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Jessie Shen

Hometown: Shanghai, China

Art History and Economics/Math Double-Major

Born in Shanghai and having lived in many parts of the world, Jessie Shen is a rising senior at Emory University with majors in art history, economics, math, and minors in baking, yoga, making handicrafts, visiting exhibitions. As an intern at Sotheby’s Contemporary Asian Art department and an avid food lover, she is in the progress of developing a keen taste for visual art and a sophisticated palate for culinary art. Her post-graduate plan is currently pursuing a master’s degree in contemporary art appreciation and management.

Reflection on Making

Yunnan Small Clay Pot Rice Noodles

Besides my hometown Shanghai, Yunnan province is my second most-visited place in China because my mother used to transport tea for her business from Pu’er. Her local friends would take us to a breakfast shop where we only spend 20 Yuan (about $3) on gourmet food that fills our stomachs. Most tourists would order crossing-the-bridge rice noodles, the most renowned noodle dish that they associate with the area and cuisine, while I favor small pot rice noodles with a glass of mango juice because of my fondness for spicy and sour tastes.

Small pot rice noodles have a healthy combination of vegetables, meat, and carbohydrates, from which consumers can obtain protein, vitamins, and dietary fibers beneficial for their overall well-being. As the base of this noodle soup, pork rib bone soup may sometimes be substituted by chicken broth, since both are highly nutritious and rich in minerals. According to the Chinese tradition, animal connecting tissues and collagen in cartilage and marrow are brewed into the soup and known to have restorative properties. After drinking the hot soup, one can also rid oneself of moisture in the body by sweating. In addition, noodles made from rice tend to be digested more easily than other types of noodles. A balanced diet can reduce the risk of chronic disease and improve one’s immune system. In Chinese gastronomy and medicine, flavors are divided into five categories, and each is related to a different body system. Spicy flavors are related to the lungs and the immune system, salty to the kidneys and metabolism, sweet flavors and carbs to the stomach, and sour to the liver and gallbladder. Balancing these flavors in a dish, such as small pot rice noodles, not only refines one’s palate but also stabilizes one’s body function.

Compared to crossing-the-bridge rice noodles, it is more convenient and practicable to cook small pot rice noodles at home. In Yunnan, different households have their own variation of this dish according to their preference of soup and vegetables, but the most essential and indispensable ingredient is the pickled cabbage, which can be considered the Chinese version of Kimchi.

Besides being a necessity for family bonding and daily meals, small pot rice noodles and restaurants are imbued with social value. As Lin Yutang said in The Importance of Living “It is a pretty crazy life that one eats in order to work and does not work in order to eat,” Yunnan people are real-life representations of this quote. Before going to work, they get up early to make or buy a hearty breakfast that brings them the most satisfaction and energy. From 6 am on breakfast shops are crowded with people who sometimes need to wait in line or eat on plastic stools on the street. People with all different jobs and backgrounds are brought together by a dish almost every morning. These restaurants usually have four to five tables and an open kitchen at the entrance. Customers, no matter how frequent or new, are welcomed alike with big smiles and warm greetings. Given the option of customizing their own small pot noodles, they order by saying phrases like “two bowls, thin noodles, extra spicy, add stinky tofu, dine in”, and the cook immediately starts preparing on the large stove where she or he can cook five pots of noodles simultaneously. This style of rice noodle restaurants reflects how Yunnan citizens interact with each other, their pace of life, hospitality, enthusiasm, and friendliness. Tracing back to the Qing Dynasty when every village in the Yuxi district prepared small pot rice noodles for the Rice Noodle Festival to welcome deities, small pot rice noodles serve as a medium to tie different communities together.

This project has provided me with the opportunity to examine the recipe of one of my favorite dishes in detail. I realized the difficulty of cooking and recording the process at the same time, and multi-tasking to enhance the efficiency also requires experience and practice. As my first customer, my mother was impressed by how well the dish turned out and promoted it to our daily meal menu.

"Overcooked but Beautiful"

By: Zheqi (Jessie) Shen

Shanghainese are proud in nature, not so much because they are residents of a cosmopolis, but because their own language, history, architecture, attitude, and food set Shanghai apart from its fellow Chinese cities. One may think that Xie Huang Mian (Crab Roe Noodles) is the most prestigious and signature Shanghainese dish with a price as high as 888 Yuan (approximately $120) and restaurants always crowded with tourists. My grandpa would reply: “Not one local Shanghainese would spend that much on a bowl of grease.”

In many Shanghainese minds and our family tradition, another type of noodles has more significance and emotional value – Lan Hu Mian. In mandarin, Lan Hu translates to overcooked and soggy. Its appearance and cooking method are exactly what the name suggests: boiling the noodles for longer than normal until noodles become soggy and soup becomes paste-like. The authentic recipe only includes bok choi as the topping, but my grandpa would add group pork and mushrooms for a balanced and nutritious meal.

Throughout my childhood and teenage years, whenever I don’t feel well such as having a stomachache or after the removal of my wisdom teeth, my grandpa would cook me a bowl of Lan Hu Mian before giving me any medicine because noodles are soft, fluid, and can be digested easily. The dish is always followed by a story that I have listened for countless times. During the Great Chinese Famine, my grandpa’s mother would cook a pot of Lan Hu Mian because a half pot of noodles would swell to almost a full pot after being soaked in the soup so that it could fill the stomachs of the entire family. This dish has accompanied him for 70 years and now been passed on to me. However, now as Shanghainese become wealthier, the updated version of this dish with the addition of shrimps, ham, and other ingredients begin to appear on the menus of restaurants and cafeteria, which differs from the version used to fight hunger. Lan Hu in Shanghai dialect sounds similar to “love me” in English, attaching a layer of romance to the simple dish.

This summer, I haven’t had a chance to meet my grandpa who is recovering from surgery in the hospital. Due to the sensitive situation of Coronavirus, only one family member is allowed to visit him during his entire stay. I miss him and his handmade Sunday meal desperately. Not able to support him in person, I decided to make a bowl of Lan Hu Mian as my warm regards and ask my father to bring it to the hospital.

Since there is no written recipe, I can only recall the steps from my memories. Purchasing all the ingredients took only a five-minute trip in the farmer’s market, but cooking them requires a great amount of patience. Boiling bok choi and noodles until they soften takes a long time and reduces the water level, so I had to watch closely and constantly pour in more water. Though there are only three ingredients and two steps, the effort and wish for loved ones to get better put into this dish is unmeasurable. Different from its modern counterpart, the traditional Shanghai lifestyle focuses on slowing down and making the best out of what is available.

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