Cha Xiu Bao

PR in China 101: Restaurant in Guangxi gives discount to shirtless men and ladies in miniskirts

For the very first time, this blog is writing an open letter to a restaurant. The honor goes to boss Wang of a Small Sea Big Teahouse in the Nanning city of Guangxi province, China.

Dear Boss Wang,

First of all allow me to express my sincerest congratulations to you and your team for putting off such a classy act of promotion stunt strategy. I mean, sweet Confucius, who would have thought this up but you, a man of the distinctive sophistication and vision? Giving discount to half-naked dudes and chicks in miniskirts?! Pure genius. 100% marketing gold.

I know that someone out must be sniffing at what you're doing. But man, please ignore them.

This dress less and pay less methodology is anything but a sign of decadence and moral deterioration. Quite the contrary, I take it a sign of advancement. It's totally the way it ought to be -- that's what dress code is for, right?  More than anything, it shows to the world that we, as a nation, has come of age and that we have nothing to hide.

And you know what, I bet you're a patriotic Communist. Just when our faith to the Party is squandering because not a sane man in China can afford to buy house, you single-handedly managed to bring the faith back by telling us what is it all about socialism with Chinese characteristics other than a yellow ox leaving a dump of dang by the storefront of the Starbucks somewhere in Anhui. One step at a time, you show the world our true colors. You show us what is nudism with Chinese characteristics (富有中國特色的裸露主義).  You're absolutely right. Is there anything in the world that's easier to understand than our own bodies?

Gosh, the scheme is all coming together:

1. Strangers and friends gathering to eat on a round table, classic scene for any, I mean any Chinese film.  
2. Half-naked instead of full monty, it's a bit wishy-washy at first glance but in essence totally in line with the teachings from the Doctrine of the Mean (中庸之道).  Either upper or lower but can't have it all. Just like Chairman Mao once said, "Either the east wind prevails over the west wind or the west wind prevails the east wind." Wow is the only word I can put for such Chineseque.
   
3. And then to say no materialism and to dress low? Man, that's a bull eye shot for the spirit of typical Chinese frugality.
   
4. Speaking of good spirit, we all know how pragmatic Chinese are. Eating in a sleep-like outfit really saves time for all of us -- we're going to get laidbed after dinner whatsoever, why not undress beforehand so that no one needs to second guess what everyone else is up to? Hello everyone, the first date with your lover at the restaurant please? Just imagine how much faster the night could wrap up if you were eating face to face in undies...
   

Boss Wang, you ARE such a brainiac! 

But there's more, way more. You see what matters most among what matters most (重中之重) and you make it look so easy.

You not only show us how far far ahead of the game you are, you also let the world knows how much you care about our environment, which is a scarcity in China that's holy enough to get you beatification. The maths is simple: we dress less so that no one needs any air-con; go half-naked and have our hairless arms reflecting moonlight in the dark so that we don't need any illumination. What have we got here?

Zero CO2 emission, tada!  Global warming is ended and world is saved in your hand. Boss Wang, I swear Noble prize is just around the corner waiting for you.

Boss Wang, there's so many more compliments I wanna say to you out of my chest but I think I'd better stop my gibberish here because you must be really busy with your operation. Anyways, keep up the good work!

Best regards,

CXB

p.s. If I were you, I would cut the table clothes back as well. Otherwise, there's no telling who's eating naked, right?

Classic food book of China: Jiu Huang Ben Cao 救荒本草 (Materia Medica for the Relief of Famine)

What a gorgeous book! Sharing with you a very delectable book I'm reading now, Yeshi (edit note: original name Jiu Huang Ben Cao 救荒本草, Materia Medica for the Relief of Femine) by Zhu Su 朱橚, the fifth son of Zhu Yuanzhang 朱元璋, the founder and first emperor of the Ming Dynasty of China.

The book showcases over 400 kinds of edible wild greens. While Ben Cao Gang Mu (The Compendium of Materia Medica) written by Li Shizhen was the representative work of that era by collecting almost every plants of medicinal value, Jiu Huang Ben Cao picks up the slack by recording by what matters most to us: what greens in the wild is edible.

Another cool thing about this book is the briefing that goes with each greens. Read it and you'll see the book is doing every foodie a biblical favor. Dietary guide, check. Medicinal value, check. Easy to follow recipes, check and, even if the greens is poisonous in the first place, the book shows you how to get around it and eat the rugged thing all the same like it's nobody's business!

Yet, the most beautiful thing of Yeshi has got to be the famous artwork that goes into it. Being the son of tyrant, Zhu Su certainly has the kind of wealth that only the richest oil mogul of modern days can match with. Not afraid to flaunt it when he has it, he hires a shoal of painters to do the artwork.  So not only book is packed with crafty writings for wild greens, there is also some of the most beautiful classic illustrations ever done for them. 

Taiwan Night Market: Monga (艋舺)

What are the odds that you went to a place out of serendipity and only to find later someone actually made a film about that place? What's more, the film later surpasses everyone's expectation and becomes best selling film for Taiwan? But hold on -- even trickier is the fact that the single one restaurant you dined at when you're in that place is named the same to the movie!

In plain English, I went to Monga when I was in Monga neighborhood at the time that Monga was showing in Taiwan.

But before I get time trickled fast like sand in timer and aimlessly dramatic further -- and most importantly, you fell asleep, I want to tell you that Monga is the antiquated name for the Wanhua District, a place widely known for its night markets (and the one and only Snake Alley in Taipei where you can go and devour, you know, snake).  See, how things are coming together?

We went to Monga, a daipaidong-styled restaurant same as manly as the movie, to try out its famous jiang mu ya hotpot (薑母鴨煲). Jiang for aged gingers and mu ya for equally aged ducks (edit note: mu in this context doesn't annotates gender; its a Taiwanese dialect that means old).

National Dish for National Day: Scramble eggs with Tomatoes -- Part II

In the last post I left with the announcement that scrambled eggs with tomatoes is our national dish. In the second part, I'll show you the reasons why such announcement was made one by one, like the way Premiere Hu was inspecting the marching troops at the Tiananman Square on October 1st. 

There's so many ways for me to begin the inquisition but first off, I must highlight our penchant for the color red and yellow as a nation -- just in case you've no clue of how our flag is like. 

Red is, to a large extent, in every Chinese's blood. Historically, red is the color we used to get rid of evil spirit, which  explains why the pillars and walls of the palaces are all painted red. Over times, the symbolic value of red gets richer and it equates the color for fortune and joy, to which is why the principle color for lanterns, couplets and jianzhi used in festivals are red. In most parts of China, parents still insist the bride to wear red dress in the wedding banquet (in stark contrast to the West, we wear white clothes during the mourning time). 

Then, ever since the dawn of Chairman Mao and the Communist's reign, red has become the underlying color for the Communist party (and the Red Guards). It is also said that the red color in our flag represents the blood shed by mortars who died in the battles for our country. 

Yellow on the other hand, not only has been associated with wealth and harmony, but it has been the center color for us since the founding of our totem. It is still not uncommon to refer us as the "yellow" people in usages similar to that of the "black" or "white" people from the past. 

At the core of our rapture for yellow, it can also be attributed to the fact we all regard ourselves to the descendant of Yan & Yellow Emperor (Huangdi). Moreover, yellow also unmistakably manifests the color for generations of emperor. Up until the Qing dynasty, yellow clothes was strictly reserved for the imperial uses and commons were forbidden to dress anything in yellow. Each emperor would get a new, bright yellow dragon robe (longpao) on the day of his enthronement; with nine flying dragons embroidered on that. For reason unknown to fashion designers nowadays, the dragons are also painted in yellow [edit: only the dragons for emperor is allowed to be five-clawed; the dragons for the rest are either four or three-clawed so to attest that he's born as the Son of Heaven ] 

And lest we forget, the Yellow River is also said to be the Mother River of China and the cradle of Chinese civilization. 

Second, we shall examine the ingredient itself. 

The reason why so many people fail to see why scrambled eggs and tomatoes deserves to be come to the fore is that they fail to see the mighty collective fixation our race has on eggs through this dish like I do. Believe it or not, we heart eggs, or dan in Mandarin and we heart it no less than a French loves cheese. We love it so much so that we must spell and recite the word everyday to put us at peace. For example, we have huangbadan for son of a bitch; bendan for fool; huaidan for douche; qiongquadan for stony-broke person; and last but not least, if we want to ask someone to fuck off politely, we'd ask him/her to gundan. Putting scrambled eggs with tomatoes to the altar in front of Chairman Mao's portrait would be without a question the ultimate way to honor such collective fixation. 

But semantic isn't the only reason why we love eggs. Chinese mythology has it that, the first living being of the universe, Pangu, was born inside a cosmic egg in the very beginning of time. The upper half of the egg formed the Heaven (yang) and the lower half became the Earth (ying).  

Nay-sayers, by now, would probably be roiled and say my benevolent dictatorship is unjust since for them there's hundreds other dishes like mantou, hand-pulled noodles, Chinese flatbread (xiaobing) or even the Peking duck can give my decision a run for its money. But is there any dish that has diverged better than scrambled eggs and tomatoes, which seemingly bypassed every geographical and ethnical barriers? 

Third, the most cardinal argument from me is, the image of the dish mirrors that of our flag -- as though the margherita pizza mirrors that of a Italian flag and the white-feathered Bresse chicken of Bény of a French flag. Well, whether you like it or not, I'm of the persuasion that the most beautiful thing in China is that patriotism will always go first and you don't need to listen to what people say unless you really feel like it. It's time to kiss the eggs and celebrate the national day with it!

National Dish for National Day: Scrambled Eggs with Tomatoes (蕃茄炒蛋) -- Part I

As everyone get worked up by the parades and fireworks for the 60th anniversary of the People's Republic of China, I can't help but notice that, six decades on, we've actually made zero progress in naming a dish for our nation.  

In a span of six decades, the Communist has managed to transform China from a nation of poverty to one of prosperity. Case in point, every grey-brick courtyard and garden of Old Peking are bulldozed for boxy and uniform high-rises; every prostitute and concubinage -- the so-called the feudal relic of capitalism, are swept from the street to make room for san pei xiaojie (hostess who accompanies clients in drinking, singing and dancing). As a economy that's growing leaps and bound sadly though, there's naught at the dining table to honor the spirit of 1.3 billion people. 

The more I think about this, the more the news of all these jubilations become grated on my ears. In fact, I gnash my teeth just to think how hapless and directionless we are on this. Look around, where's the daizibao (大痣報) for this? We survive the daguofan (big cauldron of canteen food), outlast the Red Guards, and even bar the fabulous Gang of Four, yet we fall short to determine what our national dish is?! Is this the personification of egalitarianism or the art of idling, or altogether a joke?!

Alas, had Chairman Mao still be alive today, he would have echoed my loathing for this too. After all, he is the guy who once said that eating is the greatest problem for mankind.

"A revolution is not a dinner party, pussy-losers!" So said Chairman Mao. Such statement can't be truer today than ever. Taking this discourse by heart, I decided it's time like this that summons a benevolent dictatorship and it's time for me to bombard the headquarters of haughtiness and to reinstall the true nature of my countryman --  just to show how loyal I'm to Chairman Mao. Ah, what's the English term for this endeavor? All this for us to have a say (話"乳"權) at the dining table. 

So mark this the day, my dearest comrade, the eve of Oct 1, 2009, with Chairman Mao's little red book (毛主席乳露語錄) in my hand and my head facing towards the waving national flag high at the Tiananmen Square, I proudly and solemnly, announce, scrambled eggs and tomatoes is our national dish.

to be continued...

Book Extract: "Fortress Besieged" by Qian Zhongshu, translated by Jeanne Kelly and Nathan K. Mao

Set on the eve of the Sino-Japanese War, Fortress Besieged recounts the exuberant misadventures of the hapless hero Fang Hung-chien. After aimlessly studying in Europe at his family's expense, he returns to Shanghai armed with a bogus degree from a fake university. On the French liner back, Fang's life becomes deeply entangled with those of two Chinese beauties -- when he does finally make it home, he obtains a teaching post at a newly established university, encounters effete pseudo-intellectuals, and falls into a disastrous marriage. A glorious tale of love, marriage, war, calamity, disillusionment and hope, this is one of the greatest Chinese novels, combing Eastern philosophy, Western traditions, adventures, tragicomedy and satire to create a unique feast of delights.

For dinner that evening, his mother herself prepared fried shredded eel, chicken wings in soy sauce, stewed chicken with melon and shrimps cooked in wine -- all his favorite local dishes. She picked out the best pieces for his bowl, saying, 'How terrible it must have been for you, living abroad for four years with nothing to eat!'

Everyone laughed and said she was at it again. If a person ate nothing abroad, how could Hung-chien keep from starving to death?

She said, 'I can't understand how those foreign devils stay alive! All that bread and milk. I couldn't eat them if they gave them to me free.'

Hung-chien suddenly felt that in this family atmosphere the war was something unbelievable, just as no one can think of ghosts in broad daylight. His parents' hopes and plans left no room for any unforeseen circumstances. Seeing them thus so firmly in control of the future, he too took heart and thought that maybe the situation in Shanghai would be eased, and there would be no outbreak of hostilities. And if there were, they could be brushed aside and ignored.

Nicolas Sarkozy is a Chinese? Ah-huh.

My heart really skipped a beat when I read such a stunning discovery as I leafed through a local newspapers leisurely just the other day.

Against all odds, a scholar in China has, after 2 years of searching and digging and, equally lengthy time of Mr. Sarkozy's presidency, come to the conclusion that Mr. Sarkozy, the 23rd President of the French Republic, is in fact a man of Chinese ancestry. 

To begin with, the acclaimed scholar points out the fact that Sarkozy is the son of Nagy Bocsay Sarkozy Pal, who's no less a Hungarian aristocrat himself. This one is easy, as our ace historian reckoned: Nagy means big and Pal means Paul in Hungarian, whereas Bocsay means the clan of Bocs in Jurchen (whose link to Hungarian as Tungusic people is strong), which means altogether it sums up Paul of Sarkozy family of the big Bocs clan. To keep up with the Joneses, the scholar goes further to say that such style of naming kids bears no difference to what we do in China -- say, the third son of the Zhang's family of Xidan Hutong. 

As if the discretion level of his oddball elaboration isn't already high enough, the scholar goes on to unveil the background of Sarkozy's granny. The Chinese root of Ms. Csafordi Toth Katalin, he says, can't be more visibly apparent. Not only is there a piece of entry for Toth in Jinshi, the History of Jin as a family name, but also is there a significant nomadic people called Xianbei of whom the Csafordi tribe was belonged to once upon a time. So authentic is Sarkozy as a common last name back in the good o'days of China that he even asserts that Sarkozy family could have emigrated to Hungary from China as recent as the Qing dynasty. 

And if all this stands accurate, then there's only one thing left for Sarkozy to prove that he's not a prodigal son. He should remember the saying about returning home clothed in glory (on Airbus rather than Boeing of course). The way I see it, the only way for Sarkozy to fulfill his filial duties is to return home on the Ching Ming Festival to offer obeisance at his family temple, attend to the ancestral graves and make acquaintances with local notables. 

But before I order my posses to sound the drums and gongs to welcome Sarko boy's homecoming, I'm struck by a pounding question myself, which is, where shall he go to, given the vastness of China as a country? 

Dang, where the hell is the root for the Sarkozys' in the Middle Kingdom? The last thing I want is to let the President of France navigating for his root in China on the off chance. 

Muddleheaded, I pick up the takeaway menu of my favorite chachaanteng, of where I learned much of the geography about China from. 

The first dish I notice is Fujian fried rice. Could the Sarkozys' be the descendent of Fujianese? Yet, my limited culinary knowledge tells me that there's no such thing as Fujian fried rice in Fujian. People living in Fujian knows nothing about Fujian fried rice just the same way alike Bill Clinton was totally in the dark about there's already an authorized translation of his biography selling in China before it was officially released in his home country. 

Next up is a dish called Yangzhou fried rice. Mmm, who's to say the Sarkozys' can't be spawned in Yangzhou in the first place? I have no sooner illustrate this point further than my less than cuddly waitress gives a big scoff at it. Check out the chaxiu (BBQ pork) in it. Yangzhou fried rice was invented here in Hong Kong for sure, and you call yourself a foodie?!

No matter. I go deeper at the menu and flaunt the last entry of page, the Hainan chicken rice to my waitress. Bitch this, bitch! The Sarkozys' might as well come from Hainan. But which style of Hainan chicken rice you're talking about? The ones by Singaporean, Thai or Malay? Once (I) have the best Hainan chicken rice of my life in Bangkok. Yum yum. 

Though I'm this close to a breakdown, I somehow start to get her point. I mean, what's the point of evocative name if it has gotten nothing to do with the place it engaged? To make matters worse, I have had a Hainan chicken rice in Hainan not that long ago (last month to be exact) and it was absolutely one of the worst Hainan chicken rices I've ever had in my life.  Even the Hainanese reckons the same. They have with them what they called the four famous dishes of Hainan and guess what -- none of them is Hainan chicken rice. 

The lesson is simple I think: who cares where it comes from as long as it rules?

Book Extract: "To Live" By Yu Hua, translated by Michael Berry

Fugui, the prodigal son of a wealthy country landowner, squanders the fortunes of his family in gambling dens and brothels. He has little respect for his father and still less for his father-in-law. He neglects his daughter and is abusive toward his wife. 

The following is from a scene where his wife Jiazhen was trying to insinuate Fugui to stop fooling around with a dinner she made.

One day I came home from town and, just as I sat down at the dinner table, I noticed a strange smile on her face as she brought out four different dishes. She poured me a glass of wine and sat down next to me while I ate and drank. Her beaming expression seemed a bit strange. I couldn't imagine what good fortune had befallen her. I thought as hard as I could, but couldn't figure out what the special occasion was. I asked her, but she wouldn't say. She just gazed at me with a strange, elated smile on her face.

Those four dishes were all vegetable dishes. Jiazhen had prepared each one differently, but as I got to the bottom, I started to find pieces of pork hidden in each dish. At first I didn't really pay attention to this, but as I ate the last dish, I discovered that there was again a piece of meat on the bottom. At first I was stumped but then I began to laugh out loud. I understand what Jiazhen was up to. She was trying to teach me that although women all look different on the outside, when you get down to it they are all the same.

The case of vegetarianism in China and Chinese Buddhism

Why is that Buddhist monks in China are the only vegetarians in the world of Buddhism even though they are living in a food culture whose historical antiquity and pluralism that few, if any, from any other part of the world can rival?

Cases in point, monks of Thailand and Japan, bhikkhus of Korea, lamas in Tibet, whether they are Mahayanists (the school of great vehicle), Theravadists (small vehicle) or even Vajrayanists (diamond vehicle or secret mantra), none of them has any monastic rules that inextricably linked to a strict vegetarian diet now being adopted by the Buddhist monks in China.     

But before the reasons for such treachery are unfolded, let me first mark the fine line between vegetarianism as a monastic or ritualistic rules, zhai cai (齋菜) and vegetarianism as a dietary behavior, su cai (素菜). The distinction between the two is well worthwhile to point out to save confusion as we move onwards.

First and foremost, zhai cai is a dietary discretion affiliated to the practice of zhai jie (齋戒), which denotes the desistance (of something, e.g. meat, wine, sex or gamble) before a ceremony or rite. Similar to the practice of fasting in the West, it is meant to be strict and to serve mainly for religious and spiritual grounds. It should be noted however, the existence of zhai jie, and hence, eating zhai cai as a ritual has rooted in China well prior to the introduction of Buddhism. The abstinence of meat and wine before an ancestral veneration, as well as during the mourning period to manifest filial fidelity and respect has been a way of life ever since the Zhou dynasty (1045 - 256 BC). 

Second, the dietary restrictions between the two is also different in the way that a herbivorous monk or nun must also avoid the consumption of the five acrid and pungent foods, as stated in Shurangama Sutra. They are, namely, onions, leeks, garlics, Chinese chives and shallots. The fetid five, also known in ancient times as the wu hun (五葷) are forbidden because their undesirable ability to arouse senses and temperament. Look closer and you will see that the character hun (葷) is a word with the radical "艸" atop, which suggest explicitly the vegetal origin of it. Taoist adepts of yore also try their best to avoid in contact with these five vegetables for a rather varied reason -- for them, anything provocative is undesirable for the physical well-being and spiritual development, and hence impedes their attainment of immortality.  

Third, zhai jie can also be viewed to be a periodical fast, as in the case where Buddhist monks restrict their diet only in the morning. This shows another purpose of zhai jie: a discipline regimen aiding in meditation.

Vegetarianism as a diet, su cai on the other hand, aims to achieve benevolence and ahimsa (Sanskrit for non-violence) in a more liberal and flexible way than zhai cai does. The word "su" itself means plain, pure and simple so in its original sense it means to eat to modesty. This has proved to be popular among lay Buddhists and it is the concept used by vegetarian restaurants in general. One way or the other, it is inaccurate to label vegetarianism in China as simply as Buddhist cuisine since it can be a favored diet for Taoist and Confucianist too. (Edit: equally unfair for hippies and legion of PETA fans living in China as well). 

Now that I've illustrated the difference between zhai cai and su cai, we're ready to survey the why question, that is, why vegetarianism has become the characteristic of Chinese Buddhism.

Eating and Wu Xing, the Five Movements

     Based on observations of the natural world, our ancestors recognized that one mode to apprehending the continuous patterns of transformation and change in the universe is through a concept called the five movements. Note that although wu xing is traditionally and more commonly translated as the Five Elements, it nevertheless, lacks, 'elementarily' the sense of interaction and fluidity of wu xing 五行 in its original context -- the concept of wu xing is anything but static, in fact, the word "xing," was used as a verb to show the how dynamic and interacting the five forces are (行者行也)]. That's why "movements" is chosen over "elements" in the title.

     The first true account of the concept wu xing was found in the Classic of History, from a section known as the "Grand Norm," where we're given the brief list of wu xing: "the first [of these] is named Water; the second, Fire; the third, Wood; the fourth, Metal; the fifth, Soil." 《尚書•洪範》“五行：一曰水，二曰火，三曰木，四曰金，五曰土。The nature of each was further elaborated in the Record of Historians: "Water is to moisten and descend; Fire is to flame and ascend; Wood is to crooked and straighten; Metal is to yield and to be modified; Soil is to provide for sowing and reaping." 

      As the system of wu xing advanced further, it was taken to embrace all substances in the universe* Hence, it was believed that what these five movements corresponded to different aspects of mother nature also interlinked to the human beings. Thus, for an alchemist, wood, corresponds to the spring and wind in the natural world; whereas to traditional Chinese medicine, the same movement is responsible for the liver, gall bladder, eyes and tendons of our body.  A clear picture of these connection can be found at the table below. 

*some time before or around Han dynasty, this concept intermingled with that of Yin Yang, as the case made by Sima Qian in his Records of Historians -- sensible once you realized that they were both originated from the soothsaying circles.

	Wood	Fire	Soil	Metal	Water
Orientation	East	South	Center	West	North
Season	Spring	Summer	Late Summer	Autumn	Winter
Climate	Wind	Summer Heat	Dampness	Dryness	Cold
Yin Organ	Liver	Heart	Spleen	Lung	Kidney
Yang Organ	Gall Bladder	Small Intestine	Stomach	Large Intestine	Bladder
Color	Blue/Green	Red	Yellow	White	Black
Taste	Sour	Bitter	Sweet	Pungent	Salty

      The wisdom is easy to see: try the best to eat according to the divination shown in the table if you want the forces to work complementarily for your body. For example, if you have a weak liver, or a frail gall bladder, you ought to pursue a diet that is rich with green or blue, sour food. Two ready qualifiers are the green grapes and the spinach. On the other hand, for those who have aliment with their stomach or spleen, they should look for food that is both sweet and yellowish, say soy beans and honey for instance. Not only can they provide a much-needed nutrition boost for a strained digestive system, it can also wipe away the excessive dampness within, which is often triggered by an unhealthy spleen. You may want to check out some other lists of a five-element diet floating around the net [here and here].