Beijing Muslim History: Old Halal Notes from the Southern City (Part 3 of 5)
Reposted from the web
Summary: Beijing Muslim History: Old Halal Notes from the Southern City is presented here as a firsthand travel account in clear English, beginning with this scene: Chongwen:. The account keeps its focus on Beijing Muslim History, Southern Beijing, Hui Muslims while preserving the names, places, food, and historical details from the Chinese source. This is part 3 of 5.
Part 3 of 5
When I was a child in the early 1950s, a breakfast shop run by Hui Muslims just a short walk from the east end of our alley sold these fried cakes. These fried cakes were flat and round, and they turned brown or dark red after being deep-fried. I remember some shops sold hot-water dough fried cakes (tangmian zhagao) that seemed to have a red stamp-like mark on one side. I do not know what the character was, but it looked very unique.
The preparation method is said to be simple: pour near-boiling water into a measured amount of flour, then stir and knead it until smooth. Then, mix brown sugar or white sugar with a little dry flour to make the filling. After wrapping the filling inside, pat it into a flat round shape by hand, drop it into a pot of oil to fry, and once both sides turn brownish-red (or dark red), use a strainer to scoop it out for sale.
The hot-water dough fried cake fresh out of the pot tastes a bit crispy, a bit sweet, and seems to have a bit of chewiness. The filling inside is like an open honey pot, thick, fragrant, and sweet, with a unique flavor. People say every shop or individual selling hot-water dough fried cakes has their own special tricks, but these mostly come down to heat control, the filling, and kneading techniques. I thought the hot-water dough fried cake was delicious when I ate it at a snack shop, and I heard that the owner added a little osmanthus to the filling.
Casual Talk on Beijing Past: Beijing Snacks Fried Cakes and Hot-Water Dough Fried Cakes. Ma Tianji
15. Jubaoyuan on Niujie
Jubaoyuan is located in the middle section of Niujie Street, at the corner of Shouliu Hutong on the east side of the road. It has two storefronts, and above the door hangs a black plaque with gold characters written in vigorous regular script: Jubaoyuan Beef and Mutton Shop. Inside the door is a large wooden counter, and on the counter are two large white square enamel trays containing ground beef and mutton. Above the counter is an iron pipe with many iron hooks, from which trimmed beef and mutton hang for customers to choose from. Meat was very cheap back then; mutton was 71 cents a jin, and beef was 70 cents a jin. My mother often sent me to buy meat. She would give me 14 cents and say, 'Go to Jubaoyuan and buy two liang of mutton. Get the fatty kind; we are having soybean paste noodles (zhajiangmian) today.' Because I went there so often, I got to know the salesperson. In my memory, the meat seller was a young man named Ma. He was fair-skinned, had a long face, and was very friendly to people. Everyone called him Little Ma. As soon as I arrived, he would say to me, 'Xiao Si, you are here. How much are you buying?' 'Do you want beef or mutton?' Are you having soybean paste noodles (zhajiangmian) again? I said, "Give me two liang of lamb, and make it fatty." "Alright!" Little Ma quickly cut the meat for me, weighed it, and handed it over, saying, "Here you go!" At this point, you might ask: why buy fatty meat? To be honest, I am talking about the 1950s and 60s. Life was hard back then. You needed a ration book or coupons to buy anything. Each person only got half a jin of cooking oil a month, which was never enough. That is why we bought fatty meat; it made the fried sauce smell so good!
Memories of Niujie by Chen Chunxi
16. The large halal canteen at the north entrance of Niujie Street.
This canteen had no formal name, but in my memory, it was just called the "Niujie Halal Canteen," and it was state-run. It was not until the late 1970s that it was renamed "Liangyixuan." The sign was written by Yang Jingren.
This big canteen was very popular with the locals, and it was always crowded for all three meals. For breakfast, they served sesame flatbread (shaobing), spiral rolls (luosizhuan), steamed buns (dun'er bobo), soy milk, and tofu pudding (doufunao). These were all snacks Beijingers loved, and they tasted great. The beef and green onion steamed buns (baozi) were especially good. They cost ten cents each and were delicious. One bite and the oil would ooze out, revealing a solid meatball inside. If you had a bowl of red bean porridge and two liang of buns, you had a complete breakfast.
At noon, they served main meals, mostly rice and stir-fried dishes. They had other things too, like stir-fried flatbread (chaobing). They made two kinds: vegetarian and meat, served in half-jin portions. The vegetarian one cost 25 cents and half a jin of grain coupons, while the meat one cost 30 cents and half a jin of grain coupons. The flatbread was stir-fried perfectly, with great color, smell, and taste. It was truly delicious. The stir-fried dishes were also very authentic. They were mostly home-style dishes, both vegetarian and meat. The cheapest vegetarian dish, braised fried tofu puffs (shaodou Pao), was only 25 cents, and meat dishes were only 30 or 40 cents. The braised eggplant (shao qiezi) there tastes amazing. The vegetarian version is 28 cents, and the meat version is 36 cents. It is a truly authentic Beijing flavor. Also, their pan-seared lamb (guota yangrou), stir-fried egg with vinegar (culiu muxu), and stir-fried lamb with scallions (congbao yangrou) have a unique taste and capture the special style of old Beijing cuisine.
When the weather gets cold, they also serve hot pot (shuanguozi), with lamb slices (shuan yangrou) and beef tripe (shuan baiye), which are all very good. I watched the chef slice the lamb myself. On a large cutting board, he had a fresh piece of lamb leg. He held the meat down with his left hand, using a white cloth on top of the meat—perhaps to keep it from slipping—and held a knife in his right hand. The knife was over a foot long and two inches wide with a square tip, and it looked very sharp. I saw the chef rub, pull, and swipe the knife across the meat, and a paper-thin slice of lamb fell away. His movements were very fast, and he filled a large plate in no time. Just go ahead and eat; it is guaranteed to be fresh and tender.
Memories of Niujie by Chen Chunxi
17. A child selling malt sugar sticks (maiyatang) on Niujie Street.
In Niujie, when children are just five or six years old, their parents give them a cardboard cigarette box. The four corners of the box are tied with thin strings, and it is filled with malt sugar sticks (maiyatang gun). The children walk through the alleys calling out, 'One bets for two!' This is a type of gambling business. If you do not gamble, one copper coin buys one malt sugar stick. If you want to gamble, both the buyer and seller take a stick and place them on a step. They use one hand to tap the sticks, and whoever taps theirs further wins. If the buyer wins, they get to eat two sticks, which is why it is called 'one bets for two'.
As the children grow a bit older, they learn to do business by carrying baskets to sell boiled peanuts, and in the summer, they sell things like salted long beans, cooked peas, and ice-covered hawthorn berries (binghe). Although they do not make much profit, they learn the skills of running a small business from a young age. When they get even older, they can change what they sell based on the season, a practice known as 'zazhua'.
Beijing Niujie by Liu Dongsheng and Liu Shenglin.
18. A vendor selling sticky rice cake (qiegao) on Niujie Street.
Hui Muslims in Niujie sell many types of sticky rice cake (qiegao), all made from sticky flour using ingredients like glutinous rice (jiangmi) or broomcorn millet (huangmi). Sticky rice cakes evolved into many varieties like aiwowo, yellow bean flour cakes (huangmian doumiangao), rolling donkey cakes (ludagun), and the New Year rice cake mounds (niangao tuor) eaten around the Spring Festival. There is also a porridge-like dish made from yellow rice called mogao. These are all sticky rice products, but they are not considered qiegao.
The qiegao people usually talk about includes these types: cakes made from yellow flour with kidney beans or peas, steamed basin cakes (pengao) made with dates in a perforated basin, sticky rice flour cakes with red bean paste and dates, fermented bean cakes (douchigao) made by mixing sticky rice flour with crushed cooked kidney beans, and rolled cakes (juangao) filled with pea paste and red bean paste (these taste better when heated in a small steamer during winter). There are also New Year rice cakes (niangao) made from steamed sticky rice. Qiegao ingredients vary in quality, and the processing ranges from fine to coarse. Some are mixed with rice flour, commonly called benmian. This lower-quality version is cheaper, but many people still enjoy eating it. Qiegao vendors push a single-wheeled handcart with a long wooden cutting board on top. Near the handles, they stand a bamboo tube to hold money.
There are quite a few famous figures among qiegao vendors. In Niujie, there is a vendor known as Qiegao Zhang, whom everyone, young and old, calls Zhang Liuba. He is famous for his fermented bean cakes and rolled cakes, making him a standout among qiegao sellers. The sticky rice flour, pea paste, and red bean paste he uses for his qiegao are all passed through a fine sieve. His cart is also the most elaborate. The edges of the wooden board and the area around the bamboo tube are inlaid with white and red copper decorations, featuring the hollowed-out words 'Halal Hui Muslim' (Qingzhen Huihui). On the board sits a glass display case with three sides, and it is kept spotless along with his water kettle (tangping) sign. The wooden board is scrubbed so clean that the wood grain is clearly visible. Qiegao Zhang himself looks sharp, wearing a blue cloth jacket, white sleeves rolled up high, a white apron, and a white namaz cap. His cart shines brightly, and he looks full of energy. The qiegao he sells has layers of cake and red bean paste, topped with colorful candied fruit strips (qinghongsi), melon seeds, raisins, and other dried fruits. He also keeps a large bowl of fine white sugar and adds a spoonful for customers upon request. The cart carries a basin of water so he can wash the porcelain plates and bamboo chopsticks as he sells. In winter, when Qiegao Zhang sells his fermented bean cakes, he brings a small stove and a set of small steamers so the cakes are served hot. While other qiegao vendors may not be as meticulous as him, they still keep their carts very clean. Just looking at them makes people hungry.
A qiegao vendor might look like he is just one person pushing a cart down the street, but he is like an actor on stage, while his entire family, young and old, works behind the scenes. This involves grinding sticky rice into flour, boiling small beans into bean paste, and selecting and cooking small dates. After the cake is steamed, it is patted into sheets with a damp cloth, then filled with bean paste and dates. This is usually a full day's work for several people and requires skilled technique. Even so, their profits are not high, as they depend on sales and the weather. During holidays, besides selling from carts, they also make extra cake mounds (gaotuo) to sell, which brings in better income. Some cut-cake sellers gradually became wealthy through good business management. For example, Ma Baogui, known as 'Cut-Cake Ma,' later invested with his brother to open the Jubao Yuan beef and mutton shop on Niujie Street. From the 1940s until the public-private partnership era, it remained a leader among the beef and mutton shops on Niujie Street. As for other cut-cake sellers, most lived in precarious conditions with very unstable lives.
Beijing Niujie by Liu Dongsheng and Liu Shenglin.
19. Steamed corn buns (wotou) from the old neighbors of Niujie Street.
My mother not only steamed cornmeal buns (wotou) well, but she could also make cornmeal into many varieties, such as 'gold-wrapped-silver' flower rolls (jinguoyin huajuan) (a lovely name for flower rolls made with a small amount of white flour wrapped around cornmeal). Actually, these are just flower rolls made with a little white flour wrapped around cornmeal. She also made shaken dumplings (yaogogo) (cornmeal mixed with a little white flour, shaped into one-centimeter cubes, tossed in a basin with dry flour, and shaken like sweet rice balls (yuanxiao) until they form small spheres, then boiled and topped with fried sauce or gravy) and large-filling dumplings (datuanzi) (the 'large filling' was just cabbage or radish).
But let's not get sidetracked; let's talk about cornmeal buns (wotou) again. My mother's cornmeal buns (wotou) had some variety. Besides regular ones, she sometimes steamed salty ones. She would add salt, chopped green onions, and floating oil cracklings (fuyou zha) to the cornmeal. We Hui Muslims make these by chopping mutton and rendering the fat in a pot; the leftovers are the cracklings. Salty cornmeal buns taste so good! Sweet cornmeal buns (wotou) have a unique flavor. After fermenting the cornmeal, she added brown sugar and sometimes a few large red dates. Those buns were incredibly sweet and delicious, but they were a luxury we rarely ate throughout the year.
Memories of Niujie by Chen Chunxi
20. Soybean paste noodles (zhajiangmian) from the old neighbors of Niujie Street.
I remember when I was a child, my mother would often give me 14 cents and say, 'Go to Jubao Yuan and buy two taels of mutton, the fatty kind.' Today we are having noodles with fried sauce (zhajiangmian). After I bought the meat, my mother started frying the sauce (the sauce was also bought from Wanji Small Shop for 10 cents). She first chopped the mutton into small pieces, then prepared chopped green onions, sliced garlic, and minced ginger. She heated oil in a wok. Once hot, she stir-fried the meat. When the meat changed color, she added the onions, ginger, and garlic to bring out the aroma. Then she added the sauce, salt, and a little water, stirring constantly with a spatula. The sauce bubbled in the pot. She didn't rush; she fried it for a while until the fragrance came out, then took it off the heat. She poured the fried sauce into a bowl. Because the meat was fatty, a layer of oil floated on top, which looked delicious. The vegetable toppings were simple back then. You just shredded half a cabbage, blanched it in boiling water, and put it on a plate. In winter, you could also shred a 'heart-is-beautiful' radish (xinlimei) as a topping. You could also cut it into chunks to eat with noodles; it was crunchy and had a unique flavor. In summer, you would just scoop up a big bowl of noodles rinsed in cold water (guoshuimian), pour on some fried soybean paste (zhajiang), grab a whole cucumber, and sit on a small stool in the courtyard. Eating a mouthful of noodles with a bite of cucumber was wonderful. It was even better with two stalks of green garlic. Add a little vinegar to your fried soybean paste noodles for a better taste, don't forget!
Memories of Niujie by Chen Chunxi
21. The Barbecue King (Kaorou Wang) at Tianqiao.
The 'Barbecue King' (Kaorou Wang) is a Hui Muslim who has run a barbecue stall on the open ground west of the Tianqiao market for decades. Now there is a building next to his stall called the Fuyuanhao Restaurant, and the Barbecue King sets up his stall right outside it. In summer, he sells various braised noodles and quick-boiled tripe (baodu). Every year at the start of autumn (Liqiu), he adds grilled and shabu-shabu beef and lamb, as well as crabs from Shengfang Town. Many people in Beijing sell barbecue, but the one in Tianqiao is unique, and the iron grill grate he uses is truly different from the rest. Every autumn, people flock there to eat. Regardless of whether the weather is hot or cold, he always starts selling the new items on the day of the start of autumn. I passed by there last night and saw many people gathered around the fire eating, all of them sweating profusely. They say the Barbecue King got his name because his business is honest and he never mixes other meats with his beef and lamb, though his prices are a bit higher than elsewhere. I heard his prices this year are 40 copper coins per plate of meat, plus a 10-coin pot fee per person.
A Glimpse of Tianqiao, Chen Bao, August 13, 1927, by Mingong.
Others
1. Hui Muslim businesses roaming the streets and alleys.
'Miancha, get your millet flour porridge (miancha)!' The stalls selling millet flour porridge are often set up on the side of the road in busy areas. The front of the carrying pole holds a stove with a clay pot on top, simmering millet flour tea (miancha). A large square wooden tray sits on the edge of the pot, with a small deep copper basin resting on the side, filled with sesame paste, a small tube for sprinkling salt and pepper, and small enamel spoons in a blue-rimmed porcelain bowl. In the middle of the square tray sits a copper plaque inscribed with Arabic script or the Chinese characters for 'Halal Hui Muslim' (Qingzhen Huihui), and some even say 'Western Regions Hui Muslim' (Xiyu Huihui). Red cloth strips hang below the plaque, signaling that this is a traditional food business run by Hui Muslims. When serving, the vendor uses a betel nut-shaped spoon to scoop the millet flour tea into a bowl, then uses a pair of chopsticks to flick sesame paste from the small copper basin onto the tea quickly and evenly, before sprinkling salt and pepper over the top. When drinking the millet flour tea, you should sip it while rotating the bowl, or use the small enamel spoon to slide it along the edge; you must not mix the tea and sesame paste together, or it will thin out and lose its good flavor.
Summary: Beijing Muslim History: Old Halal Notes from the Southern City is presented here as a firsthand travel account in clear English, beginning with this scene: Chongwen:. The account keeps its focus on Beijing Muslim History, Southern Beijing, Hui Muslims while preserving the names, places, food, and historical details from the Chinese source. This is part 3 of 5.
Part 3 of 5
When I was a child in the early 1950s, a breakfast shop run by Hui Muslims just a short walk from the east end of our alley sold these fried cakes. These fried cakes were flat and round, and they turned brown or dark red after being deep-fried. I remember some shops sold hot-water dough fried cakes (tangmian zhagao) that seemed to have a red stamp-like mark on one side. I do not know what the character was, but it looked very unique.
The preparation method is said to be simple: pour near-boiling water into a measured amount of flour, then stir and knead it until smooth. Then, mix brown sugar or white sugar with a little dry flour to make the filling. After wrapping the filling inside, pat it into a flat round shape by hand, drop it into a pot of oil to fry, and once both sides turn brownish-red (or dark red), use a strainer to scoop it out for sale.
The hot-water dough fried cake fresh out of the pot tastes a bit crispy, a bit sweet, and seems to have a bit of chewiness. The filling inside is like an open honey pot, thick, fragrant, and sweet, with a unique flavor. People say every shop or individual selling hot-water dough fried cakes has their own special tricks, but these mostly come down to heat control, the filling, and kneading techniques. I thought the hot-water dough fried cake was delicious when I ate it at a snack shop, and I heard that the owner added a little osmanthus to the filling.
Casual Talk on Beijing Past: Beijing Snacks Fried Cakes and Hot-Water Dough Fried Cakes. Ma Tianji
15. Jubaoyuan on Niujie
Jubaoyuan is located in the middle section of Niujie Street, at the corner of Shouliu Hutong on the east side of the road. It has two storefronts, and above the door hangs a black plaque with gold characters written in vigorous regular script: Jubaoyuan Beef and Mutton Shop. Inside the door is a large wooden counter, and on the counter are two large white square enamel trays containing ground beef and mutton. Above the counter is an iron pipe with many iron hooks, from which trimmed beef and mutton hang for customers to choose from. Meat was very cheap back then; mutton was 71 cents a jin, and beef was 70 cents a jin. My mother often sent me to buy meat. She would give me 14 cents and say, 'Go to Jubaoyuan and buy two liang of mutton. Get the fatty kind; we are having soybean paste noodles (zhajiangmian) today.' Because I went there so often, I got to know the salesperson. In my memory, the meat seller was a young man named Ma. He was fair-skinned, had a long face, and was very friendly to people. Everyone called him Little Ma. As soon as I arrived, he would say to me, 'Xiao Si, you are here. How much are you buying?' 'Do you want beef or mutton?' Are you having soybean paste noodles (zhajiangmian) again? I said, "Give me two liang of lamb, and make it fatty." "Alright!" Little Ma quickly cut the meat for me, weighed it, and handed it over, saying, "Here you go!" At this point, you might ask: why buy fatty meat? To be honest, I am talking about the 1950s and 60s. Life was hard back then. You needed a ration book or coupons to buy anything. Each person only got half a jin of cooking oil a month, which was never enough. That is why we bought fatty meat; it made the fried sauce smell so good!
Memories of Niujie by Chen Chunxi
16. The large halal canteen at the north entrance of Niujie Street.
This canteen had no formal name, but in my memory, it was just called the "Niujie Halal Canteen," and it was state-run. It was not until the late 1970s that it was renamed "Liangyixuan." The sign was written by Yang Jingren.
This big canteen was very popular with the locals, and it was always crowded for all three meals. For breakfast, they served sesame flatbread (shaobing), spiral rolls (luosizhuan), steamed buns (dun'er bobo), soy milk, and tofu pudding (doufunao). These were all snacks Beijingers loved, and they tasted great. The beef and green onion steamed buns (baozi) were especially good. They cost ten cents each and were delicious. One bite and the oil would ooze out, revealing a solid meatball inside. If you had a bowl of red bean porridge and two liang of buns, you had a complete breakfast.
At noon, they served main meals, mostly rice and stir-fried dishes. They had other things too, like stir-fried flatbread (chaobing). They made two kinds: vegetarian and meat, served in half-jin portions. The vegetarian one cost 25 cents and half a jin of grain coupons, while the meat one cost 30 cents and half a jin of grain coupons. The flatbread was stir-fried perfectly, with great color, smell, and taste. It was truly delicious. The stir-fried dishes were also very authentic. They were mostly home-style dishes, both vegetarian and meat. The cheapest vegetarian dish, braised fried tofu puffs (shaodou Pao), was only 25 cents, and meat dishes were only 30 or 40 cents. The braised eggplant (shao qiezi) there tastes amazing. The vegetarian version is 28 cents, and the meat version is 36 cents. It is a truly authentic Beijing flavor. Also, their pan-seared lamb (guota yangrou), stir-fried egg with vinegar (culiu muxu), and stir-fried lamb with scallions (congbao yangrou) have a unique taste and capture the special style of old Beijing cuisine.
When the weather gets cold, they also serve hot pot (shuanguozi), with lamb slices (shuan yangrou) and beef tripe (shuan baiye), which are all very good. I watched the chef slice the lamb myself. On a large cutting board, he had a fresh piece of lamb leg. He held the meat down with his left hand, using a white cloth on top of the meat—perhaps to keep it from slipping—and held a knife in his right hand. The knife was over a foot long and two inches wide with a square tip, and it looked very sharp. I saw the chef rub, pull, and swipe the knife across the meat, and a paper-thin slice of lamb fell away. His movements were very fast, and he filled a large plate in no time. Just go ahead and eat; it is guaranteed to be fresh and tender.
Memories of Niujie by Chen Chunxi
17. A child selling malt sugar sticks (maiyatang) on Niujie Street.
In Niujie, when children are just five or six years old, their parents give them a cardboard cigarette box. The four corners of the box are tied with thin strings, and it is filled with malt sugar sticks (maiyatang gun). The children walk through the alleys calling out, 'One bets for two!' This is a type of gambling business. If you do not gamble, one copper coin buys one malt sugar stick. If you want to gamble, both the buyer and seller take a stick and place them on a step. They use one hand to tap the sticks, and whoever taps theirs further wins. If the buyer wins, they get to eat two sticks, which is why it is called 'one bets for two'.
As the children grow a bit older, they learn to do business by carrying baskets to sell boiled peanuts, and in the summer, they sell things like salted long beans, cooked peas, and ice-covered hawthorn berries (binghe). Although they do not make much profit, they learn the skills of running a small business from a young age. When they get even older, they can change what they sell based on the season, a practice known as 'zazhua'.
Beijing Niujie by Liu Dongsheng and Liu Shenglin.
18. A vendor selling sticky rice cake (qiegao) on Niujie Street.
Hui Muslims in Niujie sell many types of sticky rice cake (qiegao), all made from sticky flour using ingredients like glutinous rice (jiangmi) or broomcorn millet (huangmi). Sticky rice cakes evolved into many varieties like aiwowo, yellow bean flour cakes (huangmian doumiangao), rolling donkey cakes (ludagun), and the New Year rice cake mounds (niangao tuor) eaten around the Spring Festival. There is also a porridge-like dish made from yellow rice called mogao. These are all sticky rice products, but they are not considered qiegao.
The qiegao people usually talk about includes these types: cakes made from yellow flour with kidney beans or peas, steamed basin cakes (pengao) made with dates in a perforated basin, sticky rice flour cakes with red bean paste and dates, fermented bean cakes (douchigao) made by mixing sticky rice flour with crushed cooked kidney beans, and rolled cakes (juangao) filled with pea paste and red bean paste (these taste better when heated in a small steamer during winter). There are also New Year rice cakes (niangao) made from steamed sticky rice. Qiegao ingredients vary in quality, and the processing ranges from fine to coarse. Some are mixed with rice flour, commonly called benmian. This lower-quality version is cheaper, but many people still enjoy eating it. Qiegao vendors push a single-wheeled handcart with a long wooden cutting board on top. Near the handles, they stand a bamboo tube to hold money.
There are quite a few famous figures among qiegao vendors. In Niujie, there is a vendor known as Qiegao Zhang, whom everyone, young and old, calls Zhang Liuba. He is famous for his fermented bean cakes and rolled cakes, making him a standout among qiegao sellers. The sticky rice flour, pea paste, and red bean paste he uses for his qiegao are all passed through a fine sieve. His cart is also the most elaborate. The edges of the wooden board and the area around the bamboo tube are inlaid with white and red copper decorations, featuring the hollowed-out words 'Halal Hui Muslim' (Qingzhen Huihui). On the board sits a glass display case with three sides, and it is kept spotless along with his water kettle (tangping) sign. The wooden board is scrubbed so clean that the wood grain is clearly visible. Qiegao Zhang himself looks sharp, wearing a blue cloth jacket, white sleeves rolled up high, a white apron, and a white namaz cap. His cart shines brightly, and he looks full of energy. The qiegao he sells has layers of cake and red bean paste, topped with colorful candied fruit strips (qinghongsi), melon seeds, raisins, and other dried fruits. He also keeps a large bowl of fine white sugar and adds a spoonful for customers upon request. The cart carries a basin of water so he can wash the porcelain plates and bamboo chopsticks as he sells. In winter, when Qiegao Zhang sells his fermented bean cakes, he brings a small stove and a set of small steamers so the cakes are served hot. While other qiegao vendors may not be as meticulous as him, they still keep their carts very clean. Just looking at them makes people hungry.
A qiegao vendor might look like he is just one person pushing a cart down the street, but he is like an actor on stage, while his entire family, young and old, works behind the scenes. This involves grinding sticky rice into flour, boiling small beans into bean paste, and selecting and cooking small dates. After the cake is steamed, it is patted into sheets with a damp cloth, then filled with bean paste and dates. This is usually a full day's work for several people and requires skilled technique. Even so, their profits are not high, as they depend on sales and the weather. During holidays, besides selling from carts, they also make extra cake mounds (gaotuo) to sell, which brings in better income. Some cut-cake sellers gradually became wealthy through good business management. For example, Ma Baogui, known as 'Cut-Cake Ma,' later invested with his brother to open the Jubao Yuan beef and mutton shop on Niujie Street. From the 1940s until the public-private partnership era, it remained a leader among the beef and mutton shops on Niujie Street. As for other cut-cake sellers, most lived in precarious conditions with very unstable lives.
Beijing Niujie by Liu Dongsheng and Liu Shenglin.
19. Steamed corn buns (wotou) from the old neighbors of Niujie Street.
My mother not only steamed cornmeal buns (wotou) well, but she could also make cornmeal into many varieties, such as 'gold-wrapped-silver' flower rolls (jinguoyin huajuan) (a lovely name for flower rolls made with a small amount of white flour wrapped around cornmeal). Actually, these are just flower rolls made with a little white flour wrapped around cornmeal. She also made shaken dumplings (yaogogo) (cornmeal mixed with a little white flour, shaped into one-centimeter cubes, tossed in a basin with dry flour, and shaken like sweet rice balls (yuanxiao) until they form small spheres, then boiled and topped with fried sauce or gravy) and large-filling dumplings (datuanzi) (the 'large filling' was just cabbage or radish).
But let's not get sidetracked; let's talk about cornmeal buns (wotou) again. My mother's cornmeal buns (wotou) had some variety. Besides regular ones, she sometimes steamed salty ones. She would add salt, chopped green onions, and floating oil cracklings (fuyou zha) to the cornmeal. We Hui Muslims make these by chopping mutton and rendering the fat in a pot; the leftovers are the cracklings. Salty cornmeal buns taste so good! Sweet cornmeal buns (wotou) have a unique flavor. After fermenting the cornmeal, she added brown sugar and sometimes a few large red dates. Those buns were incredibly sweet and delicious, but they were a luxury we rarely ate throughout the year.
Memories of Niujie by Chen Chunxi
20. Soybean paste noodles (zhajiangmian) from the old neighbors of Niujie Street.
I remember when I was a child, my mother would often give me 14 cents and say, 'Go to Jubao Yuan and buy two taels of mutton, the fatty kind.' Today we are having noodles with fried sauce (zhajiangmian). After I bought the meat, my mother started frying the sauce (the sauce was also bought from Wanji Small Shop for 10 cents). She first chopped the mutton into small pieces, then prepared chopped green onions, sliced garlic, and minced ginger. She heated oil in a wok. Once hot, she stir-fried the meat. When the meat changed color, she added the onions, ginger, and garlic to bring out the aroma. Then she added the sauce, salt, and a little water, stirring constantly with a spatula. The sauce bubbled in the pot. She didn't rush; she fried it for a while until the fragrance came out, then took it off the heat. She poured the fried sauce into a bowl. Because the meat was fatty, a layer of oil floated on top, which looked delicious. The vegetable toppings were simple back then. You just shredded half a cabbage, blanched it in boiling water, and put it on a plate. In winter, you could also shred a 'heart-is-beautiful' radish (xinlimei) as a topping. You could also cut it into chunks to eat with noodles; it was crunchy and had a unique flavor. In summer, you would just scoop up a big bowl of noodles rinsed in cold water (guoshuimian), pour on some fried soybean paste (zhajiang), grab a whole cucumber, and sit on a small stool in the courtyard. Eating a mouthful of noodles with a bite of cucumber was wonderful. It was even better with two stalks of green garlic. Add a little vinegar to your fried soybean paste noodles for a better taste, don't forget!
Memories of Niujie by Chen Chunxi
21. The Barbecue King (Kaorou Wang) at Tianqiao.
The 'Barbecue King' (Kaorou Wang) is a Hui Muslim who has run a barbecue stall on the open ground west of the Tianqiao market for decades. Now there is a building next to his stall called the Fuyuanhao Restaurant, and the Barbecue King sets up his stall right outside it. In summer, he sells various braised noodles and quick-boiled tripe (baodu). Every year at the start of autumn (Liqiu), he adds grilled and shabu-shabu beef and lamb, as well as crabs from Shengfang Town. Many people in Beijing sell barbecue, but the one in Tianqiao is unique, and the iron grill grate he uses is truly different from the rest. Every autumn, people flock there to eat. Regardless of whether the weather is hot or cold, he always starts selling the new items on the day of the start of autumn. I passed by there last night and saw many people gathered around the fire eating, all of them sweating profusely. They say the Barbecue King got his name because his business is honest and he never mixes other meats with his beef and lamb, though his prices are a bit higher than elsewhere. I heard his prices this year are 40 copper coins per plate of meat, plus a 10-coin pot fee per person.
A Glimpse of Tianqiao, Chen Bao, August 13, 1927, by Mingong.
Others
1. Hui Muslim businesses roaming the streets and alleys.
'Miancha, get your millet flour porridge (miancha)!' The stalls selling millet flour porridge are often set up on the side of the road in busy areas. The front of the carrying pole holds a stove with a clay pot on top, simmering millet flour tea (miancha). A large square wooden tray sits on the edge of the pot, with a small deep copper basin resting on the side, filled with sesame paste, a small tube for sprinkling salt and pepper, and small enamel spoons in a blue-rimmed porcelain bowl. In the middle of the square tray sits a copper plaque inscribed with Arabic script or the Chinese characters for 'Halal Hui Muslim' (Qingzhen Huihui), and some even say 'Western Regions Hui Muslim' (Xiyu Huihui). Red cloth strips hang below the plaque, signaling that this is a traditional food business run by Hui Muslims. When serving, the vendor uses a betel nut-shaped spoon to scoop the millet flour tea into a bowl, then uses a pair of chopsticks to flick sesame paste from the small copper basin onto the tea quickly and evenly, before sprinkling salt and pepper over the top. When drinking the millet flour tea, you should sip it while rotating the bowl, or use the small enamel spoon to slide it along the edge; you must not mix the tea and sesame paste together, or it will thin out and lose its good flavor.
