— TheToothfish

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When people ask me if I miss China, I tell them the truth: I miss Chengdu. Chengdu was a place where every restaurant and side-shop dished out something memorable. The hallmark of Szechuan cuisine is its intense heat, a numbing sensation that makes your forehead glisten with sweat and your eyes swell up with tears. It’s painful and beautiful at the same time, and as the heat builds, so does your desire for more. As I mentioned when I was in Chengdu, the heat is of a tasty variety. It’s sweet or bitter or sour. Dishes are not infernos just for the sake of being fiery infernos.

My friends recently told me that there is a place in Atlanta that comes very close to Chengdu: Gu’s Bistro. Not soon enough we were driving down Buford headed towards the deep recesses of a strip mall.

thin slivers of seared pork belly

We ordered a number of things: Chengdu dumplings, cold noodles, pork belly, fish and a beef dish. While the dumplings and the noodles were not ideal, the pork belly, fish and beef were as close to Chengdu as I’m going to get. With every bite my nose was running more and more. In so many words, the back of my throat was alive. The crispy pork belly, the signature red hue from peppercorns that runs deep in every Chengdu broth, the whole chilies that look like garnishes but act like dangerous bodyguards —  the food of Chengdu and at Gu’s Bistro is not for the faint of spice or heat. Proceed with caution, but understand that should you find pleasure in pain, another world awaits you.

a broth that takes on the color of red peppercorns and chili flakes. Below the surface, white, flaky fish

Gu’s Bistro
(770) 451-8118
Doraville
5750-A Buford Hwy
Doraville, GA 30340

Gu's Bistro on Urbanspoon

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On the last week of my China excursion, my time in Shanghai was wonderful because Shanghai is so unlike the rest of China. Not that my non-Shanghai time was awful, but after 6 weeks of China Unedited, I needed a break.

The neighborhood around my hotel was called the “French Quarter” with boutiques lining the streets. The colonial architecture showed how Westernized Shanghai is. Here, money and fashion rule the day. This also meant that the city was remarkably more expensive than the rest of China, but since we hadn’t spent much money in Beijing or Chengdu, the expense was acceptable.

There is one ingredient every Shanghai chef adds to every dish on the menu: sugar. Meat, fish, noodles, dumplings — they’re all sweet in Shanghai. This isn’t a bad thing but it isn’t always a good thing either. A Lazy Susan full of sweetness can get old fast, but overall I had some wonderful dishes in Shanghai that I hope to replicate in my own kitchen. Here are some of my favorite dishes.

tofu soup. homemade tofu tastes so much better than that fake, store-bought stuff. light. fluffy.


like edamame but not. these were much sweeter. much better.

 

not only is it rare to see large chunks of meat in China, but also rare to find tender cuts of beef. this dish reminded me of mongolian chicken (except much sweeter). the beef was soft with absolutely no resistance. perhaps a lot of corn starch to make it this way.


homemade noodles. $2. I’m going to miss that pull and chew these noodles had. Just a little bit of peanut sauce with chili oil.


not sure what these are called. top part was dough but bottom was fried. inside pork mixture similar to a potsticker except with a little bit of soup. dericious.

大排冷面. giant fried porkchop. homemade noodles. $2. so cheap and it’s what everybody in Shanghai eats in the small hole-in-the-walls.
The Conclusion

SEVEN WEEKS LATER and now I have an idea of what “authentic” Chinese food is. For starters, Chinese restaurants offer a much greater variety than places in the States. Preparation, technique, seasonings and even knife skills vary greatly from dish to dish (mopo tofu, lotus root, sesame balls etc…) while American restaurants tend to use similar seasonings in dishes and offer a much smaller selection. And again, the seasonings are much more distinct in China so that at the end of a meal, there’s a sense of balance having tasted sweet, salty, sour, bitter and had beef, chicken, fish, pork and vegetables all in one sitting.
As far as cities go, Beijing is awful. While the roast duck was great, I have few to no memories of great dishes in Beijing (and I lived there for 6 weeks!). Chengdu, on the other hand, was phenomenal and had the finest, spiciest Chinese food I’ll ever eat. It’s tasty spicy so the numbing was more than bearable. It was addicting. Shanghai is also good, but occasionally too sweet.
When I return to China (I’m assuming I’ll become a world-class traveller), I’ll start in Hong Kong, veer into Guangdong (my actual family roots), have some spicy noodles in Chengdu and finish out in Shanghai. I can do without Beijing.
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an alley in Chengdu. lunch at every corner.

For the six weeks I stayed in Beijing, I thought it was me. I wasn’t familiar with the spices. I wasn’t use to the preparations. That’s why I didn’t find Chinese food in Beijing that captivating. Then I went to Chengdu for a few days. Yeah, it wasn’t me.

Chengdu is the capital city of Sichuan southwest of Beijing. Chengdu is known for being over-the-top spicy, but what’s important to understand is that Chengdu’s spicy if flavor-spicy. Whereas Indian or Mexican food can burn without reward, there is another dimension behind Chengdu’s hot peppercorns or fire-y chili oil. It doesn’t burn just to burn. It’s tasty, numbing and addicting.

Also, Chengdu’s street food is safe unlike in Beijing where food was often cooked in trashcans. Beijing’s street food scene is truly terrifying (rat meat passed off as beef skewers?!). In Chengdu, even the random places were delicious.

Here are some memorable dishes I had in Chengdu.

does that look spicy?


8-ingredient tea. characteristically sweet. not bitter.


pig’s brains for the hotpot. not much flavor. texture like foie gras.


the origin of wontons! actually, they’re called “húndùn”

 

street food. thin bread with sesame seeds and red pepper.hot!

 

street food. duck neck. tastes like duck but not much meat.


 

simple tender chicken. chicken here tastes different than US chicken. tastes more pure.


spicy fish cooked with roasted red peppers. tender and delicious. spicy, of course.

my favorite. tian shui mian (甜水面). It’s a little sweet with a lot of numming. Thick noodles give a good pull.

 

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Another day, another duck. One could spend years eating at every kaoya restaurant in Beijing. They’re everywhere, kinda like the smog. After DaDong I decided to spend my second to last day in Beijing at another “best kaoya” restaurant: QuanJuDe. The original opened in 1864 and has since expanded to several locations (three).

So that I don’t waste your time, just know that QuanJuDe is, like DaDong, overrated. The duck is small, pricey and inferior to cheaper ducks at the hole in the walls. Both QuanJuDe and Dadong separated the fat from the meat but I think this is a mistake. Without the fat, the duck was dry and flavorless.

And unfortunately I got seated in the VIP section which is code for “White People/Foreigner Section.” All food in the “VIP” section is subject to a 15% tax. That’s just retarded.

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lotus root stuffed with sticky rice

Beijing isn’t known for its cuisine, but it is known for its roast duck. The tradition is long, and here in the city the debate is back and forth on who serves the finest duck. Google brings up a lot of names and a lot of opinions, but by popularity Da Dong Roast Duck Restaurant sits at the top of that list. Of course I went, and at Beijing’s most celebrated, talked-about, written-about, filmed about roast duck restaurant , the main act was everything I suspected it would be: unimpressive.

Quack! Quack! de-boned (!) duck feet with mustard seeds & wasabi. spicy, but not flavorful. also, rubbery.

Da Dong is an endlessly expansive restaurant with several dining rooms and smaller, more intimate ones for the hordes who want their duck. It’s a two-story duck house as Westernized as they come in Beijing. Spotless, air-conditioned, and keen on white plates of all shapes, Da Dong with it’s walkie-talkie equipped waiters is a nice time. But. I doubt the locals take kindly to the Westernized delivery of some basic Chinese staples.

greens sauteed in garlic

As an example, a modest pile of greens sauteed in garlic rests on one side of a large, white rectangular plate, leaving the other side to four flower pedals just for looks. Lotus root stuffed with rice is made to look like a Chinese delicacy — small in portion size, high in price — but the flavor was not beyond the reach of a restaurant 10 times cheaper.

An order of duck comes with a side of style. Each person is given a plate of condiments (strips of cucumbers, garlic paste, hoisin, tiny sugar cubes and a few more things I can’t remember). A chef made to look like a surgeon wearing gloves and a face mask approaches the table, shows the entire duck and then retreats to the hallway to slice away. As he cuts it, a square plate with duck piled on hits the table. The skin is sitting on top, the meat underneath.

duck in the front, thin “tortillas” in the back for wrapping

duck fat/skin with sugar. OUTRAGEOUS!

What I won’t ever forget is the combination of crispy duck skin dipped in sugar cubes. The experience is outrageous, assuming you’re into things like fat…and flavor, and as my friends at the table said, “Evan, you’re the only person I’ve ever seen laugh out loud after eating roast duck.”

Beyond the fat was a disappointing story. The duck meat here was lean (slightly dry too, but maybe that’s a fluke). LEAN? I’m coating duck fat with sugar. It’s a bit too late to start chomping on carrots and counting calories. The juicy love (still talking about fat) that makes kaoya and meat in general so wonderful was missing. Was it at least good? Yes. But not the best. After the duck, a bowl of duck soup and a complimentary plate of cantaloupe, lychee (LOVE), and green tea ice cream (not sweet) rounded out the meal.

cubes of tender beef, red chili peppers, onions served on a rock

I understand Da Dong’s appeal. The service, the dining rooms, the feel, the million dollar wine list (Chateau Lafite, anybody?) — it’s all attractive and Western in a city that’s smoggy and Eastern. The total bill for three people was 600 Yuan (approx. $95), which isn’t exorbitant by American standards, but when a killer 7 course dinner can cost $6 here in Beijing, the comparison is bleak.

You can accuse me of stirring the pot, going against the current, or trying to be a hipster, but Da Dong isn’t the best. I don’t know where is the best either because I haven’t been around enough. I can, though, tell you that a duck I had near Tianamen Square was far better.

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