Is Eating Well a Sin?

In this day and age, being a connoisseur has become a kind of sin, a form of infamy. It is as if gourmets are greedy swine who want to hasten the extinction of the animal kingdom or else pompous money bags with nothing to do but squander their wealth. When these lovers of culinary delights see what is becoming of their reputation, they feel compelled to put down their chopsticks for a moment, and speak out their own views on the value of a good meal.

"When we saw Taiwanese businessmen going to Vietnam and eating bear's paws, we were really angry. Is bear's paw the only food that's nutritious? If you have a medical need for it, all you have to do is cut off a single slice of lean meat. That's a very sufficient dose, enough to cook up a good soup that's both delicious and nutritious," says Sarah Cheng, her eyes lighting up with anger. She and her husband have dined extensively throughout both Hong Kong and Taiwan.

Feeding for the face of it

Many people in Taiwan are all too eager to sink their teeth into shark's fin or abalone, or even spring for a "feast of the Manchus and Han," an exhaustive multi-course dinner purportedly enjoyed by the Empress Dowager herself. With such popular enthusiasm for haute cuisine, even vegetarian food, which originally gained its virtue from its simplicity, has become overly concerned with image. "It's really going over board!" sighs Frank Lin, formerly the general secretary of the Chinese Dietetic Culture Association, who feels that the constant demand of modern people for outward appearances even in their food, shows they have all fallen for a businessman's ruse.

The traditional "feast of the Manchus and Han," for example, was originally a banquet thrown by Manchus to demonstrate respect for their Han Chinese guests. After the meal, the Han guests would return the favor by offering some homemade dishes of their own. In reality, the imperial court never had a "feast of the Manchus and Han." "This is a name thought up by businessmen. To take it as representative of Chinese cuisine is really a gross distortion of the facts," Frank Lin comments.

Another issue is the plate of ornamental food that appears on formal banquet tables. Chinese people often say that a complete meal is composed not only of flavor but also aroma and color. For this reason, in addition to the food to be eaten, many different shapes are carved out of fruit, vegetables and cakes to add to the culinary experience. These ornamental dishes are for looking at, not eating. This, however, is a far step removed from the banquets of today which frequently use the victuals as an excuse to show off the chef's ingenious sleights of hand. "Good looking is good looking, but i it safe to eat?" Frank Lin wonders.

The tradition of "eight treasures"

Since the Chou Dynasty the Chinese have developed a roster of the "eight most excellent treasures," dishes which satisfy delicate and exquisite tastes. Favored delicacies have differed from era to era, such as bear paws, swiftlet nests, monkey brains, ape lips and camel humps. Because the number of choice dishes has grown larger and larger, the list has been more precisely divided into four categories of "eight treasures": mammals, seafood, poultry, and vegetables. Today, people have put together a roster of "eight modern treasures" commonly seen in dining establishments: swiftlet nests, abalone, shark's fin, black sea cucumber, hashih frog, spotted grouper, tachia crab and lobster.

Applied to the refined taste buds of connoisseurs, abalone and shark's fin are decidedly delicious. The late scholar Liang Shih-chou, a master masticator in his own right, once composed a monograph explaining that the succulent flavor of the jioukong oyster is the finest of all the tender mollusks, but it cannot compare to abalone. No matter how it is served--fresh, dried, canned, thinly sliced, or cut into strips and fried with parsley--abalone tastes superb. Those who love to eat abalone are known to skewer it on a fork, popping it whole in their mouths, carefully making acquaintance with it from the outside in, gradually entering a state of savory ecstasy.

Shark's fin must first be steeped in water and allowed to expand, then boiled, a considerable challenge for the average cook. Shark's fin itself has texture but no flavor; the fine taste is captured in the broth of the soup. For this reason, the Cantonese, who are adept at brewing stews, cook it the best. More than a few culinary epicures fly to Hong Kong especially to eat shark's fin. Every few months, Raymond and Sarah Cheng, a couple who draw quite ordinary salaries, fly to Hong Kong and splurge on a meal of shark's fin served at upwards of NT$5-6000 by a master chef.

Flavor before greed

Lin Chuen-fang and a number of her gastronome friends may often be seen out eating the simplest bowl of Taiwan noodles, along with some marinated condiments. Four or five friends won't even spend NT$500. But once in a while they will go spend NT$30,000 to enjoy a table filled with the flavors of "eight modern treasures." It is not as if they eat abalone and shark's fins every day at every meal.

"Those people who eat shark's fin and abalone several times a month won't necessarily enjoy it more than anyone else. If you eat fatty pork or pig's feet instead, you aren't necessarily eating anything worse," says Chen Ching, who has supped his way all over Taiwan, Hong Kong, mainland China and the whole world. In terms of eating, he has always had his own ideas, never blindly following suit.

The late artist Chang Ta-chien, who was as famous for his love of food as he was for his paintings, often caused his friends to laughingly dub him a "voracious eating freak who loves to stuff his face." Not only did he not take offense, he triumphantly stated,"These old eyes have read many a book on the teachings of the sages. The only doctrines I could really fulfill were the two phrases Confucius said: 'No food is too refined,' and 'No cuisine is too delicate.'" However, when Chang Ta-chien threw a banquet, the amount of dishes served in the menu he prepared depended on the number of his guests. Even when he was a guest, he would petition the host that the volume of dishes be based on the principle of "Neither too little nor too much."

A connoisseur of fine food will absolutely never be greedy, because gluttony only serves to desensitize the tongue. Chen Ching finds the conventional Chinese style of dining, at a large table with more than 10 different dishes, to be simply unenjoyable. He explains, "We always say that a home-cooked meal is the most delicious. It's best quality is that you only eat one or two tasty dishes, so you can contemplate their essential flavors." If he has the time, Chen Ching prefers to go home and spend two or three hours cooking two of the best dishes he can cook, devoting the hard labor of a whole day to making a beautiful tasting experience.

Good food, like good music, uplifts the human spirit. Good food is not sinful. And those who appreciate good food should not propagate an insatiable appetite. Liu An, king of Huai Nan during the Han Dynasty, stated in his Huai Nan King's Treatise on Cuisine, "The ancients placed flavor before greed; modern people place greed before flavor." In the context of today's eating environment, this single phrase can serve as a measuring rod to distinguish the gourmet from the glutton.

[Picture Caption]

p.31

Some folks eat with their mouths, and others dine with their eyes. Exquisite vegetable sculptures can add to the culinary experience. If food that was meant to be eaten were crafted like this, it might well gouge the gullet.