Jiang Bao Chicken:a classic Chinese dish

Jiang Bao Chicken (酱爆鸡丁) is a classic Chinese dish and almost every region in China makes this dish. It's colorful, delicious with a little bit sweet taste. I bet you will love it!

Total Time: 30 Minutes | Serves 2-3
Prepare:
1 pound chicken breast(鸡胸肉), cut into pieces with cub shape
1 egg white（蛋清）
1 teaspoon potato starch water (土豆淀粉水)
Put the above together, mix well by hand about 10 minutes

1 cup chopped carrots（胡萝卜） and peas（青豆）, pour in boiling water until water is boiling again then drop water. You can buy a ready-to-cook package of carrots and peas at most supermarket
1 tablespoon chopped fresh ginger（鲜姜）
1 green onion/scallion（葱）, chopped into small pieces
2 tablespoons sweet flour sauce(甜面酱)，you can find from most Chinese food market
2 teaspoon potato starch(土豆淀粉)
2 teaspoons sugar（白糖）
3 teaspoons cooking wine(料酒)
2 teaspoons soy source(酱油)

Cook:
1. Heat 1 cup canola oil (vegetable oil) in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken, tossing until chicken become white, then transfer to a medium bowl, leave 2 tablespoons oil in the skillet, pour extra oil to another bowl.

2. Add 2 teaspoons sugar to the skillet over medium-high heat, until the sugar became dark brown, then add sweet flour sauce, tossing 2 to 3 minutes, add cooking wine, soy source, tossing until you can smell the rich fragrance.

3. Add ginger, scallion, tossing 2 to 3 minutes, then add chicken, tossing about 1 to 2 minutes, add peas and carrots, tossing about another 2 minutes, pour potato starch water(勾芡), tossing about 20 seconds until the water is disappeared. 

4. Place to a plate and Enjoy!

Fortunate Sons:American Documents the Country’s First Exchange Students from China

Many thousands of Chinese are studying at schools in the United States. And writer Liel Leibovitz says the students are following an example that began in the eighteen seventies.

Mr. Leibovitz and writer Matthew Miller joined forces to tell the story of the students in their book, “Fortunate Sons.” The book says China sent one hundred twenty boys to America to learn about developments that could help modernize their country.

Mr. Leibovitz got the idea for the book about the boys a few years ago when he was traveling with his wife in China.

LIEL LEIBOVITZ: “One afternoon it was raining in Beijing, and so we decided to stay in our hotel room and flip through television stations. And we came across this very arresting photograph of a young Chinese boy dressed in what appeared to be traditional Chinese dress. And he was standing next to a building that was very clearly Yale University.” 

Mr. Leibovitz learned that the Qing government sent a whole delegation of boys to learn the ways of the West. The goal was for them to return to China and help their country.

LIEL LEIBOVITZ: ”A little bit later on, I was delighted and amazed to discover that these boys, who later turned out to be very, very remarkable men, had left behind an archive of letters, of diaries, of clothing articles detailing their entire journey and also what happened to them once they finally returned to China.” 

The book says the boys received their American training in Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey and Connecticut. It must have been a very good education. Mr. Leibovitz says the first prime minister of the Chinese Republic completed this program. And so did the first engineer to build a large-scale railroad without foreign help. The same was true of the fathers of Chinese education, diplomacy and the Navy.

The book-writers had only to open some boxes containing the writings of these men to learn about them. Their notebooks, journals, letters and postcards were in English. Mr. Leibovitz said he was lucky to have so much information from events that took place long ago.

LIEL LEIBOVITZ:  “It was an unbelievable gift. I was expecting a lot of piecing together.  And instead, we were amazed to find how meticulous these men had been about documenting their lives.”

The students returned to China after about nine years. They no longer spoke Mandarin well enough to answer questions. Police welcomed them home by putting them in jail. The young men were released after about a week. But they were given low-level jobs.

Mister Leibovitz says it took about ten years for them to rise to higher positions. He said their story continues today with large numbers of Chinese studying in the United States.

From the VOA Special English Education Report

What the U.S. Can Learn from Uniqlo

Rich country, rising unemployment, sluggish growth, big debts. Sound familiar? Japan’s notorious “lost decade,” the long stretch of economic stagnation that followed its massive property bubble in the late 1980s, looms large in the American mindset today. A lot of people think we may be headed down the same path.
The parallels between what happened to Japan and what’s happening to the U.S. have inspired a flurry of teaching points on what not to do next. The latest come from Tadashi Yanai, the mastermind behind Uniqlo, the discount Japanese clothing brand whose stores have spread across the globe like wildfire at a time when Japan’s economy and many Japanese companies are staring into the abyss. In the latest McKinsey Quarterly, Yanai focuses on what still struggling Japan can learn from Uniqlo’s success. But a lot of those lessons can also be applied to the U.S. Here’s a sampling of what Yanai has to offer: 

1. Don’t look down on developing countries 
Japanese companies seem to have their eyes in the rearview mirror. They have become introspective. I   think we should get back to something more like we were at the end of the war when Japan rose to prominence from a situation in which it had nothing. (It was during this period that Fast Retailing got started, in 1949.)

We’ve lost that spirit, maybe because we are under the illusion that we are rich and superior. But many countries are just as rich, and in Japan, income has stagnated for many people for a decade or more. Japan is still very comfortable to live in, if you are Japanese. But there’s a difference between being comfortable and being viable. We are gradually losing our viability.

 2. Leadership means working the global sales floor
One thing Japan has to get rid of is the idea that things are one way here and different everywhere else. The Japanese are really strong at home, and incredibly weak away from home. We need Japanese who are strong away, or who don’t distinguish between home and away. We’re trying to build this idea into Uniqlo’s culture. For example, English is spoken at business meetings with foreigners, and we want all emails to be in English in a few years…

My advice for young Japanese is simple: get out of Japan. One of our weaknesses as Japanese is our ineptness at communicating with other cultures. Even people who speak English well are closed off psychologically. They don’t speak frankly like I do. There’s this uniquely Japanese standoffishness, this hesitancy to become too involved. And it’s detrimental to globalization.

3. Don’t work backwards
We saw food distribution as a backward sector, so we went into partnership with a food group, Ryokuken, in 2002. But vegetables are not an industrial product; you don’t know exactly when they will be ready or in what volume. We eventually understood that it would be impossible to succeed unless we ran our own farms, and we did not want to be farmers. After two years, we shut operations down.

4. Don’t give up your national identity
We opened our first store outside Japan in 2001, in London. And we failed spectacularly. We quickly opened 21 outlets in Britain—and shut down 16 of them by 2003. In retrospect, that was probably good, because we learned so much. Our big mistake was to try to do things the British way. We never capitalized on our strengths…

All this sounds pessimistic, but I don’t see this as the counsel of despair. Japan has everything—people, goods, money, technology, information. As a nation, we are honest, hard-working and serious…

Even if we experience failure, we can pick ourselves up and try again. That’s what Uniqlo did—and that is what Japan can do…

Written by Roya Wolverson , please go to Time magazine to read the whole article.

The Bookworms of China

BEIJING — The traditional publishing industry’s prospects may be bleak overall, but there is a promising story to be found in an unexpected place, in a country plagued by censorship and bureaucracy: China.

Last week at the Beijing International Book Fair, the largest gathering in the event’s 19-year history, the mood in the cavernous exhibition center was buoyant, despite the barren decor and a lack of good coffee. The Chinese publishing industry is in an “expansive mode” explained Seth Russo, the director of international sales at Simon & Schuster. It is now the world’s largest in terms of volume, with 7.7 billion books published in 2011, up by 7.5 percent from 2010.

Driving sales is a literate population that emphasizes education and self-improvement. Censorship has become less draconian since Mao’s time and publishing has become more commercial. As a result, readers of Chinese books today have more choice of genre, voice and subject matter than they have had at any time in the last 60 years.


During the Cultural Revolution, schools and universities were shut down and books were banned. Writers under Mao could be executed, imprisoned or ostracized for political incorrectness. (Sometimes they still are.) But such suffering became part of China’s creative legacy in the 70’s, thanks to “scar literature,” a popular genre that describes the horrors of the era.

In other words, if hardline Communism stalled Chinese literature, it did not stamp it out. “Unlike many developing countries, China has a long tradition of education and reading, culture and literature,” Jo Lusby, head of Penguin China, told me in Beijing this week. The Chinese consumer’s interest in books needed only to be revived, not created.

Mirroring a society more concerned with personal pleasure and personal woes than political movements, contemporary Chinese writing focuses on individual feelings. The racecar driver and bad-boy blogger Han Han is making millions off his novels, including his debut “Triple Door,” a scathing satire on school life, which sold over two million copies.

Genre fiction is exploding. In bookstores, crime stories and romantic fiction rub alongside wuxia, adventure stories of chivalrous martial heroes, and so-called “officialdom” fiction, tales of political intrigue that double as how-to guides for aspiring officials. (Mind you, the latter genre tends to tread carefully, often focusing on local stories of corruption rather than daring to incriminate party higher-ups.)

Popular nonfiction books include self-help tracts on how to get rich or find love. Publishers at the fair last week also described a growing children’s book market propelled by the one-child policy: Chinese parents are eager to pour their resources into their single offspring. And English-language books — from novels to learning aids — are in demand among those who want to improve their language skills.

International publishers looking to enter China have reason to be enthusiastic. Last year 48 titles sold over one million copies each. Among bestsellers for 2011 were a collection of speeches by former Prime Minister Zhu Rongji — it topped the list — and a modern sequel by Liu Xinwu to the 18th century “Dream of the Red Chamber,” one of China’s so-called four great classical novels.
But the success stories aren’t limited to Chinese books. “Steve Jobs,” Walter Isaacson’s biography of Apple’s founder, sold more than 50,000 hardcopies here — in English. Last year’s bestsellers also included Gabriel García Márquez’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude.”

This evolution in China’s publishing industry reflects the general liberalization of the country’s economy. When the raison d’être of Chinese books was moral worthiness (and propaganda), state publishers had little impetus to produce books that responded to market demand. Today, though these turgid giants still monopolize distribution, innovative private publishers are forcing them to up their game or miss out.

There are challenges, of course. As in the West, online retailers are squeezing independent bookstores and digitization is hurting sales of printed books; more distinctively local is the problem of piracy. And while international publishing houses are eager to enter this market, local writers and publishers complain that because of red tape the number of books published in China is still well below par for a country this size.

There is also censorship and political pressure. No guidebook of forbidden topics, no glossary of forbidden words, exists. And if some taboos are predictable (“1989”), others are random or absurd. Forced to go by instinct — and so risk overstepping the mark — writers, publishers and booksellers routinely self-censor. (Thus the most daring Chinese writing is to be found online, where censors have less reach. Readers are flocking to literature sites such as Rongshuxia.com and Qidian.com; in 2011, those attracted over 100 million visitors every month.)

At one point during the Beijing book fair last week, some exhibitors were locked out of the center on a concrete car park for over an hour. No explanation was given, but it later emerged that a Communist Party official was being given a tour. Even over this burgeoning industry, the hand of the Chinese state still hovers menacingly.  By Clarissa Sebag-Montefiore, September 4, 2012, 9:11 am

Read more at IHT Global Opinion

Why is science fiction popular in China?

This past weekend I attended my first World Science Fiction Convention at Chicon 7. During the convention I listened in on several panels about Science Fiction in China. These panels were extremely interesting and very informative. There were discussions of many historical facts and ideas regarding the history of Chinese science fiction, which dates back to the late 1800’s with the first “modern” Sci-Fi novel in 1903. In addition to the history of the genre there were dozens of other topics, three of which really caught my interest.

The first topic (in no particular chronological order) discussed foreign Sci-Fi and Fantasy books that inspired the authors. For the most part these inspirations were the same as any Sci-Fi lover in the US; authors such as Gibson, Bradbury, Clark and others were mentioned. The only notable author specifically mentioned as not well read in China was Lovecraft. The reason given was the lack of a “horror” story tradition in China. This is true as China has many ghost stories typically used to instill moral and ethical teachings rather than frighten.
The second topic was the motivations of modern science fiction authors and readers. During this particular discussion I was struck by what one young author, pen name Xia Jia, said. From her perspective one of the things that draws readers in general, especially young readers, to Sci- Fi is the wish to look forward. She pointed out that much of Chinese literary and television looks to the past. By reading forward-looking novels Chinese readers can think about what may come rather than linger on the past. They can imagine what China will be like in the future.

This is a very powerful and true observation she made. There are so many sub-topics extending from her observation it would require a term paper to cover them all. Instead I will utilize her core point to highlight a pressing problem facing China. Many scholars and observers like to focus on rote learning as the core problem with China’s modern education system. While this is a concern that requires changes I argue it is not the sole area worthy of critique. I believe the 100% focus on past events is actually the key flaw in China’s education system.

Coupled with the fact that 95% of all books, TV shows, and movies are also centered on the past, China faces a lack of forward thinking. The focus on the past rather the future across the education and entertainment aspects of Chinese culture is creating a core component of the current growth and development issues facing China. Most Chinese and foreign observers would agree the lack of homegrown innovation is a core developmental issue in China. I would argue it is not China’s rote learning regimen, acute respect for authority, or family centered societal structure that are inhibiting innovation; it is all of these aspects combined with an educational and cultural focus on the past.

China’s current education and media environment like to focus on highlighting China’s glory days, embarrassments at the hands of foreigners, and how far China has come. Little effort is made to focus on China’s future. If there was more attention given to where China is going and the possibilities of what it can achieve, I believe the other changes required to spur innovation would be more easily attained. By constantly looking backwards, China is harming itself moving forwards.

The third topic revolved around the need to share Sci-Fi across borders. The authors on the various panels spoke of a need to translate more foreign works into Chinese. They pointed out the barely filled need to translate Chinese works into English. Their point is well taken as intercultural and literary exchanges typically lead to greater mutual understanding. I fell this is a wonderful idea and Science Fiction and Fantasy are best suited to take advantage of the opportunity. I for one will be adding my skill to this endeavor.

Overall I think it is wonderful that Sci-Fi in China is fulfilling much of the same role it does in other cultures across the Earth. This only goes to show no matter how large our differences, our similarities are even larger.

If this topic interests you please go to Emily Jiang’s blog at www.emilyjiang.com to read her posts as she shares her notes and thoughts about all four Science Fiction in China panels from Chicon 7.

Read more about China at China Daily Mail

Han Han on Typos, Race Cars, Censorship in China

Han Han is often hailed as “the world’s most popular blogger” or “the voice of China’s boom-era youth,” but remarkably, until now, none of his writing (which spans blogging as well as hugely popular, angst-ridden novels) has been published in English.

On Oct. 9, Simon & Schuster releases “This Generation: Dispatches From China’s Most Popular Literary Star (and Race Car Driver),” a collection of work that dates back to when Mr. Han started blogging in 2005. The volume presents an overview of the social and political issues, both large and small, that have preoccupied him and much of China during the past several years of constant change.

In addition to writing, Mr. Han races cars professionally, releases pop music, has launched and edited magazines, and is startlingly handsome. The 29-year-old author spoke to The Wall Street Journal about the risks of his success, the rigors of racecar driving and his hopes for greater freedom of expression in China. 

What does it feel like to know that when you publish a blog post, millions of people will be reading it moments later?
Mr. Han: It makes me conscious that I need to check for typos first.

Of your many activities, which is most important to you?
Racing cars, because the schedule is set in stone. I have to be in my car at a specific time, and be ready to drive it. Just when I do the other things is a matter I can decide for myself.

Are there any other creative avenues you’re hoping to pursue? It would be easy to picture you involved in movies, for example.
Possibly. But you know, it’s not that easy in China. We run into trouble when we try to do things, not because the things themselves are so difficult, but because there are any number of people who will raise objections to whatever it is you’re trying to do.

“This Generation” is your first book to be translated into English. How do you think your writing will be received?
I have no great expectations on this score. Once an author has finished writing a work in his own language, the deed is done, and it doesn’t make sense to get either too worried or too excited about it.

One of the most talked about current policy goals of the Chinese government is to boost “soft power” and cultural influence abroad. The publication of your book in English is, in some ways, a rare example of a piece of authentic, contemporary Chinese culture making its way into the Western world, where it will be discussed and might have a chance to exert some influence on people’s understanding of the country. How do you feel about playing that role? And what will it take for more Chinese creators to have this opportunity?
I’d be surprised if the book had much impact at all. Maybe they think that they can throw money around to promote our culture, that if they just spend enough billions they’ll be able to create an international market for contemporary Chinese cultural products, but things don’t work that way. If you’ve got one hand clamped around somebody’s throat, you can’t toss money about with the other hand and expect the poor guy to suddenly sing a song of timeless beauty for you. The same rule applies to my own books: They reflect only parochial concerns and won’t strike a chord with the world at large. If you really want to export great masterworks of literature and art, it’s actually very simple: Don’t keep sticking your finger into every pie.

What do you think the West most misunderstands about contemporary China?
Westerners’ greatest misconception is that China misunderstands the West. Most of us have a perfectly good understanding of it.

 If you are interested in the whole interview, please go to WSJ.

This Man Wants to Clothe the Planet

TADASHI YANAI, FOUNDER OF THE GLOBAL clothing retailer Uniqlo, is on the other end of a videoconference screen. From his Tokyo office, Yanai-san speaks enthusiastically about Uniqlo's innovative fabrics. "Americans believe cotton is best," he says, "but we've invented new fabrics that will change your lifestyle." First, Yanai marvels over Heattech, a proprietary warmth-generating Uniqlo cloth developed in partnership with the Japanese company that provides carbon-fiber for Boeing 787 Dreamliners. Next, he boasts that Airism, Uniqlo's cooling fabric, is "so light you don't even know you're wearing it. It is the number-one must-buy product for summer."

I ask if he wears it on steamy Tokyo workdays. He smiles broadly and, at that moment, the richest man in Japan unbuttons his shirt to show me his Uniqlo underwear.

Yanai is refreshingly open about his goals these days: making Uniqlo the number-one apparel retailer in the world. His target—$50 billion in yearly revenue by 2020—will require whiplash gains above Uniqlo's current revenue of $12 billion, driving the company ahead of front-runners Inditex (which owns Zara), H&M and Gap. This swaggering ambition might ring hollow if Yanai hadn't already turned heads among apparel-industry cognoscenti. He established a beachhead in the American market, opening three attention-getting stores in New York City—including a gargantuan flagship on Fifth Avenue, the second-biggest store in the Uniqlo empire. He lured designer Jil Sander out of retirement for a wildly successful multi-season collaboration. And then there's the retail environment: Yanai's scripted sales techniques and sleek spaces are studied by Uniqlo managers in Japan before being spread to markets around the globe.

Uniqlo will open two new U.S. stores this fall—in San Francisco and New Jersey—while also launching an e-commerce site. The company hopes to add "hundreds and hundreds" of stores here, from coast to coast, at a rate of 20 to 30 a year. In short, Uniqlo is vowing to beat Gap at its own game, clothing all of America in basics at affordable prices. Can a brand rooted in Japan—one employing a distinctly minimalist aesthetic—become a mainstream U.S. retail force, invading malls in the Midwest and in Sunbelt suburbs?

Yanai thinks it can, largely because he sees zero difference between shoppers in Manhattan and in Milwaukee. In this sense, he draws inspiration from a noted American minimalist: Steve Jobs, another retail entrepreneur who had boundless confidence and a knack for turning simplicity into chic. It's become almost cliché to compare successful emerging brands to Apple, or to equate an iconoclastic business leader to Jobs. But this is precisely how Yanai views his mission and himself. To him, Uniqlo is less like other clothing companies and more like Jobs's high-tech corporate temple: on a constant quest for innovation, guided by a holistic vision that aims to do much more than simply move merchandise. Read the whole story at WSJ