Pucker Up

【前言】Pucker Up由文秘帮小编整理而成，但愿对你的学习工作带来帮助。Unless languidly taking your order or doddering dishes out to tables， these two are for the most part hunched over， glued to their boxy television set， engrossed in period dramas. To start， we chose two cold dishes. Homemade， sour pickled vege...

Beijing is a good indicator of what China’s favorite regional cuisines are the city is flush with restaurants to meet the voracious and diverse appetites of some 20 million people. The ubiquitous “Chengdu Snack” joint， which far exceed the numbers of Starbucks in Manhattan， is the likely winner. On the other hand， the distinct lack of Guizhou eateries suggests that its flavors are either much more divisive， or much tougher to reproduce.

Guizhou Province， located in the southwest region， is overshadowed by three gastronomical powerhouses Yunnan， Guangxi， and Sichuan， celebrated for their Southeast Asian flavors， rice-flour noodles and tongue-numbing peppercorns， respectively.

As for Guizhou， its claim to fame is largely due to its production of Moutai the country’s most iconic brand of sorghum-based baijiu liquor. During his 1972 visit， even President Richard Nixon swigged this fiery， oddly savory liquor， sharing toasts with Premier Zhou Enlai. But， not won over by its historic status， I’m of the opinion that Moutai still tastes like petroleum and is every bit as vile as foreigners seem to find it.

More reason then to turn to Guizhou’s food， rather than its drink， for inspiration. Like its neighbors， the province’s humid， sub-tropical climate warrants the liberal use of chilies and pepper. The belief is that the extra heat helps cool off the body. Setting it apart then， are the distinct， sour flavors found in its signature dishes.

Da Gui restaurant has been the capital’s trusty Guizhou go-to since 2005. Snug among alleyways， the inviting little eatery employs chefs brought from Guizhou itself and makes a concerted effort with its rustic， wooden interior and Miao minority styled tie-dyed drapes， to make the place homey.

Unless languidly taking your order or doddering dishes out to tables， these two are for the most part hunched over， glued to their boxy television set， engrossed in period dramas.

To start， we chose two cold dishes. Homemade， sour pickled vegetables made for a good indoctrination. Fresh cabbage， radish， and cucumbers are first dried and then soaked for a few days in brine. Once perky in texture， the chopped veggies are reduced to the appearance of limp sewage.

Appearances deceive served with cilantro， mint， red peppers， and a squeeze of lime， the combo is delightfully light and addictive. I found it generating the similar， satisfying appeal of sea salt & vinegar potato chips.

The other starter， loosely translated to “fish-like roots，” was less of a success. I was intrigued by the purported medicinal benefits， but didn’t get past a few bites. The same pickled vegetables were accompanied by skeletal white roots that chewed like straw and tasted far too bitter. Better kept for the medicine cabinet.

Guizhou’s picturesque terrain boasts many freshwater rivers and lakes， so local foods naturally feature wet market specialties. Not wanting to miss out， we chose a traditional hot and sour fish soup， and a bullfrog dry pot.

Spicy chilies， whole garlic cloves and tangy vinegars made for the tomato-based broth. I enjoyed how the punchy flavors masked the usually fishier-tasting catfish. But， as the soup simmered， the dish was less enjoyable， becoming too oily and acidic.

This was my first try at bullfrog I figured a disassociation with Kermit was easier made when the creatures were hacked up beyond recognition and mixed with sliced lotus root and potatoes. But， as obvious “parts” revealed themselves a webbed foot for instance I found the dish hard to stomach.

I’d say the meat itself is a cross between chicken and a tougher white fish， but there’s a startling number of bones that you have to pick through. Not sure if this was the result of preparation or if it’s the actual fault of the bullfrog， but the entire pot tasted to my mind like rancid barbecue.

Thankfully， the deep-fried glutinous black sesame rice balls came to the rescue， quickly erasing my amphibious unease. It is， hands down， the best re-invention of this common dessert that I’ve ever eaten. Conventionally， these sticky-rice balls would be boiled like dumplings yawn.

In this version， the translucent nuggets are deep-fried and topped with imported Guizhou preserved vegetables， Chinese chives and red chilies. The crisp of the deep-fried batter， salty with the pickles， bites down to a sticky， warm black sesame stuffing. The effect is four-fold salty， sour， spicy， and sweet， all in one mouthful.

With a little push， I could see more Guizhou restaurants opening around this winning dish. Skewer it， and Beijing’s tired old lamb kebabs will have some real competition.