Xi Shi a cut above in the Year of the Pig
In the market close to my home, my wife and I have found some honest providers for our daily lives. For tropical fruits, we go to a couple from Inner Mongolia; for rice, we visit an auntie from Shanxi; for tea, the store of Miss Flower; for carp and catfish, a "Fish Professor" wearing bookish glasses.
As for meat, we pay homage only to "Xi Shi at the Chopping Board".
Xi Shi is one of four leading ancient beauties who lived some 2,500 years ago. My first encounter with her modern version was a shock.
In the hall where more than 100 meat men gather, I often feel like I have gone back in time and dropped into a bustling agricultural society. One butcher has just beaten up a naughty son-in-law; his neighbor has sold out all the meat and only bones are left. While one woman glares at a picky customer with the vicious looks of a character in the Outlaws of the Marsh, a nearby stout man has just put down the knife and looks reclined like a monk.
Amid the shouts and chopping, through flashing knives under the red lamps, I suddenly caught sight of a lady. Her face was bright as a peaceful moon hanging over the river at midnight; her voice was that of the melodious and charming babbler exercising on the bamboo early in the morning. Wearing an apron, she was slicing the spareribs with a chopper but she did it in a clean and elegant way much like a ballerina.
Deeply struck by her beauty, I rushed over and carried away a pile of pork that we couldn't possibly finish in a week and established a rapport with her. She came from Nanchong, neighboring my hometown in Sichuan. When beauty is mixed with delicacy and nostalgia, I consider it the greatest fortune of my life.
I have a belief: Sichuan and Chongqing produce the country's best pork. I can hardly buy meat from dealers of other areas. An ideal chunk of pork must be shaped in the dialect of the home to spicy food.
One must share the pleasant findings with one's better half. My wife, who always discounts my accounts of beauty, came back from the market acknowledging my discovery.
In fact, it seems all our neighborhood recognizes the charming and friendly Xi Shi. But she has learned about the peculiarities of my family. Every time we show up, she'd produce something we love.
We always thought that a lady with such good looks and a bit of baby fat must be only in her early 20s. During a chat, she shocked us again by talking about her son. We soon got over the surprise, as many rural women wed early.
But it turned out that her son is already a teenager! My wife and I both gasped and stepped back. "How old are you?" "Nearly 40."
Back home, my fair lady gulped down the pork braised in brown sauce in silent determination, as if the dish contained the secrets to everlasting beauty.
(China Daily 05/09/2007 page20)
