Yangshuo Master Chef, a short story from China.

Yangshuo Master Chef, a short story from China.

After a prolonged period of stability, I finally bid farewell to Belgium in the summer of 2009. Uninspired by life in grey, uneventful Brussels, I headed off to China for an unforgettable year of teaching and traveling.

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“Oh crap!” I cried, as S went crashing to the ground in a crumpled heap. A rising cloud of dust blocking my visibility as I skidded my own bike to a crunching halt. I sprinted over to her where she lay winded on the floor clutching her ribs, her bike wheels still spinning in the earth beside her. “Are you ok?” I asked, relieved to see that a section of the wooden fence lining the trail had broken her fall.

“Yessssshhhh!” she gasped, half grimacing, half laughing as she tried to sit up. She’d grazed her leg in two places, but otherwise seemed to have gotten off lightly. “I killed the fence!” she chuckled as I helped her up, nervously glancing across the countryside. I was half expecting to see an angry, axe-wielding farmer striding towards us. Thankfully, there wasn’t a soul in sight. 

Yangshuo Master Chef, a short story from China.

Perhaps under different circumstances the crash could have derailed the day. But actually there was no question of turning back. The verdant landscape of Yangshuo County was just too damn lush to let anything spoil our plans. Hence we got back on our bicycles and continued through the dreamy countryside.

The winding pathway took us through a series of sparkling green paddy fields. As we cycled, it was impossible to take my eyes off Yangshuo’s signature karst-studded peaks. A piercing collection of multi-shaped limestone pinnacles that truly have to be seen in person to be believed.

We’d had so many amazing travel experiences during our year in China. And yet, it already felt like this place was laying down a banner for most beautiful. Oh how I wish I could have taken those photos with the camera I have today.

Eventually, we came upon a tiny settlement, no more than half a dozen shacks by the side of a muddy section of The Yulong River. A pair of grubby children played tag around some bushes. Nearby, a handful of adults gutted and rinsed dead chickens in the water.

Yangshuo County, China.

Having exchanged greetings with the locals, we cycled for a further twenty minutes until we reached the crumbly magnificence of Yulong Bridge in the little town of Baisha. Jumping off our bikes, S and I sat on the riverbank where we swatted flies and watched the occasional bamboo raft float by. It turned out the bridge was seven hundred years old, while the word Yulong refers to meeting a dragon.

Tickled by this, I decided to clamber up to the bridge in search of mythical creatures. However, all I found was a hunched old woman plodding by with a bulging sack of branches on her back. I felt a little guilty about photographing her, but she was just too perfect a specimen to ignore. Moreover, I’m not sure she even noticed me, what with her posture and being preoccupied with her load.

It was another half an hour of pedalling before we reached the village of Xiatang. As soon as I saw the sizeable collection of bamboo rafts gathered by the riverbank, I knew we had to take a cruise. In fact, we were so enchanted by the place I didn’t even bother to negotiate the price. 

Xiatang Village.

Our captain was a smiley man who insisted on dragging our bikes onto the raft himself. This made for a tight squeeze. He was a wiry little guy and yet he possessed immense strength. Expertly, he propelled the three of us, bikes and all, down The Yulong’s emerald waters with his lengthy bamboo pole.

That river cruise remains a defining memory of my first year in China. A blissful hour of pure laziness, during which I stared up at the sky with its Tolkien-esque scenery.

Yangshuo Master Chef, a short story from China.

We decided to stay in the city of Yangshuo for a couple of nights. After our biking exploits it seemed wise to take a day off, which we spent idling around various trendy cafes. It really was a pleasant town to wile away a day doing not very much. 

On that first afternoon the heavens bulged before erupting in an almighty downpour. It was amusing to see the little souvenir market empty within seconds, backpackers scrambling off in all directions. Stall owners pulling out their awnings to protect their wares. One poor old lady got completely caught in the ensuing storm, reduced to little more than a hobbling umbrella-with-legs creature.

S discovered a cooking school that day and consequently had her heart set on taking a class. Thus we popped in, spoke to the friendly woman at reception and signed up for a three-hour session. The next morning we made our way to Cloud 9 Restaurant, where we received a warm welcome from a Chinese woman called Jane.

“Nice to meet you!” she grinned.

“Today I will be your tour guide, chef, teacher… and I hope, friend. Are you ready to go the market?”

Jane took us to Yangshuo Farmer’s Market to buy our ingredients. Along the way, she told us that we’d be cooking up a grand three-course feast. First, we’d be getting to grips with Deep Fried Stuffed Eggplant with Pork. Then trying our hand at Stuffed Green Pepper with Pork, before finishing up with Sizzling Beef with Mixed Vegetables.

There were no complaints from our side. “Do you cook well?” she asked, with a mischievous smile. “Uh…. S does,” I answered, “me not so much”. 

The market was massive, with three covered halls and over two hundred vendors. Jane expertly marched us around so that we could grab what we needed. As we went, she gave us tips on how to get the juiciest peppers and choice beef cuts. I spotted plenty of questionable stuff, including the sad sight of caged geese, rabbits and dogs. One stall sold pig’s ears, with tray after tray of giant, dark brown flappy cuts. They made my stomach turn. 

Back at Cloud 9 Jane led us up to the rooftop to two huge kitchens and a balcony overlooking a pretty lake. Ironically, the view also included a massive McDonald’s. One of the kitchens was chock-a-block with a large group, the other was all for us! Putting on our supplied Cloud 9 aprons and silly chef hats, Jane directed us to our fully equipped workstations. 

“Ok, we start with deep fried eggplant!”

Off we went, following her clipped instructions to the letter. We sliced carrots, chopped chives and diced onions. Furthermore, we did our best to cut the pork into very fine strips, a point Jane was very strict about. “Finer!!!” she ordered, over and over again as I flailed hopelessly with my knife.

Having cut our eggplants to form an open pouch, we subsequently put the mashed filling in by hand. Then added teaspoons of salt, sugar, white pepper, corn and oyster sauce. Fortunately, Jane had pre-made the batter. It was an incredibly thick, paint-like goo comprised of wheat flour, corn starch, egg, salt, custard powder, soda and water. The next task was to dip our eggplants into the batter and drop them gently into our oiled woks.

Yangshuo Master Chef, a short story from China.

I’d mistakenly thought that we were now done. But Jane, ever the taskmaster, told us we had to continually turn the eggplants from back to front while they cooked. This took about ten minutes.

When they were ready, we scooted off to the balcony to enjoy the mouth-watering results. We had made way too much, enough to feed at least four people! With two more dishes still to prepare, we recognised the importance of pacing ourselves, so resisted the temptation to devour everything. 

Much to my relief, the pepper dish was comparatively easy to make. We used the same stuffing mix from the eggplant recipe. Once again we cooked up a ridiculous amount of food and I could only conclude that Jane’s family were going to be very well fed for the next few nights.

For the grand finale, the sizzling beef dish also required a very fine cutting process. This, Jane assured us, was key to its great taste. With the beef cut (badly in my case), we set to work adding salt, oil, rice wine, corn starch, egg white and meat tenderiser. Then left it all to soak for ten minutes while we chilled on the balcony watching people file in and out of McDonald’s.

Back at our workstations, we wok-fried the mix until Jane confirmed the meat was “80% cooked” and therefore ready to be removed. From there we had to rapidly fry up some ginger, spring onions and red peppers. On top of that went water, soy sauce, oyster sauce, salt, sesame oil and the wildcard ingredient of chicken stock.

Yangshuo Master Chefs, a short story from China.

It was at this point that the sizzling kicked in! Instructing us to heat up an oiled iron plate until it started to smoke, Jane then gave us the green light to pour everything in, meat and all. It was music to our ears to hear the violent reaction of the ingredients as they collided with the iron plate. Everything fizzled, hissed, jumped, spat and generally complained for about five minutes.

“Ok, we’re done!” cried Jane, “is time for eating!” 

S and I carried our plates over to the balcony overlooking Yangshuo’s main street. The food was wonderful and it gave me a great deal of satisfaction to know I’d played a hand in creating it. Of course we couldn’t finish it all. Indeed I remember feeling so incredibly bloated by the time I dropped my chopsticks in defeat. 

The last stop on our farewell China tour came in Hong Kong. This, we figured, would be a celebratory end to our twelve month adventure. Here, there would be creature comforts galore and widely-spoken English. Happily, Hong Kong delivered on everything we’d anticipated and then some. 

To cover all its delights here would be futile. As such, I’ll be sure to add Hong Kong to the travel report archives one of these years. For now, I’ll simply make do with reeling off a few highlights. Like people watching in Kowloon Park and taking in a night of horse racing at Happy Valley. Seeking out the stupendous Big Buddha statue and strolling the peaceful beaches of Lantau Island.

“Are you going to miss China?” S asked.

“Umm… yes and no” I replied, my head up against the taxi window as we hummed down the motorway. “I’ll miss the travel… and the food! But I won’t miss the spitting, the foul air or having to engage in combat every time I wanna get on the subway”. A period of silence followed as we sat lost in our own thoughts.

I had no idea what awaited us in The Netherlands. If I’d had just an inkling of the professional adventures that awaited me in Amsterdam, I may have started hyperventilating. But I had no clue. I didn’t even know where we were going to live, or what kind of jobs we’d get. What’s more, I was entirely unaware that for S and I it would be the beginning of the end.

‘Yangshuo Master Chef’ is the eighteenth and final chapter of my short story series Challenged in China.

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