Stuart Walton enjoys a genuinely original contribution to Chinese food studies in the present era.
Stuart Walton reviews China in Seven Banquets: A Flavourful History by Thomas David DuBois.
China’s culinary past has kept Western food historians mightily occupied over the past half-century. Much as the country’s complex chronicle of internal conflict and its shifting dynastic eras, from prehistory to post-Mao, continue to exert a fascination to the world at large, so the patterns of necessitous resourcefulness and open assimilation that have structured its food traditions have generated their own burgeoning library, even while various invented versions of those traditions made themselves at home in cultural enclaves throughout the Western world.
The external world, long held at bay by China’s strict imperial isolation, was abruptly breached in the colonial 19th century. This incursion paved the way for a controlled engagement with one of the globe’s most dynamic consumer markets beginning with the economic overhauls of the 1980s under Deng Xiaoping. European and North American culinary authors have savored the knowledge of China’s various regional dishes. Within China, this has spurred a robust burst of culinary nationalism, vividly apparent in the throngs of international visitors in Beijing. These tourists eagerly spend at Wangfujing Street’s night market stalls, seeking authentic tastes that connect them more closely to China’s ancestral roots than any menu back home could.
Thomas David DuBois, an American scholar at Beijing Normal University’s Folk Culture Research Center, has penned multiple texts on Chinese history and religion, while calling China his home for many years. Eschewing a mundane chronological recount of agriculture or royal tastes, DuBois opts for a vibrant narrative. His book paints a kaleidoscopic view of seven historical dining experiences, ushering readers from the Zhou Dynasty’s Eight Treasures banquet, a calm gathering for older men in a secluded garden, to today’s high-tech age. Now, overworked employees summon meals to their office desks and cramped apartments with just a tap on their delivery apps.
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Western scholars focused on the distinct traits of regions like Sichuan compared to Cantonese cuisine might overlook China’s pragmatic approach to sustenance. Initially characterized by a clear north-south divide between millet and rice cultivation, China’s agricultural landscape has evolved. Rather than being bound by climate and geography, advancements in farming have transcended these limitations. With the advent of the Columbian Exchange in the 16th century, new crops such as sweet potatoes, peanuts, and chili peppers integrated into the Ming dynasty tables, much like earlier enhancements from the Silk Road, rejuvenating and reshaping China’s culinary heritage.
China developed its own version of the Western humoral theory related to diet and continues to reference these principles even with modern technology in dining. Foods are categorized as warming or cooling, varying based on geographical location and diet. Spinach, for instance, is suitable for those in the north who mainly consume meat and grains, whereas it could pose risks for southern pescatarians who might experience intestinal and leg issues from it according to the Tang Dynasty Dietetic Pharmacopeia. Conversely, swallows’ nests became popular during the Ming Dynasty, sourced from high cliffs and made into a soup, with the finest varieties imported from Southeast Asia.
The adoption of chilis in Chinese cuisine was slower than commonly believed, with none present in the late-18th-century Sichuan cookbook Garden of Enlightenment, which favored Sichuan peppercorns, mustard, and ginger for heat. The historical origins of dishes like gongpao chicken are debated, with recognizable versions existing long before 19th-century official Ding Baozhen, after whom it’s supposedly named. Food historian Lan Yong notes that peanuts were not part of the recipe until its appearance in English cookbooks around the decline of the last emperor, highlighting how food history often intertwines with its own narratives.
In the early Republican era, Chinese elites sought to showcase their global awareness. An anecdote from 1914 involves a Beijing University professor who at his first foreign dining experience, notably over-served himself with butter and, when corrected, insisted he was simply very fond of it. On New Year’s Day 1921, a group tasted a fusion of Sino-Euro-American cuisine in Shanghai at the Sweet Fruits and Cookies Cafe, featuring an array of dishes from pork ribs and pineapple with mashed potatoes to mince pies, ending with a brave sampling of the harsh American kafei.
The evolution of alcoholic preferences in China proves equally compelling. Various forms of jiu (wine) existed, made from different grains or fruits, and even fermented mare’s milk reminiscent of ancient Silk Road exchanges. The Shang Dynasty supposedly fell due to the excessive drinking of its rulers. Interestingly, the 1980s saw a cocktail craze in China parallel to that in the West, with creations like layered pousse-café drinks and combinations of baijiu grain spirit, instant coffee, lemon juice, and absinthe becoming fashionable despite the scarcity of absinthe in Europe at the time.
In the concluding sections of the book, DuBois adeptly assumes the role of a seer, painting a dystopian picture of future scenarios that might unsettle the reader. Algorithms, having advanced to predict daily preferences, may determine tonight’s dinner before you even think about it. The meal might involve no human touch, being prepared from ingredients delivered via drones, with protein printed in factories and the complete dish transported by unmanned vehicles directly to consumers relegated to mere components of an overarching capitalist system. Thoughts about the fate of human workers displaced from traditional roles in food service remain unheeded. As urban living spaces diminish under the pressure of skyrocketing property values, the first superfluous feature to vanish is the kitchen, deemed unnecessary in the face of time constraints. Simultaneously, China has built an extensive network of farmland across Africa and South America to cultivate grains and feed its burgeoning meat consumption, a staple still preferred over synthetic alternatives by many.
Thomas David DuBois delivers an innovative exploration of modern Chinese gastronomy in this work, combining the rigor of scholarly research with a lively narrative devoid of academic dryness. The book is commendable not only for its insightful historical episodes concerning one of the world’s most vibrant culinary regions but also for its contemplation on how global food politics and personal interactions with food are evolving. Should the 21st century prove to be influenced significantly by China, the nation’s approach to global culinary trends—both ingenious and eccentric—might set the stage for a precarious future. The resilience of the global food system could largely hinge on China’s resourcefulness and business acumen.
China in Seven Banquets: A Flavourful History
Thomas David DuBois
Published by Reaktion Books; 296 pages; $25 / £18