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A review of ‘Shark’s Fin and Sichuan Pepper: A Sweet-Sour Memoir of Eating in China’ By Pat Tanumihardja Editor’s note: Some of the dishes mentioned in this book and review, such as certain types of sharks’ fins, are illegal in the U.S. We do not condone the consumption of endangered animals, or illegal hunting practices, in any way. Step away from the shark. I’ve had my fair share of adventurous eating. I’ve eaten turtle, flying fox, snake, wild cat and a mouthful of fire ants (I was a wee toddler, and it was purely by accident). Yet next to Fuchsia Dunlop, I may as well be eating meat and potatoes. At the very start of her upbeat and easy-to-read memoir/travelog, Dunlop braces herself “to eat whatever the Chinese might put in front of me” and she does. Dog meat, scorpion, rabbit heads and even snow frog’s ovarian fat pass through her lips. With such an impressive list of exotica, I’m surprised she cringes at the mere sight of preserved century eggs. But wait, this book does more than extol the author’s eating bravado. Dunlop sums it up perfectly in her own words: “So this is a book about the unexpected wonders of Chinese cuisine. It is also a tale of an English girl who went to China, ate everything, and was sometimes surprised at the consequences.” In 1994, Dunlop begins her journey in Chengdu, Sichuan province, to research Chinese policy on ethnic minorities at Sichuan University. China is in a period of post-Maoist transition and economic upheaval. Her studies offer her little sense of direction and her research subject is fraught with political sensitivities. The smart Brit realizes the education she seeks lies elsewhere and ditches her studies for the lure of street food and Sichuanese kitchens. Dunlop wiggles her way into a month of cooking classes with a private instructor at the Sichuanese Institute of Higher Cuisine and eventually secures a spot in their three-month professional chef’s program. She is the only foreign student in a class of 50, and only one of three women. In addition to picking up the basics of Chinese knife skills — she learns to cut ingredients into ox-tongue slices, chopstick strips or silken threads on demand — and yes, there are about 25 methods of stir-frying — slippery stir-fry, explode stir-fry, sand stir-fry, etc. — Dunlop has to grapple with the Sichuanese dialect and her thick textbooks bursting with Chinese characters. Not to mention the sniggers and criticism she endures from her classmates. Step-by-step, we learn as she learns, not just culinary technique, but the aesthetic and cultural philosophy behind Chinese cooking and eating as well. Comparing Western and Chinese ideas of what makes good eats, Dunlop discusses how fresh is fresh, texture and mouth-feel, and what’s considered taboo on the table. Indeed, the Chinese prize many foods that Westerners would find repulsive. Live prawns are tossed into boiling water at the table for “sauna prawns,” rubbery sea cucumber is considered a delicacy and ox-penis hotpot, while not an everyday affair, is not frowned upon for men wanting to improve their virility. For the first half of the book, we’re right there on the ground as Dunlop transforms from directionless Cambridge graduate to Chinese foodie extraordinaire. Further along, we’re taken along for the ride as Dunlop embarks on subsequent culinary adventures in a series of journalistic prose. She heads to the far west to the Xinjiang Ughyur Autonomous Region in search of whole roasted camel (she does chow down on camel kebabs); she sneaks into the kitchens of Beijing’s Imperial City and befriends an expert on the Forbidden City; and she lunches with Mao’s nephew and learns about Maoist cookery. Toward the end, Dunlop grows increasingly wary of food in China. On a recent trip, she’s as curious as she’s always been and still wants to eat everything but with the toxic air and dirty rivers, she just doesn’t trust the ingredients. “It’s as if my gastronomic libido is slipping away,” she writes. It’s just as well. Who knows what havoc these foods might wreak on her body? As global citizens, we dream of coming up close and personal with an adopted culture. Very few of us achieve this goal. Dunlop has penetrated a world most travelers cannot hope to access. I, for one, am thankful she has shared it with the rest of us in this very absorbing and fascinating read. n “Shark’s Fin and Sichuan Pepper: A Sweet-Sour Memoir of Eating in China,” by Fuchsia Dunlop. Published by W.W. Norton & Company, 2008. $24.95. Pat Tanumihardja can be reached at info@nwasianweekly.com. |
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