Today is the second class in our current four class set. We will start class with a casual conversation. Our reading today is about personality tests. The reading is a chance for you to build your vocabulary. Circle any words or phrases that are unfamiliar to you. I will give you time in class to ask questions about the reading. Our listening material about snail noodles. For your listening, you only need to focus on time. Please follow the transcript and listen to the audio at the same time. Don’t worry about accuracy; just look at the words and listen to the sound. For mini grammar we will continue with the present continuous. Please complete the sentences on a separate piece of paper. I want you to write the full sentences- not just one word answers.
Click HERE for the reading
MARY LOUISE KELLY, HOST:
The latest dish to go viral in China is fermented and, above all, as NPR's Emily Feng reports, delicious. Here's her look into why the pandemic was the perfect time for snail noodles.
EMILY FENG, BYLINE: Sometime during the first year of the pandemic, I became addicted to snail noodles, or luosifen. They're a type of rice noodle dish from southern Guangxi province, the slippery noodles bathed in a broth of river snails and topped with odorous goodies like fermented bamboo shoots, tofu and salty lemon vinegar.
So the stink in snail soup - snail noodle soup is from - it's not from the snails. What is it from?
MEI SHANSHAN: It's from the pickled bamboo shoots.
FENG: This is Mei Shanshan, a Beijing-based food blogger who patiently walks me through each aspect of Guangxi cuisine.
SHANSHAN: This is really good.
FENG: Thank you. What is it?
SHANSHAN: This is - just eat it. Don't ask, you know?
FENG: OK. It's kind of like...
SHANSHAN: The golden rule in China eating is don't ask them what it is.
FENG: Much of the food relies on fermentation, meaning snail noodles are quite possibly one of the worst dishes to make at home. The smell of the pickled toppings and the stewed snails can linger for hours. Yet it was the pandemic that brought snail noodles from provincial obscurity to national fame. Online influencers with tens of millions of followers began blogging about the disgustingly good snack.
SHANSHAN: It's like suddenly, it got popular. I think it's - one of the first wave was dianshang, live eating shows from Korea. Just a lot of people were looking for crazy, like, smelly, ridiculous things to eat.
FENG: And soon, dozens of brands for make-it-at-home snail noodles began selling out. Stuck in small apartments in lockdown, Chinese eaters nonetheless took a shine to snail noodles, and they bought 1.1 billion packets of noodles last year alone. This snail noodle craze has meant big business for Liuzhou, the small city in southern Guangxi where the dish was first perfected. Its warm, tropical climate makes it perfect for farming river snails. So that's where I went to see how the fervor is playing out.
(SOUNDBITE OF SLURPING)
FENG: Liuzhou native Deng Rijie was among a few dozen clientele enjoying lunch at one of the hundreds of snail noodle restaurants that pepper Liuzhou.
DENG RIJIE: (Through interpreter) I eat snail noodles at least once a day, really. The taste really suits Guangxi people. It's sour and spicy. Once you get used to the taste, you don't really notice the smell anymore.
FENG: The provincial Snail Noodle Association set specific flavor standards. Other than acidity of the pickles and the spice of the chili, there's also the springyness (ph) of the noodles, the umami of the snail broth and the diversity of the toppings.
(SOUNDBITE OF MACHINERY RATTLING)
FENG: All these flavor elements can be customized here at one of the dozens of factories in the Liuzhou snail noodle industrial park set up by the local government.
TANG: (Through interpreter) The snail noodle supply chain is incredibly automated. It used to be a very labor-intensive process, but now human workers merely have to service the machines to do everything.
FENG: This is Mr. Tang, an engineer at one of the factories. He requested only his last name be used as provincial authorities had not approved the interview. And without government support, snail noodles likely would not have become the viral hit they are today.
TANG: (Through interpreter) The local government really gave this industry a lot of support, from tax breaks to power and utility subsidies. They helped us standardize the industry and scale up.
FENG: Noodles have breathed new life into Liuzhou, once a manufacturing hub making trucks and cars. But in the 1990s, there was a round of layoffs nationwide as struggling state firms went bankrupt. In Liuzhou, many of the unemployed entered the food business, setting up small roadside shops and food stands. By the 2000s, they'd set up some noodle factories and chain restaurants. The pandemic was the lucky break they needed. There's now a snail noodle vocational school, which local governments set up to train people in how to make the snack, and an army of professional marketers who make livestreams all day to sell the stuff. Douya, a livestreamer, rattles off her standard sales pitch for us.
DOUYA: (Speaking Chinese).
(LAUGHTER)
DOUYA: (Speaking Chinese).
FENG: Douya works out of an office building designed especially for influencers. Inside, she and her colleagues boil noodles while surrounded by sparkly iPhones and studio lights. They livestream for nearly 24 hours a day, split into three shifts, to sell one particular brand of noodle.
DOUYA: (Through interpreter) The market is everchanging, so if you don't keep up, you'll be tossed aside. Money isn't as easy to earn these days with snail noodles.
FENG: That's because she faces stiff competition. Nearby, in the Liuzhou snail noodle industrial park alone, there are about four dozen different noodle brands, and food bloggers are already shifting attention. They're on the hunt for another quirky, smelly snack that might keep us entertained for another year under lockdown. Emily Feng, NPR News, Liuzhou, China.
(SOUNDBITE OF POOLSIDE SONG, "DO YOU BELIEVE")