Snake soup

As printed in The Whitworthian:

A bucket of guts stood in front of the shop. Long snake skins were strung above the bucket. Two freshly chopped snake heads held open with toothpicks lay on a table.

I was standing in front of a Hong Kong specialty. Translated into English the restaurant’s name is “Sin, King of the Snakes.”

Taking a seat at a communal table, my friends and I looked at the menu. The items were all in Chinese. The local student who had taken me here, Anny Hung, pointed to some characters explaining soup was the traditional way of eating the snake. We all ordered the smallest bowl possible.

From Anny I learned snake is a common meal for people in Hong Kong during the winter.

“The snake makes you warm,” Anny said.

I did not understand. Hong Kong had been cold for the past month, but not as cold as mainland China. China just emerged from a flurry of snow storms that put the country in land-lock for several weeks. (Click here to read more.)

From the way she spoke, it seemed as if snake had magical powers.

“What do you mean?” I asked. She looked embarrassed to tell me, but eventually she explained.

In Chinese culture if a person has numb hands or feet that person is considered a cold person, Anny said. If a person sweats, has a red face or acne, that person is considered hot.

Certain foods are considered helpful for different types of people. Snake is considered a warm animal. Cold people eat warm animals in order to become, well, warmer.

During the last two months in Hong Kong, I have noticed an almost mystical belief in the power of Chinese medicine. The Chinese use every part of the animal for eating and Chinese medicine.
Walking through the markets in Mong Kok, I found intestines, brains and other unidentifiable animal parts on sale as street food. Close by are Chinese medicine shops, which are always full of customers.

I took a spoonful of the soup. I chewed the bits, taking in the flavor.

Chicken? Pork? Mushroom? I realized that had just bitten into the mushroom in the soup, not the actual snake. Like most Chinese soups, the broth seemed to be made of with corn starch.

Gathering courage I put a spoonful into my mouth. I’d say it tasted pretty close to chicken.
Across the restaurant, a glass case full of snakes was in plain view. I looked down at my soup and back up again, willing myself to take another bite.

Then I noticed these snakes had their mouths sewn shut. I shuddered, tried to forget the bucket of snake guts sitting outside and took another bite.

The cool air from outside blew in. Maybe I was feeling a little warmer.

Contact Jessica Davis at jessica.davis@whitworthian.com.