Jackson Free Press

When I was preparing to travel to China, people in Mississippi College's international center loaded me and my fellow travelers with stacks of Chinese phrase sheets and English-as-a-Second-Language packets. My boyfriend, JP, and I were signed up to teach English to high school and middle school students in academic summer camps in Tianjin, China, and we were stoked. JP and I decided before we left the States that we would try whatever food was placed in front of us, but the people we knew who had lived in China told us that the one dish that we had to try was ba si ping guo.

When we arrived in Beijing, our first meal was breakfast. We ate dumplings, boiled eggs and soupy porridge with small, gooey white balls. Not a bad meal, considering the pre-conceived notions about traditional Chinese food that we had. We didn't know, however, that our "try anything" rule would apply to things like: duck heads, duck feet, pig ears (the cartilage makes it a bit chewy), pig liver and the host of things we tried that had no English name, like the briney, red, cubed gelatin we later found out was pig's blood.

After two days in Beijing, we traveled to our campsite, located in the vividly green, plush mountains of Tianjin. JP and I oversaw the camp in the Jixian Olympic training base, which was a short walk from the Great Wall. There, we taught English grammar, conversation and American customs every day from 7:30 a.m. to 8 p.m. with meal breaks and an afternoon rest. After especially hard days, we accompanied our students to a nearby grocery hut and stocked up on Chinese snack cakes and sweets, and every evening, JP and I sat on my balcony, watching the sun sink behind the Wall and drinking Leedo beer.

After the camp ended, we returned to Beijing where we worked in the offices of an educational center. Our go-to girl and friend, Yeti, worked for the same company, and we often went to lunch with her.

She introduced us to the great dishes that I yearn for today: sautéed eggplant in Chinese seasoning, glazed broccoli and mushrooms and sweetened fried corn.

JP and I both celebrated our birthdays during that time, and Yeti took us to lunch to celebrate. As we sipped on tea and talked, she asked a waitress to bring a dish of ba si ping guo, the dish we'd heard so much about before leaving home. The pile of lightly battered and fried pieces of apples covered in hot, sticky caramelized sugar was served with a small cup of water. As Yeti picked up a piece with her chopsticks, she said, smiling, "You must dip it into the water to make the caramel hard."

The caramel stayed hot for only about 10 minutes, but in that time, JP and I ate the whole plate as Yeti picked at it occasionally. The hot apples encased in the hard caramel shell exploded in my mouth with every bite.

I craved the dish when I returned to the states, but didn't know how to make it and certainly couldn't find it on any menus. I invited a few of my Chinese friends to spend Thanksgiving with my family and me that year and as we sat around the table, stuffed from my Aunt Bab's assortment of cakes and goodies, I told them how good it would have been to have ba si ping guo. My friends Rachel and Suki told me that it was very simple to make, and before I had time to say "really?" they were in the kitchen with my mother asking her for pots. We made the dish with sweet potatoes instead of apples, but they told me it tastes great with almost any fruit. As we prepared it together, the familiar smells of caramel and flour engulfed my senses, and I felt that I had finally reunited with an old friend.

Onto the Teas
When I stepped into the Peking International Airport in June 2006, I was exhausted. It was 6:30 a.m. I had been traveling for two days, and my "little-miss-can't-be-wrong" syndrome had probably already started to make my boyfriend's patience teeter. We were alone in China with only blank expressions and no Mandarin beyond "ni hao"—hello. In a rush of culture shock, I saw a familiar friend beckoning me: a "Starbucks Coffee" sign. I was so anxious at the thought of real coffee (I had instant coffee on the plane), and so speechless that I simply nudged JP and pointed with a smile. We rushed over to the glass doors only to read "Open Mon.-Fri. 7 a.m.-10 p.m." It was the first time in years that I hadn't had a daily dose of java, but from the time that we left the airport to when we unenthusiastically returned to it teary-eyed, we soaked in the best teas in the East. These three are easy to find, and pair great with ba si ping guo:

Jasmine
Jasmine tea, or mo li hua cha, is a popular choice of teas in China. The jasmine adds an intense floral component to the crisp green flavor of the tea. You can find jasmine green tea in loose-leaf form, individual tea bags or my favorite, blooms. As a bloom, the green tea is infused with the jasmine and packed tightly, then dried. When you drop the bloom into hot water, it unfurls into a beautiful bloom at the bottom of your teapot.

Herbal
Chrysanthemum tea, or ju hua cha, is offered at most restaurants with the meal (the equivalent to water being served in American restaurants), and sometimes restaurants provide a small bowl of rock sugar to drop into this musky, yellow-colored tea. The flower is a national symbol, appearing on the 100 yuan bill next to former Communist leader Mao Zedong.

Black
I'm not usually a fan of black teas, but when I went to a ceremony in a Beijing tea house, I had a very smooth lichee black tea. The lichee fruit adds a reddish hue and a sweet contrast to the acidity of the black tea. Because the ba si ping guo is already sweet, it is not the best tea choice for those who are not big sugar fans, but for me, se magnifiqué!

Ba si ping guo

2 cups chopped apples
2 eggs
1/2 cup flour
1/4 cup water
2 1/2 cups cooking oil
2 cups sugar
2 sheets of wax paper

In a medium-size pot, combine the water, sugar and 1/2 cup of oil and heat on medium. Stir intermittently. In a separate pot, heat 2 cups of oil on medium-high heat. While the oil is heating, spread flour over a sheet of wax paper. Beat eggs in a small mixing bowl. Dip a piece of apple into the egg, then into the flour, covering the fruit completely. Coat all apple pieces and set them aside on the other sheet of wax paper.

Once the oil is hot, place covered apple pieces into the pot and fry until golden brown. Remove and set aside. When the sugar, water and oil mixture becomes thicker and turns an amber color, add the fried apple pieces and toss until all of the pieces are covered in the caramelized sugar. Serve hot with a cup or bowl of water. Dip each piece into the water before eating.