Antonius,
Wuhan is a funny place. It's somewhere around the 5th largest city in China, but no one knows about it. I spent 6 months in the philosophy dept at Wuhan U., arguably the best philosophy dept in the country, even better than U. Beijing, or so it is claimed! Brilliant grad students, of course.
The city itself is a composite of three towns on different banks of the Yangtze and Han rivers, most importantly the old old Wuchang, and the newer, trade port Hangkou. The U is in Wuchang.
It's a 3-day cruise up the Yangtze from Shanghai in the huge ship (c. 5,000 passengers), and about the same downriver from Chendu. The cuisine rather gets its style from these two influences. But it's a spicier, oily-er Shanghainese, and a milder, oily-er Sichuanese that one finds there. Basically, it's oily-er.
The U sits on the huge 55-sq km lake, simply gorgeous site. There's a freshwater fishery there, and, obviously, on the river as well. So there's a lot of fish and seafood--including eel, which can always be bought live in the market. Most famous is the Steamed Wuchang fish, which, contrarily enough, is frequently braised. Hence the oil.
Equally famous is the Wuhan/Hubei version of shu-mai. It's porkier and decidedly hotter than more well-known versions. Wuhan is a famous dumpling town; there's a place in downtown Hangkou that my students used to take me that's *3* huge stories of nothing but dumpling eaters gobbling gobbling gobbling. Imagine a scene not unlike Münchener Hofbrauhaus c. 0100h on 25 Sept. Walk into the place on a cold Winter's evening and your glasses immediately fog up from the steam, just as your ears fog up from the happy noisy gluttony going on around you. Wonderful!
Dou fu skin 'noodles' are another odd local dish: gray strips of skin peeled off the top of congealing dou fu are used like noodles, with an oily porky sauce. Delicious, but resembling the Platonic Idea of Heaviness.
Tomatoes are an ubiquituous part of the local cuisine. They're small, rich, and extremely flavorful-- Summer in Wuhan is unimagineably awful. 100°F, 90% RH, and not a single waft of breeze. It's called one of the Firey Furnaces of China for very very good reason. But there's your tomato climate.
One of my favorites is the greasy but watery Wuhan scrambled eggs + tomatoes. Man, an eater can just scarf up an immense amount of this stuff. The eggs are tiny little things, coming from maximally free range chickens, existing on a fine buggy diet. You can't believe how good those eggs taste. IF you can break the shell.
Another local speciality is 'peppers with everything.' They've got a pepper there unlike any I've ever seen before or since (and I'm a chilehead, needless to say). It has the overall form of an extremely elongated, midget bell pepper: an inch across, four inches long. Thin-walled. Lovely strong green pepper flavor; but precisely enough heat to get your attention, but not enough to distract you. It's the finest pepper I've ever cooked with. I brought some seeds home, but lost the line during my divorce. I've just *got* to get some more seeds.
Imagine a heap of 70% peppers and 30% pork; or 30% shrimp, etc. And sometimes you'd let the peppers get red, which sweetened them up, but did not diminish either their pepper flavor or heat.
I could go on, but I won't.
Well, maybe I will a bit. One absolutely classic thing was the oil everyone used for cooking. It was a muddy greenish brown; one bought it at the state store, for essentially nothing: every member of the family had an allotment of 1 liter per month--you paid with little tiny chits torn off a sheet of the damn things (they were also used for wheat products, e.g., noodles). Socialist economies run on skinny little pieces of paper.
The oil had a smoke point of about 6°C above freezing. Which means that all the faculty and staff 8-plexes, which I bicycled past every evening at dinner time, were obscured by this brownish, very very characteristically aroma-ed, haze. At the time I chortled, because I'd brought in 3.8 liters of peanut oil from my r & r in Hong Kong.
Damn but don't I miss that smell, nearly 20 yrs gone...
Anyway Antonius, there's some memories of food in a past life. If you want more, I can probably give you some more. But you've got the cherries picked already, with this post.
Zai jian!
Geo
PS. I'm *still* trying to get a mome to comment on your wonderful Oxford excursions... anon, let me hope
Sooo, you like wine and are looking for something good to read? Maybe
*this* will do the trick!