by Dave Dewitt
Demonstration Chilli Field. Photograph by Dave DeWitt.
In addition to fresh and dried chiles, Sichuan and Hunan cooks depend upon chile pastes and oils to provide the heat in their meals. Fresh peppers are more commonly used in Hunan than Sichuan, where small dried santaka-type chiles are commonly added whole, seeds and all, to stir-fry dishes. Other commonly used seasonings in the cooking of Sichuan and Hunan are sesame-seed paste, chile paste with garlic, and an aromatic chile vinegar.
Chile in such forms is often combined with ground rice, sesame seeds, and peanuts as a snack or a coating for grilled meats. The combination of chiles with nutty products like sesame seeds and peanuts is called ma la and is one of the essential flavors of western Chinese cooking.
Contrary to popular belief, chefs cooking in the Sichuan or Hunan style are not trying to incinerate the people who eat their creations. Howard Hillman, an expert on world cuisines, writes of the way heat is applied in western China: “Even on the peasant level, the people prefer the dishes on the table to have degrees of hotness varying from mild to fiery. This is in contrast to the monotonous everything-as-hot-as-possible approach favored by many non-Chinese Sichuan restaurant-goers. Making one Sichuan dish hotter than another is not a measure of a chef’s talent; all it takes is the addition of extra chile, a feat that could be performed by a trained monkey. Epicures judge a Sichuan chef by the subtly complex overtones of his sauces and whether they complement the other ingredients in his dishes.”
Robynne Tindall, writing in The Beijinger, comments on the differences between Hunan and Sichuan food: “Hunan food is close to Sichuan food in terms of spice level but there are a few key differences. Firstly, most dishes eschew Sichuan pepper [Fagara], allowing the flavor of the chilies (used liberally, both fresh and dried) to shine through. Secondly, Hunan cuisine makes much greater use of dried, preserved meats, giving many dishes a smoky, savory edge.”
She thinks the food of Guizou is the hottest of all the provinces. “To give you an idea of just how spicy the food is, turn to the popular saying, ‘Sichuan people don’t fear spicy; Hunan people can eat anything no matter how spicy; Guizhou people fear their food won’t be spicy enough.’” As far as Yunnan is concerned, she writes: “Traveling further south into the region on the border with Laos and Myanmar, dried chilies are replaced with fresh and lime juice makes an appearance in cold dishes and salads—think Thai cuisine without the sweet-sour-salty balance.”
Perhaps the most obscure fiery cuisine of Asia is that of Xinjiang, China’s largest province. Located in the northwest part of the country, surrounded by Tibet, Russia, Mongolia, Afghanistan, and Pakistan, Xinjiang is the land of the Uygurs, the Mongols, and other peoples related to Turkic central Asians. The capital of Xinjiang is Urumchi, the most inland city in the world. Here, where most of the population is Muslim, pork is replaced by lamb, which is commonly combined with chile peppers.
Chile decorations in a store in Haikou, the capital of Hainan. Photograph by Gerald Zhang-Schmidt. Used with permission.
My favorite lamb and chile dish from Xinjiang is kao yang ruo chuan, Xinjiang lamb and chile barbecue, in which lamb kebabs are marinated in garlic, lemon, and an extremely hot chile-oil sauce, and then barbecued with jalapeño-type chiles. Other lamb and chile dishes from the region include a sliced-lamb meal with onions and jalapeño-type chiles; la tiao zi, which combines noodles and lamb with a garlic and chile pepper sauce; and lamb-filled pot stickers with hot chile-vinegar-soy sauce.
Tindall’s observation about Xinjiang is that “for many, the defining flavor of this region is the chili-cumin mix that gets sprinkled on grilled lamb kebabs. In an area that mostly cooks with lamb and beef, cumin is the perfect complementary spice.
Xinjiang isn’t the only cuisine to use cumin, however; it crops up in Hunan cuisine, too, and other areas with a largely Hui Muslim population.”
What does the future hold for China’s ever-growing fascination with chile peppers? At first, the New World furnished chiles to China, which returned the favor by inventing great recipes for their use. But now Asia is selling us their chiles and thus starting a chile trade war that may eventually lead to a serious balance-of-chiles deficit.
In 1988, China was the second largest exporter of whole chile pods into the United States, shipping 2,400 metric tons that year. Ground red chiles transported from Hong Kong contributed another 254 metric tons to the total. It seems that these days the Chinese are as interested in chile money as chile poetry, and although precise figures are not available, there is little doubt that the People’s Republic of China is now the greatest producer and consumer of chile peppers in the world, surpassing even India, Mexico, and the United States. In 2018, China produced 16.1 million metric tons of fresh chile peppers and is by far the largest grower of chiles in the world.
At the Chinese Capsicum Expo
In August of 2018, I accepted the invitation of the Organizing Committee of the Zunyi International Capsicum Expo and DeZhuang International Limited to attend the third annual International Capsicum Expo in Zunyi, China, in Guizhou Province. It was an incredible experience.
As Wang Xiaobing, director general of the information center of the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Affairs said in his opening address at the expo, “Zunyi City, in particular, thanks to years of hard work, has made itself a nationally renowned advantageous area of its specialty produce Facing Heaven Chilli, built China’s largest chilli wholesale market network” and become “the most important chilli trading hub.” Zunyi is the true Chile Pepper Capital of China.
A requirement of the trip was that I, too, had to deliver a speech at the opening ceremony, and I chose to speak about New Mexican chiles. Fortunately, there was simultaneous translation of English to Chinese and vice versa. And I was provided a personal assistant and translator. Her name was Jo and she was 50 years younger than I. Many Chinese women adopt English names for professional reasons. She spoke excellent English and was funny and charming, not to mention beautiful.
After the opening ceremony, we were taken on tours of Xiazi Town’s ultramodern China Pepper Quality Testing Center and the Global Chilli Processing and Trading Center, where companies can process their chiles and manufacture chile products. Also in Xiazi Town was the five-acre Demonstration Chilli Field where we could examine a thousand different varieties of Chinese chiles. A large red banner about 200 feet long above the field advertised the Capsicum Expo. Finally we explored the Expo Center where the wholesaling and retailing of chile products occurred in a complex of warehouses divided into booths for the exhibitors.
DeZhuang International, one of my sponsors, exhibited there, selling their numerous products. In their company brochure is a description of their operation: “DeZhuang owns 17 subsidiaries so far and has expanded into a business of 900 Huo Guo [hot pot] restaurants over China and internationally. With over 30 product lines, 120 products, and around 300 distributors, DeZhuang has already become a highly recognized brand.”
After Zunyi, our group took the high-speed train to Chongquin, the largest city in the world with 30 million inhabitants. I stayed at the Radisson Hotel overlooking the Yangtze River, visited restaurants and the Three Gorges Museum, and had meetings with the management of DeZhuang International. It was a spice-laden trip I will never forget.
JAPAN’S SPICY SNACKS
Even the Japanese, who are not known for fiery cuisines, are becoming more interested in and devoted to the chile pepper. Soon after the Portuguese arrived, the Japanese began cultivating a cayenne-type variety called santaka, which is one of the hottest chiles grown today. Japan even exports about 14 metric tons per year of ground red chiles into the United States! Although it has taken centuries, chiles have finally invaded Japanese food, although not the classic cuisine. The fastest-growing fast-food chain in Japan during the late 1980s was Taco Time, which did not cater to traditional Japanese tastes but boldly advertised its food as the hottest around—and foreign as well.
Koi pond
in Tokyo. Photograph by Dave DeWitt.
So, a spicy sun is rising over Japan. Long believed to be the land of only sushi, tempura, and yakitori, Japanese taste buds are now aflame with habaneros, curries, and spicy snacks.
It all began with Tohato, the Japanese snack-food company, entering their habanero-spiced snacks into the American Scovie Awards Competition in 2005, 2006, and 2007. (The Scovie Awards Competition is produced by our company, Sunbelt Shows, Inc.) They consistently won Scovies every year, which must have inspired the company to encourage Mr. Sakiyama, owner of Kadokawa X Media, publisher of the Walker magazines, to sponsor the 2006 Scovie Awards Japan. Thus, sponsorship went to Tokyo Walker and the seven other regional Walker publications. They are thick, glossy popular-culture magazines that feature food prominently.
Because I had given permission for them to use the Scovie name and logo, they invited Mary Jane and I to be their honored guests and judges for their awards ceremony. Our whirlwind Japanese adventure lasted a mere six days—and two of them were travel days. Our hosts—who, in addition to Mr. Sakiyama, included Jun Ikeda of Plus J. Inc., and Mr. Kokubo and Anna Berry of Sunny Side Up, Inc.—put us up at the elegant Takanawa Prince Hotel in Tokyo and fed us a welcoming dinner of sushi and tempura specialties.
The Japanese Scovie Awards are different from the contest that we produce. Because there are not hundreds of companies that produce hot and spicy products in Japan, there are only four categories: restaurant specialties voted on by the general public, spicy recipes submitted by the general public, commercial curries, and commercial snacks. The producers decided to produce a lavish multimedia production at a hotel near the one where we were staying. So, with the Doors’ “Light My Fire” blasting and strobe lights flashing, I took the stage with Anna Berry translating and gave my report on the 2007 American Scovie Awards while the media cameras were rolling.
Mary Jane and I were placed in the same position as our own Scovie judges as we judged the finalists in the curries and snacks categories. Tohato won the award for Best Snack, which did not surprise us. Once again, I took the stage with Mr. Sakiyama to present the award to a representative of Tohato.
On our one day off, Mary Jane and I visited the Institute for Nature Study, a gigantic nature reserve in the middle of Tokyo that has preserved the native forest, ponds, and streams in a pristine environment since 1917. We also visited the Tokyo Metropolitan Teien Art Museum with their excellent exhibit on art-deco jewelry. The museum also has a classic koi pond.
Our hosts splurged on a celebratory dinner at a Korean restaurant. Spicy kimchi led off the feast, and then came marinated raw beef liver, which Mary Jane refused to eat, but of course I did indulge. It was very flavorful and the texture was perfect. Someone at the table said, “The Japanese are into raw.” I lifted up a chopsticks-filled portion of the liver and said, “No fish here.” There was a gas grill on each table and we grilled beef tongue, heart, and liver, which all were excellent.
We also discovered that the Japanese media had covered the Scovie Awards, and that Mary Jane and I were stars for a day in the newspapers. Finally, I got to see my own name in Japanese script.
SPEAKING OF KOREA
It is said that Koreans have the highest per capita chile consumption in the world. In 2017, the typical adult Korean ate 6.6 pounds of chiles. Of course, I am discussing the Republic of Korea, known in the West as South Korea. Total chile production there is about 200,000 tons on 326,000 acres, making South Korea the fifth largest producer of chile peppers in the world. Chile peppers utilize 35 percent of the agricultural area for vegetables, far ahead of two other crops, Chinese cabbage and garlic. The main production areas are Chungcheongbuk-do and Kyungsangbok-do Provinces, which are located in the central part of the country. The production technique calls for transplanting seedlings rather than direct seeding.
Kimchi jars in a home in South Korea. Photograph by Joriola. Wikimedia. GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2.
Before the mid-1970s, virtually all of the chile varieties grown in Korea were open-pollinated landraces. But following extensive research by their Horticultural Experiment Station, now F1 hybrids constitute 80 percent of Korean production. There are 10 major Korean cultivars of these hybrids: hongilpoom, bulamput, hanpyul, Cheongyang, Cheonghong, jinpoom, sinhong, hongsil, Koreagon gochu, and ilwolgon gochu. They were all introduced between 1979 and 1985. These cultivars resemble the cayenne pod type in North America.
It is not a coincidence that chiles, cabbages, and garlic are South Korea’s primary crops, because they are all ingredients in what might be called the Korean National Dish, kimchi. Food expert Sharon Hudgins writes that there are more than 100 distinct varieties of Korean kimchis, and many of them do not include cabbage. Of course, the most famous kimchis are the cabbage salads with chiles that are fermented in large ceramic jars. Another important culinary use of chiles in Korea is in the manufacture of kochujang chile paste, the country’s most popular condiment. Tall jars of homemade kochujang, condiments fermenting and mellowing in the sun, line terraces all across Korea. It is a salty hot pepper paste with a touch of sweetness. This is one of the most important ingredients in Korean cooking, and it is as common in South Korea as ketchup is in the United States.
Homemade kochujang requires months of work by Korean housewives, who must grow and dry the ingredients, grind them by hand, cook them, and cure the resulting mixture in the sun. Although some traditional households still prepare their seasonings in this way, the making of kochujang is now a dying art. Traditionally, kochujang contains glutinous rice, fermented soybean cake, hot red chile, salt, and malt syrup from barley and water. This mixture was placed in jars on March 3 of each year and allowed to ferment for a minimum of three months. Today, Korean grocery stores carry small jars of kochujang made from furnace-dried peppers and filled with preservatives and MSG. However, these mass-produced pastes are fairly good, especially when cooks add other spices to them. Commercial kochujang is available in Asian markets.
Other fiery dishes from Korea include green chile–pepper pickles and green chile–pepper pancakes; buldak is a savory barbecue chicken dish swimming in chile sauce; ddeokbokki consists of soft rice and fish cakes cooked in a sweet red chile sauce; nakji bokkeum is stir-fried octopus slathered in a generous amount of red pepper sauce; jjambbong is a ridiculously spicy seafood noodle dish; and maeundae galbijjim consists of sweet and savory short ribs. Maeundae (meaning spicy) restaurant has made it into one of Seoul’s hottest dishes, both in terms of spiciness and popularity.
In 1988, South Korea exported 88 metric tons of ground red chiles and about 4 metric tons of New Mexican–type chiles into the United States; however, precise production figures for the country are difficult to obtain because they are not regularly reported.
PACIFIC ISLAND PODS
From eastern Asia, chiles were transferred to the Pacific Islands. How and when this dispersal occurred is the subject of much debate. Some experts theorize that after chiles were introduced into New Guinea, they were carried by native traders to Melanesia and then to Polynesia. Once there, the fiery fruits were adopted into the island cuisines and combined with both indigenous and imported foodstuffs such as fish, coconuts, and bananas.
Other theorists believe that chiles were carried on Spanish galleons, leaving from Acapulco and bound for the Philippines. However, the main galleon route ran south of the Hawaiian Islands and north of the rest of Polynesia, and a landing at either island group would have been extremely unlikely considering the galleon captains were under orders not to change the route. In fact, the Pacific both north and south of the galleon route remained unexplored until Cook’s voyages between 1768 and 1780.
A third theory, proposed by Pacific explorer Thor Heyerdahl, holds that chiles were introduced into Polynesia by pre-Columbian Indians such as the Incas. In 1964, Heyerdahl published an article in which he alleges that chiles were growing on Easter Island at the time of the arrival of Europeans, approximately 1768. B
otanists, however, dispute Heyerdahl and point out that chiles are conspicuously absent from the plant lists of the Polynesian Islands compiled by the botanists aboard Cook’s ships. Although it is exciting to think that the Incas were sailing the Pacific, or that pre-Columbian visits to the Americas were made by Polynesians and others, there is simply not enough scientific evidence to support such a theory.
So although we do not know precisely when or how they accomplished it, chile peppers crossed the Pacific and eventually appeared on the Galapagos Islands, which are only about 600 miles from the South American coast. In fact, those islands have their own species of chile, Capsicum galapagoense, a wild variety. However the final leg of the journey occurred, chiles in fact circumnavigated the globe and ended up very close to the nuclear region where they originated millennia before. In doing so, they forever fired up most of the important world cuisines.
TASTING THE HEAT IN OZ
We completely lost Friday on our trip to Sydney in 2000. Mary Jane and I took off from Los Angeles at 10 o’clock Thursday night and, after crossing the International Date Line, arrived at the Sydney airport at 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning. Since we had been flying for nearly 15 hours, I didn’t mourn the loss of Friday—I just wanted off the plane. Fortunately, Robynne Millward and her friend Wayne were waiting to pick us up, so within 45 minutes we had checked into our apartment at the Radisson Kestrel Hotel on the beach in Manly (north of Sydney) and were having our second jet-lagged breakfast of the morning at a beachfront café. The weather? Think summer in San Francisco.
