Nuts and pickles are the cheerful accessories of the world of good eating, at least as defined by me! As a kid, I was enraptured by them: bowls of peanuts that staved off kiddie hungers at my grandparents, fat dill pickles that we fished out of the wooden deli barrel, the olives and celery stalks that came iced to the table at our local diner. More than any memories of main-course foods, I savor the remembrance of these preliminary nibbles.
I was thus happily programmed for the customs at Chinese tables when I encountered them in my 20s. A northern Chinese meal in a Peking mode (as translated to the Taipei tables where I had my culinary upbringing) meant a trio of tiny nibbles to begin—typically a plate of lightly oiled cold wheat noodles wearing a dash of minced scallion, a saucer of boiled peanuts splashed with a little soy, and a counterpoint dish of pickled Napa cabbage with a pleasant jolt of chili. These were the appetite-arousers, the nibbles that the French call “throat-ticklers” and the Chinese call “mouth-openers.”
What the Pekinese loved, the Hunanese elevated to an art form. Their meals would begin with no fewer than four to six of these so-called “little dishes.” James and Lucy Lo, who became adopted family and kitchen mentors when I returned to Princeton from Taiwan, weighted their refrigerator with these little gems. There were apricots stewed with purple basil, tiny cubes of tofu steeped in anise-flavored soy, silken cucumber slivers spotted with garlic, crispy nori dipped in sugar. It was a blissful playground for a beginning cook.
In the China Moon kitchen, these savory opening salvos are the happiest part of my work. I love making them almost as much as I love eating them! We usually have at least half a dozen pickled vegetables on any week’s menu. Not merely garnishes, they are integral parts of the sensory experience of a dish. A baked bun stuffed with chicken and oyster sauce, for example, would be too rich without a bit of spicy pickled cabbage to nibble alongside. Similarly, thin slivers of wok-seared beef require the complementary tastes and colors of pickled carrots and gingered red cabbage to show off their flavor. In the world of Chinese cooking, this is the necessary yin and yang—those counterpoints of taste, color, and texture that make a meal sing.
Everyone remembers the agony of going to someone’s home—never mind, someone’s restaurant!—and waiting endlessly to be fed. The stomach gurgles and the eyes roll. One feels deprived of more than just food.
This chapter is filled with helpmates to get you through the opening crunch of early dinner guests or friends who arrive with starvation written on their faces! A little bowl of nuts or pickles already put out within reach are great appetite-appeasers. In the Chinese fashion, they are also appetite-arousers.
Beginning tastes at a Chinese meal always include salty, sweet, and piquant. These are flavors that enliven the tongue. Intriguing textures are also important. Hence, a spread of spicy eggplant on crispy, garlic-tinged croutons—our opening “hello” to our hungry dinner guests—while not authentically Chinese, is nonetheless in a very traditional mode. The flavors of chili and garlic tantalize the palate and pique the appetite for what lies ahead.