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Endangered recipes(2)

2013-08-02 11:02 Global Times Web Editor: Gu Liping
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Local fowl breed the Beijing oily chicken was once favored by Empress Dowager Cixi, although today it is seldom used in poultry dishes. Photo: Courtesy of Lududu

Local fowl breed the Beijing oily chicken was once favored by Empress Dowager Cixi, although today it is seldom used in poultry dishes. Photo: Courtesy of Lududu

'Royal' chicken plucked

With five toes on each talon and thick feathers, the Beijing oily chicken stands out not only in appearance but also for its famed reputation in local poultry dishes.

The species dates back to the middle of the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911). It earned its other name, the royal yellow chicken, because it was favored by Empress Dowager Cixi (1835-1908), said Liu Huagui, a research fellow and poultry breeding expert at the Beijing Academy of Agricultural and Forestry Sciences.

Its higher level of flavor substances, including free amino acid and intramuscular fat, gives it a superior taste, Liu added.

But the legendary chicken disappeared from Beijingers' dining tables in the early 1980s when it was pushed to the brink of extinction. Lin Peng, head chef at the Kuntai Hotel in Chaoyang district, recalled that during his childhood Beijing oily chickens used to roam freely around his family's courtyard. However, nowadays they are harder to find.

"Beijing oily chicken is recommended to stew with soy sauce," Lin said Liu said there are about 1 million Beijing oily chickens raised at farms and family courtyards in the capital. Lududu in Shunyi district is one of the largest commercial poultry farms in Beijing, with about 10,000 oily chickens.

Li Zhe, Lududu's marketing manager, said that each chicken sells for between 150 and 200 yuan depending on its age and quality. The farm mainly sells chickens to registered customers and high-end local restaurants.

In 1972, a poultry farm was built to bolster numbers of purebred Beijing oily chickens, said Liu. "But the ones on the market are not exactly the same as the ones Cixi ate," noted Liu.

Liu identified several obstacles in saving the oily chicken.

A lack of standards for categorizing purebred Beijing oily chickens and higher raising costs are two of the biggest challenges.

"Most young people don't know about it," Liu said of the chicken breed. "A Beijing oily chicken needs 120 days to grow to 1.5 kilograms or so, but more common chicken breeds only take 40 days to reach three kilograms if fed growth hormones."

Keeping local tastes alive

Liu said keeping safe numbers of local livestock species is vital "or else there will be fewer and fewer species available for future breeding."

As an experienced chef specializing in Chinese cuisine, Lin points out that the best flavors come from using local ingredients for local recipes. As arguably Beijing's most famous dish, Peking duck is best prepared using locally bred, force-fed ducks, Lin said, citing their crispy, fragrant flavor.

"I remember a green kind of muskmelon and pinkish tomatoes that you can hardly find at local markets now," said Feng Miao, a China Agricultural University graduate who works in agricultural production.

Feng said the old variety of cucumbers in Beijing tasted sweeter than the present ones, which usually have a slightly bitter taste because they are grafted on pumpkin branches to improve their survival ratio.

A vegetable's taste and adaptability to its harvesting environment coupled with people's dining habits ultimately determine if they will be altered or abandoned, Feng said. "But market demand serves as the main driver," she added.

In 2001, author Liu Xinwu published an article titled "Craving for hulabin" (an apple-like local fruit). Liu, 71, lamented how many local fruits were being replaced by foreign ones in traditional recipes.

"They (hulabin) vanished from Beijing markets years ago, which makes me yearn for them. I don't know whether their trees exist or not, but don't cut them all down just because they don't sell well anymore," Liu wrote.

"Beijingers like me who still want them can be considered as potential consumers."

While nobody can be sure that the Dongpo Pork, a dish named after legendary poet Su Dongpo (1037-1101), they eat shares the same flavors that seduced Su centuries ago, the determination of passionate diners to keep endangered local species alive provides hope for future foodies.

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