Hongkong, Singapore and other cities of Southeast Asia have Chinese food—but only in Taipei can the cuisine of each province find adequate representation.
Many of the mainland's most famous chefs came to Taiwan to continue the practice of their culinary artistry. Some have retired during the last 13 years. But many are cooking still. Active or retired, Chinese chefs still warmly debate the merits of their various approaches to the preparation of food.
As always with an older generation, some take a dim view of the proclivities of youth. For them, cooking is not what it used to be and even gourmets have decreased appetites and deteriorating sense of taste discrimination.
Chow Pin-shan, owner and chief cook of the Shansi Restaurant in Taipei, is among those who look on the good old days as lost forever.
Part of the difficulty, he observes, is a shortage of the materials and the flavorings for certain traditional recipes. Included are such exotic ingredients as fungi, insects and others that, might offend Western sensitivity but that have been completely acceptable in China for many centuries.
Chow, 58, has been a cook for more than 40 years. He began his apprenticeship in Peiping at the age of 14. His skill became such that he became the private chef of General Hsu Yun-chang, former governor of Shansi province and minister of national defense. Chow served in General Hsu's home for more than 30 years and followed the general to Taiwan in 1956. After Hsu's death in 1959, he left the family and opened the Shansi Restaurant. He is one of the top Peiping-style chefs in Taipei.
"General Hsu was a real epicure," Chow recalled. "During the days when he was governor of Shansi, he often entertained guests in his home, not with banquets, but with only five or six courses. I had to be extremely careful with every detail in the preparation of those dishes, as both host and guests were expert culinary critics. Every dish was served by a waiter who stood by while the food was sampled.
Color Important
"First, the color was scrutinized; vegetables had to be green, meats neither too red nor too white, and bean-curd the color of opaque white jade. More important was the coordination of the colors, so that every dish was agreeable to the eye. Each dish had to be served in a plate of the right size.
"Next, the aroma of the dish was scented. If too much oil or soybean sauce had been used, it was quickly detected by an experienced nose. If a chicken smelled like a duck, that dish was considered a total failure.
"Not until after these tests did the guests put their chopsticks to the platter. Then came the most crucial moments of a chef's reputation. Important to success were the dicing, chopping or slicing of the ingredients, the amount of flavor enhancers used and the cooking time.
"The cooking time, usually judged by split seconds, was crucial. I had to keep in mind the distance between the kitchen and the dining room. If dinner was to be served in a room more than 20 feet from the kitchen, I cooked quickly-sauteed dishes a couple of seconds less than usual. The sizzling heat of the ingredients continued the cooking process so that the dish was just right when served.
"While the guests and the host were looking, sniffing and finally tasting, the waiter listened to the comments and criticisms for a report to me. If a certain dish was considered outstanding, I was called in to receive praise and perhaps gifts of money.
"No longer can such high standards of preparation and appreciation be found. Here in Taiwan, people ask only for solid, oily and highly seasoned foods to fill their stomachs."
Chow misses the days when a chef could put his hands on unusual although expensive foodstuffs.
"Chinese gourmets of the old times knew that there are 'eight rarities among Chinese delicacies—dragon's liver, phoenix's marrow, leopard's embryo, owl's legs, ape's lips, bear's paws, swan's feet and camel's hump. The first two long had been unavailable. But as for the rest, I frequently had the pleasure of presenting them on General Hsu's table.
"How many people here have ever tasted or even heard of these delicacies?"
40-Course Dinners
An ordinary banquet 30 years ago cost around 24 silver dollars, Chow said. It usually included more than 40 courses, as follows:
Four plates of cakes, cookies and candies.
Four fresh fruits.
Four dried fruits.
Four honey-preserved fruits.
Four cold dishes.
Two hot dishes.
Four main dishes accompanied by 16 small hot dishes.
Two pastries.
Six dishes to accompany rice (mostly soup).
Two sweets.
Four dishes to accompany porridge (optional).
Such a dinner, Chow said, would take him and three helpers two days to prepare. Eating time would be four to five hours.
Even this was nothing compared to the famous "Manchurian-Han Banquet," which consisted of more than 150 courses.
The "Manchurian-Han Banquet", also called "the Royal Banquet," originated at the emperor's table in Manchu court days. It was said that an emperor of the Ching (Manchu) Dynasty usually took five meals a day, each meal consisting of 100 courses. It was wasteful and some emperors considered it an ordeal. Some thick-headed rulers were said to have been cheated by their eunuchs, who placed wood carvings of fish safely beyond the reach of the royal chopsticks.
After the fall of the Ching Dynasty, most of the palace chefs became owners of famous Peiping restaurants. Commoners thus had a chance to become acquainted with some royal luxuries. Favorite dishes of Manchu emperors, plus original Chinese (Han) recipes, formed the "Manchurian-Han Banquet."
"In my whole life," recalls Chow, "I prepared the Manchurian-Han Banquet only twice, as assistant to my teacher. It took 10 of us almost two weeks to prepare such an enormous dinner. Every dish was prepared with extreme care."
Chow listed such dishes as these:
Pork puree stuffed into the stems of soybean sprouts no larger than toothpicks.
Geese feet cooked by making a fire under a metal-floored cage. The geese dropped dead quickly and the feet were considered tastier and more nutritious.
Etiquette Suffers
The banquet would cost around 300 taels of silver, a price considered high even for Manchurian nobles.
"But nowadays the most expensive banquet has only 14 courses. The Chinese appetite is deteriorating," Chow insisted.
"Even the ancient etiquette of the dining table is degenerating. In the old days, both host and guests acted and spoke with extreme caution. The neglect of a single rule was considered bad manners. Ah! such breeding and courtesy! You could recognize real breeding from the bowing, the toasts and the courteous conversation.
"The round table was seldom used at a formal dinner, and tables were never covered with cloth. Guests were seated around a rectangular table, called the 'eight deities' table because it seated eight.
"A dinner started with wine toasts. Each guest was ushered to his seat by the host, who poured him a cup of wine. The two bowed to each other and the guest took his seat.
"When the first dish was served, the host would stand up and ask the guests to take off their hats and outer garments. This was done only at official functions when official robes were stipulated on the invitation card.
"Guests never took more than one taste of food from the same platter for the first few dishes. Young women, especially brides in the first year of their married life, were expected to be even more decorous. They rarely picked up their chopsticks until the men had eaten their fill and had retreated to another room.
"What kind of guests do we have nowadays? They shout, laugh, quarrel, boast and drink too much. Women eat more than men. If my old master were alive today, I am sure he would rather eat alone than have such ungraceful guests."
Too Many Soups
Chow doesn't care for Taiwanese cooking, which he thinks is tasteless, relies too strongly on flavor enhancers and runs toward an excessive number of soups. He can cook more than 250 Peiping recipes, including his famous oxtail soup and fried eel.
"The oxtail soup is an ordinary dish," says Chow, "but the preparation is time-consuming. The cut-up oxtail is simmered over a slow fire for at least 48 hours, the bones removed and more than 30 other ingredients and flavor enhancers added. Grease is skimmed off.
"The eels are plunged into boiling water, then deep-fried in vegetable oil. An experienced eater can separate the flesh and bone of a whole eel with a simple bite and the flick of a finger."
Chow's Shansi Restaurant is doing a brisk business. Customers number 200 or more daily. Chow himself no longer cooks. Five to six other chefs are working in the kitchen. Chow takes over only when importance of the guests requires it.
Peng Chang-kwei is Hunanese specialist (File photo)
Another famous chef, Peng Chang-kwei of the Central Bank Restaurant, also feels the shortage of certain foodstuffs in Taiwan, but is of the conviction that a cook should not be handicapped by his ingredients.
Spicy Specialties
"Versatility is an important quality for a cook," said Pengo "When he has got a chicken in his hands, he may turn out a dish of diced sauteed chicken with green peppers if the chicken is tender. But if it is an old rooster, he must never try to saute it, but instead may prepare a delicious pot of chicken soup."
Peng, 42, is an expert in Hunanese food, which is characterized by highly spiced, peppery-hot specialties. He entered cooking at 14 as a kitchen helper in the home of Tan Yen-kai, premier of the Republic in the early years. He worked in Tan's home for more than 10 years and took over as chef when his teacher, the old chef, retired.
"My old master the premier was a great man of culinary art. Though a native of Hunan, he did not like the chili, and he enjoyed food with an original taste. This meant fewer flavor enhancers. His favorite dishes were shark's fin and bean curd.
"The premier had false teeth and had difficulty chewing. So I always kept in mind that dishes should be tender and bland. He liked his shark's fin simmered over a low fire for more than 48 hours until it became soft as porridge.
"Bean curd is one of the cheapest foodstuffs in China. But not the bean curd I cooked for the premier. For every dish, I had to use the following ingredients: ten taels of bean curd, the extract of a very fat chicken, three catties of cooking oil, four taels of dried scallops, and the best part of a ham. Fortunately, food prices were very low at that time, otherwise even the premier wouldn't have been able to afford his bean curd every day."
Peng sees the decreasing number of dishes as the biggest difference between old-style dinners and those of today. He thinks this is an improvement.
"In the old days," he says, "it usually took the guests five to six hours to finish a dinner of more than 30 courses. It was not only a waste of money, but also a waste of time.
Fewer Dishes
"Even the modern dinner of 12 to 14 courses is too extravagant, in my opinion. I think six to eight courses are quite enough."
Peng believes there is room for improvement in Chinese cooking skills. "I think every chef skilled in a so-called regional food should start to learn how to cook specialties of other regions. Hunanese dishes are known for the heavy use of chili, and almost all people of that province are chili addicts. But here in Taiwan, where chili is not so popular, I have to reduce the use of it to a minimum. Also, I add many Peiping and Cantonese recipes to my menu to satisfy the taste of every customer."
Peng's famous recipe is "beggar's ham," which he invented himself. "I got the inspiration from the beggar's way of cooking the chickens they snatch. Lacking pot, oven and other utensils, they cover the chicken, feathers and all, with a layer of mud, then bake it in a fire for a couple of hours. When well done, the feathers are easily removed and the chicken retains all its natural taste and aroma.
"I use this same process on honey-preserved ham chunks, and it has proved to be a hit."
Peng can cook every dish listed on his menu, which includes more than 200. He has cooked for many celebrities, among them U.S. Admiral Arthur W. Radford, now retired, during the latter's visit to Taipei some six years ago. The Admiral was so impressed by Peng's cooking that he offered to be photographed with him.
Wife Cooks, Too
Peng never cooks in his own home. His wife, who according to Peng "also cooks fairly well," takes full charge of the family kitchen. The Pengs have no intention of permitting their two sons to take up the profession of cooking, "because we want our sons to read and become great men." The two youngsters are now doing well in high school.
Tsung Fan-shou of Cantonese fame (File photo)
Another famous regional cuisine is the Cantonese food, known for roast meats, multifarious seafood, pastries, and exotic recipes utilizing cats, dogs and snakes. Tsung Fan-shou of the Hsin Tao Fan Restaurant of Taipei is considered one of the best Cantonese chefs of free China.
At 37, Tsung has 25 years of experience over hot stoves. He started his apprenticeship when he was only 12. He never worked for a family, but has been chef in many famous Cantonese restaurants.
"Experience is of the essence in cooking," says Tsung. "Age is of minor importance. To cook a quickly sauteed dish, you have no time to measure your ingredients, but must add the right amount of sauce, salt, sugar, vinegar and other flavor enhancers with swift motions of hand and utensil. The only thing you can rely upon is your experience."
As for Chinese cooking skill, Tsung is of the view that it is improving with the years. "Almost every good cook finds some new knacks of cooking. He also invents some new dishes. Thus the Chinese cuisine compared with that of the old days, is better not only in taste but also in variety."
Business Good
Tsung also complains of the shortage of some ingredients. He gives his piece de resistance, roast piglet, as an example: "A piglet is best for roasting when it reaches a weight of ten catties. But in Taiwan, the law forbids the selling of piglets under 20 catties. This deprives local gourmets of a sheer delight."
Tsung is now the chief cook of the Hsin Tao Fan, which is situated in a colorful and crowded side street in downtown Taipei. Though the street is so narrow that a car can barely enter, many notables come in limousines.
"We are particularly pleased by the patronage of many foreign customers," says Tsung. "One important reason, I believe, is that, Cantonese food is more agreeable to Western taste. It is neither too oily, nor too peppery and sweet.
"One American lady once asked me why she didn't see many chubby Chinese. I explained to her that it was because Chinese take rice as their major food, never eat too much meat, nor such fattening stuff as butter, milk, chocolate, cream and cheese, and thus don't have to worry about their weight. Besides, vegetables cooked quickly in vegetable oil the Chinese way are not fattening, retain most of their vitamins and are more nutritious.
"I think Chinese food is the best cure for such ailments as high blood pressure and diabetes."
Tsung's menu also covers more than 200 recipes. In the restaurant kitchen, he toils six hours a day the whole week long with seven other chefs and eight waiters. His wife and two children seldom have the good luck to taste his cooking, as he doesn't get home until 10 p.m.
Degenerating or improving, Chinese cooking is continuing to win new admirers all over the world. Both Hongkong and Taipei are exporting chefs. With thousands of dishes to choose from and more always in the making, neither chef nor consumer have any excuse for jaded genius or appetite.