A Bellyful of Warmth香于唇齿，暖于心间

China is divided into as many culinary regions as there are different ethnic groups. Its geographical diversity and kaleidoscopic cultural profiles contribute to the unending banquet of flavors. Soup in Chinese cuisine is a major category on the menu and ranges from the lightest consomme1 to hearty rich broths that are thick with meat and vegetables. Of course， no one places more emphasis on soups than the Cantonese， so I will tap into that aspect of my culinary heritage for the classic recipes.

The wok is an important piece of equipment in every Chinese kitchen， but in the Cantonese home， another item holds equal importance： the soup pot. Normally made of earthenware for its heat-conducting properties， this should be a tall pot with a raised lip that closely cradles the tight-fitting lid. It should comfortably hold at least four liters of liquid so the soup can slowly reduce. The raised lip helps to keep the lid from rattling and holds in the air pressure that builds up in the long， slow brewing. Sometimes， more than one soup pot are found in the same kitchen， with a smaller one reserved for a different kind of brews—the medicinal soups so beloved by the Cantonese matriarch.

Not all soups are made in the clay pot. Some of the lighter everyday soups are quickly made， often in the wok. These are the light soups， made with a few slices of meat for flavor and plenty of vegetables， mustard greens and lean pork， for example， or even an egg drop soup with coriander2 added at the last minute.

But the art of making soup reaches its pinnacle with those that are simmered long and slow. I remember trotters and peanut soup. The broth was rich and milky and scented with the unmistakable aroma of the nuts. The nuts are thrown into the soup with the skins on， and these tinge the soup slightly pink. The trotters， reduced to a gelatinous tenderness， would be plated and served as part of the meal， together with a little saucer of soy sauce. I remember draining the bowl and happily picking at the soft， soft nuts. Funnily enough， the alchemy3 of peanuts and trotters means that you hardly taste the porkiness of the pig’s feet， only a nutty fragrance that is accentuated by the addition of a handful of dried Chinese jujubes.

And here you have the classic anatomy of a Cantonese soup. First， you have the meat， which can be pork， beef， mutton or fish. Then you have the complementary ingredients， which can be root vegetables such as radishes， carrots or lotus root， or beans or dried leafy vegetables. And finally， there will always be dried jujubes， dates， ginger， dried citrus peel or any of a vast variety of Chinese herbs.

Every ingredient has a purpose. The meat will either strengthen or cool the body. The root or leafy vegetables will play supporting roles for flavor or for health. Herbs or aromatics will neutralize certain undesirable effects—like ginger taking away the pungency of fish or pork， and dried jujubes adding sweetness where it is needed. The long， slow simmering melds the flavors of the various ingredients and allows them to come together in the soup bowl. Unlike Western soups， the treasured end product is the liquid， the soup， and not the ingredients that first went into the pot. These soup dregs， or tangzha as we call them， are often discarded. In fact， after three hours of simmering， almost all of the flavor has already been extracted.

And there are soups for every purpose. The Cantonese grandmother’s idea of chicken soup is to double boil a minced chicken breast. The result is a clear consomme that will tempt even the most recalcitrant4 invalid. There are soups that will make you bright-eyed and clear-brained for those examination days， soups to revive flagging appetites， broths to boost energy after a hard day’s workout， and a whole cookbook of soups for the new mother recovering from childbirth.

Soups are flash-boiled， simmered， steamed and double-boiled. There are also soups that resemble the stews of other provinces， but the Cantonese differentiate them by calling these geng， or thick broths. A vegetable called shark’s fin melon is now very popular. This is very much like spaghetti squash5 and takes well to cooking with shredded chicken， crabs and mushrooms to produce a tasty soup. In Shunde county， the Cantonese chefs like producing a thick broth that features the local fish， which is first fried and then deboned before being added to the broth with aromatic mushrooms.

The importance of soup to the Cantonese can be seen in the description of their daily meals. For an average family， sancai yitang， three dishes and a soup， sums it up.

中國是个多民族国家，每个民族所在的区域都有各自的食物烹饪特点。中国的地域多元化和多姿多彩的文化形态造就了餐桌上数不胜数的美味。中式菜肴里的汤通常是菜单上一个主要分类，从爽口的清汤，到用肉和蔬菜熬成的料足味浓的浓汤，品种繁多。当然，对汤最重视的要数广东人了，汤是传统粤菜的重要组成部分，下面就来看看经典的汤汁是如何制作而成的。

锅是中国家庭厨房里一件重要的烹饪工具，而在广东人家里，还有件东西同样必不可少，那就是汤罐。这种罐子一般是陶质的，导热性好，罐身高，罐口突起，刚好能扣住不大不小的盖子，里面至少可以轻松装下四升水，足够汤水细炖慢熬。在漫长的煲制过程中，突起的罐口有助于缓和渐渐升高的罐内气压，使得上面的盖子不会乒乒乓乓跳个不停。有时候同一间厨房里不止有一个熬汤的罐子，还会备上一个比较小的，专门用于熬另一种汤，即药汤，这种汤深受广东妈妈们的喜爱。

并不是所有汤都得用陶罐慢慢熬，一些日常食用的较清淡的汤只需用普通锅短时间内就能煮好。放入几片用来调味的肉，再放入大量蔬菜，比如通常会用芥菜和瘦猪肉;要么来个蛋花汤，起锅时撒上一点香菜，这些都是制作简单的清汤。

但只有那些经过文火慢炖的汤才能把煮汤这门艺术推向极致。我印象最深刻的是猪蹄花生汤，汤汁浓郁，呈乳白色，散发着花生特有的香气。煮制的时候，花生不用剥皮，直接放入，这让汤汁染上了淡淡的粉色。猪蹄变得香糯软烂，会单独作为一道菜盛出来装盘，配上一小碟酱汁蘸着吃。记得当时自己把汤喝了个精光，夹起一颗颗软软的花生吃着，心情愉快。有趣的是，花生和猪蹄两者在一起经过长时间炖煮后，猪蹄本身的肉腥味几乎就吃不出来了，而是带有一股花生的清香，一把干枣的放入更是进一步提升了香味。

下面来看看一碗粤式汤里一般都会有些什么。首先要有肉，猪肉、牛肉、羊肉或鱼肉都行;其次是作为补充的配菜，可以是根茎类蔬菜，比如小萝卜、胡萝卜、莲藕，也可以是豆子或脱水的叶类蔬菜;最后，必不可少的是干枣、椰枣、姜、干橘皮，或者从种类繁多的中草药中挑选一二加入。

每种食材在汤里都发挥着作用。肉类能增强体质，可败火;根茎类和叶类蔬菜用来辅助调味，同时也有益健康;草药和香料对一些不足之处起到调和作用，比如姜可以去掉鱼肉或猪肉的腥味，干枣则增添适度甜味。漫长的炖煮过程使各种食材的味道相融合，汇入一碗汤里。与西式汤不同，粤式汤的精华在于汤汁本身，而不是一开始放入罐内用来熬汤的食材，汤内已经煮烂的食材我们叫汤渣，常常是弃之不食的。其实经过三小时的慢炖，所有食材的味道几乎都已经被提炼出来了。

此外，不同的汤有不同的功效。广东阿婆们煮鸡汤一般用鸡胸肉，将其剁碎，经过两次熬制煮沸，最后便熬出清澈的鸡汤，一碗喝下，甚至能讓最桀骜不驯的人也顺从起来。另外，有在考试期间明目醒脑的汤，有促进食欲的汤，有经过一天劳累工作后恢复体力的汤，还有一系列帮助刚生完宝宝的新妈妈恢复元气的汤。

有的汤快速就能做好，有的要慢慢炖，有的要蒸，有的要二次上火煮制，还有的汤看上去很像中国其他省的炖菜，而广东人习惯把这种汤叫作“羹”，即浓汤的意思，以示区别。如今有一种叫鱼翅瓜的蔬菜，非常受欢迎，外形与意面瓜相似，很适合与鸡丝、蟹肉和蘑菇一起煮，熬好的汤美味可口。在广东佛山的顺德县，粤菜厨师们喜欢煮一种以当地鱼为主料的浓汤，做法是先把鱼煎一下，然后去骨，再放入汤里和清香的蘑菇慢慢熬。

汤对广东人有多重要，在他们关于日常饭食的描述中就能看出，对于普通家庭来说，餐桌上只要有三菜一汤，便足矣。