Food

'Tis the season for colds and flu. Last week Jacob had a cold and sore throat, and now this week is my turn to be under the weather.

Fortunately, 'tis also the season for clementines. Markets and street vendors' carts are overflowing with this juicy fruit that's filled with vitamin C. Unlike tangerines, clementines are seedless and sweeter. Here in Beijing, they are only about 3 to 4 yuan a kilo. Is it not a coincidence that clementine/tangerine season in the north is November to January, when we need vitamin C the most?

Over the past two weeks we have bought between 20 and 30 kilos (yes, kilos.) Jacob ate 2 to 3 kilos a day when he was sick, and combined with the potent throat-soothing affects of ice cream, got better within a few days. Now I'm trying out the same cure. The problem, though, is some of the clementines are still more tart than I'd like. Tartness tends to sting sore throats.

While staying home sick today, I caught a cooking show on BTV that said that best way to tell a sweet clementine from a sour one is to look at the top. Flat clementines tend to be sweeter, and pointier ones tend to be more sour. Next time I'm at the market for another few kilos, I'll apply this bit of Chinese TV wisdom to find a sweeter path to recovery.

Isn't she a beauty?

Ever since coming to Beijing I've been addicted to ròujiāmó 肉夹馍. This snack, which originated from Xi'an in Shanxi province, consists of pork, herbs, shredded lettuce, and chilli sauce stuffed into a pita-like pocket. It reminds me of the Middle Eastern shwarma pockets I would get in NYC from street vendors, though ròujiāmó with its juicy juicy pork is decidedly un-halal.

Ròujiāmó can be found in many snack shops and street stands around Beijing (and Xi'an, Shanghai, etc.). Most are already prepared with a decent amount of pork sitting neatly inside. The ones I'm addicted to, however, are the ones that are made to order. The vendor would splice off fatty pork off the rotisserie spit, chop up the meat, and mix it with lettuce, cucumber, onions, and chilli sauce. She would then stuff the contents into a warm pocket. The ròujiāmó is subsequently so overflowing with pork that there's no way you can eat it without getting messy. But it looks and smells and tastes so delicious that you just don't care.

We were walking by the Zhongyou Department Store tonight when we saw the familiar lights and crowds that indicated excellent street food was near. That area, near the 77th Street Underground Mall and an underground arcade, was full of kids and 20-somethings lining up for delicious, cheap eats. Or rather, crowding in and pushing forward for delicious, cheap eats. Forming orderly lines for anything here is not exactly ingrained into the national psyche.

Of course, big crowds are usually helpful in judging which stand has the best food. At Tiānxià Tèsè Miàn 天下特色面, about 10 or 15 people were vying for who would be next for an order of kebabs or spicy noodles. We pushed in as well, and were pushed aside by the next couple. In this type of situation the best thing to do is be patient and hold your ground. Waving money, particularly exact change, helps the vendor notice you.

We glanced at the menu but ordered what everyone else was ordering, which was suànlàfěn 酸辣粉, or spicy and sour noodles. Almost everyone in front of us added an ice-cream-scoop size dollop of chilli sauce on their noodles. We added just a large spoonful. As for the taste? Hot, hot, hot, but well-balanced by the sour kick of vinegar and the crunchiness of roasted peanuts.

My obsession with food has taken on a life of its own. Or rather, a blog of its own. Appetite for China is my new blog focused on food in this country of seemingly endless foods to try. It will have previously published food-related posts from indietrekker, and will become to repository for all future food posts. AFC started out of my endless curiosity about China's many cuisines and my inability to find another blog focused on the topic.

Indietrekker, meanwhile, will not be forgotten. It remains my blog for general travel around the world, though for now it will remain centered on China/Asia.

Please visit Appetite for China, and stay tuned for more posts here as well.  

Finding a good Sichuan restaurant with an elegant, calm atmosphere can be difficult. Sichuan food, like most other Chinese food, still thrives in simple, rènao (noisy and lively) environments.

But for the past decade or so, Beijing has been a hotspot for sophisticated cuisine from the provinces. It's only naturally that city-dwellers are demanding great food with the attractive atmosphere to match.

Yu Xin Sichuan Dish, one of five locations in Beijing, is on the first floor of the Chang'an Grand Theatre, a block away from Beijing Railway Station. We walked into a high-ceilinged lobby and past the theater shop, selling what seemed like every variety of Chinese opera recordings in the country. During our 20 minute wait, we flipped through the menu and watched as satisfied diners strolled out of the restaurant.

Central Macau is full of food stalls selling a variety of Macanese and Cantonese treats. It's possible to spend an entire day eating without resting your feet, though resting your feet has its own merits, of course. The street in front of the Forteleza de Monte is especially appealing, and one of the first spots you'll see is Pastelaria Koi Kei, buzzing with pastry hounds.

For days before coming to Macau I had been daydreaming of Macanese egg tarts, also known as Portuguese-style egg tarts. Koi Kei keeps them in a warming oven in the front of the store, and for 6 patacas (75 cents) you can have a hot and fragrant egg tart of your very own. Whereas Cantonese egg tarts (sweetened egg custard inside a flaky shell) are tasty enough, the Macanese version goes one step further with a caramelized top, not unlike crème brûlée. The top isn't delicate enough to crack with a spoon, but the entire tart is good enough to be gobbled up in seconds.

Koi Kei was also handing out samples of its almond cookies, tastier than what I've been able to find on mainland China. Varieties include almond cookies with whole walnuts, with egg yolk, even with shredded pork jerky. And speaking of jerky, the store was handing out free samples of that too. Eager customers bought bags of jerky - spicy, regular, pork, beef - by the kilo.

As a frequent traveler, I have crossed political borders in many ways: by plane, train, bus, car, and boat. On our day trip to Macau yesterday, I walked across a border for the first time after taking a bus from Zhongshan to the Chinese/Macau customs. On the other side lay a place that is very much Cantonese in lifestyle and language, but where you will find a huge amount of culinary diversity.

Macau was a Portuguese colony until 1999, when it was returned to China. It remains a Special Administrative Region like Hong Kong, which means it gets its own Special boundaries, laws, and Special access to bulk imports of Portuguese sausages. The thought of delicious cured meat compelled me to wander the narrow hilly streets in search of Portuguese and Macanese fare, which is a combination of Portuguese, African, and Southeast Asian cooking.