Why the Chinese Don't Count Calories (7 page)

Just as the Chinese use small shreds of meat or fried egg in stir-fried dishes, or a piece of fatty lamb to flavour a stew, so you may choose to use small amounts of cheese and cream, as well as the more familiar herbs and spices, to make your vegetables tasty and interesting. Milk products are not much used in traditional Chinese cooking, largely because of economic factors (China, for the most part, does not have good pastureland, so it would have had to import dairy products) rather than dietary preference. Instead, as we shall see later, they have a large number of soy-based products, the multitudinous health benefits of which are only just being discovered in the West.

Simple ideas for Chinese style
cai,
or
vegetable-based dishes

Stir-fry

with minced garlic:
blanched broccoli • spinach • asparagus • courgettes • all mushrooms • mange-tout • lettuce

with dried chilli and Sichuan peppercorns or cumin
seeds (add rice vinegar and a pinch of sugar for
sweet and sour touch):
shredded cabbage (all varieties) • beansprouts • daikon radish (with carrot) • shredded potato • greens • courgettes • kale

with ginger, spring onion, and shreds of meat
(optional):
boiled green beans • beansprouts • courgettes • celery • onions • green pepper • tomatoes

with ginger spring onion and stir-fried egg:
spinach • tomatoes • cauliflower • aubergine (with tomatoes) • cucumber • sliced and boiled flat beans (add a few strips of bacon too if desired) • wood-ear fungus

top with sesame oil and soy sauce, salt or oyster
sauce:
green beans • broccoli • carrots • baby corn • celery • asparagus • pumpkin and other squashes

Cai
,Western and fusion style

and top with olive oil and salt (and fresh herbs,
crushed walnuts or olives):
beans • broccoli • spinach • new potatoes • brussels sprouts (top with grated lemon rind and ginger)

and mash with nutmeg or garlic:
pumpkin • parsnip • carrot • beetroot • mixed root vegetables

with Indian spices or coconut and chilli:
pumpkin • beetroot • cauliflower • potato • mixed vegetables

in tomato sauce with herbs or cumin:
red and yellow peppers • aubergine • courgette • cauliflower • finely chopped mixed vegetables

blanched and stuffed with a rice or grain based
mixture:
peppers • onions • aubergine • courgette • flat mushrooms (no need to blanch)

sliced with onions:
potato • courgette (and tomato) • aubergine • celeriac • sweet potato

While not everyone has ready access to bountiful street markets and few of us live in extended families where there is always someone on hand to help with the shopping and cooking, we do have some advantages when it comes to preparing interesting vegetable recipes. Well-stocked supermarkets make it possible to plan ahead; modern Western kitchens boast fridge-freezers, and ovens have built-in timers. You can stick a bake in the oven, throw together a vegetable curry or stuff some courgettes or peppers. With a multi-dish approach (see Chapter Four) and with your new appreciation of everyday vegetables you might fry a mixture of fresh and soaked dried mushrooms with garlic, make fresh tomato sauce, grill some aubergine slices or make a purée of sweet potato and carrot. Make your transition to the Chinese style of eating gradually, and your delicious vegetable dishes will soon take over the meal without your having to arrange a
coup.
Before you know it you will find yourself eating a healthier, more interesting and surprisingly satisfying diet.

three
Fill up on staple foods

‘
Qiaofu nan wei wu mi zhi chui
. ’ (‘Even the cleverest housewife cannot cook without rice. ’)

The Chinese language can be very literal, but occasionally it is extremely imprecise. The word
fan
, as in ‘
Ni chi fan le ma
?’ (‘Have you eaten yet?’), is used in this context to mean food, or a meal. But the precise translation of
fan
is rice, so in fact what people ask each other every day is ‘Have you eaten rice yet?’ Just to add to the confusion, though, rice, in this context, means ‘staple food’, not only ‘rice’. In China a meal is not a meal without a substantial element of
fan
.

The essence of a Chinese meal, the
fan
and
cai
concept, where vegetable-based dishes are partnered with a staple such as rice, is an ingrained part of Chinese culture: records show that the concept existed in the Shang dynasty around 1500 BC. Western nutritional science, as such, dates back not much more than 100 years. Wilbur Atwater, known as the father of American nutrition, worked hard to secure public funds for his food investigations in 1894. In the UK glaring deficiencies in the diet of urbanized societies were acknowledged between the world wars. The first published surveys recommended that starvation should be kept at bay with sufficient supplies of bread, fat – mainly butter and margarine, potatoes and oatmeal. Ironically, it seems that when people started to get fatter rather than fitter the finger was pointed to the same foods.

In Beijing, the food culture is traditionally wheat-based, and noodles or
mantou
(steamed buns) are popular
fan
for many. In the northern countryside people eat millet, which is very nutritious but not versatile, since it does not cook into separate grains. Cornmeal, currently fashionable in the West under its Italian name ‘polenta’, was once considered the staple of peasants, but tasty cornmeal cakes and flat breads are now enjoying a revival in Beijing’s nostalgia restaurants. Even lower down the staple ladder is the starchy sorghum (the Chinese name
gao liang
translates as ‘tall millet’) which can grow in the driest of agricultural areas and is therefore regarded as a poverty food. Today sorghum is used mainly for fermenting into vinegar, while the stalks, a source of sugar, are also used for firewood or even as a wattle-like building material. Potatoes are generally viewed not as
fan
but as a vegetable to be made into
cai
(I have enjoyed many a meal of potatoes with rice); Chinese farmers were too astute to treat such an unreliable crop as a staple.

Without
fan
it is impossible to
chi bao
(‘eat until you are full’), as Xiao Ding made very clear to me when she accompanied us to the UK one summer. We were enjoying a traditional roast lunch at the home of some friends. I was aware that the whole performance was a struggle for her and noticed that when she put down her knife and fork with what sounded like a sigh of relief, she looked at me for guidance. I asked her if she would like any more beef or vegetables? Or roast potatoes perhaps? Away from Beijing my Chinese sounded pretty good, especially as only Xiao Ding had the faintest idea what I was saying and she had a vested interest in understanding me, stranded in this totally alien environment.

‘
You fan ma
?’ she asked. At first I thought she was saying, ‘Is there any food?’ and was stumped for a moment. But I was not the only one who was confused; Xiao Ding elaborated on her previous question: ‘
Dou shi cai
,’ (‘It’s all dishes’), she explained. ‘
Mei you fan ma
?’ (‘Is there no rice?’). I suddenly realized what she meant. Xiao Ding, who was slight even by Chinese standards, had already amazed our hosts by feasting heartily on slabs of roast beef, accompanied by generous servings of brussel sprouts and boiled carrots, with at least four roast potatoes; but now she wanted to know where the rice was.

Trying to explain to Xiao Ding how, in the West, meals usually consist of meat and two veg and that we break down our diet into proteins, carbohydrates and fats stretched my Chinese to the limit. I don’t know how much she understood, but I could see she had no intention of being fobbed off with potatoes as
fan
. In the end I made her a couple of peanut butter sandwiches, as our hosts stood by open-mouthed.

In a Chinese meal
fan
is usually a substantial portion of a rather plain staple. From a culinary viewpoint, it serves as a foil for the highly flavoured
cai
and, of course, it fills you up. Dumplings are an exception since they combine both
fan
and
cai
, though they are placed in the
fan
category, illustrating the superior importance of the staple. The simple dumpling wrappers are made of a flour and water mixture with little or no seasoning, so as to provide a bland partner to the tasty filling, in a microcosm of a full Chinese meal.

When we eat Chinese food at home I give everyone a bowl of rice and we put morsels of food on to it so that the rice can soak up the delicious sauces. In restaurants, however, the rice or other staple is generally served last. Restaurateurs prefer to hold back the cheap filling staple for as long as possible to encourage guests to order the expensive
cai
. This change of emphasis might be a treat for people on an evening out, and has helped perpetuate the myth that the Chinese diet is based on rich protein-based dishes, but no one eats like that in China on a regular basis.

I have spent many an hour poring over menus in local Chinese restaurants. Chinese people love to put things in categories and feel strongly about agreed definitions. A usual menu will always include
liang cai
(cold dishes),
re cai
(hot dishes) and
zhu shi
, which literally means ‘the most important food’ and in common parlance is described as
fan,
the staple. Very few waiters will question a diner’s selection of
cai
no matter how random it appears to be. But if a guest is unfamiliar with the Chinese way of doing things and omits to order the
zhu shi
, the waiter will hover expectantly and eventually point out the omission. No less than one portion of
zhu shi
per person will be deemed sufficient.

There is no doubt that in the Chinese food hierarchy,
fan
comes way above
cai
. Western nutritionists introduced the ‘food pyramid’ with its base of carbohydrate foods more than 3,000 years after the Chinese had worked out that a diet based on a staple food made economic, environmental and nutritional sense. In times of scarcity
fan
was eaten on its own, and people survived. Even today it is acceptable to eat
fan
without
cai
, or a staple without dishes, but not to eat
cai
alone, as it seemed to Xiao Ding I had expected her to do.