In June, we spent abut 10 days in Xinjiang, the wild west of China. The indigenous population here is Uighur. They speak Uighur, are Muslim, and have facial hair on their upper lips (the men, at least). Nothing here is what an outsider would identify as Chinese (unless you count the roads, buildings, shops and food brought into the cities by the Chinese immigration policy).
Food-wise, we were quite worried. We had heard that it’s meat meat meat in Xinjiang. First impressions confirmed this. The most popular snack is chuan’r: spicy mutton kebabs cooked in the street.
But in the end, we did pretty well. To start with, we located the nan bread for which the region is famous. Street bakers dot the Uighur neighbourhoods in two-person teams, one kneading and rolling out pizza-shaped dough, the other shaping it on a convex surface with a thick crust, impressing a pattern of rings with a spikey tool, dabbing the surface into a mixture of minced onion and cumin seeds, and then sticking it to the wall of a tandoor-style oven to bake.
They sell huge piles of these in the mornings. When it’s fresh and warm, the bread is absolutely delicious. it quickly goes hard (and keeps for days). When it’s crispy, it’s less nice on its own, but goes well with juicy fillings like flavoured tofu from Chinese stores. Some stalls also sold vegan corn breads. It was so nice to have “proper” bread again (i.e. not the sweet, dry, cakelike stuff you get in Chinese bakeries).
Other dry street goods stood out as vegan. Xinjiang is famous for its fruit, and Uighur areas are covered in dried fruit stands, selling up to eight varieties of amazing raisins like nothing you get at home, plus strange but delicious dried tomatoes, figs, plums, apricots, almonds, walnuts…. more than I got to try. Roasted pulses are also common. Once, a bus stopped on a highway for a toilet stop right next to a stand selling at least 15 varieties of roasted pulses: all of which I had never seen before.
In Kashgar, we had one of our favourite meals in a long, long time. Kahsgar is on the Karakoram Highway to Pakistan, and we found a Pakistani street restaurant which cooked us a simple, homestyle meal of channa dahl and a green leafy vegetable. It was amazing.
We also did really well in Urumqi, where there was a fantastic vegan Chinese restaurant called Yuanqi, which did fantastic jiaozi and chuan’r.
However, it seemed a shame not to be able to sample proper Uighur food. So we found a tourist office and got them to write down what we do and don’t eat in Uighur, and we started using it at restaurants and street stands.
In the end we were able to eat three types of authentically Uighur food: pancakes, konjac noodles, and laghman noodles.
Laghman noodles are hand-pulled, doughy noodles, much like you get in other parts of China, but with a rich, tomato and vegetable sauce. I assume the standard version has some meat slipped in, but we succeeded in getting a veggie option. It tasted really quite Italian to me. Pictured is a version we got with small, square noodles, which made it seem even more Italian. It came with delicious rose tea.
The Konjac noodles are also very common. You see vendors in street markets slicing thick noodles off a large, jelly-like block with a big knife. They are served cold, with a range of magic sauces (vinegar, soy, broth, etc) poured on top, and a topping of raw garlic and lots of chilli. A very strong flavour which I loved but which does your breath no favours. I was a little dubious about some of the magic sauces but I took a long time explaining my food choices and they assured me it was OK.
The highlight for me, though, was the pancakes. I first saw them in the Wusi Night Market, an amazing weekend spectacle of lights and fire and smoke and smells in Urumqi. There were two types: one fried in a lot of oil, and one cold. The fried one contained egg, but the other one (xiàn bǐng xiǎo cài - pancake with pickle stuffing) was OK. What really excited me, though, was the fillings. About 15 different bowls of salads and pickles. Strips of marinaded tofu. Pickled cabbage. Lightly fried, finely chopped mushroom. Beansprouts with garlic and nuts. You point at what you want and they roll them all into a delicious little package for you. I found variations elsewhere, often with meat, but usually with the option to have no meat. Another delicious one contained a green leafy vegetable, strips of tofu, and some spicey flavourings, squeezed between two thin pancakes, sealed at the edges with water, and then dry fried, rolled, and sliced. Like a Xinjiang pop tart, or something. Serve with icy, dirt-cheap beer.
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