Ancient Waterfront Towns of China - Part 4: Xitang

We continued our town-hopping journey among the ancient waterfront towns of Eastern China, moving slowly from Hangzhou towards the direction of Suzhou over 4 nights. After visiting Wuzhen East and Wuzhen West, a shared-taxi took the two of us, one Chinese traveler and a local worker to our next destination, the beautiful, timeless town of Xitang.



By then we’re traveling deeper and deeper into the old marshland country, where boats served for thousands of years as the only connection to the outside world until the advent of reliable roads in the 1990’s. Even today local towns remain connected, through the Beijing-Hangzhou Grand Canal, to cities a thousand kilometers to the north. If our previous stop at Wuzhen was a first introduction into this cultural landscape of narrow waterways and little black-top boats, we’ve now fully surrounded by the territory of traditional watertowns, collectively known as the Venice of the Orient.



All towns here were once built upon and interconnected by a crisscrossing network of ancient canals and riverways, and Xitang was smack dab in the middle of it all. A short boat ride to the northeast would take you to the remote corner where the modern provinces of Zhejiang, Jiangsu and Shanghai collide, carving up this ancient land into three. We’re now almost equidistant from the neighboring metropolises of Shanghai, Hangzhou and Suzhou, each requiring a 2-hour bus trip even in this age of mega highways.



This inconvenience of transport became a blessing in disguise at the turn of the new millennium, when mass tourism rediscovered Xitang’s Qing Dynasty charm in the midst of the ugly industrial sprawl of the developing Yangtze Delta. And after the filming of Mission Impossible 3 in town, international visitors have started to arrive in busloads to find the face of Tom Cruise plastered inside the town’s numerous souvenir shops.



Unsuspecting travelers may be welcomed by completely contradictory images of Xitang, depending on the time of arrival. Some see thousands of (mostly domestic) tourists trampling through on their 2-hour kamikaze rounds of the town, funneled into the Qilaoye Temple for incense dedications with kick-backs filling the tour guides’ fat pockets. Others find a serene, unpolished gem of a genuine close-knit neighborhood of local Wu-dialect speakers, still carrying on their morning exercise and clothes-washing routines in groups.



Yes it’s Jekyll-and-Hyde, and which face of Xitang you experience will depend on how your plan your day. IMHO the absolute worst way to see the town is to join the locally organized one-day tours departing from Shanghai/Hangzhou/Suzhou for amazingly cheap prices (RMB 120-ish), wasting the morning with mandatory shopping at a silk factory, arriving around lunchtime and rushing around town for 2.5 hours, then wasting even more time at a tea factory with even more kick-backs going to the travel agency. No wonder why the town gets so much negative rap about its crowdedness, when everyone tends to arrive between the hours of 11:00 and 15:00.



You’ll experience a much quieter, much more authentic Xitang if you stay for a night and enjoy the quiet few hours of the morning, stumbling upon the neighborhood gossip in the town’s narrow courtyards and watching the street-side snack vendors setting up with the help of the rest of the family. I can’t say whether I like Xitang better than Wuzhen, but it definitely feels more authentic especially before the arrival of the armada of tour buses.



While the town offers a number of little museums and cute example of traditional architecture, the real attraction of the town is the town itself -- its precariously crooked rooflines, its unembellished contrast of air-conditioners obtruding out of whitewashed Qing Dynasty walls, and the classical image of red lanterns suspended along the shores of its several canals. A couple of the official sights (Misty Rain Long Corridor and the West Garden) were also nice, while others were surely deliberate and entirely unnecessary efforts by the tourism developer to justify the price of the entrance ticket.



A touristy but fun thing to do was to cruise the canals in an indigenous black-top boat, enjoying a different perspective of the town while rocking side-to-side by the stroke of hand-propelled sculling-oar. It’s no less authentic than a gondola ride in Venice, at a small fraction of the price. A 20 minute cruise on a shared boat, usually with another couple if you pick a non-peak time, cost a measly RMB 20 with a valid entrance ticket, or roughly 2.5 Euros per person. What could you buy in Venice for 2.5 Euros? We should have taken 4 cruises.



Sundown is when the multiple faces of Xitang go full schizophrenic. With all day-trippers gone, the southern stretches of the canal grow completely still and romantic; the middle section remains tolerably crowded and touristy with all the souvenir shops and teahouses vying for business; and by the time you get to the so-called Pub Street where the two main canals meet, every screeching speakers would be on full-blast on Taiwanese and Hong Kong pops and the occasional Korean dance hit. It was time to return to the authenticity and tranquility offered by our local host at our excellent guesthouse.



Our favorite memory of Xitang wasn’t the night scenery or the canal cruise, but of the fantastic time we spent in a very special guesthouse, or Kezhan as it’s locally known. It’s so special that I’d be willing to visit Xitang just for the privilege of spending a night inside this house ...

Hotel Review: SHENDETANG(Xitang)
Address: Xiaxi Jie 79, Xitang Town
Price: RMB 150
Website: Offical Blog by Owner (in Chinese)
How To Book: Walk in, or call them at 13705832818 in Chinese.
Directions: Start from the West Garden (Xiyuan). Facing outward from the Garden, turn left and walk down the block towards the next narrow alleyway (known as Ligengtang Nong). The entrance to Shendetang looks like a long, dark, semi-covered corridor. Be brave and walk to the very end!



This is not just any guesthouse. This is a time machine back to the Ming Dynasty, 500 years in the past.

Over the years we’ve enjoyed staying with local families in their indigenous medieval houses around the world. Northern China’s Pingyao, Japan’s Shirakawago and Telc in the Czech Republic come to mind. But this house in Xitang is special -- it is not only the oldest of any inn we’ve ever stayed in, but also the longest continuously owned by the original family. Walk inside and you’ll be welcomed by the two Mr. Wangs, the 22nd and 23rd generation masters of this illustrious mansion.



Shendetang, literally the Hall of Conscientious Integrity, is an officially protected heritage building of 16th Century folk architecture, not to mention a favorite filming locale of Chinese TV dramas. What remains visible as the grand hall today was only the centerpiece of a much larger villa, once containing seven layers of courtyards each with their own housing quarters. Through the past decades of turmoil and socialist policies, ownership of the outer six layers have all been conceded and assigned to the poorer neighbors. It’s almost a miracle that the innermost hall had remained unmolested during the Cultural Revolution years, and that ownership was allowed to continue to this date.



The grand hall itself is a priceless museum of folk architecture with its intricately carved overhead beams, giant wooden plaques of centuries-old calligraphy and scroll paintings of the clan’s forefathers clad in Imperial scholar-bureaucrat regalia. The simple task of walking around demands extreme caution, as any random piece of furniture would easily exceed a couple hundred years of age, not including the collection of exotic vases and figurines on the display shelves.



One elegantly simple blue-on-white ceramic urn with a flower motif caught my eyes. "Zhe Shi Qing Fang Ming De," explained Mrs. Wang, that it's a Qing Dynasty replica of Ming Dynasty luxury. When your collection of Chinese knock-offs are 300-year-old counterfeits of 500-year-old artworks, it’s difficult to convince visitors that you’re actually living in the 21st Century.



Even as an immaculate display of scholarly life in Imperial China, Shendetang would put many museums to shame ... except it's not a museum, but a living fossil housing the heirs of a bygone lifestyle. Occupying a corner of the hall was Mr. Wang's office desk of antique black rosewood with his well-used abacus, instead of the calculator, sitting next to his guesthouse ledgers.



Located on the second floor of the grand hall was our guestroom with its own antique furniture pieces, including this beautiful Qing Dynasty rosewood bed frame meticulously carved in a traditional theme of auspicious peonies. While the room may seem simple on first glance, it did come with a western style toilet and shower, air conditioning, Chinese Cable TV and even a computer for the convenience of sending emails back home. The amenities were actually better compared to a lot of more expensive rooms we've stayed in, and for an unbelievably cheap price of RMB 150 (CAD$24).



Beyond our room's carved window panes was a view of the town's grey curving rooflines. IMHO this place is really Xitang's best hidden gem for anyone with any interest in a glimpse of the traditional culture of Eastern China. How many other Ming Dynasty hotels can you name, anywhere in China?

FOOD REVIEWS

Besides its medieval architecture and photogenic canals, Xitang is also quite famous among domestic Chinese tourists for its great street snacks. We purposely skipped lunch to save our stomach room for several of these street side stalls, selected as usual based on the number of local Chinese patrons in the queue.


Food Review: GUANLAOTAI (Xitang)
Directions: This is one of the smallest food vending stalls, located in the middle of the Misty Rain Long Corridor. Look for the hung picture of Guanlaotai as shown in the picture.


Here is Xitang's best street snack, served out of this bleak 2-feet-by-2-feet stall operated by a locally famous elderly lady. If you aren't convinced, see the hung plaques officially declaring its status as Intangible Cultural Heritage. This is the renowned Stinky Tofu stall of Guanlaotai, or Old Lady Guan.

The problem is ... virtually every Stinky Tofu stall in town calls itself Guanlaotai, in the typical Chinese fashion of knock-offs. We originally went to another vendor and the taste was nowhere close. Recognize the above picture and don't get duped by an imitator.



Stinky Tofu is an ubiquitous street snack found anywhere from Hong Kong to Taipei to Shanghai, emitting a distinct aroma during the deep-frying process that can be smelled from the next block. Before it gets to your plate though that stinkiness dissipates and the tofu transforms into a flavorful morsel that has attracted millions of faithfuls. Every region has its local twist when it comes to Stinky Tofu, and the secret recipe of Xitang is served right here, inside this old frying wok.



Anything that I looked for in a dish of good stinky tofu, Guanlaotai had it all. That deep complex flavor achieved by the perfect fermentation of soy protein? Check. A golden crunchy shell without a lot of excess oil? Check. A silken soft texture in the tofu? Check. A good slavering of sweet sauce and chili sauce? Check. If you have enough room for just one plate of street snack in Xitang, this is my recommendation. But make sure you visit the real Guanlaotai!

Bill for Two Persons

Stinky Tofu	RMB 5
Marinated Duck Stomachs (from a neighboring stall)	RMB 5
TOTAL	RMB 10 (CAD$1.6)

Food Review: LUSHI HUNTUN (Xitang)
Directions: Go to the intersection of the two major canals. Lushi Huntun is in the square just south of that intersection, usually with a small crowd of faithfuls sitting on the wooden benches with their wonton.


If the quality of a street side vendor can be judged by its popularity among local Chinese patrons, this place must be among the best of Xitang. Just look at these crowds while we shared a table with the locals, and you know this place is for real.

This is the Eastern Chinese version of the all-day breakfast joint, pumping out bowls after bowls of steaming hot wonton, or more properly, huntun. RMB 6 wasn't cheap for a small bowl of huntun, but we just had to trust this large following of fans.



Each bowl came with about 12 of these Eastern Chinese style huntuns, each one being roughly the size of a One Yuan coin. This may look like a rip-off on first glance, especially if you're more used to the Cantonese style of wonton -- the broth was a bit light on flavor, and the miniscule dab of meat inside the layered wrapping was nothing compared to the huge balls of shrimps you typically see in the Cantonese version right? But this was an entirely different style of wonton, with an entirely different strategy of winning the patron's business ...

The magic here was in the wrapping, and not in the filling or the soup as you'd expect in Guangzhou or Hong Kong. This rice flour wrapping was the softest and smoothest I've ever tasted, practically sliding down the throat on its own without any extra effort. Coupled with the Youtiao donut (order one if you see them, as they sell out fast) it actually made a more filling snack than I expected. I think I still prefer the Cantonese style for a more substantial meal, but this version in Xitang would be great for breakfast, exactly the way it's intended.

Bill for Two Persons

Huntun in Soup x 2	RMB 12
Youtiao Donut	RMB 2
TOTAL	RMB 14 (CAD$2.2)

Food Review: QIANSHI DOUFUHUA (Xitang)
Directions: See the directions for Lushi Huntun above. This Tofu Pudding stall is just north of the Huntun stall.


This stall is well-known as a third generation family business, an institution in Xitang for decades selling one and only one item -- the Doufuhua, or Silken Tofu Pudding.

As usual there's a sweet version as well as a savory version, depending on whether you want it as a snack or a dessert. It doesn't matter anyway as nobody comes here for the taste -- it's the texture that determines the quality.



And the smoothness here was above average, though I have to say I expected an even smoother texture from a generations-old vendor of such high repute. While I wouldn't put this in the must-try category, it was still enjoyable as a warm, homey dessert on a cold November day.

Bill for Two Persons

Silken Tofu Pudding

RMB 5

After stuffing ourselves on the variety of street snacks we had room for only one proper meal in Xitang. Consulting the Chinese side of the Internet we narrowed down to three choices -- Laopinfang, Songzideyuelou and Yijiangnan, each with their own fans and critics. We ended up going to Songzideyuelou as it was the first we came across.

Food Review: SONGZIDEYUELOU (Xitang)
Address: Tangdong Jie 15, Xitang
Hours: 11:00 – 21:00 (unofficial; based on observation)
Website/Map: From Dianping.com (in Chinese)
Directions: Start from the intersection of the two main canals. Tangdong Jie is the north-south street on the east side of the canals. This restaurant is on the stretch of Tangdong Jie visible from the stone arch of the Anjing Bridge.

Make no mistake about it: Xitang is a tourist town, and virtually every restaurant presents itself as a two-storey, faux-Qing Dynasty style wooden building serving the same repertoire of peasant dishes representative of the region. The good news is that culinary influences from Suzhou and Hangzhou run deep in this region, and the general quality of local dishes is quite decent and perhaps even familiar if you've even had Shanghainese cuisine.



We started with an unbelievably cheap (RMB 5!) but excellent dish of Periwinkles in Soy Sauce (Jiangbao Luosi). This had everything I generally look for in stir-fried Periwinkles: a boldly flavored dark soy sauce, a hint of chili, and most importantly, every single shell had the pointy tip sheared off, allowing the snail to be sucked out ... well ... most of the time. What more could I ask for in a dish costing less than $1 in CAD/USD/Euro? Just the shearing alone probably takes ten minutes of work!



My wife the soup-lover ordered this Simmered Duck Soup with Huntun (Laoya Huntun Bao), another local favorite making its presence on every table in the house. Not much duck meat inside that claypot, but all the good essence of the duck bones had been extracted into the milky soup through hours of slow simmering. This was good, but things would get even better.



The best dish of the night was this unassuming dish called Shenxian Doufu, or Fairy Tofu. I had no idea what to expect as "Fairy Tofu" can mean entirely different things depending on which region of China you're in ... one time we even had a version of Fairy Tofu in Jiangxi Province with absolutely no tofu in it. Go figure.

To this date I'm still not entire sure what was in this Xitang version of Fairy Tofu, except that it was miraculously good. I thought it almost tasted like Fish Tofu, which is not tofu at all but a solidified puree of fluffed fish meat. This Fairy Tofu here was a little firmer and chewier, and much more flavorful than any Fish Tofu I've had in the past. We finished this dish in no time.



Arriving at the end was the one dish that everyone comes to Xitang for, the local version of the ubiquitous Eastern Chinese style Braised Pork Knuckle, known in this town as Songzi Longti. Frankly I didn't taste much of a difference between this dish versus any other traditional braised pork knuckle I've had anywhere else in China ... for instance the cheap take-out version from Beijing's Tianfuhao. Isn't it a compliment to be comparable to a 200-year-old Beijing institution? Perhaps, but I'd rather spend my stomach room on the more distinguishable local dishes.

Bill for Two Persons

Periwinkles	RMB 5
Fairy Tofu	RMB 25
Simmered Duck Soup with Huntun	RMB 28
Braised Pork Knuckle (Half)	RMB 42
Large Beer	RMB 10
Rice and Plate Sets	RMB 2
TOTAL	RMB 112 (CAD$17.8)

Ancient Waterfront Towns of China - Part 3: Wuzhen Restaurant and Hotel Reviews

Wherever we travel, part of our ritual involves seeking a stay in the region's traditional dwellings, characteristic to the local area and nowhere else. In Kyoto it came in the form of a dilapidated wooden Machiya townhouse near Nijo Castle, and in Beijing it was a Siheyuan courtyard house on an inner-city Hutong alley. This time in the waterfront towns of Eastern China we wanted two different experiences -- a couple nights a in genuine Qing Dynasty mansion, and at least one in a traditional rowhouse by the water's edge, overlooking the passing boats along the 1000-year-old canal. Our first wish would have to wait until Xitang and Tongli, but our second wish would be satisfied in Wuzhen West.

Hotel Review: WUZHEN GUESTHOUSE (Wuzhen)
Address: Multiple houses on Xizha Dajie, Wuzhen Xizha Scenic Area
Price: Our room cost RMB 570, though double rooms started at RMB 340
Website/Map: See Official Site

First I have to warn that this was the second most expensive stay of our 17-day trip, next to the murderous hotel pricing at the peak of the Huangshan Mountain. But note what's already included in the price -- a free second day of sightseeing inside Wuzhen West before checking out. After all, nobody checked for tickets once we're in. Our Plan B would be to stay outside the paid-access zones and buy individual tickets for Wuzhen East and for Wuzhen West on two separate days, but we opted for the simpler plan and the better room, for a slightly higher overall price.



This was what we paid RMB 570 (CAD$90) for -- our own private balcony overhanging the ancient waters of the canal. Prices in the Guesthouses of Wuzhen West were standardized as follows at the time of our visit: RMB 340 for double rooms, RMB 470 for double rooms with a canal-facing window, and RMB 570 for these balcony rooms in limited quantities. In fact the quantities are so limited that booking sites such as CTrip and ELong do NOT offer these rooms. There are currently two known ways of booking these limited-quantity rooms: i) booking through Wuzhen's Chinese Site with either a Chinese-bank-issued credit card or a Chinese bank account, or ii) phoning Wuzhen's call centre at +86-573-8873-1088, which was how I ended up booking our room, with the advantage of not having to pre-pay until our arrival. If this is what you want, ask for a "1.5-metre Balcony Room for the Wuzhen Guesthouse" when you make the call.



The room itself was as comfy as you would expect of a B&B guestroom in Europe or in North America, with a soft mattress (which is somewhat rare in China), a western-style washroom and shower, and included excellent services such as the free luggage transfer by boat between Wuzhen West's main entrance lobby and the guesthouse. On the second day we were able to check out and hand our backpacks to the host, finish our sightseeing in town then take the free boat to the main entrance to meet our baggage.



The best part was our day was a few quiet hours of leaning against these balustrades, breathing the air of ancient Jiangnan and watching the flat-bottom boats glide past our balcony in the direction of the Beijing-Hangzhou Grand Canal. It was this particular moment, and not our earlier time in Shanghai or Hangzhou, when I finally felt immersed into Eastern China.



It was a pleasure waking up to a generously portioned home-made breakfast of regional fare, including Stir-Fried Niangao rice cakes, a local version of glutinous rice pudding known as Dingshenggao, and the ubiquitous Youtiao donut. Eggs were made-to-order: one sunny side up, and one steamed salt-pickled duck egg for the two of us to share. The rice porridge was all-you-can-eat, and came with a myriad of pickled vegetables and peanuts as usual.

This was an easily recommendable hotel, especially for first-time visitors to China who don't want to risk too much culture shock. While room prices are on the medium-high end, one has to factor in the first-world amenities, cleanliness and service, in addition to an extra day of sightseeing inside Wuzhen West. While our next night in Xitang cost only RMB 150 in comparison, we had no regrets spending RMB 570 here at Wuzhen Guesthouse.


RESTAURANT REVIEWS

While in Wuzhen we made our pilgrimage to a locally acclaimed hole-in-the-wall eatery, hidden in a side alley in the non-touristy part of town.

In fact the applauds from Chinese gourmands were so numerous and fervent that the existence of this eatery was partially why I looked forward to Wuzhen so much. As it turned out, the locals knew their stuff, and this meal turned out to be one of the most memorable of our 17-day trip.

This is likely the first ever English review of this eatery -- I searched everywhere before our trip but couldn't find any guidance in English. I hope this review will help more fellow travelers locate this authentic little gem.

Food Review: XIANGXIANG FANDIAN (Wuzhen)
Address: Guanhou Jie 40, Wuzhen
Hours: 11:00 – 21:00 (unofficial; based on observation)
Website/Map: Official Site (in Chinese)
Directions: Start from the Open-air Opera Stage just outside the paid-access zone of Wuzhen East. Walk north along the north-south street for one block and turn right onto Guanhou Jie. Xiangxiang is a little down the street on the right hand side.



I would never have found this decrepit shack of a restaurant without going out of our way to search for it. And even if we somehow came across this place by chance, I would never have dared to venture in without having previously seen recommendations on the Chinese side of the Internet. You can't ask for a more authentic mom-and-pop joint -- this one is sandwiched between a vacant closed-down store and an 8 Yuan barber shop.



What's the magic ingredient here that has all the local reviewers raving? Simmering underneath that mesh food cover at the storefront was the pride of Wuzhen, the local recipe of Red Braised Lamb (Hongshao Yangrou) made from a highly prized breed of local sheep, the salt-fed, marshland-raised Hu-Yang sheep. Yes, this is the Chinese equivalence of Agneau de Pre-Sale.

If you're wondering just how long this giant vat of lamb had been simmering for, you'd be wiser not to ask. Much like the soup-marinade in Hong Kong's Chu-Hau Beef Tripe or Xi'an's Lamb Pao Mo, the glittery dark sauce at the best street-side eateries are often as old as the shops themselves, never thrown away but only incrementally enhanced with the daily addition of fresh meat and herbs. No local gourmand would disagree: the older the sauce, the deeper the flavor.



Walk into the shop and you immerse even deeper into authentic rural China -- tables stashed sideways, trays of drying dishes stacked waist-high, and every patron quietly chowing down on the one dish that made this place famous. On first glance everything looks just like any other mom-and-pop eatery anywhere, except for photos of visits from Chinese TV celebrities and politicians plastering the walls.



Upon sitting down we spotted the first sign of top quality ingredients -- this intensely yellow, deeply flavored tea made from local Baby Chrysanthemums was actually the best and the strongest Chrysanthemum Tea either my wife or I had ever tasted. As far as I knew Baby Chrysanthemums, or Taiju as they're locally known, weren't cheap to begin with and required a more generous amount than most tea leaves to make a pot of the same size. This was a good sign: no matter how messy the shop might appear, the food was definitely for real.



Arriving first as a cold appetizer was a plate of Indian Aster with Dried Tofu (Xianggan Malan), a local favorite in the Lower Yangtze Delta. I thought it was the right dish to kick off the meal, as the slightly bitter Indian Aster is considered a "Yin" ingredient in Traditional Chinese Medicine terms and the perfect balance against the "Yang" ingredient in lamb and mutton. The taste was much like any Malantou I've had anywhere, with the same distinct, leafy flavor similar to Dandelion Greens in Mediterranean Cuisine. This would be my palate cleanser between mouthfuls of rich-tasting lamb.



Next up was an excellent dish which my wife called the best taro she had ever tasted. This Deep-Fried Taro with Scallion-Oil (Congyou Yunai) wasn't even on the written menu -- it was just recommended to us by the owner's wife as we visited during the taro season in early November. The sweetness of baby taro roots and the refreshing simplicity of scallions were combined into an addictively crunchy snack dish. You can see why local school kids aren't so hooked on French Fries like their Western counterparts, if they've got something this good waiting for them in their mom's kitchen.



Finally it was the one dish we'd been waiting for: Wuzhen's famous Red Braised Lamb. I'm sure this was what the Shanghainese had in mind when they coined the term Nongyou Chijiang, or literally Rich and Oily with Red Sauces. Inside the mysterious dark concoction was the perfect balance of Zhejiang's famous yellow wine and red cane sugar, dark soy sauce, a hint of hot chili pepper, and whatever secret ingredient the owner determined to best pair with his slow-braised Hu-Yang lamb.

I must first point out -- my wife generally does NOT eat lamb, shunning the meat for its strong gamey taste. But Wuzhen was so far from Canada that we might never return, and this hole-in-the-wall eatery was surrounded by such a mystique that she was curious enough to want to try it. However should it turn out overpoweringly gamey, I was prepared to order her something mild like a steamed fish.

She ended up finishing HALF of the lamb. Both of us agreed that it was the best lamb ever ... and this wasn't so long after I previously had my best lamb at Beijing's Hongyuan Hotpot. The flavor of that dark sauce was incredibly deep and complex from years upon years of compounding the essence of lamb bones and sinew, and the flesh was simply fall-off-the-bone tender. And the gameyness ... what gameyness? It was just like top quality beef only with a sweeter and more concentrated meaty flavor, and this was coming from my wife.

So our favorite memory of Wuzhen actually wasn't the idyllic boats cruising down the picturesque canals, but of a greasy, crumbling corner eatery serving up an impossibly great dish despite its unappealing appearance. Three months since leaving Wuzhen and I still can't find any motivation for cooking any lamb dishes. And how could I with my inferior cooking skills, after tasting the ultimate benchmark for how lamb is supposed to taste like?

Bill for Two Persons

Dried Tofu with Indian Aster	RMB 15
Deep-Fried Taro with Scallion-Oil	RMB 18
Red Braised Lamb	RMB 45
Rice x 2	RMB 2
TOTAL	RMB 80 (CAD$12.7)

That was my top restaurant recommendation for Wuzhen, particularly if you're visiting or staying at Wuzhen East. If you're staying on the Wuzhen West side however, we did come across a couple of places worth trying out.


Food Review: XIAOMAZI LUOBOSIBING (Wuzhen)
Address: Xizha Dajie, Wuzhen
Hours: 09:00 – 21:00 (unofficial; based on observation)
Website/Map: N/A
Directions: Go inside the paid-access area of Wuzhen West. Walk along the main street (Xizha Dajie) and locate Guesthouse 29 on the left side. This little stand is almost right next to it.


This is not a restaurant, but an informal street-food stand inside the paid-access area of Wuzhen West. Note that all prices inside Wuzhen West are centrally fixed, meaning that food prices can get relatively expensive. The distinction of a great tasting, relatively filling and cheap snack makes this place automatic recommendable from me, especially if you're planning to last until exiting the over-priced Wuzhen West for that proper dinner.



The stand sells one and only one item -- the Luobosi Bing, or Deep-Fried Shredded Radish Patty. White Daikon radishes are freshly shredded in house, seasoned and pressed into an oval shape similar to a McDonald's hash brown, then deep fried to an alluring golden brown in front of your eyes. Expect line-ups starting from mid-morning and lasting till dinner time, as every visitor to Wuzhen West gets tempted by the alluring aroma from its deep-fryer, carried down the street for at least half a block.



While it's certainly not the healthiest of snacks, few could resist this greasy but filling bite of crispy and savory radish. The price of RMB 5 is a relative bargain, considering that the next cheapest fare is probably a bowl of Noodles with Lamb for RMB 25. For us this was the perfect light snack, before checking out and embarking towards the next ancient town on our route.

Bill for Two Persons

Deep-Fried Shredded Radish Patty

RMB 5

Few options exist when it comes to cheap(er) options for sit-down dinners inside Wuzhen West, where food prices are all centrally fixed. There is the Hu-Yang Noodle House, where a simple bowl of Noodles with Lamb cost around RMB 25. There are also the different Guesthouses along the main street, most of which offer a menu of regional dishes from their own family kitchens. But then again prices for all standard dishes are centrally fixed, and we didn't come across any bargains.

Food Review: JIN'AN SIFANGCAI (Wuzhen)
Address: Xizha Dajie 239, Wuzhen
Hours: 12:00 – 21:00 (unofficial; based on observation)
Website/Map: N/A
Directions: Go inside the paid-access area of Wuzhen West. Walk along the main street (Xizha Dajie) and locate the Splendid Clubhouse on the right side. Jin'an Sifangcai is on the left, across from the clubhouse.


We followed recommendations from a bunch of Chinese travelers and ended up at Jin'an Sifangcai ... which was in fact NOT a Sifangcai (ie. private clubhouse) despite its name. This was the restaurant of the Splendid Clubhouse hotel, occupying a stretch of the canal shoreline beside one of the town's quaint stone bridges. The place probably has a good reputation among domestic tourists, as it was popular enough that we had to wait 15 minutes for a dinner table on a weeknight in the off-season.



Comfort food seemed to be the main theme here -- forget convoluted restaurant inventions like Eight-Treasure Stuffed Duck and think simple home-cooking that you may find in a local mom's kitchen. Our order of Grandma's Tossed Cabbages came drizzled with oil and soy sauce, uncomplicated flavors that has worked well over the past couple of millennia.



This Simmered Young Rooster with Hairy Taro (Mao Yunai Du Xiaogongji) was our second taro dish of the day, after the excellent deep-fried version at Xiangxiang earlier for lunch. Again the combination was simple and homey, though I have to say a little bland and unremarkable.



The best dish of the meal was probably this Braised Beef Tendons with Wild Shiitake Mushrooms (Yexianggu Shaoniujin). The tendons had become deliciously soft and gelatinous after hours of slow-simmering, and the baby Shiitake did give off that wild, woody flavor found only in the non-farm produced variety. While it may look glittering and oily from the picture, it actually wasn't too heavy considering that we were already prepared for our next dish.



We ordered a tub of Mixed Rice with LARD. Yes, as in refined pork fat, which has become a rare ingredient these days in metropolitan China. Though it may sound unhealthy, the fat was only lightly drizzled and mixed into the rice, which in effect prevented the individual grains from clumping together just like fried rice. The flavor of lard wasn't as notable as I thought, but then everything else was probably cooked in some lard already.

This place wasn't bad as a restaurant overall -- it just paled in comparison to the amazing food at Xiangxiang we had earlier that day for nearly half its price. But this was for a four-course dinner inside the posh resort of Wuzhen West, in a much cleaner and more charming restaurant overlooking the romantic canal at nightfall. These are two completely different sets of clientele I guess, aside from curious foodies like us.

Bill for Two Persons

Simmered Young Rooster with Hairy Taro	RMB 45
Braised Beef Tendons with Wild Shiitake Mushrooms	RMB 58
Grandma's Hand-Tossed Cabbages	RMB 22
Mixed Rice with Lard	RMB 22
TOTAL	RMB 147 (CAD$23.3)

Ancient Waterfront Towns of China - Part 2: Wuzhen East

This is the second article of a series on our mini-trip through the ancient waterfront towns of Eastern China, town-hopping across the marshland country between Hangzhou and Suzhou. While we chose to stay our first night in the posh and photogenic Wuzhen West, we spent a half day at the authentically charming Wuzhen East.



The contrast was stark and bittersweet for anyone with even the slightest appreciation of traditional culture and lifestyle. While Wuzhen West might be picture-perfect, it had also been reduced to not much more than a hollow community of transient inn-keepers. Wuzhen East on the other hand remained a living, breathing ancient section of town, with descendents of the original clans living and working out of their ancestral houses overhanging the narrow canal.



What exactly happened to two opposite sides of the same town over the past 20 years? It would be long story of contemporary Chinese politics, but simply ...

... Wuzhen East maintained its cluttered townscape with a harmonious compromise with its original inhabitants.

... Wuzhen West achieved a harmonious townscape with its ruthless eviction of its original inhabitants.



These are two completely opposite models of tourism development, each with its own supporters and critics. Every ancient town with the aspiration of becoming the next Wuzhen looks up to its success and chooses one of two paths: either kick out the original residents forever and refurbish the town into a gentrified resort, or work with the residents towards a symbiotic relationship benefiting both the developer and the townsfolk. Xitang went down the same road as Wuzhen East, as did Tongli. Lili however may be going the direction of Wuzhen West. By now you’ve probably noticed my preference.



No sympathetic traveler would wish to see the uprooting of peasant families, many having settled in since the medieval ages, for the convenience and comfort of modern day tourists. That’s why Wuzhen East came as such a welcomed relief for me, just to see the locals carrying on their daily routine, hand-washing clothes in the canal or shouting down the cobblestone street to the next neighbor. What should be everyday scenes in these timeless little towns ... I suddenly realized that they’re not to be taken for granted.



But the erosion of this traditional lifestyle had begun way before the arrival of mass tourism. For most of the past 1300 years or so, the town of Wuzhen had functioned as a trading hub along the local section of the Grand Canal, ancient China’s 1800 km economic lifeline stretching from Hangzhou to Beijing. Even today Wuzhen remains accessible by the Grand Canal, its entry point located at the northwestern section of town, next to the White Lotus Pagoda.



For a millennium there were no roads, only crisscrossing riverways and canals interconnecting these secluded settlements dotting the enormous marshlands that stretched from the Qiantang River to the Yangtze. Hence the saying "Boats in the South; Horses in the North" -- wheels were utterly useless in these swampy flatlands, as you simply couldn’t get around without a trusty flat-bottom boat ... and an experienced navigator.



Even in the late 1990’s Wuzhen remained cut-off from the rest of the world in terms of land traffic, and making a trip to the big cities would involve boarding the twice daily Su-Hang Ban, a motor ferry making the 12-hour run between Suzhou and Hangzhou. One can imagine growing up in such a time, when every house along the river had its private mooring and every child learned to operate a boat with the traditional sculling-oar.



But just like the rest of the Yangtze Delta, the great marshland was gradually filled in, highways were completed, and old trading towns like Wuzhen became marginalized to the outskirts of the Planned Economy. Tourism has since become the main industry, except with most of the revenue going to the developer and relatively little funneling down to the townsfolk, still proudly holed up in their beautifully crooked houses.



Two long, picturesque streets flanking the canal are all that remains of Wuzhen East, having been turned into a paid-access area under constant siege by the multi-national armies of tourists. Receiving very little subsidy from the developer in return for exploiting the beauty of their ancestral homes, the locals subsist on what locals do at any tourist destination -- selling souvenirs at the storefront and operating guesthouses at the back. Simple rooms go for around RMB 120 per night, a significant discount compared to the fixed prices at Wuzhen West.



From the dilapidating condition of the privately owned houses though, one would surmise that the townsfolk aren’t doing so well financially despite the 10,000+ visitors passing through on a daily basis. Most of the younger generation has moved on to seek opportunities in the booming metropolises of the Shanghai-Nanjing-Hangzhou triangle, and hardly any locals below the age of 50 remain.



While the transition to tourism had greatly altered the townscape and everyday life in general, it did help stave off a total extinction of the town’s traditional industries, some of which have simply become unprofitable in this age of automation and lack of socialist subsidies. Local housewives can be seen hand-stretching balls of raw silk into unimaginably thin meshes for duvet filling, while the elderly gentlemen worked in the fabric workshop down the street.



The art of indigo-dyeing is one of those traditional handicrafts barely surviving into the 21st Century, its niche cornered by machine-made imitations as well as unforgiving fashion trends. While it’s interesting to watch the old master transferring his soy-bean-and-plaster mixture out of the printing block into a motif pattern, the prices of his proud creation was probably a little expensive for most domestic tourists. With the relegation of this art form to a demonstration rather than a profitable industrial production, it’s sad to imagine the fate of his trade after the old master passes on.



Equally threatened are the trade secrets at Wuzhen’s hand-made wine distillery, the only one surviving out of the original 20 during the town’s Ming Dynasty heyday. Even though the winery has become an obligatory stop for all tour groups, thanks in part to the free wine-tasting offerings, very few visitors are actually seen purchasing the winery's claim to fame -- its deadly potent, double-distilled Sanbai liquor. I did take a sip of their version of Glutinous Rice Wine, and found the flavor a little too ... hmmm ... full of character for my liking.



While the centuries-old main street remains home to more than 300 resident families, the best-preserved houses have been converted into public museums. Stunning examples of folk art go on display at the Museum of 100 Beds, where Ming- and Qing-Dynasty beds reached the height of grandiose in terms of artistry and functionality, including built-in dressing chambers and toilet partitions.



Other notable exhibits include an impressive pawn shop, a medieval fire department, an open-air opera theater, and an apothecary all dating from the Qing Dynasty. To domestic Chinese tourists though the most famous sight is the former school and residence of literary great Mao Dun, Wuzhen's favorite son.



It wasn't until leaving when I realized Wuzhen's similarity to another beautiful antiquated town 2000 km away in another civilization: the town of Magome-juku on the ancient Nakasendo Highway in Central Japan. Both towns once thrived as intermediate stops along their respective ancient trade routes, both are well-celebrated as the birthplaces of literary greats in their respective languages, and both have been successfully preserved as the most picturesque examples of historic towns in their own countries.



If only Wuzhen could catch up in terms of its connection to neighboring historic towns, in the same way that travelers can easily travel from Magome-juku to Tsumago-juku, it would make easier a wonderfully romantic journey across the marshlands. Until then, the shared taxi remained our most reliable option to reach the next waterfront town of our mini-trip, the 1000-year-old town of Xitang.