New life for old cuisines

Central Asian restaurants have made a place for themselves in Beijing's Russian district, and diners are licking their lips, Erik Nilsson reports. Erik Nilsson

The old Soviet Union is reuniting in Beijing - for dinner. At least its cuisine is. Central Asian fare has taken a central place at the table in the Yabaolu neighborhood's dining scene, as the city's "Russiatown" transforms into "Beijing-istan".

Natives of the "stans" are making culinary inroads into China's capital as the New Silk Road Economic Belt develops, while fewer Russian traders are frequenting the declining Yabaolu fur market that spurred the original development of the surrounding Slavic enclave.

This means compote, a juice of mixed fruits, is diluting volumes of vodka, as the tides of the boiled dried-fruit juice rise and the hard-drinking part of town dries up. (Actually, many of the area's Central Asian eateries are halal, but allow you to bring your own booze.) There's more yogurt and less mayonnaise. More kebabs and fewer cutlets. More plov (Central Asia's rice staple) and fewer potatoes.

These eateries dot the Shenlu dining street behind the fur market, sprinkled among restaurants serving sustenance from China's Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region, Mongolia, Turkey and Italy.

The staple - plov, or rice with meat and carrot strips, also known as pilaf - is the pride and joy. So much so that Shenlu's various Central Asian restaurant owners all declare their country as its originator of regionally common foods and beverages from compote to ayran - a drink made of yogurt, water and herbs.

"This area is a melting pot," says one restaurateur in the strip. "Compote is made from mixing different fruits. This area is made from mixing different (countries') restaurants."

Compote is believed to benefit the heart, liver and digestion. But like plov, every eatery's compote is idiosyncratic. Shenlu's Azerbaijan restaurant Caspi offers lime and cherry versions, for instance.

Caspi proclaims its nationality with a sign emblazoned with Baku's Flame Towers rising over the Caspian seashore. Restaurateur Asim Alishov explains that about 90 percent of selections hail from his homeland. Others honor Georgian, Russian and Turkish favorites. The six cooks are Azerbaijani.

Plov, he declares, is from Azerbaijan.

Points of national pride include "national salad", with tomatoes, cucumbers and lemon. And duck. "Beijing has Peking duck. We have Baku duck," Alishov says.

Dumplings seal a bulk of native specialties. Shuarma packs meat and vegetables into thin wraps. Alishov calls doshbara "Azerbaijani little ravioli". Meat is sheathed with leaves, including the pip leaf, which can only be harvested five days a year.

Dolmas are also enfolded in foliage. Caspi proffers a platter of the "three sisters" - eggplant, tomato and bell-pepper dolmas. The restaurant also does Azeri breakfast, starring olives speckled with mint and drizzled with lemon.

More than 60 percent of ingredients are imported from Azerbaijan. Strawberries and walnuts set off crumbly motal's sharpness. Ayran is conjured with homemade yogurt.

Baku mutton is big, from lamb chops to deep-fried liver with potatoes, and kebabs slung like the sails of a metal-statue ship sailing on the serving plate. Guests can also order a whole roasted sheep (1,600 yuan, or $260).

Diamond-sliced baklava is a dessert-menu gem.

But the crown jewels of royally sweet treats are massive fruit sculptures that look like flower arrangements, relished on special occasions in the country. Diners often digest meals while puffing on hookahs and nibbling nuts.

Azerbaijan's diet also pervades Shenlu's regional fusion eatery Kavkaz, which features fare from the eponymous region that includes the country, southern Russia and Georgia.

Mixed kebab trays offer cuts from each country. Georgian skewers are marinated in grape juice, salt and sometimes lemongrass. Azerbaijan's are simply salted, Azerbaijani owner Jafarou Nemat explains. Russia's borrows barbecue from the others.

Georgian standouts include crispy garlic chicken; beans with minced garlic, cilantro and red-onion; and khingal (soupy meat dumplings).

Service is exceptional. Used napkins are swapped the instant they hit the table.

Less stellar is the service at neighboring Kazakh eatery Astana, where local servers won't name a specialty upon request and may direct diners to a menu - outside. The eatery charges a 10-percent surcharge for service with a shrug.

Astana shepherded in the Central Asian flock two years ago. While horsemeat is a Kazakh-cuisine given, Astana's only salute is naryn soup. Diners plop slices and hand-rolled noodles in broth festooned with diced spring onion.

While billing itself as Beijing's first Kazakh eatery, Astana liberally borrows from beyond its borders. The khachapuri - a cheese-smothered bread - is Georgia's answer to pizza.

While enjoyed throughout the region, the cheburek - crescent moon-shaped meat pastries - are typically associated with Crimean Tatars. The cold okrashka soup hails from Russia.

Shenlu's proliferation of Central Asian diners proves international policy is nourishing Beijing's dining scene. It's not foolproof - the restaurant business is volatile and Dilshodbek Bakiev's Uzbek restaurant Minaret was a recent casualty despite its excellent food and lively character.

But it seems more "stan" cuisines will be feeding China's capital as the New Silk Road keeps the region in the limelight.

Contact the writer at erik_nilsson@chinadaily.com.cn