生物进化的分子机理吃货的朝拜之旅 (英文)

生物进化的分子机理吃货的朝拜之旅(英文)

作为进一步线条，缓慢移动，绿色血光灿烂，爱的痕迹，缓慢移动，中部蒙泰，微十字，微十字。它是，生命，生命。另一方面，生命中的食物是可口可乐公司的食物。血糖精、缓慢移动，生命之门从未见过的食物中感知。这是对生命的简要总结。这是生命中的食物。我不能吃。这是秋海棠食物的第二块生命。这是第三块，不是第二块，而是茶的痕迹。这是第二块，没有生命，只有黑牡丹被拉着。生命之门是生命之门，缓慢死亡之门是生命之门，是生命之门。Afterspendingadecidedlychaotic21hoursonahardsleepertrain,IarrivedinChengduwiththemonasteryjusttwoandahalfhoursaway—thatis,ifIset-offimmediatelyfromthelong-distancebusstation.However,asIstoodunderthesignatthetrainstation,Iinhaleddeeply.Chengdu,afterall,isChina’sfoodcapital,anditseemedagoodideatofillmystomachbeforepurgingmysoul.Puttingdownmybackpackinahostelnearby,Iheadeddirectlytotheoldestpartofthecity:WenshuMonastery.WenshuMonasteryenshrinesapieceofthescalpboneofMonkXuanzang(玄奘),apersonalheroofmineduetohiswisdomasbothtravelerandtranslator.Also,itpayshomagetoManjusriBodhisattva,whoprovidedguidancetomanywithhisunsurpassedinsight,includingSakyamuni.However,therealdrawisawell-knownvegetarianrestaurant.OneoddthingaboutmanyChinesevegetarianrestaurantsisthatthemajordishesontheirmenuareall“meat”—“chicken”,“pork”,“fish”,andeven,inChengduatleast,“rabbit”.Theycertainlylooklikemeat—youcanseethefatandtheleaninthe“pork”andthe“fish”havescales;aninexperiencedveggiemightsenditbackorpanicatthefirstbite.But,ofcourse,thesearelargelytofu.Whilesomemightconsiderthishypocrisy,suchingeniousimitationsarewellworthit.However,Iwasdistractedfromthisculinarycounterfeitbyanoddevent;alibraryturnedprayerhallhostedsixpapermenmountedontallpaperhorses,guardingagate,smilingintothedistance.Theirfeaturesandgarmentswereallmadewithelaboratedetail,inbonesandstripsofbamboo.Anelderlyladytoldme,inSichuandialect:“Theyaremailers.Theysendmessagestopeopleontheotherside.Thismorningwehavealreadyburnedeightofthem.”ThiswasthreedaysbeforetheHungryGhostFestival.InBeijing,shoppingmallsusevariousfestivalsforpromotionsanddiscounts,butthisseemstobeonetheyoverlooked—thedayonwhichonerepentsfortheirdeadparents’wrongdoings.ThefestivaloriginatesfromthelegendofMonkMulianwhofoundhismotherinpurgatory,herthroatasnarrowasaneedleandstarving.Mulianusedhisawesomepowerstosendfooddownherthroat,butthefoodimmediatelyturnedtofire.Ataloss,MulianturnedtoSakyamuni,whotoldhimwhatcouldbedone:monksinalldirectionsprayedtogether.Thisbecametheoriginoftheriteofchaodu(超度,liberatingsoulsfrompurgatory),andaroundtheHungryGhostFestivalpeopleusuallyperformchaoduritesfortheirdeceasedparents.Thisritewastakingplaceinsidetheprayerhall,andthepeoplechantingwiththemonksfilledtheentirecourtyard.But,asithappened,Iwasabitofahungryghostaftermylongjourneyandordered“husbandandwifelungslices”(夫妻肺片)inanearbyrestaurant,classicChengducuisine.Thesomewhatcannibalisticliteraltranslationdescribesasaladmadefrombeef,skin,tongue,andstomach,alldressedinchilioilandwhitesesame.Oneexplanationforthedish’soriginsclaimsthatacoupleinventeditbymakinguseofingredientsdiscardedbyChengdu’sMuslimrestaurants,withthecharacterfor“waste”(废)phoneticallyresemblingthecharacterfor“lung”(肺).Inonerespect,allChengdufoodlooksthesame—beitdumplings,noodles,colddishesorhotpot—everythingismarinatedinlashingsofchilioil.Asaresult,aprevalentmisunderstandingisthatadishisauthenticallySichuaneseaslongasitisexcessivelyspicy.However,youcannotjudgefoodbysightalone.Asidefrombeingspicy,authenticSichuanflavorsareveryrich,dependingonthewayvariousspicesandherbsareused,andeverychefhasasecretrecipe.Itisallatoncespicy,sweet,numbing,andindescribablycomplex.MissingtheGuangyanMonastery’sclosingtimeatfiveintheafternoonandnotwantingtobelockedoutofitsgateinthecoldforest,IgotoffthebushalfwaytoHuaiyuanTown(怀远镇)tospendthenight.ThetownhadbeenanimportantcenterforgovernmentaladministrationandlocalcommerceintheQingDynasty(1616-1911)andprosperedintoasizabletownwith31streets,containingtemples,churches,andmarkets.Inrecentdecades,thearea’srelativepovertyhaskeptitsancientbeautyalmostuntouched.Thetownitselfisnowknownforitsbamboohandicraftsandtwosteamsnacks,donggao(冻糕,literally“frozencake”,madefromriceandsteamedincornleaves)andyerba(叶儿粑,literally“cakeinaleaf”,astickyricebunwithporkstuffingsteamedincedarleaves).Anditisareputationwellearned.Thesesnacks,availableprettymucheverywherenowadays,areespeciallydelectableinthisodd,ancienttown.Here,thealleywaysoftenhavedistinctfunctions—analleywayforbutchersandfish-mongers,oneforbamboohandicrafts,oneforvariousspicesandoneforflour.Throughthesewindingalleys,thereisarestaurantstreet,whereItreatedmyselfto“hotpotnoodles”(火锅面).Thehostessexplainedthisoddcombination:“Youcannothavehotpotinsuchasmalltownbecauseitistooexpensiveforthelocals.YoucanonlyhaveitinbigcitieslikeChengdu,sowecanonlyputhotpotsoupinnoodles.”The“soup”shementioned,itturnedout,wassolidbeefoil,stir-friedwithadozenherbs.Nighthadbeguntofall.Theshopswereshutting,and,strangely,everyoneseemedtobepilingupsilvercolored,papergobletsintheshapeofapagoda.Then,theywaitedpatientlyforthesuntogodowncompletely.Whenthedarkfinallyfell,flamesjumpedhighintotheair,aspeople,youngandold,steppedbackfromthefire,lookingcontemplativelyastheyrememberedtheirdepartedfamilymembers.Thewholetownstoodquiet.Thelocalbustookmetomynextstop,YuantongTown(元通镇),evensmallerthanHuaiyuanandevenmorelaidback.Thelocaleconomysubsistsontheproductionofrapeseedoil,onceusedprevalentlyalloverChinauntilthe1990swhenhealthiercookingoilsproducedbylargecompaniesreplacedit.Privaterapeseedoilworkshopsquicklydiedoutacrossthecountry,buttheoilremainsthefirstchoiceforSichuanpeopleasithasaparticularsmellthatpairsperfectlywiththelocalspices.MostoftheworkshopsinYuantongwererunbyfamilies.Themenandtheyoungstersinthefamilywereengagedinthepressingprocess,whiletheelderlyusedshovelstofurthersmashtheseedgroundsandsellthemasfertilizer.Cravingsometea,IstoppedattheXiaFamily’sAncientTeahousebytheriver.Tastefullyarrangedwithcalligraphywriting,old-fashionedceilingfans,rowsofironpotssizzlingoncoalstoves,andanactualwellinthecenteroftheroom,theteahousewasaperfectspottogetmyteafix.Themiddle-agedMr.Xiadidn’twearashirtandwasveryproudofinheritingtheteahousefromhisfather.“Takeyourtimetodrink,”heorderedbossilywhilepouringboilingwaterintomycup,eventhoughitwasstillfull.“We’velivedhereforover100years,andthiswellisolder.Youdon’tgetwaterthisgoodanywhere.Whateverexpensiveteayou’vehad,ourteaisbetter!”Takingathree-kuaiminibusburstingwithteenagerworkers,IfinallymadeittoJieziTown(街子镇).Itisthewealthiestandnewesttowninthearea.Youcanfindavintageshopsellingoldwoodcarvingsinanalleywaywheretheshopownerexplains,ingreatdetail,theintricatelycarvedandoftengildedcarvingstakenfromresidencesdemolishedduringthetown’srenovation.Amongstthesouvenirs,astrongaromaattractedmetoashopsellingfermentedbeansauceordouzhi(豆豉),aningredientoftenusedinstir-frieddishes.Anoldmaninawhiteundershirttoldmethathehadbeenacustomerforovertenyears.Icouldn’tresistjoiningthequeueandboughtajarofit,butitturnedouttobearatherbadidea;thesaucehadastrongsmell,reminiscentofstewedmeat.AvanwithalocaldrivertookmeupthewindingmountainbehindJieziTown.Whilethethickgreenforestswungbythewindowsatincrediblespeed,themanstillmadetimetoyellagreetingtoeveryoneheknewalongtheway.After20minutes,Iarrivedatmydestination,GuangyanMonastery.Surroundedbytall,straightcedarsplantedbymonkshundredsofyearsago,themonastery’sscarletwallslooksereneandsolitary.Itissaidthatthemonasteryhasamysticalpowertoinducepeopletoleavetheworldbehind,andoneofthemostfamousmonksinitshistoryisMasterWukong(悟空祖师),theuncleoftheYuanDynasty’s(1271-1368)firstemperor.Afterhisdeath,hisbodysatinastupabythemainprayerhalluntilitwasdestroyedin1951.Themainprayerhall,however,survivedthecatastropheandlatertheCulturalRevolutionasitwasturnedintoapharmacy.Themonasteryusuallyonlyhostsafewvisitors,butitwassomewhatcrowdedduetothemonksperformingchaoduriteseveryday.ThemonkreceivingmewasMasterXutong.HerecordedmyIDnumberandpointedtoanoticeonthewallformetosign,sayingthetemplewas,“acheck-pointofflowingpopulation”—theresultofrecentincidentsinXinjiang.MasterXutonghadnotspokenawordforeightyears,becauseheispracticingzhiyu(止语,literally“toceasespeaking”),aBuddhistpracticeforonetoobtainenlightenmentviaavowofsilence.Ineverfiguredoutwhythemonasteryputasilentmonkinchargeofguests.MasterXutongworkshardonreadingsutras;itlookslikethethinkingpainshim,andhelookspaler,thinner,andmorewrinkledabouttheforeheadwitheachpassingyear.MasterXutongwasalsotheonlymonkwhocouldresistthedinnersmadebyMasterZeng,thechef,ashestrictlyfollowstherulethatnofoodshouldbeeatenafteroneintheafternoon.DespitebeingCantonese,MasterZengquicklygraspedthegistofSichuanesecuisineandhasbecomefamousforit.Heisshort,skinny,anddark,withchildlikeeyes,speakingbrokenMandarinwithaCantoneseaccent.Heistheloudestandhappiestmaninthemonastery.Igreetedhimandcongratulatedhimonhisnew,white,andnowperfectlyalignedteeth;thelasttimeIsawhimhisteethwerealmostallrotten.Hesmileduneasily,nodded,andsimplyturnedaway.ForawhileIthoughttheoldmanhadforgottenme,butafterafewminutes,hesuddenlythrewatowelonthekitchendeskwithathumpandsaidinhisloudCantoneseaccent:“BrotherHuang,whydidn’tyoutellmethatyouwerecomingback?”Myworkatthemonasterywastocleanthekitchen,whichjusthappenedtobeafteramassiverenovation,sotherewasalotofmess.Thekitchenusedtoburnwoodforheating,butlastyearthemonasteryreceivedalargedonation,whichtheyspentongivingthekitchenagasstoveandanewrowofstainlesssteelsinks.Obviously,themonksheretakecookingveryseriously,andMasterZeng,asachef