One of the (many) things I lament that is being lost in China’s rush towards modernity is street food. In Chengdu just over a year ago, I feared that the end was nigh for this city’s once legendary street food, as, in preparation for a nationwide ‘Most Civilized City’ competition, the authorities systematically cleared the streets of anything considered luohou, or ‘backward’. Their hit-list targeted fruit and vegetable vendors, outdoor seating at restaurants, and, most of all, street food – all things that I love most about China.

Luckily, it seemed that the city’s powers-that-be were only ‘cleaning up’ for the sake of the competition, as things got a lot better after the judges had come through town. Though it’s possible now to find the occasional snack on the streets of Chengdu, usually the only reliable place to get a wide variety of street food is in over-priced tourist areas, where the quality isn’t very food to boot. To get really good street food in Sichuan, you have to go either to an out-of-town university campus, or to a smaller city – and one of the latter that I’ve found to have excellent street food is Yibin, where I went a couple of weekends ago.

Come nightfall in Yibin, a whole street in the centre of town is closed to traffic. This is then filled by vendors of everything and anything, and, best of all, street food.

There was so much street food, in fact, that we didn't get to try all of it. Things un-eaten included some imaginatively presented bubble tea...

...strange, gooey sweets made in small ceramic cups, popular with kids...

...and a gorgeous looking sha guo (claypot) selection that warranted not one, but two photos.

But perhaps the biggest food revelation of the evening was at this small stall.

This is chou doufu, that most controversial of soybean products, commonly known in English as ‘Stinky Tofu’. I’ve never tried the kind sold in Chengdu, but this wasn’t your average chou doufu, and it had none of the overpowering aroma characteristic of the dish. It was, in fact, the closest thing to cheese that I’ve eaten in China – creamy, tangy and totally delicious.

Served with a chilli powder and ground peanut dip, the affable vendor told us that the tofu we were eating was 7 days old, but that he also had some that was 10 days old. Of course we had to try some, and boy, could you taste the extra 3 days. It was rather a bit too intense for me, and so I only ate a little bit – but oh how I wished that I could get the younger stuff in Chengdu.

More Yibin adventures coming soon...

This is all that was leftover from my durian-fest the other night. I was walking down some backstreets to a late-night restaurant when I went past a fruit shop that had a few durians for sale – a very rare occurrence in Chengdu. Though they were pretty expensive - one durian cost me 55 RMB; to put that in perspective, I normally eat lunch for 5-10 RMB - I’ve recently been getting so excited about eating durian in Vietnam when I go there next month that I couldn’t resist. Luckily, my impulsiveness paid off – the durian was ripe, creamy and totally scrumptious.

The taste of durian is incomparable, and utterly unlike any other food. It is notoriously difficult to describe, so I’m not going to try, but instead will leave it to the words of Alfred Russel Wallace, the British naturalist, who in 1856 wrote this marvelous passage:

“A rich custard highly flavoured with almonds gives the best general idea of it, but there are occasional wafts of flavour that call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, sherry-wine, and other incongruous dishes. Then there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp which nothing else possesses, but which adds to its delicacy. It is neither acid nor sweet nor juicy; yet it wants neither of these qualities, for it is in itself perfect. It produces no nausea or other bad effect, and the more you eat of it the less you feel inclined to stop. In fact, to eat Durians is a new sensation worth a voyage to the East to experience…as producing a food of the most exquisite flavour it is unsurpassed.”

Roll on Vietnam...

Last weekend, myself and fellow Chengdu-dwelling foodie Reed went to Yibin, in Southeastern Sichuan. Our purpose in Yibin was to research ya cai for my next column in Chengdoo Magazine, and of course, try out some local foods. Needless to say, this being China, our goals were well and truly satisfied, and it was this snack that kicked things off.

We arrived in Yibin a little disheveled after our 3 hour plus bus journey, and once getting settled in our hotel room set off to get ourselves some nosh. On a busy shopping street barely 5 minutes walk from our hotel, we found this snack. In Chinese it is called shi yang juan, roughly translated into English as ‘ten kinds bread roll’, and you can see why.

The small bowls you see at the front of the stall - including shredded carrot, radish, tofu and fresh coriander - contain the ingredients already mixed together in the big bowl behind them, to which the vendor adds sesame paste, vinegar and other sauces when you order. Then a bread roll is generously stuffed with a portion of this dressed salad and it’s ready to eat.

After the very first bite I was lamenting that we don’t get this snack in Chengdu, because it was delicious – strongly flavored but not overwhelming, and refreshingly non-greasy. Maybe I’ll have to start up my own shi yang juan stall...I bet I’d make a killing.

Another winter, another sausage season.

Come the cold weather, the streets are strung with countless strings of wind-drying sausage. Some will be hung from trees...

…others from bamboo poles...

…anywhere will do actually.

Sichuanese sausages are usually served as a cold appetizer, sliced into slanted rounds. They are a little like French sausisson – richly oily, with a chewy, meaty texture. Their name in Chinese, xiangcheng, is rather poetic, loosely translated as ‘fragrant lengths’, and they are a common feature on winter dinner tables.

Last year, experiencing a sudden craving for Western food, I begged my local butcher to sell me a sausage before it was properly dried. Though he resisted, I eventually got my sausage, fried it and ate it in a sandwich with ketchup. This year though, I will eat sausages as the Sichuanese do, served simply with a dip of ground chillis – great for when I’m feeling too lazy to cook.

Sausages hung from the eaves of a traditional wooden house in Tiefo Ancient Town, East Sichuan.

Sausages hung beside the furnace of a blacksmith’s workshop, also in Tiefo.

Cafe Z is legend in Chengdu – hugely expensive compared to the price of an average meal, but considered by many as the best place to get Western food in the city. I’ve had this buffet restaurant at the Shangrila Hotel recommended to me countless times, but being the cheapskate that I am was somewhat reluctant to go. Yesterday evening though, what with it being Mike's last night in town, we decided to take the plunge. And boy was it worth it.

It isn’t just that the food is all high quality and totally delicious – it’s the range that’s spectacular. Not only are there Sichuan specialities, Cantonese Dim Sum, Beijing Duck and various other Chinese dishes, but there is also Japanese, Italian, Moroccan, Indian…the list goes on, and is topped by perhaps the most gorgeously presented dessert selection I’ve ever seen.

Sadly I was too busy stuffing myself silly to take many photographs of the food in its entire splendor, but hopefully the following gives you a rough idea.

Bowls of delicious titbits.

Sauces and dressings in the Mediterranean section.

Sichuan-style Douhua.

The chocolate fountain.

Individual chocolate squares served on spoons.

So, if, like I did, you’re wondering if it’s worth the high price, wonder no longer and just go.