Chapter 108: Consuming the Heartbeat
Old Tan’s face was beaming with a broad smile; all his hustle had been to please the wealthy patron. He gave Master Jin a subtle nod, who understood immediately and presented another secret weapon.
“Zhoushan hairtail?”
Zhuang Chen was pleasantly surprised to encounter such a rare delicacy—one of the nation’s first seafood products to hold the National Geographic indication trademark, hailed as the most delicious hairtail fish in the world.
Most hairtail sold in the market come from warm waters; they grow quickly, have loose flesh, and large size, resulting in a coarse, slack texture with sizable bones, which greatly diminishes the eating experience.
Zhoushan hairtail, however, is a cold-water variety with thin, delicate flesh and smaller size—usually under a meter long. Its back lacks bony protrusions, enhancing the texture.
In culinary jargon, it’s known as “three small, one thick”: three small refers to small overall size, small head, especially small black eyes, while one thick means the flesh is thick. Compared to other hairtail of the same weight, Zhoushan’s are narrower and thicker.
Its scales shed easily; the bones are small and the body plump. With no protruding bones along the spine, the meat is tender and elastic, capable of holding the central part of the fish to hang through, forming an inverted U shape.
Steamed hairtail is tender and smooth; its bones are particularly fine, offering a fresh, silky sensation without any graininess—pure silkiness in every bite…
After several dishes, the final highlight was Shunde fish sashimi. Years ago, Chen Xiaoqing even made a documentary titled “In Search of Shunde’s Flavors.”
Fish sashimi refers to the southern Chinese tradition of raw freshwater fish slices. Many assume sashimi originated from island cuisine, but in truth, raw fish slices appeared over a thousand years ago.
In pre-Qin times, “kuai” originally meant finely sliced raw meat, and later came to mean raw fish slices. By the Tang dynasty, it became fashionable—poets and literati were skilled in preparing exquisite fish sashimi.
Their knife work was swift and rhythmic.
Bai Juyi once wrote: “A morning plate of red carp sashimi, an evening dance by green beauties.” He placed eating sashimi alongside watching performances as two great joys of life, showing how raw fish had already woven into ancient dietary culture.
By the Song dynasty, this culinary art peaked with 38 known varieties of fish sashimi documented, such as fish bladder, two-color sashimi, red silk crystal sashimi, fresh shrimp trotters sashimi, and more. However, by the Ming dynasty, the “Compendium of Materia Medica” raised objections to raw fish consumption, and from the Ming and Qing eras onward, the custom gradually declined.
Shunde chefs boast three culinary superlatives, with fish preparation ranked first. To visit Shunde without tasting fish is as if you never came.
Gourmet critic Shen Hongfei once said: “Pond fish trained by Shunde people are pure and pristine, free from any fishy odor. Every step—ingredient selection, bleeding, knife skills, seasoning, plating, and tasting—is meticulously scrutinized by chefs.”
“We prefer to use grass carp and bass,” Master Jin explained as he worked. “First, they are kept in mountain spring water for several days, and if conditions allow, waves are simulated to let the fish exercise fully.”
“This helps burn fat inside the fish and makes it expel all mud and sand from its belly. The resulting sashimi is not only hygienic but also firm yet tender, fresh and sweet, perfectly balanced.”
He then took a sharp knife, slicing first under the fish’s jaw, then at the tail, before returning the fish to clean water.
This allows the blood to naturally drain in the flowing water, ensuring no blood clots remain inside, and guaranteeing the slices are pure white and flawlessly fresh.
Zhuang Chen watched intently. He had heard that the quality of sashimi depends entirely on the knife work. The flesh is carefully lifted from the back and cut into slices only half a millimeter thick, where thin slices hide the bones, and thicker slices reveal them.
The key seasonings include freshly pressed peanut oil and rock salt, along with soy sauce, mustard, peanuts, sesame, sliced garlic, shredded ginger, onions, shredded lemon leaves, chili threads, pickled wild pepper slices, and more.
The large blue-and-white platter is chilled in the freezer three hours in advance to keep the sashimi cold when mixed, enhancing the taste.
A splash of rice wine is added to kill bacteria and brighten flavors, and with chopsticks continuously stirring, Master Jin said: “We Cantonese love auspiciousness in everything we do. Even eating sashimi has a lucky phrase: ‘catching sashimi.’”
“‘Catch’ means to mix well, but in Cantonese, it also means to earn or gain. While mixing all the ingredients with the fish, we shout: ‘Catch it, catch it, wind and water rise!’”
Picking up a slice under the light, it was as thin as cicada wings, the texture clearly visible. Placed in the mouth, the mingling flavors of sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, and salty, combined with crispness, freshness, fragrance, and silkiness, created an indescribable delight...
The only flaw was the somewhat cruel history behind it. A false rumor claiming millions were infected with liver flukes caused a citywide panic, disturbing everyone. For a time, eating sashimi became taboo, equated with savagery and backward customs.
Some refined intellectuals even loudly called for banning sashimi, promoting cooked food, and demanded warnings about its dangers be included in school textbooks to teach future generations to cherish life and avoid sashimi!
In the end, experts clarified that deep-sea fish are uncontaminated, and saltwater kills liver flukes. Restaurants serving sashimi adapted quickly, raising grass carp in saltwater and switching to deep-sea fish.
Salmon hails from the fairy-tale purity of Northern Europe. Norwegians eat salmon pickled, smoked, pan-fried, or boiled, but rarely raw.
Island nations pioneered sashimi, serving salmon with soy sauce, mustard, and at most a slice of lemon.
Though debate over Shunde sashimi never ceases, its tender, crisp freshness draws countless food lovers who embrace the risk for the exquisite taste.
Ancient gourmets risked death eating pufferfish; today’s connoisseurs raise coffins to eat sashimi—each with their own fearless devotion. To Zhuang Chen:
Life is precious, but beauty even more so.
For the sake of fine food, both can be sacrificed!
Master Jin wiped his hands clean. Zhuang Chen signaled to sit and chat.
“There are many kinds of sashimi, each with unique traits. Meizhou Wuhua sashimi and Heyuan Longchuan sashimi are two Hakka styles with similar seasonings. The key difference is that Wuhua sashimi is soaked briefly in vinegar to soften the flesh and sterilize it. The seasonings include fish mint, mashed garlic, ginger, and tea oil.”
“In Chaoshan, sashimi is mostly made from grass carp. Two large muscle slices are cut, ensuring not a drop of water touches them. Excess blood is wiped off with a clean towel before hanging to dry, waiting for orders.”
“For dipping sauces, Chaoshan uses local specialties like Puning soybean paste and peanut sauce, blended with sesame oil to create a signature sashimi dip.”
“In Guangxi, Hengxian equals sashimi, and sashimi equals Hengxian. Fish are selected from the Yujiang River—snakehead, bamboo perch, Osmanthus fish, or grass carp. The slicing requires precision, with two styles: ‘double fly’ and ‘single fly.’”
“‘Double fly’ is used on narrow ends of fish blocks, where the first slice does not cut through, and the second cuts straight down, producing two connected flesh pieces resembling fluttering butterflies.”
“‘Single fly’ is for wider parts, slicing along the grain in one clean cut. It’s served fresh and demands expert knife skills.”
He sighed finally, “For us Shunde people, who pursue the true taste of ingredients, eating raw fish is a source of pride. The tradition of sashimi stretches back over a thousand years, now more of a treasured historical relic held dear in our hearts.”