreign influences (as other cuisines have, too), how it has changed with Chinas increasing wealth and how central it is to the countrys intellectual and cultural history. She makes an equally compelling case that what Westerners think of as Chinese food, meaning what most can find at their local takeaway, is neither inauthentic nor wrong. Instead, it is a diasporic offshoot that reflects local tastes but is about as representative of the cuisines diversity as a frozen pizza is of Italys. Immigration and adventurousness have made the real thing more accessible than ever outside China. Eaters should savour that. Read more from World in a dish, our column on food: How Provencal rose became the summer tipple par excellence (Aug 4th) Confronting the dangers of ultra-processed food (Jul 27th) When it comes to ice cream, the instinct to innovate is misguided (Jul 13th) For more on the latest books, films, TV shows, albums and controversies, sign up to Plot Twist, our weekly subscriber-only newsletter