Huang You Chao Mi

Here's another street food to file under the "guilty pleasures" category.

Huang You Chao Mi (黄油炒米) originated in Mongolia, so you're most likely to find it in the parts of China that have a big Mongolian influence (namely, Inner Mongolia). There are really only three main ingredients, listed here in order of prominence: butter, crispy millet pellets, and sugar. Attentive readers will have already noted that the first--and therefore most prominent--ingredient is butter. This simple fact is the reason that huang you chao mi is such a guilty pleasure. You are essentially eating a bowl of butter, with some millet for texture and sugar for taste. If it sounds delicious, that's because it is. The butter is sweet and creamy, which the millet contrasts with a satisfying crunch. It is served chilled, so the butter is firm enough to retain its shape while you dig in. All in all, this is a rich, decadent treat. Though I personally ate it in below-freezing temperatures, I suspect eating this dish would be a wonderful way to pass a lazy, hazy summer afteroon.

Fried Persimmon Cakes

If your taste buds share the same characteristics as mine--and I can only assume that they do--then you have a natural proclivity for sweet tastes and mushy textures. Yes? Good. Because friends, do I have some good news to share: behold the Shi Zi Bing (柿子饼) (fried persimmon cake).

The fried persimmon cake is a specialty in Xi'an and is, by far, one of the most addictive street foods I've eaten in China. The cake is made of a persimmon dough stuffed with a variety of different pastes, including osmanthus, peanut, black sesame, and more. The dough is flattened into a disc (perhaps the diamter of an American silver dollar, except about an inch high) and then fried. They are best eaten shortly after cooking when they are still hot. These things are amazing. They have a very thin crispy layer on the outside from the frying, but the inside is all mush and goo. The dough is soft and glutinous, while the paste on the inside oozes out as soon as you penetrate that inner wall. It's sweet (fruity sweet, not sugary sweet), gooey, and warm. One will cost you about 2 yuan. Something that delicious for such a good price means that I went back for seconds, thirds, and fourths. If I stayed in Xi'an any longer, I am sure I would have had many, many more. The Shi Zi Bing are available in many places in the city, but the best place to look is in the Muslim quarter behind the Drum Tower.

On the Pleasures of Pigs' Feet

I think we can all be grateful that life abounds with guilty pleasures. That "I know this is terrible for my mind/body/well-being, but surely one time won't hurt...so long as nobody sees me" feeling makes the secret, illicit joy of a guilty pleasure all the more enticing. Personally, I tend to shy away from bad movies, reality television, and romance novels, but I am not immune to the allure of food as a guilty pleasure. I am here today to share that pigs' feet fall squarely into this sumptuous category.

You can buy pigs' feet--usually pickled--in the USA. Those briny, pallid chunks of flesh crammed into dusty jars on long-untouched grocery store shelves always seemed a bit unappetizing to me, and I suspect most people share that assessment.

I can't imagine why.

Photo courtesy of Geoff 

So for those, like me, who have looked ungenerously upon the humble pig foot, let me tell you this: there is another way.

Behold!



These pigs' feet--a specialty in Kunming--are a revelation for those of us accustomed to those other pigs' feet. Watch as these vibrantly colored hunks of meat and bone are cut down the middle, grilled, and seasoned before your very eyes and served hot, fresh, and oozing with grease. It's that last part--the grease--that turns this from a quotidian pleasure to a guilty pleasure. Here's how it looks when it is served:

I want you to take a moment to notice that generous layer of fat visible on the bottom left of this picture. While you're at it, you might as well take note of the thick skin, best seen at the far right. When this foot is staring up at you, waiting to be eaten, it's hard not to notice those features. Your arteries involuntarily clench in anticipatory revulsion, while your brain frantically replays the relevant lectures from high school health class, hoping to overrule the momentum your taste buds are trying to build. There are no two ways about it: this is not a healthy food. If you're lucky, your taste buds win the internal debate and you tear into this porcine delight with vigor. It is heavenly. The skin is rubbery and chewy, while the meat (or fat) is soft and greasy. The seasoning is mildly spicy and the meat is a bit sweet (not sugary sweet...meaty sweet...think of the sweetness of ham for a comparison). As you eat, your mouth is coated with a thin layer of grease, giving your tongue, teeth, and cheeks a sticky, waxy sensation. Before you know it, you are left with bones on your plate, contentment in your stomach, and half-regret in your brain. Not real regret though--the same regret that you have after eating a whole pint of rich ice cream. Your brain says you regret it, but your soul is richer for the experience.

Pigs' feet, as Cookie Monster might say, are a sometimes food. You would be paving the path to an early grave if you ate these every day. And that's what makes them such a delicious guilty pleasure: the internal tension between knowing they are bad for you and knowing how amazing they taste. Most of the time your brain will win out and you will opt for some spinach or something else boring and healthy. And that's how it should be. Once in a long while, though, you will take the plunge, and you will be richly rewarded. Like all guilty pleasures, the bashful guilt you feel coupled with the rarity of the experience are all part of the magnificent joy of pigs' feet. Savor those moments. Every day foods like spinach sustain life; guilty pleasures--like pigs' feet--are what make it worth sustaining.