Reality Equation

Downtown Hefei, Lúzhōu Kǎoyā, Pǔ ěr tea

What I’ve enjoyed most in Hefei besides getting to learn Pǔtōnghuà and meet amazing people, is the food.

Just today I went back to Guanting Lu, a nearby street that’s quickly becoming one of my favorite places to meet locals and practice my Chinese, and had some zhūròu (猪肉, pork) chǎomiàn (炒面, or ‘chowmein’ in English). For ¥5, you get a very generous serving of fried noodles with shredded meat and stir-fried vegetables, and the locals smile warmly at your attempts at speaking their language. (That or they’re doing an absolutely fabulous job of containing their laughter, secretly memorizing what we say so they can return home and then have a ball with the entire extended family. But I rather doubt it).

I’ve read that, in addition to food that are unique to China (most of which seem to have sesame in some form), there are certain dishes that are unique to Hefei. More specifically, these are dishes you absolutely must try before leaving Hefei, failing which would be comparable to going to Kathmandu and refusing to try the venerable momo there. Pure, unadulterated folly.

Hefei’s Special Roast Duck

In Hefei, the local special is called Lúzhōu kǎuoyā, which is a type of roast duck. The ‘Luzhuo’ in the name is what Hefei used to be called in ancient times, and kǎuoyā simply means cooked duck (well, it really means duck cooked in open fire, I’ve been told, but this isn’t an accurate description of the dish).

Han Shu, a Chinese friend who heard me talking about the dish, told me he knew a place that had good Lúzhōu kǎuoyā, and him and Cherry (another friend, also one of Michael’s teaching assistants) offered to take Michael and me there. We took a taxi from the 南门 (nán mén, south gate) of the campus and headed towards downtown to have the famous roast duck.

Hefei Rising

Now Hefei is a small city by Chinese standards, but it’s much bigger than I’d imagined. I thought the Carrefour in the plaza on Changjiang Road was glitzy for a ’small town’ like Hefei; was I sorely mistaken. Over the last twenty years, a lot of Anhui’s development funds have been channeled to the city, and it’s just been booming. According to the Hefei government website:

Since the opening-up and reform, Hefei has entered a fast track for its economic and social development. Its GDP has grown at a two-digit rate for more 20 years, resulting in a constant increase in its economic comprehensive strength.

By the time we reached downtown, I couldn’t be sure if I was in Hefei anymore. Massive modern megastructures, huge electronic billboards, a string of glitzy designer stores, all very well-lit (to say the very least) and booming with commerce. “Do you think this is a lot of people?” Cherry asks me. “Yeah,” I admit, a little astonished, “it’s like a festival!”.

Walking Street is not far from the CBD, marked clearly by very large building with revolving seeking lights. There are people everywhere—buskers, students, couples—and the streets are lined with restaurants, boutiques, even hotels. In the midst of all this is the 1,500-year old Buddhist Mingjiao temple I tell myself I have to come back to later. We walk further on, and I notice the many well-light showrooms of high-fashion Chinese clothing lines. “This is where a lot of young people come shop”, Cherry herself comes her for clothes, and to simply hang out.

Lúzhōu Kǎoyā, Up Close

A little further Han points to a bright, crowded restaurant. “This is where you get really good Lúzhōu Kǎoyā.” As we get closer, we notice there’s a line, and quickly join it. Behind the counter, the chefs have several prepared whole ducks—roasted and all—ready to be sold by weight, ¥35 for half a kilo (500gm, or 1 jīn, 市斤, a common unit in China).

To supplement this, we get some 馄饨 (hún‧tún, also sometimes called ‘wonton soup’ outside of China) and a specific kind of fried rice called yáng zhōu chǎo fàn, both of which are common enough to the Hefei diet, Cherry tells me, that they can also be had at the University cafeteria.

The duck has a crispy outside, and is well-cooked but soft on the inside. It is rather oily, but the taste is simply magnificent. It wasn’t very different from the Thai dish khao na ped (roast duck on rice), a favorite street-side/food-court offering I make a point not to miss whenever I’m in Bangkok. Lúzhōu kǎoyā, however, doesn’t need to be eaten by rice and doesn’t have any additional sauce added to it. In that sense, it’s a bare, basic roast duck dish, but it does have that something that makes it worth trying when you’re in Hefei.

Han Shu and Cherry, and Chinese

Han Shu and Cherry are excellent guides, and know exactly whent to go into teaching mode and give us Chinese words and characters to remember and when to simply sit back and relax. Even when we’re most relaxed, we’re usually asking “Zenmen shuo…?” (’How does one say…?’) for common words and phrases, and they’re more than happy to answer. They’re both studying “Teaching Chinese as a Second Language” as their college major, so taking us out and interacting with us is part of their studies.I tell them they have a great major, and that they’re doing a great job. And it’s true! I learn so much just by hanging out and talking with them.

“Do you know about the Confucius Institute?” Michael asks Han, referring to the non-profit institutes set up all around the world to teach Chinese language and culture.

“Yes, I know,” Han responds, “It’s a dream for me to work there, but it’s very competitive”. Cherry nods in agreement.

We continue with our meals, as Han and Cherry stop every few minutes to explain local culture/society and throw in new words. Han sees me taking photographs of everything, and, holding a hún-dún dumpling to his mouth, poses for the camera, grinning:

I think they’re great tutors, and well on their way to joining the ranks of Confucius Institute teachers. (Good luck, guys!)

After the meal, we exit Walking Street and find oursives at a wide intersection, a mind-bogglingly complex network of roads I’m not sure how drivers manage to navigate. The little green ‘walk’ icon starts blinking (well, the little green man starts walking, but that sounds ridiculous) and we cross one part of the street, and I notice we’re on a massive overhead pass.

“These were all built in the past year,” Han explains. In the last year! The city has so many of them, and I’m surprised to learn how quickly the city’s growing. I’m pretty sure if I come back next year it’ll have changed to the point I’ll once again feel like I’m no longer in the Hefei I thought I knew.

Pǔ ěr tea and Chinese Philosophy

We cross the second half of he massive intersection-street, and, going further, reach one end of the city park. We’re looking for someplace to sit down and have some drinks—Michael wants some beer, and I’d love to try more types of tea—and Han Shu decided that the park is probably our best bet. We find a sort of “tea salon”, a speciality tea store, and looked through their menus: a wide selection of tea from all over China, with prices ranging from ¥13 to much, much more.

The person behind the counter tells us that they usually have a tea master who can prepare tea in the Gongfu tradition, but that he isn’t here at the moment. I glance over the menu and, after Han Shu explains some my choices, ask him if they offer tea from the Yunnan province.

“There’s pǔ ěr,” he says. Perfect! Yún nán pǔ ěr (云南普洱) is a dark, full-bodied tea that’s supposed to be quite therapeutic. Han Shu agree this is a good choice.

We decide to sit outside, on a sort of platform overlooking the lake/pond in the park. It’s around 8:15pm, maybe a little later (can’t remember), but the water is misty, the park stretching out and around a corner. To one side, there are cars racing along a wide highway, and all around us, tranquility and silence. Only beverage, and great company. We get to talking about Chinese philosophy, about food culture in China and in the US, and daoism, all the while our guides throw in some Chinese words and characters.

“You mentioned Daoist philosophy,” Han Shu says, referring to Michael’s having told him about his interest in learning more about Chinese philosophy. “Enjoying this tea is part of that idea of not having anything.” Cherry shows me how one is supposed to drink the pǔ ěr tea.

“Pour in just a little bit” She pours some into my cup to demonstrate, and stops around 1/4 of the way up. “Swirl it around to mix it, and smell it.” The idea, she explains, is to take in the aroma, and have the tea very slowly. “No need to hurry,” she says.

I take a sip of, a sharp, full-bodied taste. It has a strong and distinct aftertaste. At first it tastes odd, but the flavour quickly grows on me, as I start to really enjoy this amazing tea from Yunnan. I pass it around for other to sip, and we all agree it’s excellent. We continue talking about food, and China.

By the time the we are done with the first flush, and Cherry pours in more hot water (that was provided with the tea) for the second (”the better one”), it’s almost 10:15pm. Han Shu looks at his watch. “We need to get back to the dormitory by 11,” he says, “or we won’t be able to get in”. We’d spent two hours at the place, over tea, conversation and China.

We agree that we should come back sometime later when the tea master is there to perform the Gongfu tea ceremony, and take a taxi back to AAU. Han Shu and Cherry drop us off at the dorms, we thank them for a positively surreal weeked out, and they head back to their dorm-apartments before they’re locked out for the night.

By the time I get to my bed, I’m tired, but happy. Hefei is a city of great food and wonderful people, and I can’t think of a better environment to learn a language.