Happy New Year, Madison.
You might think from this statement that I am a time traveler or that I’m procrastinating my resolutions to the point where no one cares, (I gave up pizza rolls and hating on eating ice cream between December and March) but perhaps you should take a mental double take. This last Monday was the beginning of a new lunar year. In honor of the Chinese New Year, this week’s Gastronomic Leap is dedicated to an imported culinary activity from the country with the largest number of New Year’s celebrators. Since I cannot necessarily claim expertise-by-ethnicity in the realm of Chinese culinary crafts, I will pay homage to their traditions by delving into the depths of dim sum, a favored activity of many Sunday brunch alternative seekers and Asian cuisine enthusiasts alike.
The dishes found henceforth may be unfamiliar and perchance a little scary, but rest assured that everything discussed here is delicious to someone, somewhere.
Unlike General Tso’s Chicken, dim sum is a culinary tradition that actually finds its roots in the mainland. It began when teahouses would spring up along travel routes to service merchants and local farmers. The health benefits of drinking tea while eating were discovered soon after, and small-portion dishes were served with the tea as a morning or afternoon snack. Eventually someone packed up their recipes and brought them to the United States where angry tourists in Chinatowns nationwide would argue with waiters over the price of half of a roasted duck.
The whole procedure of dim sum works like a Brazilian steakhouse or a brunch in reverse. The patron sits at their table until they are served tea. There are empty plates on the table along with a little card with grid-like divisions on it. Waiters and waitresses will then approach the table and solicit the dishes they carry. The patron indicates which dishes they would like. The servers place the dishes on the table and mark a card with the items they have served. At the end of the meal, a total bill is calculated from these markings. The nice thing about this system is that fresh food is always appearing on the table and the diner gets to be as picky as they want to be. There is also no need to be shy about asking for as many of an item as is desired, so long as it is eaten.
One of the things I try (and usually succeed in) eating every single time I go to dim sum are the har gow shrimp dumplings. They are little balls of shrimp steamed in rice paper that is just thin enough to contain the meaty portion without being overbearingly starchy or sticky.
The shiaomai dumpling is a mixture of pork and mushrooms (or other vegetables) that is also wrapped in rice paper and steamed. These dumplings along with har gow are akin to a weird cousin of the pot sticker. The best thing about them is that you can pop one in your mouth with maybe a dabbling of chili sauce and just grub down on the whole thing immediately. One good turn almost always deserves another. Another plus is that they come in multiples; usually one dish has four dumplings straight from a steam tin.
One of the stranger dishes that I have come to love (which was avoided in my youth) is chicken feet. I’m aware of its less than appealing name, but if you’re the type of person that thinks the skin from a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken is the best part, give this appetizer a whirl. The feet are marinated and steamed with a spicy broth that gives the finished product a deep red color. The fatty feet-skin appear intriguing and yes, a little repulsive too. Consumption consists of eating the fatty skin around the bones, which are spit out a bit rudely onto a napkin or previously used plate. This is a perfectly acceptable modus operandi for this dish. It does not take the most adventurous person to eat these; I had my first one when I was 11 years old, and I never looked back.
Chicken feet are one weird dish among many. Its brethren include boiled squid tripe, and pork spare ribs. All of these are chewy, greasy and sometimes with lots of small bones. They are a joy to eat and come piled in little dishes. Sampling the accompanying smells is urged, nay, insisted.
I’ve been enjoying dim sum for a very long time, but did not start trying the more dangerous-looking dishes for a while. Without knowing it until now, the event that is dim sum has proved to be influential in the development of my love of food. It was the first arena where I was able to confront dishes that I might be otherwise too scared to try. On those Sundays in Minneapolis’ Peking Garden, I was on the food’s turf and was forced to adapt. The payoff of discovering delicious enjoyment in something that has an unappealing appearance is satisfying. Imagine befriending a socially awkward nerd because you have a suspicion they are cool, and then discovering that they have a massive music and film collection on their terabyte external hard drive that they are willing to lend to you. A freshly broadened taste is a gift that keeps on giving, and that idea in its simplest form is why I write this column and why I love food. I am also going to keep this in mind as I continue to write this column, and that is my New Year’s resolution.
Alex Truong is a junior majoring in economics. If you want to join him in celebrating the year of the ox, e-mail him at [email protected].
