The big plate soon arrived. The meat looked inviting with a tray of red pepper. The waiter wouldn't reveal the recipe, but pointed at the kitchen window. With a roof tile-sized knife, the head chef dressed in white, was handling a chunk of meat. As the knife flew, paper-thin slices piled.

The seasoning didn't look like anything special. But the waiter said it was a fine mixture of pepper, garlic, sesame oil and sugar. I dipped one slice into the seasoning. It melted on my tongue.

"Bravo!" I said, following the example set by other customers. The red-faced restaurateur stood up, folded his hands and bowed. "The dish does not need any promotion. What you are eating today is exactly the same as the dish served for Professor Liang Sicheng."

Back in the 1930s, meat was a prized dish, even for famed professors like Liang, Fu Sinian and Luo Ergang who moved to Lizhuang with Tongji University. Wang Shixiang, a leading antique collector who once worked at the Palace Museum, was only a poor student in Lizhuang. He probably dreamed of the white meat every night.

The only exception was Herrmann Adolf Weit, a Jewish professor, who often dropped in. Speaking no Chinese, he managed to reach a mutual understanding with the restaurateur.

If he patted his bottom once, the waiter would serve 0.25 kg of white meat; twice, half a kilo. With the best meat, no words were necessary.

(China Daily 03/06/2008 page20)