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What Chinese Foods Does My Foreign Friend Enjoy? As an international student studying in China, I've had the incredible opportunity to share my culture and cuisine with friends from around the world. One of my closest mates here is James, a fun-loving American who has developed quite a passion for Chinese food. It's been fascinating to see which dishes have become his favorites and to hear his take on the flavors and textures.
Right from the start, James took a liking to dumplings. Those little pockets of dough filled with meat and veggies were an instant hit. He loved ordering jiaozi, the boiled variety, and gulping them down, dipping each morsel into a mixture of soy sauce, vinegar, and chili oil. The flavors were completely new to his palate, and he relished the way the gingery filling played off the tang of the dipping sauce.
Xiaolongbao, or Shanghai's famous soup dumplings, also captivated James. He got a kick out of their gelatinous exteriors
giving way to bursts of rich broth when you bite into them. I had to coach him on the proper technique – gently lifting the dumpling with your chopsticks, nibbling to slurp out the soup first, then dipping it in vinegar and ginger before devouring the rest. Once he got the hang of it, James was hooked on the interplay of flavors and textures.
One sleepy weekend morning, I brought James to a hole-in-the-wall place known for its superior shaobing, those crispy, layered flatbreads that are a breakfast staple. We ordered a few stuffed with pork sung, beef, and my personal favorite – green onions and eggs. James watched in awe as the cook rhythmically stretched and folded the dough before
griddle-frying the breads to perfection. One bite into the flaky, sesame-crusted masterpiece filled with savory goodness and James was sold. Those humble shaobing became one of his go-to snacks.
Another clear favorite has been the rainbow of noodle dishes China offers. Whether its dandan noodles smothered in a lip-smacking sauce of chili oil, preserved vegetables, peanuts, and succulent ground pork, or a steaming hot bowl of beef noodle soup loaded with hand-pulled noodles and tender braised beef, James dives in with gusto. He's gotten pretty handy
with his chopstick work, gleefully slurping up every last drop of broth.
While he's enjoyed many varieties, James has developed a particular fondness for Lanzhou hand-pulled noodles. There's a little stall not too far from campus where you can watch the noodle masters artfully stretching and whipping the dough into those signature hosszu lengths. It's mesmerizing to see their technique of twisting and rapidly pulling the noodles apart and tossing them through the air. We'll sit at the curved stainless steel counters watching the show as our bowls of piping hot noodles arrive, waiting just long enough for them to be cool enough to eat.
Speaking of street snacks, it's been fun exposing James to all the different skewers, pancakes, and other tasty bites you find from roving street vendors. He was a little skeptical of stinky tofu at first, but I finally convinced him to try the fermented snack, reassuring him the pungent aroma is much more intense than the actual taste. Sure enough, after getting past the initial funky fragrance, James found himself enjoying the savory, slightly nutty flavors of the crispy-coated cubes.
A surprising hit with James has been century eggs. Those glossy black preserved duck eggs may look unappealing, but
once you explain the ancient process of letting them cure for months in a mixture of salt, clay, and ash, they take on an air of culinary intrigue. I still remember the look of uncertainty on James' face as he brought one to his mouth, but also the delighted grin after tasting the rich, slightly sulfuric flavor and creamy yolk texture. These days he happily snacks on quarters of century eggs, drizzled with a bit of soy sauce and sesame oil. I'd be remiss not to mention James' deep and abiding love for Peking duck. He'd read about the uber-crispy skin and juicy meat before coming to China, eagerly anticipating his first bite. When we finally made it to one of Beijing's famous duck houses, he savored every morsel – the crisp burnished skin dipped in sugar, the tender meat sliced paper-thin and wrapped in petits pains, the sweet hoisin sauce and springs of shredded scallion and cucumber, all washed down with piping hot jasmine tea. Pure bliss for him.
Overall, I've been amazed by James' willingness to immerse himself in China's incredibly diverse and flavorful culinary culture. He possesses an admirable sense of adventure, always game to try something new, no matter how unusual or exotic it may initially seem. From iridescent ceramic buns filled with pork sung
to bowls of fiery hot dry pot teeming with Sichuan peppers, lotus roots, beef slices, and mushrooms, he dives right in with gusto. What I love most is how James finds joy and appreciation in each dish, not just the flavors themselves, but the cultural background and preparation behind them. He marvels at the centuries of culinary tradition inherent in humble dishes like steamed bao or a simple bowl of noodles in broth. He revels in the contrast of tastes and textures, like tender braised beef cheek complemented by a bright ginger-garlic sauce and crisp julienned carrots and daikon radish. He appreciates the artistry of dishes, like the careful plating and carving of squash required for Buddha's Delight, a stunningly presented vegetarian feast. To James, food is about so much more than sustenance. It's about sharing and bonding through the act of cooking and eating together. He sees the pride in restaurant owners' and chefs' eyes as they hand-pull each strand of noodle or score and glaze each glistening duck before hanging it in the oven's intense heat. He delights in the lively camaraderie of boisterous restaurants, with laughter, beer glasses clinking, and scents of garlic, chili, and sesame oil perfuming the air. More than anything, James has embraced food as a direct connection to culture and community.
In many ways, I think James has come to appreciate and understand the heart of Chinese cuisine more than some locals do. He's open-minded, inquisitive, and willing to go outside his culinary comfort zone, always ready to discover new treasures. While I've loved sharing my favorite dishes and culinary traditions with James, he's reminded me not to take the rich tapestry of Chinese food for granted. His infectious curiosity and earnest enthusiasm have rekindled my own sense of awe for this vast, vibrant, and ever-evolving cuisine. I'll forever be grateful for the new lens through which James has allowed me to experience the foods I once took for granted.
篇2
My Foreign Friend's Love for Chinese Cuisine
Ever since Markus, my German friend, came to study at my university in Beijing last year, he has been enamored with Chinese cuisine. Having grown up in a small town in Bavaria, he had very limited exposure to different ethnic foods and cultures before coming to China. His experience with Chinese food was essentially limited to the lone Chinese restaurant in his hometown run by an immigrant family from Hong Kong that served fairly Westernized Cantonese dishes.
When Markus first arrived, I could tell he was a bit
apprehensive about trying authentic Chinese food. He had heard all the stereotypes - that it was greasy, heavily fried, weighted down with excessive sauces and spices. The first few meals I took him out for must have been a bit of a shock to his system after the toned-down fare he was used to back home. However, it didn't take long for him to develop an insatiable appetite for real Chinese cooking.
The first dish that really won Markus over was Beijing kaoya, or crispy aromatic duck. We went to one of the city's legendary duck restaurants where the chefs have been perfecting the cooking method for generations. When that glistening,
crispy-skinned bird was paraded out from the kitchen while still hanging from its iron hook, Markus's eyes went wide with delight. As the server sliced thin pieces of lacquered mahogany-colored skin and tender meat directly off the duck, Markus watched in rapt attention.
When he took that first bite wrapped in a steaming pancake along with some plum sauce, green onions, and cucumber, his eyes rolled back in pure bliss. \"Fenomenal!\" he exclaimed through his stuffed mouth. That meal was a true revelation that
sparked an intense curiosity in Markus to explore as much of China's diverse regional cuisines as possible.
During our time together, I had the pleasure of introducing Markus to spicy Sichuan dishes like mapo tofu, diced chicken with explosive chili peppers, and boiled beef in a sea of neon red sauce that had him sweating profusely but grinning from ear-to-ear. The intriguing flavors of Hunan cuisine like smoky camphor-laced roasted meats and fiery fermented bean pastes were also a big hit.
Whenever we went out for Hunan food, Markus always ordered plate after plate of petite dry-fried eggplant with a crackling coating of garlic, ginger and scorched chilies. He loved the way the tender, soft eggplant interior contrasted with the slightly crunchy exterior glazed in a sweet, salty, and completely addictive sauce.
While the bold, palate-singeing flavors of Sichuan and Hunan fare were eye-opening for him, some of Markus's favorite dishes came from humbler provincial traditions like those of Anhui and Zhejiang. Simple rustic stir-fries, flavor-packed vegetable dishes, and perfectly cooked fresh seafood were always immensely satisfying.
One meal I'll never forget was when I took Markus to an unassuming Zhejiang restaurant known for its xiaolong bao, or soup dumplings. These delicate xiao chi, or small eats, require an immense skill to craft - the slight casing made from finely rolled dough wrapped around an interior of rich pork filling and scorching hot broth.
When the bamboo basket arrived at our table, Markus looked at the dumplings skeptically. \"How can there be soup inside these little packages?\" he asked incredulously. I instructed him to gently pick one up with his chopsticks, transfer it to his spoon, take a tiny bite to slurp out the molten filling before popping the whole thing in his mouth. The revelatory dumpling's flavor and texture blew him away.
Over and over again that night, I watched Markus's eyes widen in childlike delight with each new basket of those precious dumplings. By the end, the sleeves of his sweater were stained with drippings of broth and his face glistened with satisfaction. \"You have to show me how they make these!\" he exclaimed, only half-jokingly.
My German friend was also dazzled by the vast assortment of xiaochi, or snacks and small dishes, available at
hole-in-the-wall counters and food stalls all across Beijing. Some
of his favorites included tangy hot and sour soup loaded with shredded vegetables, tender tea-smoked eggs with their intense camphor and woodsy aroma, and chuan'r - those addictive grilled meat skewers flavored with a pungent spice mix.
For a late night snack, he loved the intense dry noodle dishes from the Muslim quarter like reganmian, chewy hand-pulled noodles smothered in a dark, salty meat sauce. And he was amazed by the ritual of watching an experienced noodle maker deftly stretching and spinning a rope of dough high in the air before slapping it onto his work surface to shave off strands of noodles in one smooth process.
No trip around China's culinary landscape would be complete without indulging in a Peking roast duck feast. I took Markus to the famous Qua'njude restaurant, which has been roasting ducks over sizzling wood fires for hundreds of years using a legendary recipe. We watched in awe as entire ducks were carved and plated tableside by a server in an impressive display of skill.
Between bites of that crispy lacquered skin dipped in refined brown sugar sauce and morsels of juicy meat wrapped in cloud-like steamed lotus leaf buns along with shredded
cucumber and scallions, Markus summed up his feelings: \"This is
an absolute Gernekosse - something that brings pure enjoyment. Why did no one tell me Chinese food could be this incredible back home?\"
By the end of his first year in Beijing, Markus had gone from an apprehensive outsider to a full-fledged Chinese food enthusiast. Beyond simply restaurant outings, we spent many evenings together cooking in my apartment's tiny kitchen as I taught him techniques and recipes from different regions. Pouches of tangy suan cai pickles, small clay pots of bright red doubanjiang fermented chile bean paste, and glass jars of inky lao Zhenjiang vinegar became staple pantry items for him. Markus's passion ran so deep that he even picked up basic Beijing accented Mandarin so he could haggle and converse with street food vendors from the hutong alleyways. He blended seamlessly into the noisy supper markets as dusk fell, queuing up with locals to buy grilled meatballs, jianbing crêpes, candied fruit on a stick, and bubbling woks of stir-fried lamb flavored with bracing doses of cumin and chili oil.
By the summer before his final year of study, Markus's Chinese food obsession hit an entirely new level. He secured an internship at a small family-run restaurant in Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province, to immerse himself full-time in the
region's iconic cuisine. It was there that he honed his skills in the painstaking methods of transforming piles of fresh green chilies and haunting numbing Sichuan peppercorns into bright red, deeply flavored sauces and chili oils.
Markus returned to Beijing a few months later bubbling with excitement about his new mastery of intricate Sichuan
techniques and flavor principles. In our dingy kitchen, he would spend hours dry-frying sweet and numbing vinegar-lacquered dried shredded potatoes, charring dried green chilies to make a smoky crisp garnish, and simmering blends of dried spices into complex oils that formed the flavor base for so many of Sichuan's bold dishes.
It was during his final year studying abroad that Markus truly blossomed from a curious foreign observer into someone who developed an encyclopedic knowledge of Chinese ingredients, flavors, cooking techniques and the cuisines' rich cultural traditions.
He easily could discourse on the finer points of making superlative tangyuan, those chewy rice flour balls stuffed with aromatic fillings like black sesame paste or sweetened peanut powder that are a Lunar New Year specialty. Or he could expound on the different baking methods used for creating the
perfect Paper-thin lacy crusts that encase dense Hong Kong-style char siu barbecued pork.
While I always took pride in introducing Markus to all the diverse and delicious flavors my homeland had to offer, towards the end of his studies, the roles became somewhat reversed. I frequently found myself being educated by my German friend on the nuances and intric
篇3
What Chinese Foods Do My Foreign Friends Love?
As an international student studying in China, I've had the wonderful opportunity to introduce many of my foreign friends to the vast and delicious world of Chinese cuisine. From the bold and spicy flavors of Sichuan province to the subtle and refined dishes of Cantonese cooking, there is truly something for everyone in the diverse culinary landscape of this ancient country.
One of the first dishes that seems to win over most of my friends is a humble yet incredibly tasty offering – xiaolongbao, or soup dumplings. These delicate morsels, originating from Shanghai, consist of a thin dough wrapper enveloping a rich broth and filling, typically made with pork and gelatinized soup.
The art of eating xiaolongbao involves gently picking it up with chopsticks, dipping it in a vinegar-based sauce, and then carefully nibbling a hole in the side to slurp out the piping hot soup before devouring the rest of the dumpling. Many of my friends were initially intimidated by the process, but after their first bite, they were hooked – reveling in the explosion of flavors and the comforting warmth of the broth.
Another dish that has earned rave reviews from my international buddies is the iconic Peking duck. This legendary dish, with roots dating back to imperial China, involves
meticulously preparing and roasting a whole duck until the skin becomes crispy and lacquered with a sweet and savory glaze. The duck is then expertly carved tableside and served with thin pancakes, sliced scallions, cucumber, and a sweet bean sauce for wrapping and dipping. My friends are always in awe of the presentation and the perfect balance of textures and flavors – the crunch of the skin, the tender meat, and the refreshing accompaniments.
For those with an affinity for spice, the mouth-numbing and flavor-packed dishes of Sichuan cuisine have proven to be a hit. Mapo tofu, a classic Sichuan dish featuring silky tofu swimming in a fiery sauce made with fermented black beans, chili oil, and
the iconic Sichuan peppercorns, is a particular favorite. The tingling sensation from the peppercorns, combined with the rich and savory flavors, is an experience that leaves many of my friends craving more. Another Sichuan standout is the kung pao chicken, with its diced chicken, peanuts, and vibrant red chili peppers tossed in a sweet and slightly tangy sauce.
Moving away from the bold and spicy, my friends have also developed a deep appreciation for the subtler flavors of Cantonese cuisine, especially the dim sum offerings. Steamed dumplings like har gow (shrimp dumplings) and shumai (pork and shrimp dumplings), as well as baked and fried offerings like char siu bao (barbecue pork buns) and egg tarts, have become beloved treats during our weekend dim sum outings. The intricate flavors, delicate textures, and the overall experience of sharing these small plates have made dim sum a cherished tradition among my friend group.
Aside from these popular dishes, my friends have also embraced the unique and sometimes unconventional flavors of Chinese street foods. From the mouthwatering aroma of jianbing (crispy crepe-like snacks) being prepared on sizzling griddles to the satisfying crunch of tanghulu (candied hawthorn skewers), these on-the-go snacks have provided us with countless
memorable moments of culinary exploration and cultural immersion.
Of course, no exploration of Chinese cuisine would be complete without mentioning the humble yet indispensable staple – rice. Whether it's a fragrant jasmine rice accompanying a flavorful stir-fry or the chewy and delightful texture of glutinous rice found in dishes like zongzi (sticky rice dumplings), rice has proven itself to be the reliable foundation upon which so many incredible Chinese dishes are built.
As I reflect on the culinary adventures I've shared with my foreign friends, I'm filled with gratitude for the opportunity to introduce them to the rich and diverse flavors of China. It's been a joy to witness their initial hesitation or skepticism melt away with each bite, replaced by pure delight and a newfound appreciation for the artistry and history behind these dishes. Beyond just satisfying our taste buds, exploring Chinese cuisine together has been a bridge for cultural exchange and understanding. We've engaged in lively discussions about the regional variations, the symbolic meanings behind certain dishes, and the intricate techniques used in their preparation. These conversations have deepened our connections and fostered a
mutual respect for the heritage and traditions woven into every bite.
As I prepare to venture forth into the next chapter of my life, I know that the memories of sharing these incredible culinary experiences with my friends will forever be etched in my heart. And who knows? Perhaps one day, I'll be the one introducing new friends to the wonders of Chinese cuisine, paying forward the gift of cultural exchange and culinary delight that has enriched my life in such profound ways.
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