Imperial Brother Bull

If I am to go into the food business, I would choose Beijing over Singapore. It is not only because the market here is so much bigger. But really, it is so much easier to bullshit your customers in Beijing. You can say pretty much what you like and no one would know.

Let me give you an example. Take my post about the Changshan Island Dalian dumplings restaurant. It claims to be from Dalian. But can you verify it? No way. China is too damn big for that. But in Singapore, it is much tougher to bluff your way through. Like here, Singapore eateries love to lay claim to being from somewhere else. So at Tiong Bahru, some would say they were from Ang Mo Kio. In Hougang, some would claim to have originated from Paya Lebar. It is almost like the food has to be better if it used to be at another place. Bizaare trend, but as you can see, it is the same here in Beijing.

The difference is that if you say you used to be from Hill Street in Singapore, you better be! Chances are, your customers would know a cousin whose grandmother used to wash dishes at Hill Street and can prove, or disprove, your heritage claim. This is especially so if your hawker stall/restaurant becomes successful. That's when the media would pounce, dig through archives, interview old grandmothers to uncover the true history. If it turns out that you lied, that your bloody Katong laksa was actually more Siglap than Katong, then good luck to your business. Singaporeans don't tolerate food liars very well.

No such problems in Beijing. You can lie through your armpits and no one can prove or disprove it. Niu Ge Dumplings, or Brother Bull Dumplings, is one such example. This small eatery off the main Chang'an Avenue, the gigantic thoroughfare that cuts across Beijing, claims to be using an ancient Imperial Palace recipe to make its dumplings.


The owner, Brother Bull that is, said that he is a descendant of Qing Dynasty Imperial family. For those who can read Chinese and have super eyes, check out the writing below which was prominently displayed in the restaurant. He added that the dumplings he made came from a palace secret recipe. Now, I am not saying Brother Bull here is lying. All I am saying is that there is no way for me, or any of his customers, to verify it, is there?


I mean, the Qing Dynasty kaput in 1911, two years short of a century ago, so who the hell can I double check if (1) Brother Bull is indeed of imperial lineage; and (2) there was even a palace secret dumplings recipe in the first place?

I can't check with the last emperor, because Mr Pu Yi (below) died in 1966. The last eunuch Sun Yaoting apparently also joined the Son of Heaven in heaven in 1996. So both the Qing's top balls and top ballless are gone. I can hunt down other imperial descendants, but it would be too much work. I am not paid for this blog. Let's not even go on to the veracity of the secret imperial recipe. Bottomline is this - it is just too difficult to verify claims made by Beijing eateries.


So you just go for the food and if it is good, be happy. That is where Brother Bull scores very highly. Whether his grandmother used to be a Manchu who smuggled the secret recipe out of the Forbidden City is really not that important since the dumplings were really damn good. Juicy filling wrapped by a thin layer of dough skin. Definitely on par with Changshan. The sweet and sour soup was a winner too, with enough pepper to leave a eunuch clutching his non-existent testicles.

Brother Bull (10-6525-7472) has the added advantage of making the dumplings in full view of customers, which usually means they are fairly confident of their hygiene standards.


It also serves wonderful chilli sauce to be mixed with the vinegar, giving Singaporeans who must have chilli sauce with everything that bonus kick. It really reminds of that Serangoon Hokkien Mee and that River Valley char kway teow and that Tanjong Pagar beef noodles...

Little dumpling heaven

A week before Christmas, a few Singaporeans gathered at a party in Beijing and promptly talked about the only topic which our Government allows - food. We are permitted to discuss sex as well, but food seemed more exciting.

So as we exchanged notes on where to find the best Peking Duck, I thought it may not be a bad idea to start a blog on food in Beijing. Also, it is winter and I'm bored shivering at home.

Since I am hardly the foodie and known among friends for a hopelessly weak stomach (hence the title of the blog), I wonder if this is sustainable. But well, the impetus kicked in earlier this evening after gulping down some of the best dumplings I have ever had.

This "jiao zi" eatery is hardly well-known and will not be found in any food guides or websites or blogs (except this one, of course). It is, in the words of KT, who brought us there, a "rather insignificant looking" restaurant. And given that it has trouble spelling "restaurant" in English (see pic below), it does not take long for anyone to realise that it is a place that caters to locals.


That usually means three things in Beijing: hard to locate; hygiene standards suspect; and dirt cheap. In the case of Changshan Island Dalian Seafood Dumpling Restaurant (yes the Chinese like very very long names for companies and restaurants), it also means very good food.

Located just metres from the northeastern corner of the Forbidden City, the eatery serves up dumplings fit for emperors. They have some 30 types of jiaozi. We tried just two - fish and pork with corn - and they were both delicious. In fact, we pretty much put the first dumplings into our mouths and then ordered a second serving right away. It was that good. The filling was soft and juicy and the dough skin was of the right texture - not as thick as the frozen jiaozi that you buy from supermarkets, but with enough on it to keep the gravy in.


We had veg and pork chops too, but really, the main attraction was the jiaozi. I have had enough dumplings across China to say that this one's up there with the best. Wash it down with a few glasses of Yanjing beer and it was a happy night. The meal set us back by just 30 yuan, or about S$6, per person.

But be warned: the heating in the restaurant is not enough to keep you warm. The waitresses wear thick jackets. And the only toilet available is the public one across the street. Hardly the dirtiest I have been to, but well....may be best not to down that many Yanjing.

Call the restaurant at 10-6403-5009 for directions to this little dumpling heaven. If the cabbie drives into a street full of rubbish on both sides, you are on the right path.