PANDEMIC
NOODLES
Tianyi Xu
Hometown: Shanghai, China
Biology Major
Tianyi Xu is a rising junior studying biology at Emory College. She was born and raised in Shanghai, China. Passionate about her Chinese heritage and culture, she likes to do calligraphy and Chinese painting. In her spare time, she also tutors kids in mandarin Chinese and helps more people learn about her culture. Before the pandemic, Tianyi’s cooking skills were limited to instant noodles, but she has been learning new dishes and pastries thanks to the best cooking teacher – quarantine. Tianyi is also an amateur photographer who loves to travel and take pictures of wildlife and landscapes, many of which are featured on her website www.tianyixu.com.
Reflection on Making
Xi’an Lamb Pao-mo 西安羊肉泡馍
Chinese food has always been famous for its diversity and historic significance. Different types of cuisines are usually associated with their places of origin, biogeographic factors and historic backgrounds. Among the countless varieties, one of my favorites is Shaanxi food, which can be found in Northwestern China. Interestingly enough, none of my family was originally from Shaanxi, but I just simply fell in love with this cuisine, represented by lamb Pao-mo (羊肉泡馍), during my first visit to the province. Lamb Pao-mo is a dish with thousands of years of history along with its origin place Xi’an, one of the most famous ancient capitals in the world. I chose to have a try with this dish, not just because of how tasty it is, but also given my enthusiasm for the history and cultural value behind the cuisine.
Lamb Pao-mo is a very common dish that you can find almost everywhere in Shaanxi Province. It can be easily home-cooked or found in small local restaurants and stalls for a very cheap price. It is also a must-try for travelers. Basically, this dish is a hot stew that includes small pieces of steamed pita bread or buns (known as mo, 馍, in Chinese) torn by hand that is served with lamb broth and lamb meat. The reason I like it so much is because it has a rich flavor of meat and the fragrance of all types of spices. It also satisfies all the criteria and philosophy of Chinese gastronomy: color, fragrance, flavor, freshness and texture. As a carnivore, I always find the lamb meat in this specific dish so fresh that it is extremely chewy and appetizing but never greasy. The soup captures the essence of meat and spices in a marvelous way, and with the small pieces of mo, the dish ensures people a unique food experience with the texture of soaked bread, as well as a satisfied stomach.
It is amazing to see how food plays an essential role throughout Chinese history and how it leaves us so many anecdotes and stories originated in ancient dynasties. Lamb Pao-mo is said to have evolved from an even older dish – Lamb Geng (羹). Geng is a type of thick soup or paste in Chinese cuisine, usually cooked with starch, flour, and meat, or even delicacies like shark fin. The emergence of Lamb Geng can be traced back to the 11th century B.C., when it was mainly served as a tribute or courtesy to kings and emperors. The Book of Rites, which collected Confucius and his students’ stories and described the social forms and ceremonial rituals during the period of Warring States, also mentioned this ancient dish, which again proves how important food is in Chinese culture. The famous poet Su Dongpo also wrote a verse saying that Lamb Geng was his all-time favorite in the cuisine of the Qin area (the current great Shaanxi area). Therefore, the question of how Pao-mo was created from Lamb Geng arises. The legend about its origin is that before the first emperor of the Song dynasty Zhao Kuangyin established his regime and imperial power, he was once only a poor young man with two inedible hard buns. At that time, he was wandering in the street starving. He begged for a lamb soup from a local shop, broke the buns into pieces and soaked them into the soup. It was so delicious that even after Zhao became the emperor, he went back to the same shop for the lamb soup and ate the buns in the exact same way, which later became the dish of Lamb Pao-mo.
The eating method is very special in Pao-mo. In Chinese, Pao (泡) means “soak”. Therefore, the correct and traditional way of enjoying the dish would be by breaking the mo into small pieces the size of soybeans, so they could perfectly capture the flavor of lamb soup. If a restaurant ever serves chopped-up mo, then it is usually considered unconventional and inauthentic. It always takes a long time for people to break the mo entirely into pieces. Therefore, this is a great time for friends and family to chat and bond together, and for people to take a break from the rapid pace of life. Again, Pao-mo conveys the idea that food would be an essential element in the Chinese community and culture.
During the process of making this dish, my two friends and I researched many resources and recipes. None of us were from Shaanxi, or even northwestern China in general. The procedure of dough kneading was indeed a challenge for us, but we managed to make mo with multiple layers and spectacular texture, which was perfect for our lamb soup. It was a unique experience for us to bond and cooperate, but also a great opportunity to explore the historic backgrounds and heritage of our own food and culture.
"The Beef Noodle Soup Made with Love"
By: Tianyi Xu
Everyone has their favorite family dish. It could be a special dish that is always made during holiday seasons. It could be a recipe that has enjoyed a long family history. It could also be something that is just simply delicious. My all-time favorite, however, associates with the priceless love of my family and the feeling of nostalgia. It has always been my lao lao’s hand-made beef noodle soup.
When I was around five years old, I had my first memory of having beef noodles. After an exhausting day at an amusement park, lao lao brought me to a nearby noodle shop. All of the noodles were pre-boiled and ready to be added to red-braised beef broth. It was still very delicious to a fiveyear-old who had never tried beef noodle soups before – so delicious that I could still vividly portrait the 10-inch red and black bowl that was almost standardized in Chinese fast food restaurants. Lao lao, after seeing me gobble the whole bowl down, laughed but with a subtle amount of blaming and said, “Bao bao, you haven’t tried my beef noodles yet. This is nothing compared to mine!”
Lao lao is what I call my grandma from my mom’s side, who is from Northern China. She has been my favorite and the best cook I have ever known, and she will always be. She could make a full table of Northeastern Chinese cuisines that satisfy a whole family’s appetites; she could fold the most complicated shape of dumplings; she could also cook Chinese omelets in countless ways and different ingredients. With all the wrinkles and calluses that indicate skills and experiences, her hands are able to create and release magic.
However, nothing can be compared to my grandma’s noodles. She is the expert of kneading doughs as she always achieves the perfect ratio of flour and water. Her hands are so quick and powerful that the doughs almost bounce up and down in the bowl. She would press the dough firmly on the chopping board, make it into a flat and thin layer with a rolling pin, and cut it into noodles of equal width with exquisite knife skills. Lao lao often gave me a tiny ball of dough for me to play with while I was standing on a stool and watching her hand making noodles, then she would often steam my little hedgehog or pig shaped dough along with the buns she previously made. I was just this little girl looking up to lao lao in the kitchen as if she were the superhero without a cape, and patiently waiting for her to feed me. Meanwhile, she would wait for the red-braised beef in the simmer until it reached the balance of tenderness and chewiness. The beef is colored by dark soy sauce, and flavored by light soy sauce and spice like star anise. The meat part is also balanced with leaves of Bok Choy – one of my favorite vegetables and the perfect match for beef soup. The jade noodles soaked in the soup always capture the essence of the flavor, and I would always slurp a whole bowl without any remaining, leaving an empty bowl in the sink that lao lao always made fun of, “Bao bao, the bowl is so clean that you don’t need to wash it anymore!”
Often times a naughty kid like me would become repellent and rebellious – I was picky and annoying, especially at the dining table. If lao lao did not cook according to my wish, I would sometimes refuse to eat, cry out loud or even make a scene. I remembered how my parents would drag me away, scold me and threaten to beat me if I did not stop crying or being picky on the meals. However, lao lao would never be mad at me even though she should be. After I wiped off my tears, I could always see another bowl of freshly made beef noodle soup in front of me, still steaming. I am indeed a spoiled girl.
The spirit of my grandma’s beef noodle soup does spread in my family. After I came to the U.S. for college, I began to miss lao lao’s dishes, even including the ones that I was once picky on or the staple food I did not appreciate because of its plain taste. However, the one that I miss the most would always be this signature dish. During my dad’s visit to Atlanta, he still did not forget how I loved lao lao’s beef noodle soup. Just imagine a man from Southern China, who never knew how to make noodles or even doughs, facetimed his mother-in-law for hours just to learn to cook a bowl of lao lao’s beef noodle soup for his daughter.
Whenever someone asks me what my favorite dish is, this would be the answer. It is not Taiwanese beef noodles; it is not Lanzhou hand-pulled beef noodles; it is always lao lao’s hand-made beef noodle soup that nothing else could ever replace. Once I smell it, I know my home is there.