Eating Chinese food in the age of coronavirus - Washington Post
Eating Chinese food in the age of coronavirus - Washington Post |
| Eating Chinese food in the age of coronavirus - Washington Post Posted: 30 Jan 2020 08:39 PM PST  One day, my mom asked one of our waitresses whether her parents would like to come for dinner. "Oh, no, ma'am," she replied. "I asked, but my father said he wouldn't eat at any place run by Chinese. You can't trust what they will try to pass for meat." That sad stereotype continues to exist today, amplified by concerns over the origins of the coronavirus outbreak in Wuhan, China. Rumors and reports that the virus may have been contracted by people eating exotic foods in China have revived suspicions here in the United States of Chinese immigrants and Chinese Americans alike. There is no denying that some Chinese do eat things considered exotic. Media in the United States and elsewhere have regaled in reporting that a seafood market in Wuhan sold items such as rats and wolf pups. An Internet rumor took life in the British media that the virus was connected to the consumption of bats. This was egged on by a video showing a Chinese vlogger eating a bat. That video was from 2016 and not filmed in China. But the consumption of exotic meats is not exclusive to China, and the definition of exotic is subjective. In the Mid-Atlantic United States, there is a dish called scrapple, which is a meatloaf made with the scraps of slaughtered pig. The common reference to the ingredients is, "Everything but the squeal." I've tried it numerous times, and I can honestly say it is not something high on my list. Still, I've tried it. I've also eaten fried alligator, grilled octopus and roasted rattlesnake, none of which is in a Chinese restaurant or household. All of these may sound exotic — or even revolting to some, especially to a vegetarian. Although dog, cat and rat can be found on plates in China and elsewhere, they aren't found at restaurants in the United States. Still, rumors of Chinese restaurants serving these meats persist. These suspicions are rooted in age-old tropes about Chinese food, and they are still used against Chinese immigrants and Chinese Americans, especially during crises such as the current coronavirus outbreak. Since the first Chinese immigrated to the United States in the early 1800s, we have been viewed with distrust and racism. American media played a role in this, reporting on opium dens and asking the question: Do Chinese eat rats? Such sentiments culminated in the federal Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. Much of the misunderstanding of Chinese food comes from those early years. The Chinese custom of cutting meat and vegetables into bite-size pieces made it hard to discern ingredients. And the people cooking these dishes were low-skill, low-paid laborers, who were mostly men, trying desperately to use what little they knew of cooking to replicate dishes from home, while making do with whatever foodstuffs were at hand. This resulted in dishes such as chop suey, which is as close to authentic Chinese cuisine as SpaghettiOs are to Italian. When people ask me to recommend a Chinese restaurant, I ask them, "What is your favorite dish?" If they respond "sweet-and-sour" something or beef and broccoli, then I know which direction to send them. But if they say steamed fish or something involving a black bean sauce, then I know they have some experience with non-Americanized Chinese cuisine. Still, there has been a slow acceptance of the broader menu, from dim sum to roasted pork belly. But what you will also find at higher-end Chinese restaurants in the United States are items like sea cucumber, geoduck clam and cuttlefish. All of these sound exotic, especially to people who think seafood consists of shrimp and cod. Some of that hesitancy to explore beyond the sweet-and-sour list is rooted in those same suspicions that have existed for more than a century. When I asked my mom why we didn't serve Chinese food at our restaurant, she said because it takes too much work to prepare and she didn't want to have to make the food that Americans would only want to eat. We used to have a big annual Lunar New Year dinner at their last restaurant, which did have some Chinese items. At the dinner, my mom would pull out all the stops, serving up dishes that only top-line restaurants did. One year, she made bird's nest soup. When a customer asked me why it was called this, I explained that the name comes from the fact that Chinese gathered swiftlet nests, boiled them down to extract the bird saliva that is used as the binding agent. This material sells for about $110 an ounce. It is combined into a soup stock of multiple meats and other ingredients. At one time, this soup was reserved for the imperial court. After I revealed that exotic ingredient, most did not eat the soup. My mother was so upset. That soup represented the entire profits from that dinner. She didn't care about the money, though. She'd just wanted the customers to try something beyond sweet and sour. Correction: An earlier version of this story listed bird saliva extracted from larks' nests as being used in bird's nest soup. It is the nests of swiftlets that is used. |
| Posted: 31 Jan 2020 06:12 AM PST  Shellfish for sale in the Tai Po market in Hong Kong on January 29. Many customers come to this market to buy live seafood. Jason Beaubien/NPR hide caption  Shellfish for sale in the Tai Po market in Hong Kong on January 29. Many customers come to this market to buy live seafood. Jason Beaubien/NPRA "wet market" in Wuhan, China, is catching the blame as the probable source of the current coronavirus outbreak that's sweeping the globe. Patients who came down with disease at the end of December all had connections to the Hunan Seafood Market in Wuhan China. The complex of stalls selling live fish, meat and wild animals is known in the region as a "wet market." Researchers believe the new virus probably mutated from a coronavirus common in animals and jumped over to humans in the Wuhan bazaar. I visited the Tai Po wet market in Hong Kong, and it's quite obvious why the term "wet" is used. Live fish in open tubs splash water all over the floor. The countertops of the stalls are red with blood as fish are gutted and filleted right in front of the customers' eyes. Live turtles and crustaceans climb over each other in boxes. Melting ice adds to the slush on the floor. There's lots of water, blood, fish scales and chicken guts. Things are wet. Scenes From The Shekou 'Wet Market' In Shenzhen, China
At the Tai Po market, a woman who runs a shellfish stall — she only wants to give her name as Mrs. Wong — says people blame wet markets for spreading disease. But she says that's not fair. Like just about everyone else in the market. Wong is wearing a surgical face mask because of the coronavirus outbreak. She's heard about the links between the wet market in Wuhan, China, and the coronavirus but doesn't think something like that would happen in Hong Kong. "It's much cleaner in the Hong Kong markets. It's so different from what's happening in mainland China," she says. "When I go to mainland China and I'm trying to eat something, I'm concerned about what's in the food." Meanwhile, this kind of market is not just an Asian phenomenon. There are similar markets all over the world — places where fish, poultry and other animals are slaughtered and butchered right on the premises. But researchers of zoonotic diseases — diseases that jump from animals to humans – pinpoint the wet markets in mainland China as particularly problematic for several reasons. First, these markets often have many different kinds of animals – some wild, some domesticated but not necessarily native to that part of Asia. The stress of captivity in these chaotic markets weakens the animals' immune systems and creates an environment where viruses from different species can mingle, swap bits of their genetic code and spread from one species to another, according to biologist Kevin Olival, vice president for research at the EcoHealth Alliance. When that happens, occasionally a new strain of an animal virus gets a foothold in humans and an outbreak like this current coronavirus erupts. The Tai Po market in Hong Kong does have some live animals besides the seafood but the selection is rather boring compared to the exotic assortment of snakes, mammals and birds on offer in some markets in mainland China. They're known to sell animals such as Himalayan palm civets, raccoon dogs, wild boars and cobras. The only live birds in Tai Po are chickens, which are kept behind the butchered pork section of the market. Chan Shu Chung has been selling chicken here for more than 10 years. He says business is really good right now because the price of pork — his main competition — is through the roof. Pork is in short supply due to trade tensions between China and the U.S. and a recent bout of swine flu.  A chicken for sale at the Tai Po market in Hong Kong. Customers say that buying chickens that are slaughtered on the spot makes them feel that they're getting meat from fresh, healthy birds. Jason Beaubien/NPR hide caption  A chicken for sale at the Tai Po market in Hong Kong. Customers say that buying chickens that are slaughtered on the spot makes them feel that they're getting meat from fresh, healthy birds. Jason Beaubien/NPRSo people are buying more chicken. Customers can select a live bird from Chung's cages. Chung pulls them out by their feet, holds them upside down to show off their plump breasts. If the customer is happy with the bird, Chung puts a plastic tag with a number on the chicken's foot. He gives the customer a matching tag, sort of like a coat check. Fifteen minutes later the shopper can come back and pick up the chicken meat. Chung says he and his colleagues do their best to keep the area clean. They wash down the stalls regularly and disinfect the countertops to stop germs from spreading. Chung, however, is one of the few people in the market who is not wearing a face mask. Face masks have become so common in Hong Kong since the coronavirus outbreak started that pharmacies across the city are sold out of them. Chung says he isn't afraid of this new coronavirus. He always gets his annual flu shot so he believes he's protected against this new disease, even though scientists say the flu shot will not protect people against this new coronavirus. Chung adds confidently that he's even immune to SARS — for which there also is no commercially available vaccine. But he does keep his chicken stalls incredibly clean, which public health officials say is one important step in stopping the spread of diseases. So maybe he's on to something. |
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