Pork 27: Babao Meatballs (八寶肉圓)

持牲單::八寶肉圓
豬肉精、肥各半,斬成細醬,用松仁、香蕈、筍尖、荸薺、瓜薑之類,斬成細醬,加芡粉和捏成團,放八盤中,加甜酒、秋油蒸之。入口鬆脆。家致華雲︰「肉圓宜切,不宜斬。」必別有所見。


Pork(List of the Ceremonial Animal)::Babao Meatballs
Take one portion of lean pork and one of fatty pork and mince them into a fine paste. Take pine-nuts, shitake, the tips of bamboo shoots, water chestnuts, soy-pickled cucumbers and ginger, then mince them into a fine paste as well. Combine everything with powdered starch and shape the mixture into balls. Place the meatballs on a dish and steam with sweet wine and autumn sauce. When eaten, the texture of the meatballs should be crisp and tender. Jia Zhihua once said: “To make meatballs, the meat should be finely cut and not chopped”. There is truth in his statement.

The bejewelled meatballs described by Yuan Mei probably looked something like this, albeit with ingredients that are more finely minced. (Credit: jules / stonesoup)

An “eight treasured” dish with only six side ingredients? Quaint. But truth is this recipe is missing more than just ingredients, it is missing a huge chunk of information on technique.

In order to have meatballs with that “crisp and tender” texture of good fishballs, you need to beat the pork mixture for quite a while with salt. If you made the meatballs exactly according to Yuan Mei’s instructions, what you would get are loose,floury meatballs that don’t have much of any texture, much like those from IKEA. By machine, mixing and beating the meat mixture for texture takes a good half an hour, by hand, this would have taken a lot lot longer.

The final statement extolling meatballs made with finely cut pork makes a good deal of sense. For the same reasons why coffee ground using mills are better than that ground using blade grinders, finely cut the pork produces minced pork with more even particle sizes. This evenly minced pork in turn produces meatballs with a more consistent and enjoyable texture. As for how long it would have taken to finely cut enough pork for one’s meatballs, I could not imagine.

Thank goodness for modern food processing machines.

Pork 26: Stir-Fried Pork Slices (炒肉片)

持牲單::炒肉片
將肉精、肥各半,切成薄片,清醬拌之。入鍋油炒,聞響即加醬、水、蔥、瓜、冬筍、韭芽,起鍋火要猛烈。


Pork(List of the Ceremonial Animal)::Stir-Fried Pork Slices For this dish, use a mixture of half lean and half fatty pork that has been sliced thinly and marinaded in soy sauce. Stir-fry the pork in oil. When the pork starts to crackle, add soy sauce, water, green onions, squash, winter bamboo shoots, and white garlic chives. Be sure to finish the dish by stir-frying over very high heat.

A Thai dish called “Phat khi mao” (ผัดขี้เมา), which mean “stir-fried shit drunk“. It’s here because it contains pork slices and because Thai food is wicked. You also have to admit its name is pretty funny too. (Credit: Takeaway)

This describes a typical stir-fry recipe that easily falls into the category of “household dishes” (家常菜). These are simple dishes that anyone with a decent amount of cooking skill could prepare at home. Yuan Mei listed it probably because he liked it.

As usual, there were some ambiguous bits in this text the required some thought during translation. First, the part which I translated as “when the pork starts to crackle”, actually has the rather vague literal translation: “when you hear (it) making sounds” (聞響). But we all know that any ingredient “makes sounds” when you fry them, so one has to assume that this sound is pretty different from the usual frying pork sounds. And what sound would this be? My experience with frying pork is that sometimes it pops or crackles, thus my translation. Still, a more accurate translation may be: “when the pork starts to make some extraordinary sounds above what one expects to hear when frying.” I’ll leave it to whomever tries out this recipe to tell me what sound the pork actually makes.

Second is the ingredient “gua” (瓜), which I translated as “squash”. The word “gua” is basically used in Chinese to describe all manners of “vegetable fruits” under the Order Cucurbitaceae, which includes cucumbers, gourds, luffa, watermelons, and squashes. Papaya (木瓜), though not in this phylogenetic groups is also considered a gua due to its shape. As such, one has a world of possible gua to pick from from when cooking this dish. Personally, I think the edible varieties of the bottle gourd (瓠瓜), cucumber (黄瓜), or the miniature variety of wintermelon (毛瓜, Benincasa hispida var. chieh-qua) would all work well for this recipe. As for what “gua” Yuan Mei had in mind, heaven knows.

Pork 25: Stir-fried Pork Strips (炒肉絲)

持牲單::炒肉絲
切細絲,去筋袢皮骨,用清醬、酒郁片時,用菜油熬起,白煙變青煙後,下肉炒勻,不停手,加蒸粉,醋一滴,糖一撮,蔥白、韭蒜之類;只炒半斤,大火,不用水。又一法︰用油泡後,用醬水加酒略煨,起鍋紅色,加韭菜尤香。


Pork(List of the Ceremonial Animal)::Stir-fried Pork Strips
Cut the pork into fine strips, remove any sinew, skin, and bones, then marinate the strips in light soy-sauce and wine. Heat a small quantity of vegetable oil in a wok until the white wisps of oil smoke become bluish wisps. Immediately add the strips of pork and stir continuously without pausing. Add steamed rice noodles, a drop of vinegar, and a pinch of sugar. Finish with garlic chives, garlic, the white portions of green onion, or similar ingredients. Stir-fry only half a jin of the dish at a time at high heat without using any water.

Another method is to fry the pork in oil first then quickly braise it with soy-sauce and wine. Plate the pork when it is red in colour. The dish is particularly good when finished with garlic chives.

When I read the first recipe, I said to mayself: “Isn’t this Ganchao Niuhe?” (乾炒牛河) (Credit:stu_spivack )

In this section are two rather different recipes for pork strips, one stir-fried and one braised. The first recipe is more or less Ganchao Niuhe (乾炒牛河), but done with pork instead of beef. The details given here about the temperature of the oil, the continuous stirring, and the relatively small portions of ingredients illustrates the key to this type of stir-frying, known as “bao” (爆). Cooking more pork and using oil that is not burning hot would create a wet stewed dish devoid of the wok-hei needed to make this recipe a success.

The second recipe actually sounds a lot like a simple dish my mother used to make for dinners. I can attest that it’s quite good.

Pork 24: Cauliflower Braised with Pork (菜花頭煨肉)

持牲單::菜花頭煨肉
用台心菜嫩蕊,微醃,曬乾用之。


Pork(List of the Ceremonial Animal)::Cauliflower Braised with Pork
Take the tender flower buds of the cauliflower, pickle lightly in brine, and then sun dry. Braise the dried cauliflower with the pork.

I’m guessing that the vegetable used here is cauliflower, though truth be told it could also very well be broccoli.(Credit: Ahura21)

Is the pork here being braised with dried semi-pickled cauliflower? Maybe. The section title refers to the vegetable as caihuatou (菜花頭), which translates to “the head of the vegetable flower”. In modern Chinese, cauliflower is known as “caihua” (菜花), so we may be tempted to say that caihuatou means “a head of cauliflower”. But the problem is we do not know whether our cauliflower today was known with the same name during Qing dynasty. Indeed the first few words of the section translates to “Take the tender buds of a taixin vegetable” (用台心菜嫩蕊), which clearly indicates that the name of the vegetable that bears a head-like mass of flower buds came from a vegetable variety known as “taixin” (台心菜). So what exactly is this vegetable?

While a Google search for “taixin” proved unfruitful, Yuan Mei’s descriptions had already narrowed the possibility of vegetables down to two types, namely broccoli and cauliflower. The next step is more or less a guess, but considering that name of the floral portion of the vegetable (菜花) used by Yuan Mei is now used to refer to the modern cauliflower, perhaps this could be taking as some sort of evidence that the cauliflower was indeed taixin vegetable.

So yes, after all that blabbering I’m saying it’s cauliflower after all.

In any case, this recipe is rather interesting in that the cauliflower was prepared by first being lightly pickled and dried before used in braising. This is somewhat similar to meigancai (霉乾菜), a type of fully pickled dried leaf mustard that is famously used in the braised pork dish Meicai Kourou (梅菜扣肉), lending its delicious savoury aroma to the pork. Perhaps Yuan Mei’s dish was equally good?

Pork 23: Babao Pork (八寶肉)

持牲單::八寶肉
用肉一斤,精、肥各半,白煮一二十滾,切柳葉片。小淡菜二兩,鷹爪二兩,香蕈一兩,花海蜇二兩,胡桃肉四個去皮,筍片四兩,好火腿二兩,麻油一兩。將肉入鍋,秋油、酒煨至五分熟,再加餘物,海蜇下在最後。

Pork(List of the Ceremonial Animal)::Babao Pork
Take one jin of pork that is half lean and half fatty. Boil it in plain broth for ten to twenty guun then cut it into willow-leaf shaped pieces. Prepare two liang of small mussels, two liang of shrimp, one liang of shitake, two liang of jelly-fish, four pieces of walnuts with the bitter membrane removed, four liang of bamboo shoot slices, two liang of good dry-cured ham, and one liang of sesame oil. Braise the pork in autumn sauce and wine in a pot until half done. Combine the pork with all of the accompanying ingredients and continue braising until done. The jelly-fish should only be added at the very end.

One of the many many Babao recipes in existence. This one in particular is called “Babao vegetables” (八寶菜). (Credit: Lombroso)

Look through a typical Chinese cookbook and one is bound find at least one recipe for a Babao dish. These “Eight Treasure” dishes range from savoury appetizers and main dishes to a slew of sweet desserts, but they are connected by the fact that they all contain eight different multicoloured, sometimes expensive, but always interesting-to-eat ingredients. In this recipe, the pork was considered a precious enough ingredient to be included as one of the treasures, but usually the base ingredient is not counted as one of the eight. For example, the famous Babao rice (八寶飯) is a sweet dish containing eight notable ingredients plus rice.

I also love how Yuan Mei decided to refer to the shrimp here as “Eagle’s talons“ (鷹爪). In all likelihood, this may just be an abbreviation for the “Eagle talon shrimp” (鷹爪蝦) Trachypenaeus curvirostris, but by omitting the “shrimp” part, he raises the status of the otherwise lowly crustacean to something more exotic, precious, and maybe more fitting to be one of the eight treasures. And a treasure they are. When fresh, these shrimp are so delicately crisp that biting into them you are almost shocked by the sensation. Needless to say, they would have worked wonders with other “crisp” textured ingredients such as bamboo shoots and jelly fish. While “eagle talons” could also arguably refer to chicken feet (known as “Phoenix talons”, 鳳爪), or even be read quite literally, the texture of bird talons whether they are from chickens or eagles would not have fit well in this dish. Besides, if you wanted to serve real eagle talons, you would serve them on their own, not mixed in and confused with a whole bunch of other stuff. When you’re trying be flamboyant and extravagant, it is probably good to be as direct as possible.

As for where the whole thing about “eight treasures” came from it, the most obvious answer would be the Buddhist eight treasures. However, I suspect that it goes back earlier than the introduction of the Buddhism to China from India. Fact is, Chinese culture from ancient to modern always had a tendency towards using numerological concepts in daily life, something which can be attributed directly to the Taoists. I will leave it to somebody to do the real research while I “armchair” it.

Pork 22: Lizhi Pork (荔枝肉)

持牲單::荔枝肉
用肉切大骨牌片,放白水煮二三十滾撩起;熬菜油半斤,將肉放入炮透撩起,用冷水一激,肉皺撩起;放入鍋內,用酒半斤,清醬一小杯,水半斤,煮爛。


Pork(List of the Ceremonial Animal)::Lizhi Pork
Slice the pork into large domino-like pieces. Boil them in plain water and remove them after twenty or thirty guun. Heat half a jin of vegetable oil, fry the pork until done, then strain it out. Immediately immerse the pork in cold water to shock it, which will cause the meat to wrinkle-up. Strain out the cold pork and cook it in half a jin of wine, a small cup of soy sauce, and half a jin of water until soft.

Contemporary Fuzhou’s famous Lizhi Pork in all its flourescent-red glory. It is similar to Yuan Mei’s version only by the fact that it has the same name and is also made of pork. (Credit: Royal Shi)

The “lizhi” in the name is the same as that of the “lychee” in lychee fruit. But in looking through this recipe, we see that not only does it not use any lychee, none of the ingredients could create flavours that even vaguely resemble that of the fruit. One can only conclude that the namesake of this dish comes from the wrinkles on the pork resulting from the special “cold shock” technique. Maybe through one’s vivid imagination, the cold-shocked pork looks somewhat like the shell on the lychee fruit?

It should also be noted that this recipe is very different from that of the modern lizhi pork, which is more or less a variant of “gulao pork” (咕咾肉), or in North American parlance “sweet and sour pork”. The modern explanation of the name is that dish imitates the sweet and sourness of the lychee fruit through the judicious use of vinegar and sugar. Fancy contemporary preparations of gulao pork would often go so far as to cut the meat in a crisscross pattern part way through so it vaguely resembles the surface of lychee shells when fried. More often though, its ends up looking like spiky meat.

This brings to mind the question: How did a recipe drift so far from its original preparation?  As usual one can only guess, but it feels like this is just another case where a dish with a poetic name had been read quite literally by uneducated fools. Generations of such foolishness later, it should not be surprising that the once rather stayed dish describe by Yuan Mei had morphed into some sugary, neon-red item. Why, I myself had always thought that lizhi pork was actually made with lychee syrup.

Which is precisely why I am not going to call this section “Lychee pork”. Rather than bring these centuries long cycles of foolish readings into the English language, I am using the dish’s pinyin spelling, which is still mostly devoid of fruit-like connotations. Hopefully this will allow it a new start.

Format Changes to Posts

From the very beginning, all the Suiyuan Shidan translations I did followed the “Chinese Text->Translation->Random Notes” format. But truth is, even then it annoyed me a bit that this format relegated the content in Random Notes to the side when quite the opposite should be true. Problem was, I wasn’t sure how I would format the posts to highlight this content, until a month or so ago while writing up WWII Horror in Doll Country.

The answer was super simple: make the content that would have been in Random Notes the narrative guts of the post and make the translated and Chinese text the supporting material.

Initially I was worried that I was so used to writing in the old format that changing things would slow down my throughput of translations. But after some wrangling with myself, I decided to give it a go and try the new format in see how I feels. If it works, it’ll stay, but if it doesn’t I’ll go back to the old format