When heading for China on a business trip I was somewhat bemused to be warned about the
banquets I would be attending. Do not sit next to the host, I was told. I was to find out why.
Learning the rituals of the banquets is an essential part of doing business in China. I was treated to
at least one every day on a ten-day trip around the country – and sometimes two or three. There is
no such thing as a casual business lunch. Any meal will turn into a semi-formal event held in a private
room and hosted by the most senior person in the organisation.
The meal starts slowly, with a few rather unappealing cold dishes laid out on the spinner that sits on
the round table, though initially no one sits down. The host will welcome everyone and dominate
the conversation, mostly talking in Chinese to his or her colleagues. Then suddenly, without any
overt signal from the host, everyone sits down
Drinks are then offered, usually in the form of a tiny glass and a small jug filled with a transparent
liquid. A second warning: go slowly because this is rice wine, which can be 50 per cent alcohol. The
custom is then for all to clink glasses and down the first round.
Meanwhile, other more appetising dishes appear, sometimes so numerous that the serving staff
struggle to squeeze them all onto the round spinner. This gets more and more of a problem as no
dish seems ever to be completely finished. That's partly because there is always far too much food,
at least three or four times what would be sufficient, but also because empty dishes are likely to be
instantly refilled.
No one ever seems to order the food. It just arrives, either because there is a secret menu or it has
been organised beforehand. The dishes are extremely varied but first you need to understand the
drinking culture, which continues throughout the meal. After the initial drink or so, people get up at
random intervals and walk over to another guest, welcome each other and clink glasses. It doesn't
have to be alcoholic but mostly it is. This goes on throughout the meal, with people making sure
they have greeted every other guest at least once and usually several times. Being able to hold your
drink – and your chopsticks – are considered impressive feats.
The breadth and variety of the fare ranged from simple cold meats and plain vegetables to every
possible combination of meat, fish, tofu and sea food in a variety of sauces from the bland to almost
vindaloo-hot. Surprisingly, there are a few familiar Chinese takeaway favourites such a Peking Duck
(to die for) and tofu in a dark sauce but for the most part the dishes are very different from those in
your local Phoenix Palace or Shangri-la.
And here’s where the seating advice comes in. If you sit next to the host, they will ply you constantly
with portions of every dish, however obscure. It was the sea snails that I found the hardest to
stomach. I had seen them alive in the restaurant entrance, finger-sized slugs with a disconcertingly
human-looking mouth, their only organ apart from an anus, struggling to breathe in a shallow bowl
of water. Eating them was a struggle. There were other difficult moments. Various other types of sea
food are an acquired taste and the potato noodles were particularly spicy. Away from the host, you
can quietly ignore the more exotic dishes and concentrate on the fabulous ones that suit your taste.
These seem never to stop coming, so eat slowly and leave room for more. Just as you are flagging,
on comes the pièce de résistance, often a whole fish in a lavish sauce. Finally, after another interval,
the dumplings arrival, familiar to dim sum diners but invariably tastier, usually in two or three
varieties – vegetable, pork or prawn. There may then be a small bowl of rice though not always, and
to round off, a small fruity desert or just pieces of fruit but puddings do not seem to be a common
feature and I never saw a lychee. Nevertheless, no one ever leaves hungry and every time I was left
wondering what they do with all that excess food.