Eating Abalone
July 21, 2011
When I was a child, I often heard my father talk about the deliciousness of abalone. In 1948, on his way to study at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, he had tasted abalone at the seaside while passing by San Francisco.
Later, I heard from Peimin's husband, Ed, that abalone was abundant on the West Coast at that time and could easily be found on the rocks along the seashore.
However, before I came to America in 1979, I had no idea what abalone really was, what it looked like, or what it tasted like. I only had a vague concept that abalone belonged in the same category as other rare and highly sought-after delicacies, such as bear paws, bird's nests, sea cucumbers, and shark fins.
In the spring of 1971, after being released from prison in Xi'an, I worked in the brickyard of the "5.7" cadre school at Xi'an Jiaotong University. On weekends, I often wandered around the Liberation Department Store on Liberation Street, just to see if there was anything new and interesting. Due to central planning, there was usually a shortage of everything, especially in the food section, where only a few items were available for sale.
One Sunday, I happened to discover canned abalone in the food counter. I was instantly thrilled since I had never seen it before. I have no idea how it could have appeared in Xi’an, an inland city where the local people had no interest in seafood at all. I bought a can immediately.
I remember it cost 4.5 yuan. What did this price mean at that time? Xi'an Jiaotong University gave me a monthly allowance of 20 yuan. A year later, after I was assigned a formal job, as a college graduate, I earned 51 yuan per month. So, 4.5 yuan was roughly one-tenth to one-fifth of my monthly income. Assuming that a university graduate in the United States today earns an annual salary of $36,000, the monthly salary would be $3,000, and one-tenth to one-fifth of that would be $300 to $600. It was truly an exorbitant price.
In September 1971, I was allowed to return to Nanjing for the first time after the ordeal of prison. I was able to take leave and visit my home because the youngest of my elder sisters was seriously ill and receiving medical treatment in Nanjing. I proudly brought that expensive can of abalone back with me.
My parents had once lived in a three-story townhouse with a courtyard, separate kitchen, and a room for the house maid. There had been a flower garden in the front of the house, and a vegetable garden in the back.
Since the Cultural Revolution, they had been forced to move to a single north-facing room in a dormitory building. My father was no longer the head of the mathematics department; he was working as a stoker in one of the university canteens. My mother was no longer the principal of the kindergarten attached to the university; she was helping in another university canteen, selling meals. My sister, who was once beautiful and healthy, was now thin, haggard, and in poor health. However, none of this affected our joy in being reunited.
I announced to everyone that I had bought a can of abalone. My father and sister were very excited to hear this. The famous delicacy was never seen in Nanjing, Beijing, or anywhere else. However, my mother complained that the abalone was too expensive. She pointed out that the same money could buy several roasted or salted ducks.
That afternoon, the four of us sat at the table, ready to enjoy this famous abalone. It was as if the prison disaster had never happened, my sister’s current illness did not exist, and there had never been the criticisms, denouncements, and labor reforms of the Cultural Revolution.
I opened the can and immediately smelled a strong fishy odor. Upon closer inspection, we saw about ten lumps floating in the gray-black "broth," which we could only assume were pieces of abalone. Despite the bad smell and disappointing appearance, my father, sister, and I didn't want to dampen our spirits. After each of us took a bite or two, we exchanged glances, clearly unable to taste any deliciousness. There was a moment of silence. Finally, my mother put down her chopsticks and said, "What lousy stuff! It doesn't taste good at all. One bite costs the same as a hind leg quarter of roasted duck! If you enjoy these pretentious things, go ahead and eat!"
My father, sister, and I took a few more bites, hoping to gradually discern some flavor. Unfortunately, before we could fully taste it, my father's lips started swelling, growing larger by the minute. My sister began itching all over, and soon developed large hives on her legs. As for me, I was struggling to breathe, as my long-dormant allergic asthma had suddenly flared up.
Surprisingly, my mother had no reaction. So, all the remaining abalone was left for her to finish alone. With each bite she took, she let out a sigh: "Alas, another hind leg quarter of roasted duck!"
The Chinese word for abalone translates literally as “bao fish.” So, all of us in 1971 thought abalone was simply a kind of fish. It was only after I came to the United States that I learned abalone is not actually a fish. Canned abalone is different from other canned fish; it is not usually cooked but rather preserved raw. It seems that although my father had eaten it years before, he had not really known much about abalone.
Since I came to the U.S., I have ordered abalone dishes at Chinese restaurants in San Francisco and Washington, D.C., which I believe were likely made with canned abalone. In 2006, I had the chance to taste wild abalone in Peru. In 2009, one of my college classmates, Zheng Qingsheng and his wife treated me to a 280 yuan per person serving of the famous abalone dish named “Buddha Jumps Over the Wall” at Juchunyuan in Fuzhou.
I have also invented two abalone dishes myself: stir-fried abalone with Chinese yellow chives and stir-fried abalone with winter bamboo shoots and preserved vegetables. Both dishes can be served with sliced rice cakes added in. I believe they are refined dishes worthy to be served at formal banquets. After opening the can, the abalone should be thoroughly rinsed right away to remove the fishy smell and then sliced and stir-fried. If it cannot be cooked immediately, it should be soaked in cooking oil to prevent oxidation and further fishiness.
Although abalone has its merits, it is seriously overrated and overpriced. However, the experience of eating abalone with my parents and sister has left me with incredibly precious memories to savor.
