Why Dalian menzi didn’t make it onto A Bite of China III

Dalian menzi is not unique to the city

The flavor of menzi is what first flits across the minds of Dalian natives when they recollect their childhood.

Wuyang is a photographer from Dalian born in the 1970s with his own photographic studio in Beijing. He recalls that the cheapest menzi cost 5 cents for a bowl, and the reason for this pellucid memory is that he once took 50 cents out of his lucky money, gobbled up 10 bowls in a row and eventually gave vent to a satisfied, garlicky belch. Being a parvenu for once, as they call it.

Much attention was drawn to a video about menzi last year, in which a seller told the story of the snack’s 300-year history. Later, Yu Zhengli, a teacher engaged in research into the history of Dalian's restaurants, wrote an article that thoroughly documented the history of menzi.

According to information at hand, menzi came into existence about a century ago, and has been popular for a mere 50-something years after cooking techniques spread to Dalian from Shandong Jiaodong, the provenance of Lu cuisine, about 70 years ago.

The Shandong Fushan Culinary Association's compilation, "Fushan, hometown of Shandong cuisine" revealed that menzi was invented by sheer happenstance by the Mens brothers of Zhifu Island in Yantai, Shandong province. More than 100 years ago, the two brothers of Men came to Yantai to start a noodles and flour processing business. One day an unfortunate encounter between freshly made flour and heavy rain begot a conundrum for the brothers: not only was the processing of flour to noodles now frustrated, but also there was no the risk of the flour going sour. In desperation, the Men brothers invited the villagers to taste the flour fried in an oil pan. To preempt food poisoning, they threw in garlic sauce made from garlics cultivated in Shandong. This makeshift dish was surprisingly well received, inspiring the brothers to set up the stove and start selling fried flour. The dish started without a proper name. Only after its fame spread did customers start inquiring about its moniker, to which the cracker-barrel brothers replied with a slapdash “门(mén)子(zi)”, improvised from their surname and a noun suffix. Later the name was thought inappropriate and was revised to “焖(mèn)子(zi)”, whence the name of menzi was officially born.

Over a century ago, bevies of commoners in the migration movement to Northeast China settled in Dalian. Many of these people had worked in the food and beverage industry and brought with them Shandong cuisine and snacks. Unlike other cooked wheaten foods such as dumplings and wontons that excel in curbing hunger, menzi suffered a dearth of sellers. Only with the outbreak of the Pacific War in 1941, when a shortage of food materials haunted Dalian and ingredients had to be rationed under Japanese colonial rule, was menzi rediscovered and brought to Dalian to add a little variety to the insipid flavors available to the masses. In this light menzi has existed in Dalian for over 70 years, during which it underwent piecemeal refinement and became a special snack with a Dalian spin, hence Dalian menzi. Peddlers with carts or small sheds were routinely spotted on bustling streets such as Kunming Street, Qingniwa Bridge and Xigang, the pleasant burning scent wafting through the air being the best signature of nearby menzi.

I would rather think that the origin of menzi may well be a broader one with a foundation in the masses. According to historical records, sweet potato was introduced to China during the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) and was widely promoted in response to famine and population explosion during the Qianlong period (1736-1796). Similar to the creation of other Chinese dishes, cooking techniques for sweet potatoes are sure to have been exploited by the industrious and intelligent Chinese people. Flour frying, as a cooking method, is attested in numerous sites as early as the Tang (618-907) and Song (960-1279) dynasties. Whatever type of flour it was – be it that of green beans or potatoes, or that of lotus roots, sweet potatoes or even yams – is all a matter of appropriation. Therefore that menzi has “300 years of history” and was once used as “tribute” are both statements of the same school, whose refutation is uncalled for.

Many rationales can account for menzi’s status as a representative Dalian snack. Seafood feasts in Dalian are known for exorbitant pricing, a characteristic that is now appropriated to menzi in Dalian restaurants where Three Delicacies Menzi sells for 38 to 48 yuan ($6 to $7.50)  a bowl, a price presumably unthinkable to the vendors pushing carts in the early days. Now a bowl of simple and “primary” menzi costs 5 yuan. A major drawback of Dalian menzi, though, is presentability. Aggravated by the diversified foods and cuisines surging into the city, the fact that the lack of brand awareness of Dalian menzi now resembles a leaderless army, is regrettable.

A foreigner tries Dalian menzi. [Photo/dlxww.com]