Taste of the unexpected

The trip to Xi'an is not complete without savoring the local snacks in a local restaurant.

It was nightfall when our car stopped at a small eatery off a bumpy, dusty road. My friend assured me, "This is the best place to taste Qinzhen mi pi".

He planted himself on a rickety bench and ordered two bowls each.

Mi pi is said to have wooed the First Emperor some 2,200 years ago. Legend has it that a drought ruined the year's harvest, and farmers in Qinzhen town, Shaanxi province, couldn't pay their grain taxes.

A clever man named Li Shi'er (Li the 12th) soaked old rice in water and steamed the pulp to create thin pancakes, which were sliced and seasoned with vinegar and hot pepper. It's said the First Emperor liked the creation so much, he ordered it from Qinzhen every day.

One bite of the long, broad rice noodle testified to the truth behind the folklore. The noodle was soft; the cucumber slices were crispy. Best of all was the spiciness, which made me think of the plump crimson peppers dangling from strings outside the windows to dry in the sun.

Like the other food I sampled during my recent trip to Xi'an, capital of Shaanxi province, this simple bowl of noodles brought the unique satisfaction of eating wholesome foods.

Despite the floods of tourists attracted by the Terracotta Warriors and the new skyscrapers dwarfing the city's ancient landmarks, Xi'an has maintained its profound traditional culture. Perhaps the best way to experience this is to savor dishes loved by local people but neglected by tourists.

My friends all responded with great enthusiasm, introducing me to noodles, pancakes, dumplings, steamed buns and a myriad of specialties made from rice, wheat, buckwheat - all sorts of grains. The great trouble locals take to find and prepare the best ingredients and the variety of ways they have invented to eat them is a source of wonderment.

At a restaurant serving food from Sanyuan county, Xianyang, the noodle (geda mian) is bound in three small knots and served with soup, pepper and minced meat.

Our waitress, as charming and proud as the city's other servers, patiently taught us how to mix the noodle with peppers and meat. She also told us we should drink the brine before eating the dish's solid ingredients.

Another way is rinsing the noodle with soup and then mixing it with the seasoning. And mixing everything together is yet another way to devour this delight.

From creation to consumption, this dish delights a gourmet's taste buds.

But I was most impressed by the sour soup, which must be the soul of this specialty. There is something quite unique about the vinegar that gives the soup such a mellow, sour and sweet character.

My guess was soon proven correct with a dish called cu fen (vinegar noodle, see picture on top), which is prepared using the leftovers from making vinegar. For a mother-to-be who craves sour food, this humble brownish noodle would seem heaven-sent.

A favorite joke among locals is about a pregnant woman from Beijing who took a famous restaurant's challenge and successfully cancelled her bill by devouring 88 bowls of noodles in one sitting.

That restaurant was jam-packed when we arrived. Many pictures on the walls showcased the long history of jiaotang mian (pouring-soup noodle), which originated in Qianzhou, today's Qianxian county. The county is better known for the mausoleums of Tang Dynasty (AD 618-907) Empress Wu Zetian and her husband Emperor Xuanzong.