"Dog and cat" restaurants consist of one large public apartment, with the entrance to the dining room through the kitchen.
Soup stalls are found on the street corners of the cities. They sell luncheons of fish, pork, soups, vegetables, fried locusts, etc., from one to two cents.
The oven, or, to speak more accurately, the baking apparatus, of the average establishment is somewhat singular. It consists of a furnace resembling a copper in shape, built in the center of an outhouse. The hollow part (which is shallow) is filled with charcoal. A lid, which fits the aperture, is so suspended by chains from the beams above as to be capable of elevation or depression. Upon this lid, pastry and cakes are placed and kept directly above or at any distance from the fire, according to the heat desired.
The bakers often manufacture their bread without the use of shortening of any description.
A very popular cake consists partially of mincemeat. The baker before commencing to make it, places a pile of dough on one side and opposite it a heap of mincemeat—a mixture of pork, sugar, spices, etc. He then pulls off a piece of dough, rolls it into a ball, flattens it, covers it with the meat, rolls it into a ball again, shapes it into a ring and flattens it by a stroke of the hand into a cake of definite size and thickness.
Among other dainty dishes of Chinaland are the "t'ien ya tzu," a species of delicately flavored fat duck; "feng chi," salted chicken; a dish of amber gelatine; a salad of bamboo shoots; "huo t'ui," a dainty ham of the appearance of veal; "yü ch'ih," shark's fins, and "hai li tzu," devilled oysters with mushrooms.
Other items are salted earthworms, pigeon's eggs, pounded shrimps; bird's nest soup, a gelatinous article; beches de mer (sea slugs), water beetles and silkworms, the last named fried in oil after they have made their cocoons.
A much admired soup, prepared for an imperial feast, was of blood and mare's milk.
Oysters are very cheap in winter, selling at from five to six cents per pound.
The following receipts may be of interest as literal translations from a genuine Chinese cook book: