Fang La Fish

Fang La Fish is a modern banquet creation of Huizhou (Huangshan) cooks, named in memory of Fang La, the late-Northern-Song peasant rebel from Shezhou. Fang La's uprising broke out in 1120 (the second year of the Xuanhe era) in Qingxi and swept through the southeast; his forces took Shezhou — today's Shexian in Huangshan, Anhui — late that year before the Song armies crushed the revolt by 1121. The dish carries the second name 大鱼退兵将 (literally 'the big fish that drove off the soldiers'), from a local legend that Fang La's outnumbered men, besieged on Qiyun Mountain (齐云山), hurled the fish and shrimp from a mountain pool down the slopes to make the Song believe the rebels were well-supplied, so that the besiegers withdrew. That siege tale is folklore; what is documented is that Fang La was a real historical figure of the region, and the dish was composed by later cooks to honor him. The 'one fish, several cuts and methods' format is the dish's real signature.

On one plate you get three textures. The steamed head and backbone are soft and savory-fresh, the cheek and collar meat slipping off the bone, the broth or braising liquid clinging in the seams. The fried fillet pieces shatter at the crust and stay tender inside, sheathed in a bright sweet-and-sour glaze that pulls the whole plate together. The rim of shrimp is springy and sweet. Eaten well, every part keeps its own character — the frame moist, the body crisp — and the sweet-sour sauce stays on the surface of the fried meat rather than soaking it limp. Done badly, the fried body goes soggy under sauce added too early or too hot, the steamed head is dry from over-cooking, or the fish carries an off, muddy smell because it was not fresh.

The dish rests on treating one fish as three preparations with different heat. The head, tail, and backbone are left joined so they hold the fish's shape and are steamed (or lightly braised): gentle moist heat sets the lean flesh just to doneness, keeping the collar and cheek meat tender and the frame intact for standing up on the plate. The two fillets are sliced thin, coated in an egg-white-and-starch batter, and deep-fried — the batter seals in moisture and crisps into a shell, and a brief second frying at higher heat blisters it hard so it can hold sauce without going soft. The sweet-and-sour sauce (sugar and vinegar, in many versions reddened and thickened with tomato paste) is reduced until glossy and poured over off the heat, so it coats the crust rather than being tossed in long enough to draw moisture out and collapse it. The shrimp are quickly cooked so their proteins firm but stay springy. Mandarin fish suits this because its firm, low-fat white flesh slices cleanly and fries without falling apart.