Beijing Baozi – An Epic Journey (part 3)

<– part 2

Our second trip was much more pleasant – for once the traffic was acceptable, and we managed to get to Yonganli for a bit of brunch.

#7 – 阿文汤包 A Wen Shanghai Restaurant: No surprises here.

When we were planning the trip, this restaurant was one of the first that came to mind, and for good reason. We must’ve been here perhaps ten times, and while we’ve never really strayed far beyond the xiaolongbao we’ve never felt we’ve needed to either.

Price: ¥20 for 8
Location: Yonganli junction north, down a hutong opposite Silk Street.

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James – Two options here – pork, or pork with crab roe. Both are equally good, so we opted for the cheaper pork ones. These are the gold standard for xiaolongbao – a slightly thicker skin which holds the soup well, excellent savoury soup with a slight sweetness, the meat tender and succulent. As near to perfect as you can get in Beijing. 9/10

V – Very good indeed. 9/10

Total score: 9/10


#8 – 7 Eleven: The horror, the horror

In order to experience the true quality range Beijing has to offer the baozi connoisseur, we took a stroll underground, to the 7 Eleven I used to buy my lunch from every day. These may be the most commonly eaten baozi in China.

Price: ¥2.5 each
Location: Pretty much everywhere

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James – Though other options are available (the chashaobao are perhaps the most edible) we went for the standard pork and bok choi bun. Unwrapping the bag it seemed to be made of plastic, and biting into the thing did little to dispel this idea. The bread was chewy and nasty, like the worst quality mantou, and the inside smelled like chemicals and tasted like cardboard – utterly dry and flavourless. Their competitor KuaiKe can produce perfectly reasonable baozi for half a kuai more, so it’s a mystery why 7 Eleven don’t up their game a bit. 1/10

V – I need paying to eat this shit (after which she dumped the remains in the nearest bin) 0/10

Total score: 0.5/10

#9 – 唐宫海鲜舫: Back to the good stuff

It was time for a bit of late lunch now, so we took the subway down to Chongwenmen to get a bit of dim sum. The restaurant was well-hidden – inside a Novotel, on the second floor – and emptier than it should’ve been by rights. The TV was showing an expose of slaughterhouses – not a great thing to watch while you eat, but thankfully the programme finished before our food arrived. The dim sum here is surprisingly cheap, but when we returned the next time we found their dinner menu was much more expensive – and these dishes were entirely unavailable.

Price: ¥11 for 4 xiaolongbao, ¥9 for 3 chashaobao
Location: Above the Novotel XinQiao, Chongwenmen Subway Station

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James – The pork xiaolongbao are (amazingly) almost as good as the ones at A Wen, and at a better price too. The meat is great quality, the soup has that savoury taste. The only criticism I have is that the meat could be separated a little more, but that’s a minor quibble. 8/10
The chashaobao are even better – fluffy, slightly sweet bread, juicy barbecue pork with just enough fat, and a sweet, rich sauce. A little too filling, perhaps, but that wouldn’t be a problem under normal circumstances. 8.5/10

V – xiaolongbao 8/10 – chashaobao 8.5/10

Total score: xiaolongbao 8/10 – chashaobao 8.5/10

There followed an abortive trip to Qianmen, where we failed to find a restaurant, briefly lost each-other, realised V had lost her phone and had to use the tourist information woman’s phone to check where it was (in the A Wen Shanghai Restaurant) as mine was out of power.
A subway journey and a bus, and a wander around some back-streets later, we were on our way again.

#10 – 江南大包: Silver standard

A little stall on the side of the road, this is more like the kind of place you more commonly buy baozi from. Without anywhere to sit down, we went round the corner to a street restaurant, and ordered some traditional Beijing bottles of fizzy orange drink.

Price: 1¥ each
Location: CuiWei Building North, Fuxinglu, Gongzhufen

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James – These are proper street baozi, the standard according to my (limited) experience. There’s a pleasantly bready bun, good quality juicy meat inside, and that’s enough really. Nothing too special, but worth the price. 6.5/10

V – For normal baozi these are quite fresh. The meat is good quality – that’s the most important thing. 7.5/10

Total score: 7/10

–> Part 4

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Things in China – Frost spider tree

Things in China - Frost spider tree

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Things in China – Cabbage and hotpot

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Things in China – Year of the snake

Midnight in Tongzhou

Midnight

Zai Zai, born 12.07am, Chinese New Year’s Day

Zai Zai

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Poor health

It’s the Chinese New Year holiday, and I’m just finishing three days off work, but unfortunately things haven’t really gone to plan, and we’ve been unable to do almost any of the planned activities. Still, at this point we’re just glad everything is ok.

Everything started to go a bit wrong on Friday night, when M woke up coughing and wouldn’t go back to sleep. When I woke up the following morning he had a temperature, and when I got back from work he still looked tired and was coughing away worse than ever. That night was Spring Festival Eve, traditionally time for dumplings, fireworks and the interminable CCTV New Year’s Gala (this year featuring performer of the moment Celine Dion), but these were eaten quickly, ignored and on in the background respectively, as the night ended up being generally divided between taking care of / worrying about the kid and disagreeing about why he was ill and what to do about it.

The next day we did the sensible thing and took him to the doctor. Except in China you* can’t go “to the doctor” – you have to take a taxi to the children’s hospital a couple of miles away, stand in a series of queues in cold hallways with other ill children, and be periodically allowed to elbow your way into a little room to see a grumpy doctor at a computer who can’t be bothered to look at you apart from barking questions and rolling their eyes if you don’t follow the script. The diagnosis seems to be always that you need to have an IV drip full of antibiotics, then a list of other expensive “western” and “Chinese” medicine, whatever is wrong with you. If you meet a particularly irresponsible doctor he might demand that your 6 month old baby have a full chest x-ray before he’ll give an opinion on his slight cough (as happened to us in 2011 – we went and found another doctor instead).

It’s at times like this that I can’t help but wonder if it was a good idea to escape the expat bubble and join normal Chinese life. It brings home a little how uncertain and dangerous everyday life can be without the safety net I grew up to expect in the UK. If you get seriously ill in China then you’ll get nothing in the way of benefits and will have to spend your savings (and most likely those of your family) in a series of badly run, dirty hospitals, be fleeced for all you’re worth, go through Kafkaesque levels of bureaucracy, and not receive anything resembling decent treatment at the end of it all. It’s no wonder people here complain about “western medicine” when this is the only side of it they see. (Fortunately, I do have health insurance as part of my job, but (being British) I’ve no idea how to make a claim on it, and if it came to that point we’d have to find a half-decent place in the centre which would charge perhaps triple the going rate in the USA, and as heartless as it might sound we don’t want to risk spending a month’s salary on every little sniffle.)

The upshot of this is that nobody trusts the doctors, western medicine, or even Chinese medicine. That sense of doubt and panic whenever anyone gets even slightly ill is unfamiliar to westerners and (to me) unbearable. How can people take it not knowing whether their child’s rash is Meningitis, and not wanting to ask a doctor? Expectations are set low, then, and the demand everyone seems to make on arrival at a hospital is “give me some medicine.” I want a doctor to talk to me openly about any health problem, then feel free to offer nothing except ‘bed rest and fluids’, but this isn’t even imaginable here. Without trust, there can be no reassurance; without reassurance, there’s stress and panic.

Fortunately, one thing is the same here and at home – most illnesses will go away on their own without any treatment. Many people go to the doctor at the natural peak of their illness and attribute their recovery to the treatment they get, whether it really worked or not. Over the last couple of days it’s been very reassuring to know these facts, though unfortunately it’s difficult to communicate them to V’s parents, who seem to think we’re monsters for not accepting the IV drip full of antibiotics. “You’re not a doctor,” they say, but what is a doctor here exactly?

Three days later, M is better at last, and I think we did the right thing. I do hope, though, that next time someone gets ill we’re somewhere else.

*I’m using ‘you’ here to refer to the vast majority of Chinese people, not the middle/upper classes or “foreigners” – this might be a strange use of the word ‘you’ but I’m going to stick with it.

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Beijing Baozi – An Epic Journey (part 2)

<– part 1

#4 – 古槐宝鼎天津包子店 – GuHuai BaoDing: Feel a bit sick just thinking about this one.

The first part of this journey was an overwhelmingly positive experience, but things were about to take a turn for the worse. We took a bus up the road one stop, then crossed the road and walked half the way back before we found it – a small, very much standard-looking restaurant, with little or nothing in the way of decoration or atmosphere, plastic tables and the like. Still, we were there for the baozi, not the atmosphere, and ordered three of these standard-looking buns, alongside a watery bowl of liver soup which I wasn’t particularly keen on eating. The liver came straight away, and there was a fifteen minute wait for the baozi.

Price: ¥3.5 for three
Location: Xisi BeidaJie, Xisi

The place Slimy liver soup

Normal looking baozi Nasty, slimy insides

James – The bread on the outside is completely standard, the sort of thing you can find in any little restaurant or convenience store. The meat inside, though, is grey and slimy and tastes of absolutely nothing. A little grease came out when I first bit it, but I’d hardly call this a feature. 3/10

V – The meat is really normal, but there’s also some soup. maybe that’s why people say they’re good. Compared to normal baozi these are quite special. 5/10

Total score: 4

#5 – Wangpanzi Lurou Huoshao: Donkey’s years

It took us an age to find the next place – a couple of walks and a couple of subway trains, then we managed to walk straight past the place. It was a miracle we found the place, and by this point it was dark outside. At this point we were on a strange street – a kind of Nanluoguxiang, but for Chinese tourists rather than foreigners. The restaurant featured pictures of happy donkeys in fields, a bit off-putting when you’re eating the things, but Chinese people aren’t so squeamish. Again, these aren’t baozi at all, but we’ll return to things which are definitely baozi again soon.

Price: ¥7 each
Location: 西城区护国寺街113号 – Hukousi Temple

Happy donkey Donkey penis soup

Here it is Guess who forgot to take a photo of the outside.

James – Much like our first stop again, and the cases are reassuringly crispy. Standards seem to be rising. The meat inside is a bit cold, but pretty good. My only real complaint is that they put chopped green peppers inside, never a good move. 6/10

V – The meat is really good compared to the other donkey meat restaurants. I’d like to go back. 7/10

Total score: 6½

#6 – Baorui Mending Roubing: This is what we’ve been looking for

Our final journey of the day was by far the longest, as we first took a long and difficult journey during rush hour, then proceeded to get completely lost, even though this was the one place we’d been to before. In the end we realised we’d done a complete circle of the restaurant, it was that easy to miss. Opening the door we entered a smokey box room with nondescript chairs and tables, locals drinking baijiu, the floor littered with debris, and sat down to start our 20 minute wait for our food. But it was all worth it.

Price: ¥5 for two (!)
Location: 东城区东四六条东口

Finally, here we are! As good as they look

No, better than they look! I hope this isn't what's circulating round my arteries.

James – What we have here is fundamentally just a beef bun – chopped beef in a tallow sauce, in an oily pastry shell – but that description can’t really do it any justice. The meat is fresh, juicy and tastes like it’s mixed with fresh herbs, the sauce is smooth and the skin is magnificently crispy and flaky. I’m only not giving it a ten because it’s so ridiculously unhealthy that it congealed into solid puddles onto my plate. A once-a-year thing, if that, but a real find nonetheless. 9/10

V – I like it – a little salty, but very fresh and tastes great. 8/10

Total score: 8½

It was dark and cold outside now, and our friend was waiting for us in the pub up the road. The rest of the trip would have to be postponed until the next weekend.

Part 3 –>

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Things in China – “We are Americans”

It’s not really fair to laugh at someone’s poor English when my Chinese is so bad (or fair in any case, come to think of it), especially when it’s some poor woman just looking for a job, but she is trying to lie to people in order to get their business, so, yes, I think we can laugh after all. Simply using Google translate would produce an infinitely better result than this.

"We are Americans"

We don’t employ a maid, by the way. Not sure if this is for moral / ethical / guilt-based reasons or because we’re too poor / stingy, probably a bit of both.

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Things in China – ‘Love Toilet’, Xishuangbanna Airport

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Things in China – Fibreglass statue of ET outside my apartment

ET Sculpture

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Try Not To Breathe

This is what I have to look like whenever I leave the house this week.

This is what I have to look like whenever I leave the house this week.

Coming back from three weeks in (mainly) sunny Yunnan province, we were both aware that we’d have to return to the cold of a Beijing winter. Reports from friends suggested that it was getting close to minus 20 at night-time, so warm clothes were packed accordingly. As the plane approached the airport, however, it was the forces of man-made “weather” which turned out to be much more important. The smog had fixed such a dense layer over the city that the plane was forced to re-route to Inner Mongolia, where we slept in a Genghis Khan themed spa hotel and returned more successfully the next day.

After helping out some poor Belgian guy who spoke no English and had missed his connecting flight from the other airport, we took a taxi back through the city. The familiar landmarks were all hidden. We took the same highway I’ve taken back and forth to work for the best part of three years, and I barely recognised where we were until we were almost home.

We spent almost all of the next couple of days indoors, but on those short journeys outdoors it was clear the smog was gradually getting even worse. We’re all used to some very intense pollution here, but this was way beyond usual expectations. To get some idea of how bad, think about this: the WHO safety guideline for PM2.5 particulates is 25, with 50 being “harmful to health”. Levels generally fluctuate between about 100 and 250. In 2010 the US Embassy twitter feed (generally the reliable source for this sort of information) took a reading “beyond index” – their instruments measuring up to 500 – and got into some trouble for labeling this as “crazy bad.”

That was a particularly bad spike, but this week that same twitter feed has been showing “beyond index” constantly. Other measurements have shown the level reaching nearly 900. The tallest building in Beijing, which I work next to, is almost invisible now, and the view from my bus journey home looks like something from an old film about Jack the Ripper, the light from the street lamps being swallowed up in cones of haze. Even with a mask I can smell and taste the stuff, and twenty minutes outside per day has been enough to give me a sore throat.

London and San Fransisco had the same problem before. Many people here still think London is foggy. Both cities put through stringent clean air acts and fought hard to make them work. So far the only action here seems to be this. It’ll be a good couple of decades before it starts to get better, optimistically.

So, why stay here? It’s a good question without a good answer. We have to leave, if possible before the next big wave of smog next winter. I’ve been looking for jobs elsewhere in China and abroad, not easy in this climate but it’s clear that the time has come.

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