Beijing Muslim History: Old Halal Notes from the Northern City (Part 4 of 6)
Reposted from the web
Summary: Beijing Muslim History: Old Halal Notes from the Northern City is presented here as a firsthand travel account in clear English, beginning with this scene: East City:. The account keeps its focus on Beijing Muslim History, Northern Beijing, Hui Muslims while preserving the names, places, food, and historical details from the Chinese source. This is part 4 of 6.
Part 4 of 6
Yueshengzhai, also known as the "Old Ma Family Shop," has been famous in the capital since the Qianlong era for its beef and lamb cooked in a century-old broth that is constantly replenished. The recipe for the stewed meat is a closely guarded secret. People say back then, the aroma drifted into the palace, and even the Emperor would drool when he smelled it, so he specially bestowed a plaque to show his praise. Because it was located next to the Qing Dynasty Ministry of Revenue, the local people commonly called it "the stewed lamb on Hubu Street."
That day, just before the lamps were lit, Meng Zhang brought all his guests to the entrance of Yueshengzhai and found that it was already packed with diners.
As the crowd grew larger, someone inside the old shop shouted loudly, "The pot is open!" Then the windows in the courtyard were all opened at once, and along with a cloud of hot steam, that mouth-watering aroma filled the air. Then a worker dropped large chunks of lamb into a pot of hot oil. As it fried, he used a spoon to skim the foam off the top and tossed it into the stove, which immediately released a different kind of aroma.
He scooped the fried meat out and placed it on a cutting board, then—'Pop! Pop! Pop! '—he chopped it into pieces. You could hear the sizzling and see the crispy outside and tender inside. No one passing by could keep walking.
Children clapped and sang: 'Water buffalo, water buffalo, horns in front and head in back. Your mom and dad bought you fried lamb...' Adults held pots and bowls, rushing to buy some. Those who couldn't afford the meat just asked for two spoonfuls of lamb broth to pour over their noodles, stirred them with chopsticks, and slurped down a whole bowl.
Some rickshaw pullers even took steamed corn buns (wotou) out of their pockets and ate them dry while enjoying the scent filling the street. Before leaving with their rickshaws, they took a few deep breaths of the air to savor it one last time.
These hungry foreign tourists had never seen anything like this. They eagerly asked Mengzhang for food. Just then, the owner of Yueshengzhai came out and waved his hand, and the staff quickly set up tables and chairs. They brought out hot sesame flatbread with lamb (shaobing jia yangrou) and served it with a bowl of thin noodle soup (cu tang mian). Right there in the street, the foreigners started eating. They ate until they were completely stuffed, then held onto the corners of the tables to stand up. They burped and gave a thumbs-up to the front of the Yueshengzhai shop.
Mengzhang found the Japanese man in the crowd. The guy was busy munching on a sesame flatbread (shaobing). He looked a bit embarrassed as he used his meat-sauce-covered hand to pull a meal voucher from his pocket and hand it to Mengzhang. Right in front of him, Mengzhang slowly tore the Grand Hotel (Liuguo Fandian) meal voucher in half and put it back in his pocket. He said, 'I don't have time to take advantage of you!'
Three Generations of Baimen, Bai Ming, Yueshengzhai.
My great-great-grandfather started making spiced lamb (jiang yangrou), but it was during the Jiaqing reign of the Qing Dynasty that my ancestors Ma Yongxiang and Ma Yongfu truly perfected the five-spice spiced lamb (wuxiang jiang yangrou) and sold it across the country. At that time, my ancestors received help from doctors at the Imperial Hospital to improve the original recipe. They used cloves, amomum, cinnamon, and star anise as the main medicinal ingredients, adding soy sauce and salt for flavor. Spiced lamb (jiang yangrou) made with this proper recipe is not only delicious and nutritious, but it also helps stimulate the appetite and aids digestion. A good recipe needs careful, precise cooking techniques. To perfect his craft, my ancestor would often stay in the kitchen all night from the moment the lamb went into the pot until it was finished. After years of practice, he concluded that you must start with the right lamb, and the large white sheep from the West Pass (Xikou) are the best. Back then, these sheep were hard to find; they were either out of stock or too expensive for us to afford. Because of this, my ancestor and his team bought forty or fifty large white sheep from the West Pass, kept them in the backyard of Yueshengzhai, and assigned people to raise them carefully for our use. For our soy-sauce lamb, we only use the front half of the sheep. We have to cut it carefully based on the specific part of the meat; if the pieces are too small, they fall apart, but if they are too big, the flavor does not soak in, so you have to watch the meat as you cut. Second, the seasonings must be high quality. You must carefully select every spice, regardless of the cost, and only use the best raw ingredients. Third, controlling the heat is a key step. The cook must carefully watch how the meat color changes and how strong the fire is. Start by boiling it over high heat for about an hour. Once the pot boils and foam rises to the surface, keep skimming it off with a long-handled ladle, then switch to low heat to simmer for six or seven hours. Boiling over high heat removes gamey smells, impurities, and off-flavors, while simmering over low heat lets the flavors of the spices soak into the meat. Finally, add aged broth (laotang) to deepen the flavor of the meat. Aged broth is what we call leftover stock. After making braised lamb (jiang yangrou) each time, we save some of the thick liquid in a jar to add to the pot for the next batch, which is why our braised lamb is known for its century-old marinade. We are picky about more than just these steps; the tools we use must be wide pots and wide ladles. We especially insist on using only wide pots with three-line markings.
The season for making braised lamb (jiang yangrou) runs from autumn to spring, with the peak period during the three winter months. Every year, once summer arrives, braised lamb enters its off-season. To keep the business running in summer, my ancestor researched and developed a summer food called roasted lamb (shao yangrou). Beijingers love wheat-based foods like steamed buns (mantou), griddle-baked flatbread (laobing), and noodles, especially hand-pulled noodles (chen mian). How people eat noodles changes with the seasons; in winter, they eat hot noodles straight from the pot with soybean paste (zhajiangmian), braised sauce noodles (lumian), or hot soup noodles. After summer starts, people eat cold-water noodles (guoshuimian) to beat the heat, refresh their appetite, and add nutrition. The method for making braised lamb involves reducing the broth, while roasted lamb involves simmering it in a light sauce. Yueshengzhai makes its roasted lamb every day at noon and sells it in the afternoon. Locals use a big bowl, order less meat, and ask for more broth. They pour hot lamb bone broth (yangtang) over cold noodles, add shredded cucumber, and eat. The noodles are cool, the broth is warm, and the taste is fresh. It is a unique summer treat.
The famous old Beijing brand, Yueshengzhai Ma Family Shop. Ma Lin (Wang Dongsi: The author is the fifth-generation descendant of Yueshengzhai).
13. Fusheng Canteen in Dongdan.
For Chinese food, we ate at Xilaishun. For Western food, there was a halal place called Fusheng Canteen near Dongdan, started by a family from outside Hademen. Their Western food was excellent. Later, when my father got older, he only ate a little when we went out, not as much as I did. When I was quite young, I could order two dishes, like steak and fried salmon, plus a soup. Anyway, one day I would have this soup, the next day that soup, and I would eat appetizers and bread before that. I really ate a lot, plus desserts. In winter, I ate chestnut flour, which is all starch and sugar. I could really eat. Back then, the steaks were so big that we would order two for four people, so each person got half, which was just right.
On the east side of the road at Dongdan, there was the Star and Moon Restaurant (Xingyue Canting), which later turned into a bank branch. In the 1940s, when I was in middle school, I would ride my bike there all by myself to eat. I’d have the macaroni with tomato sauce and an ice cream, and that was it. I would just sign my name and have my family pay the bill later. That meal would probably cost over a hundred yuan today. That is why I feel like Western food today just doesn't taste right. It is a real shame that the Fusheng Canteen (Fusheng Shitang) didn't pass down its business, so it is gone forever.
Born in the South of the City (Sheng Zai Cheng Nan): Not Inferior to Men—Oral accounts by Li Bin and Xiao Cheng. Written by Ding Yizhuang (Note by Wang Dongsi: The narrator is the younger sister of the famous conductor Li Delun).
14. Zengqingzhai on Yiliu Hutong outside Di'anmen.
When I was a teenager, I was an apprentice at Zengqingzhai near the Back Gate (Houmen, also known as Di'anmen)... What did we sell? They sold pastries, and in the summer, they sold river produce like lotus root, water caltrops, and eight-treasure lotus seed porridge (babao lianzi zhou). All this river food came from Zengqingzhai, and they also sold ice cream. That is what we made back home. Later, when I made ice cream in Jiuxianqiao, I used what I learned here. Where did we sell it? In the middle of Shichahai, they drove piles into the lake bed, laid down boards, and connected them to build several room-like structures. They sold everything there—all kinds of food like fried dough rings (youzhuozi), eight-treasure lotus seed porridge (babao lianzi zhou), fox nuts (jitoumi), gorgon fruit (qianshimi), lotus seed pods, and all sorts of lotus root, like white lotus root. It was all kinds of cold snacks, really: dried fruit (guozigan), sour plum drink (suanmeitang), ice cream, and shaved ice (xuehualao). I carried everything there on a shoulder pole and set up my stall.
Born in the South of the City: Businesses Run by Hui Muslims—as told by Man Hengliang. Written by Ding Yizhuang.
Xicheng District
1. Ruizhenhou inside Zhongshan Park
Century-old Ruizhenhou
Inside Zhongshan Park, there used to be an old antique shop called Ruizhenhou, which opened in 1917. The name Ruizhenhou has a specific meaning: Rui stands for good luck and the sweet olive flower (ruixiang). Zhen means rare treasures, pearls, jade, and gemstones. Hou means being tolerant and kind, and treating people with honesty. Business was very successful after it opened, and it quickly became famous throughout Beijing. To make it easier to host guests and discuss business, the owner added a tea area and served food in the shop. There is an accurate written record about this: In 1917, the Zhongshan Park Board of Directors built 18 high-ceilinged rooms between Chunming Hall and Shanglinchun, with corridors on the east and west sides, to rent out to shops. One of these was the Ruizhenhou antique shop, which was opened by Hui Muslims.
By 1950, this business was no longer doing well. Owner Ma You'an used his business sense to realize the park lacked a decent halal restaurant, so he turned his antique shop into one. He hired the famous chef Ma Deqi to run the kitchen, and his halal dishes, especially his braised beef (wei niurou), quickly became famous in Beijing. Ma Deqi learned from Chu Lianxiang (known in the industry as Chu Xiang), a master who pioneered Beijing halal cuisine. Chu Xiang was once a royal chef who combined traditional Hui Muslim stir-frying, roasting, and hot pot techniques with cooking styles from both northern and southern China to create a unique Beijing halal flavor. As the top student among Chu Xiang's eight main disciples, Ma Deqi mastered his teacher's skills. The grand banquets Ruizhenhou offered, such as the whole lamb feast (quanyang xi), fish maw feast (yudu xi), and shark fin feast (yuchi xi), were far beyond what ordinary restaurants could prepare. Soon after opening, the restaurant became as famous as the long-standing Han Chinese restaurant Laijinyuxuan, also located in Zhongshan Park, and was always packed with customers. Mr. Ma Lianliang's birthday was on the tenth day of the first lunar month. Every year on this day, he would visit Ruizhenhou. When he was happy, he would personally name his favorite dish 'duck paste bread' (ya ni mian bao) and always ordered it. Because of this, the reputation of Ruizhenhou restaurant grew stronger and stronger.
In the early 1960s, due to a shortage of beef and mutton, Ruizhenhou was forced to become a halal snack shop. Parents visiting Zhongshan Park would always stop by the snack bar to buy something for their children, even if it was just a piece of fried cake (zhagao). When the Cultural Revolution began, the halal snack shops closed down. In the early 1980s, to support ethnic policies, the former Dongcheng Catering Company worked to bring back the famous old brand Ruizhenhou Restaurant. They reopened it at its current location at 1 South Dongsisi Street in 1982 and renamed the halal shop Ruizhenhou Restaurant. Today, third-generation chefs continue to carry on the unique halal flavors of Ruizhenhou.
The restaurant has a professionally trained lamb slicer named Master Zhao Delu, who is nicknamed Zhao the One-Knife. He started at the shop in 1981 to learn how to debone, select, and slice lamb, and he has been doing this for over 20 years. He has his own unique skills. He chooses tender young lambs weighing 35 jin, then removes the thin membrane and tendons. After cooling the meat (known in the trade as cold-setting), the blood and meat blend together, making the red and white parts distinct before it can be used. Finally, he slices it into thin, even pieces that look beautiful with their alternating red and white colors. Dip thin slices of meat into a charcoal hot pot (huoguo) that smells of wood, letting the woody scent blend with the meat. The meat stays tender even after long cooking, and the thin slices do not break. Served with carefully prepared seasonings, friends and family sit around the table to enjoy the lively and grand atmosphere. The taste is fresh, fragrant, and wonderful. This is the traditional Beijing-style mutton hot pot (shuan yangrou) from Ruizhenhou.
The Sina blog "A Century of Ruizhenhou" by ruiren491112. The blogger, Chen Junyuan, was born in Beijing in 1949 and has lived there for generations.
One day, Lin Kaimo (noted by Wang Dongsi as a master of Go during the Republic of China era) and Xia Renhu (noted by Wang Dongsi as a famous scholar) were playing Go at Chunming Pavilion in Zhongshan Park. They played for so long that they missed dinner. When the game ended, they had to order a bowl of beef noodles at Ruizhenhou, located north of Chunming Pavilion, to satisfy their hunger. At that time, Ruizhenhou was quite famous and had a branch in Zhongshan Park that sold various noodles and snacks. Back then, the noodles at Ruizhenhou were much better than the California beef noodles popular today. They were hand-pulled noodles (chentiaomian) served hot, with a rich, thick broth and plenty of tender, fragrant meat. I don't remember the exact price per bowl, maybe 70 or 80 cents, but it was very popular.
Ruizhenhou is a halal restaurant that still exists today, located at the Dongsi intersection. In the past, it was famous for its deep-fried lamb tails (zha yangwei), crispy stir-fried mung bean jelly (jiao liu geza), braised meat strips (ba routiao), and stewed beef (men niurou).
Lingering Fragrance: Memories of the Capital by Zhou Shaoliang.
2. Kaorouwan inside Xuanwumen
Kaorouwan as described by Zhang Zhongxing.
I forget who I was with, but it was summer, and we went to Kaorouwan to try the grilled beef. The storefront was very simple, just one large room. To the south is the barbecue area with two grills side by side. They look like millstones, featuring a round platform about the size of a dining table with a foot-high iron ring in the center. A slightly raised iron grate sits on top of the ring. The grate is made of iron strips about a centimeter wide placed side by side. The gaps between them are packed with beef fat from constant use. Four rough benches are placed around the round platform for customers to stand at. To the north is a table holding bowls, chopsticks, chopped green onions, chopped cilantro, sesame paste (majiang), soy sauce, and other seasonings. There is also a cutting board for the beef, which holds the meat, knives, and plates. The man cutting the meat is a big guy around fifty years old, likely the shop owner, Mr. Wan. He is quite heavy and wears only a pair of thin trousers, which sit about an inch below his navel. The owner is very capable. Aside from a teenage boy who helps deliver meat and seasonings, he does everything himself, including seating customers and handling the bills. The meat is said to be hand-picked at the meat market early in the morning, and it is sliced well, thin and even.
Summary: Beijing Muslim History: Old Halal Notes from the Northern City is presented here as a firsthand travel account in clear English, beginning with this scene: East City:. The account keeps its focus on Beijing Muslim History, Northern Beijing, Hui Muslims while preserving the names, places, food, and historical details from the Chinese source. This is part 4 of 6.
Part 4 of 6
Yueshengzhai, also known as the "Old Ma Family Shop," has been famous in the capital since the Qianlong era for its beef and lamb cooked in a century-old broth that is constantly replenished. The recipe for the stewed meat is a closely guarded secret. People say back then, the aroma drifted into the palace, and even the Emperor would drool when he smelled it, so he specially bestowed a plaque to show his praise. Because it was located next to the Qing Dynasty Ministry of Revenue, the local people commonly called it "the stewed lamb on Hubu Street."
That day, just before the lamps were lit, Meng Zhang brought all his guests to the entrance of Yueshengzhai and found that it was already packed with diners.
As the crowd grew larger, someone inside the old shop shouted loudly, "The pot is open!" Then the windows in the courtyard were all opened at once, and along with a cloud of hot steam, that mouth-watering aroma filled the air. Then a worker dropped large chunks of lamb into a pot of hot oil. As it fried, he used a spoon to skim the foam off the top and tossed it into the stove, which immediately released a different kind of aroma.
He scooped the fried meat out and placed it on a cutting board, then—'Pop! Pop! Pop! '—he chopped it into pieces. You could hear the sizzling and see the crispy outside and tender inside. No one passing by could keep walking.
Children clapped and sang: 'Water buffalo, water buffalo, horns in front and head in back. Your mom and dad bought you fried lamb...' Adults held pots and bowls, rushing to buy some. Those who couldn't afford the meat just asked for two spoonfuls of lamb broth to pour over their noodles, stirred them with chopsticks, and slurped down a whole bowl.
Some rickshaw pullers even took steamed corn buns (wotou) out of their pockets and ate them dry while enjoying the scent filling the street. Before leaving with their rickshaws, they took a few deep breaths of the air to savor it one last time.
These hungry foreign tourists had never seen anything like this. They eagerly asked Mengzhang for food. Just then, the owner of Yueshengzhai came out and waved his hand, and the staff quickly set up tables and chairs. They brought out hot sesame flatbread with lamb (shaobing jia yangrou) and served it with a bowl of thin noodle soup (cu tang mian). Right there in the street, the foreigners started eating. They ate until they were completely stuffed, then held onto the corners of the tables to stand up. They burped and gave a thumbs-up to the front of the Yueshengzhai shop.
Mengzhang found the Japanese man in the crowd. The guy was busy munching on a sesame flatbread (shaobing). He looked a bit embarrassed as he used his meat-sauce-covered hand to pull a meal voucher from his pocket and hand it to Mengzhang. Right in front of him, Mengzhang slowly tore the Grand Hotel (Liuguo Fandian) meal voucher in half and put it back in his pocket. He said, 'I don't have time to take advantage of you!'
Three Generations of Baimen, Bai Ming, Yueshengzhai.
My great-great-grandfather started making spiced lamb (jiang yangrou), but it was during the Jiaqing reign of the Qing Dynasty that my ancestors Ma Yongxiang and Ma Yongfu truly perfected the five-spice spiced lamb (wuxiang jiang yangrou) and sold it across the country. At that time, my ancestors received help from doctors at the Imperial Hospital to improve the original recipe. They used cloves, amomum, cinnamon, and star anise as the main medicinal ingredients, adding soy sauce and salt for flavor. Spiced lamb (jiang yangrou) made with this proper recipe is not only delicious and nutritious, but it also helps stimulate the appetite and aids digestion. A good recipe needs careful, precise cooking techniques. To perfect his craft, my ancestor would often stay in the kitchen all night from the moment the lamb went into the pot until it was finished. After years of practice, he concluded that you must start with the right lamb, and the large white sheep from the West Pass (Xikou) are the best. Back then, these sheep were hard to find; they were either out of stock or too expensive for us to afford. Because of this, my ancestor and his team bought forty or fifty large white sheep from the West Pass, kept them in the backyard of Yueshengzhai, and assigned people to raise them carefully for our use. For our soy-sauce lamb, we only use the front half of the sheep. We have to cut it carefully based on the specific part of the meat; if the pieces are too small, they fall apart, but if they are too big, the flavor does not soak in, so you have to watch the meat as you cut. Second, the seasonings must be high quality. You must carefully select every spice, regardless of the cost, and only use the best raw ingredients. Third, controlling the heat is a key step. The cook must carefully watch how the meat color changes and how strong the fire is. Start by boiling it over high heat for about an hour. Once the pot boils and foam rises to the surface, keep skimming it off with a long-handled ladle, then switch to low heat to simmer for six or seven hours. Boiling over high heat removes gamey smells, impurities, and off-flavors, while simmering over low heat lets the flavors of the spices soak into the meat. Finally, add aged broth (laotang) to deepen the flavor of the meat. Aged broth is what we call leftover stock. After making braised lamb (jiang yangrou) each time, we save some of the thick liquid in a jar to add to the pot for the next batch, which is why our braised lamb is known for its century-old marinade. We are picky about more than just these steps; the tools we use must be wide pots and wide ladles. We especially insist on using only wide pots with three-line markings.
The season for making braised lamb (jiang yangrou) runs from autumn to spring, with the peak period during the three winter months. Every year, once summer arrives, braised lamb enters its off-season. To keep the business running in summer, my ancestor researched and developed a summer food called roasted lamb (shao yangrou). Beijingers love wheat-based foods like steamed buns (mantou), griddle-baked flatbread (laobing), and noodles, especially hand-pulled noodles (chen mian). How people eat noodles changes with the seasons; in winter, they eat hot noodles straight from the pot with soybean paste (zhajiangmian), braised sauce noodles (lumian), or hot soup noodles. After summer starts, people eat cold-water noodles (guoshuimian) to beat the heat, refresh their appetite, and add nutrition. The method for making braised lamb involves reducing the broth, while roasted lamb involves simmering it in a light sauce. Yueshengzhai makes its roasted lamb every day at noon and sells it in the afternoon. Locals use a big bowl, order less meat, and ask for more broth. They pour hot lamb bone broth (yangtang) over cold noodles, add shredded cucumber, and eat. The noodles are cool, the broth is warm, and the taste is fresh. It is a unique summer treat.
The famous old Beijing brand, Yueshengzhai Ma Family Shop. Ma Lin (Wang Dongsi: The author is the fifth-generation descendant of Yueshengzhai).
13. Fusheng Canteen in Dongdan.
For Chinese food, we ate at Xilaishun. For Western food, there was a halal place called Fusheng Canteen near Dongdan, started by a family from outside Hademen. Their Western food was excellent. Later, when my father got older, he only ate a little when we went out, not as much as I did. When I was quite young, I could order two dishes, like steak and fried salmon, plus a soup. Anyway, one day I would have this soup, the next day that soup, and I would eat appetizers and bread before that. I really ate a lot, plus desserts. In winter, I ate chestnut flour, which is all starch and sugar. I could really eat. Back then, the steaks were so big that we would order two for four people, so each person got half, which was just right.
On the east side of the road at Dongdan, there was the Star and Moon Restaurant (Xingyue Canting), which later turned into a bank branch. In the 1940s, when I was in middle school, I would ride my bike there all by myself to eat. I’d have the macaroni with tomato sauce and an ice cream, and that was it. I would just sign my name and have my family pay the bill later. That meal would probably cost over a hundred yuan today. That is why I feel like Western food today just doesn't taste right. It is a real shame that the Fusheng Canteen (Fusheng Shitang) didn't pass down its business, so it is gone forever.
Born in the South of the City (Sheng Zai Cheng Nan): Not Inferior to Men—Oral accounts by Li Bin and Xiao Cheng. Written by Ding Yizhuang (Note by Wang Dongsi: The narrator is the younger sister of the famous conductor Li Delun).
14. Zengqingzhai on Yiliu Hutong outside Di'anmen.
When I was a teenager, I was an apprentice at Zengqingzhai near the Back Gate (Houmen, also known as Di'anmen)... What did we sell? They sold pastries, and in the summer, they sold river produce like lotus root, water caltrops, and eight-treasure lotus seed porridge (babao lianzi zhou). All this river food came from Zengqingzhai, and they also sold ice cream. That is what we made back home. Later, when I made ice cream in Jiuxianqiao, I used what I learned here. Where did we sell it? In the middle of Shichahai, they drove piles into the lake bed, laid down boards, and connected them to build several room-like structures. They sold everything there—all kinds of food like fried dough rings (youzhuozi), eight-treasure lotus seed porridge (babao lianzi zhou), fox nuts (jitoumi), gorgon fruit (qianshimi), lotus seed pods, and all sorts of lotus root, like white lotus root. It was all kinds of cold snacks, really: dried fruit (guozigan), sour plum drink (suanmeitang), ice cream, and shaved ice (xuehualao). I carried everything there on a shoulder pole and set up my stall.
Born in the South of the City: Businesses Run by Hui Muslims—as told by Man Hengliang. Written by Ding Yizhuang.
Xicheng District
1. Ruizhenhou inside Zhongshan Park
Century-old Ruizhenhou
Inside Zhongshan Park, there used to be an old antique shop called Ruizhenhou, which opened in 1917. The name Ruizhenhou has a specific meaning: Rui stands for good luck and the sweet olive flower (ruixiang). Zhen means rare treasures, pearls, jade, and gemstones. Hou means being tolerant and kind, and treating people with honesty. Business was very successful after it opened, and it quickly became famous throughout Beijing. To make it easier to host guests and discuss business, the owner added a tea area and served food in the shop. There is an accurate written record about this: In 1917, the Zhongshan Park Board of Directors built 18 high-ceilinged rooms between Chunming Hall and Shanglinchun, with corridors on the east and west sides, to rent out to shops. One of these was the Ruizhenhou antique shop, which was opened by Hui Muslims.
By 1950, this business was no longer doing well. Owner Ma You'an used his business sense to realize the park lacked a decent halal restaurant, so he turned his antique shop into one. He hired the famous chef Ma Deqi to run the kitchen, and his halal dishes, especially his braised beef (wei niurou), quickly became famous in Beijing. Ma Deqi learned from Chu Lianxiang (known in the industry as Chu Xiang), a master who pioneered Beijing halal cuisine. Chu Xiang was once a royal chef who combined traditional Hui Muslim stir-frying, roasting, and hot pot techniques with cooking styles from both northern and southern China to create a unique Beijing halal flavor. As the top student among Chu Xiang's eight main disciples, Ma Deqi mastered his teacher's skills. The grand banquets Ruizhenhou offered, such as the whole lamb feast (quanyang xi), fish maw feast (yudu xi), and shark fin feast (yuchi xi), were far beyond what ordinary restaurants could prepare. Soon after opening, the restaurant became as famous as the long-standing Han Chinese restaurant Laijinyuxuan, also located in Zhongshan Park, and was always packed with customers. Mr. Ma Lianliang's birthday was on the tenth day of the first lunar month. Every year on this day, he would visit Ruizhenhou. When he was happy, he would personally name his favorite dish 'duck paste bread' (ya ni mian bao) and always ordered it. Because of this, the reputation of Ruizhenhou restaurant grew stronger and stronger.
In the early 1960s, due to a shortage of beef and mutton, Ruizhenhou was forced to become a halal snack shop. Parents visiting Zhongshan Park would always stop by the snack bar to buy something for their children, even if it was just a piece of fried cake (zhagao). When the Cultural Revolution began, the halal snack shops closed down. In the early 1980s, to support ethnic policies, the former Dongcheng Catering Company worked to bring back the famous old brand Ruizhenhou Restaurant. They reopened it at its current location at 1 South Dongsisi Street in 1982 and renamed the halal shop Ruizhenhou Restaurant. Today, third-generation chefs continue to carry on the unique halal flavors of Ruizhenhou.
The restaurant has a professionally trained lamb slicer named Master Zhao Delu, who is nicknamed Zhao the One-Knife. He started at the shop in 1981 to learn how to debone, select, and slice lamb, and he has been doing this for over 20 years. He has his own unique skills. He chooses tender young lambs weighing 35 jin, then removes the thin membrane and tendons. After cooling the meat (known in the trade as cold-setting), the blood and meat blend together, making the red and white parts distinct before it can be used. Finally, he slices it into thin, even pieces that look beautiful with their alternating red and white colors. Dip thin slices of meat into a charcoal hot pot (huoguo) that smells of wood, letting the woody scent blend with the meat. The meat stays tender even after long cooking, and the thin slices do not break. Served with carefully prepared seasonings, friends and family sit around the table to enjoy the lively and grand atmosphere. The taste is fresh, fragrant, and wonderful. This is the traditional Beijing-style mutton hot pot (shuan yangrou) from Ruizhenhou.
The Sina blog "A Century of Ruizhenhou" by ruiren491112. The blogger, Chen Junyuan, was born in Beijing in 1949 and has lived there for generations.
One day, Lin Kaimo (noted by Wang Dongsi as a master of Go during the Republic of China era) and Xia Renhu (noted by Wang Dongsi as a famous scholar) were playing Go at Chunming Pavilion in Zhongshan Park. They played for so long that they missed dinner. When the game ended, they had to order a bowl of beef noodles at Ruizhenhou, located north of Chunming Pavilion, to satisfy their hunger. At that time, Ruizhenhou was quite famous and had a branch in Zhongshan Park that sold various noodles and snacks. Back then, the noodles at Ruizhenhou were much better than the California beef noodles popular today. They were hand-pulled noodles (chentiaomian) served hot, with a rich, thick broth and plenty of tender, fragrant meat. I don't remember the exact price per bowl, maybe 70 or 80 cents, but it was very popular.
Ruizhenhou is a halal restaurant that still exists today, located at the Dongsi intersection. In the past, it was famous for its deep-fried lamb tails (zha yangwei), crispy stir-fried mung bean jelly (jiao liu geza), braised meat strips (ba routiao), and stewed beef (men niurou).
Lingering Fragrance: Memories of the Capital by Zhou Shaoliang.
2. Kaorouwan inside Xuanwumen
Kaorouwan as described by Zhang Zhongxing.
I forget who I was with, but it was summer, and we went to Kaorouwan to try the grilled beef. The storefront was very simple, just one large room. To the south is the barbecue area with two grills side by side. They look like millstones, featuring a round platform about the size of a dining table with a foot-high iron ring in the center. A slightly raised iron grate sits on top of the ring. The grate is made of iron strips about a centimeter wide placed side by side. The gaps between them are packed with beef fat from constant use. Four rough benches are placed around the round platform for customers to stand at. To the north is a table holding bowls, chopsticks, chopped green onions, chopped cilantro, sesame paste (majiang), soy sauce, and other seasonings. There is also a cutting board for the beef, which holds the meat, knives, and plates. The man cutting the meat is a big guy around fifty years old, likely the shop owner, Mr. Wan. He is quite heavy and wears only a pair of thin trousers, which sit about an inch below his navel. The owner is very capable. Aside from a teenage boy who helps deliver meat and seasonings, he does everything himself, including seating customers and handling the bills. The meat is said to be hand-picked at the meat market early in the morning, and it is sliced well, thin and even.
