THE COMMON GOOD

From steamboat to Shabu Shabu, the vivid flavours and communal fun of 'sharing hotpot' dishes, using the freshest ingredients cooked in a variety of broths, is becoming a global trend. As our columnist reports, these Asian specialities are healthier and more interesting than fondue - and easier to put together. Stacey Teo

For me steamboat brings back some of the happiest memories of my childhood with everyone gathered around the table eating, chatting and laughing. It was always a cosy, sometimes messy, communal activity. Even though we were all eating the same thing we could each have it the way we wanted. Some would eat the noodles or rice separately and then drink the soup while others would mix it all together, some liked their beef well done others medium rare, some used a sweet dipping sauce, others liked it savoury and, if your family is anything like mine, everyone was convinced that their way was the best.

Steamboat offers the best of both worlds. It’s communal yet personal. Through the years I have experienced hotpots from all over the world and have noticed that not only the ingredients change from one place to another but so does the shape of the pot and the way it is eaten. I can safely say that the manner in which one enjoys their hotpot says a lot about the culture in which they were raised. For me, the hotpot is like a culinary window onto a given society. Show me how you eat your hotpot and I can probably guess where you are from.

According to legend Genghis Khan invented the dish when he was seized by a powerful craving for mutton stew in the middle of a military campaign. Since cooking utensils were scarce during a battle march, all the ingredients were cooked together in a pot. Regardless of whether old Genghis was dipping pieces of mutton into a steaming broth before pillaging the next village or not, hotpot can be traced back over 1000 years. Mongolian horsemen were known to use their helmets as the pot. By the beginning of the Ching Dynasty in 1644, it had trickled southwards and was popular across China and had spread to much of Japan and Korea – mostly because they invaded each other so often.

The European version, fondue, had a more peaceful beginning back in the 16th century in neutral Switzerland. As a way of making their supply of cheese and bread last throughout the cold winter, Swiss farm families began melting the rock hard cheese in wine and the dried bread was the perfect dipper.

It wasn’t until the 1950’s that fondue really became an international favourite as it travelled across Europe and beyond with skiers who had found that a meal of crusty bread dipped in good Swiss cheese along with a glass of wine made the perfect après-ski meal. Chocolate soon followed, (the invention of which is credited to a New York restaurateur), along with a number of fun traditions like men having to buy a round of drinks or women having to kiss everyone at the table if either loses what they are dipping to the pot.

In Italy, fondue is called Bagna Cauda or hot bath. Originally from Piedmont in the north, the dish involves heating a mix of anchovies, butter, garlic, and olive oil. Cardoons, an edible thistle akin to the artichoke, along with other vegetables are dipped in the pot which can be found as part of the Christmas buffet in many an Italian home.

In general the European versions are used as part of a celebration. A fondue smacks of a special occasion, a party. In Asia, on the other hand, hotpot and its counterparts are more of an everyday occurrence. And it is here that cultural idiosyncrasies are easiest to see. A quick trip across the continent best illustrates my point. In my years as a hotpot connoisseur I have noticed the following:

Starting in Singapore, there’s an underlying sense of urgency in all aspects of society that resonates in ‘steamboat-ing’. Everything happens in a flash - just throw it all in as soon as the dishes arrive at the table. True, the meal can take hours but the initial flurry of food being swept into the boiling pot can be daunting for any newbie. The soup base arrives, the heat is switched on, the ingredients are scooped into the pot all at once, and diners begin ladling it out and eating. It’s kind of an every man for himself, survival of the fastest feast in which proper cooking time for each ingredient may not always be the primary concern.

I have also spent many hours around a hotpot in Hong Kong. This is more of an individual affair where people take what they want, put it into their own ladle and cook it exactly how they like it – they’ve paid an arm and a leg for the best ingredients so they’ll make sure it’s cooked to absolute perfection: bang for buck here. They also understand that the key is using the best and freshest possible ingredients which is why sauces are kept simple, usually just soy or a bit of chilli.

Like the country itself, China’s contemporary hotpot culture is an amalgamation of many traditions. I have seen as many as four different cultures of hotpot on one restaurant menu. Oddly, no matter whether you are eating a Mala soup base hotpot from Sichuan (‘ma’ literally means numbing and ‘la’ is spicy – you can only imagine the extent of the spices and their effects on your tongue), seafood from the Southern provinces or using a ‘yin-yang pot’ (which is shaped in like a yin yang sign to allow two different types of soup broths to cook at the same time) from Yunnan province or any other, I have noticed that nowadays nearly all Chinese will eat the meat first then the vegetables followed by carbs at the end. Could this be the new China where people from border to border are adopting similar lifestyles despite the drastically different origins?

If I were going to pick a place to just enjoy the ritual of a hotpot it would be Japan, where it is known as Shabu Shabu or Sukiyaki. Here, as with tea, serving the meal is a true performance art. Take Sukiyaki for example, at centre stage is a shallow pot greased with lard. Once it reaches the proper temperature, sliced onion and garlic are added followed by an assortment of items such as tofu, mushrooms, carrots, yams. When all of the ingredients have been properly browned, meat is added. Finally the sauce is poured in and the pot is then covered which allows it all to cook together to perfection. Each step is carried out with a sense of aesthetics that is an important part of Japanese cuisine and culture in general.

For me it’s always a real pleasure to form part of the ritual. Like its counterparts throughout Asia, no matter what is being cooked, these communal meals offer a great insight into the culture of the people sitting around the steaming pot.

Stacey Teo, Executive Chef at KOP Hotels & Resorts