The rich flavors of Beijing's seasonal table

At Donglaishun, a time-honored Beijing mutton hotpot brand, autumn can be tasted before it is felt. The copper pots return to the center of family tables, their clear broth simmering over charcoal.

Hand-cut mutton replaces some of the lighter foods favored in summer. Cabbage, frozen tofu and glass noodles go into the pot, while sweet-and-sour garlic and sesame sauce wait on the side.

For Chen Lixin, a national-level intangible cultural heritage inheritor of Donglaishun's mutton-processing technique, the change is part of an old Beijing rhythm.

As autumn arrives, mutton consumption at the restaurant rises noticeably, Chen says.

During the hotter months, diners tend to favor cold dishes, tripe, grilled foods, and smaller portions. Once the weather turns cooler, copper-pot mutton becomes a familiar choice again, particularly for family gatherings.

"Putting on autumn fat is not about forcing yourself to eat lots of meat," Chen says.

"It is about gathering around a pot when the autumn wind rises, eating good seasonal meat together, and enjoying a flavorful meal."

The custom, known in Chinese as tieqiubiao, is traditionally associated with eating richer foods as summer gives way to autumn. But Beijing's mid-autumn food culture has never been limited to mooncakes.

In old Beijing, Mid-Autumn Festival was commonly known as bayuejie, or the "eighth-month festival", and tuanyuanjie, or the "reunion festival". It marked the harvest, involved moon worship and appreciation, and brought families together for a meal. Seasonal fruits and other foods shared the table with mooncakes.

Historical accounts mention pomegranates, dates, walnuts, and lotus roots among foods associated with the festival. Mooncakes themselves came in different Beijing styles, including tijiang, known for its syrup-based crust; zilaihong and zilaibai, with their darker and paler crusts respectively; and fanmao, a delicate, flaky pastry made by repeatedly rolling and folding layers of dough and pastry fat.

Putting on fat

At Donglaishun, the most representative autumn combination remains simple: clear-broth copper hotpot, hand-cut mutton, autumn cabbage and frozen tofu.

The restaurant's hand-cutting technique is part of a national intangible cultural heritage tradition. The mutton is cut to a particular thickness and folded into neat slices, with different cuts offering different textures and fat content.

Chen recommends hand-cut fresh mutton for the autumn table, especially upper-shoulder cuts, which balance lean meat and marbling. Tripe, he says, is another old Beijing favorite.

And then there is sweet-and-sour garlic.

"It isn't meat, but it is an important part of the meal," Chen says, explaining that its sweet-and-sour flavor helps offset the richness of the mutton.

The same principle applies to the side ingredients. Cabbage adds sweetness, while frozen tofu absorbs the broth, adding a different texture and a plant-based element to a meal dominated by meat.

Consumers' understanding of tieqiubiao has shifted, Chen says.

Increasingly, they associate it with eating according to the season, moderate nourishment and the emotional value of sharing a meal, rather than simply eating as much rich food as possible.

"People care more about ingredient quality, nutritional balance, the experience of eating together and the traditions behind the food," he says.

Diners may still order a full copper-pot meal for a family gathering, Chen says, but they are also more conscious of portion size and the setting.

Donglaishun has responded with smaller, more casual ways of eating mutton, including grilled mutton burgers and halal hot dogs. The copper pot remains the classic experience, but diners do not have to wait for a large family gathering to satisfy an autumn craving for mutton.

For Chen, the key is to keep the food tied to the season while letting the meal fit contemporary tastes. "Eating according to the season starts with choosing ingredients that are right for that time of year. Then you consider the festival setting and the tastes of today's diners."

The cooking techniques can remain traditional, he says, while combinations and portions change.

At Fuhuazhai Chinese Pastry Shop, Zhao Guangyou is interested in bobo, a word that has largely disappeared from younger consumers' vocabulary.

The term once referred broadly to flour-based foods and pastries in northern Chinese food culture. In Beijing, it could encompass a wide range of handmade pastries served in palace households and ordinary homes.

"Bobo was a broad category," Zhao says.

He says bobo once covered a much wider range of pastries on the Mid-Autumn table than the mooncakes most consumers associate with the festival today.

Zhao says palace households once had tables piled with bobo, while ordinary families might use pastry boxes and poorer households might wrap a few pieces in paper.

Fuhuazhai has restored nearly 30 varieties of traditional Manchu-Han pastries from the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) culinary tradition. Among them are a traditional milk cake and a flaky pastry filled with chestnut paste and rose jam.

Some pastries, rooted in palace traditions or classical literary references, are better remembered today than commonly tasted.

A taste of childhood

The pastries also challenge the assumption that traditional Beijing sweets are necessarily heavy or intensely sweet.

Zhao says traditional Beijing mooncakes used a relatively balanced pastry-to-filling ratio, with less sweetness than many modern consumers expect.

Some customers who expected traditional Beijing pastries to be too sweet or heavy changed their minds after tasting them, he adds.

Older customers often describe the same flavors as a taste of childhood.

At the same time, younger consumers are more conscious of sugar and oil and less inclined to eat large amounts of festival pastries, he says.

Zhao points to the fanmao mooncake as the traditional Beijing pastry he would most like to see better known.

Its pale, flaky crust is made by repeatedly rolling and folding layers of dough and fat. When baked, the layers become thin, creating a delicate, feather-like texture that Zhao compares to "flying goose feathers".

"Recipes are important, but craftsmanship is even more important," he says.

Fuhuazhai has reduced the oil and sugar content in some products and introduced lower-sugar and savory varieties.

But Zhao says there is a limit to how far such changes should go. "You can't turn a pastry into a steamed bun," he says.

For Zhao, the fanmao mooncake represents a high point of traditional Beijing pastry-making because of its production technique and quality.

At Kaorouwan, a Beijing restaurant known for grilled beef and other old-style dishes, autumn has brought back guota beef, in which slices of beef are fried until golden on the outside and then simmered in sauce until tender and richly flavored.

The restaurant has also introduced individual portions of seven signature dishes, including its grilled beef, braised beef strips and tasimi, a sweet-and-sour lamb dish. The portions allow diners to sample several of the restaurant's specialties without ordering a full spread.

Contact the writer at yangfeiyue@chinadaily.com.cn