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Literary master is inspiration for city eatery.
No sooner had our taxi pulled up outside Xianheng Jiudian (Old Xianheng Restaurant) than a member of staff was on hand to open the door.
The welcome was a harbinger of the quality service from front of house to table and was proof of the oft-neglected truism that first impressions last.
The second floor is the restaurant's most pleasant with lots of space between tables, traditional art decorating the walls and a noise level which makes shout-free communication just about possible.
The restaurant is named after one frequented by a character in a book written by China's noted author, Lu Xun (1881-1936).
What he'd have made of the Beijing version is anybody's guess, but I suspect he'd have steered well clear of the wubushe on a number of grounds. The rough translation is "five step snake," so named because that's as far as you'll get if bitten by one.
At least that's the story I was told. Diners can eyeball their snake of choice before dining should they choose as they're displayed alongside the asserted creatures of the sea.
Wubushe goes for 198 yuan (US$23.85) per 500 grams. The fictional character might also have hesitated at the prospect of crocodile meat or e'yu rou, if only for the 88-158 yuan (US$10.60-19) price tag it carries.
Setting aside the exotic, the restaurant's menu (only in Chinese) features plenty of more affordable dishes.
Cold bamboo shoots, finely sliced and rather oily, are a tasty enough appetizer at 10 yuan (US$1.20).
The xihu chancaitang doesn't look the most appealing soup at first sight. Rather watery, its subtle flavour is a grower as you scoop deep into the bowl to discover chicken and pork strips and vegetables.
Highlight of our meal was the pork in steamed bun, meigancai kourou, which is China's fairly convincing answer to the ubiquitous American burger. Fairly greasy, it's best scooped into the mouth in the provided buns. It might not look pretty but it tastes delicious, well worth the 30 yuan (US$3.61) asking price.
A dish which I can only translate as slippery mushroom (that oil again!), lily buds and beans, huagu baihe chao, split the company. I felt it was just a little too slippery (a real chopstick challenge) while my Chinese friend lapped it up like his mother's best. Yours for 28 yuan (US$3.37).
Bottom line? Worth a visit, preferably in the company of someone who can guide you through the various dishes.
Location: 99 Beisanhuan East Road, Chaoyang District
Tel: 6495-3201
(Beijing Weekend January 7, 2003)
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