Congee.It doesn't look like much. Most people wouldn't give it a second thought. So why is it a staple amongst my Hong Kong friends? For those of us who don't have this hereditary treasure on our dining room tables, we leave the home and seek out one of the specialists. Fortunately for me, I have my pick of a flavourful lot.
It's something on a menu that I would bypass for other more protein heavy offerings. I mean, in theory, it's one of the most carb-heavy items you could get, yet this pale velvety smooth elixir
does wonders for the body. It's no wonder that, when suffering a prolonged bout of gastro-intestinal discomfort after my Cuban trip, my doctor (yes, himself an HK native) prescribed a diet consisting mostly of congee.
Along with some other rules (a few doses of probiotics, no grease, caffeine, acids or spice) he said congee would provide the nutrition I need, be easy on my stomach while it recalibrate, and will fill me with little discomfort. You can't make the same claim for a bowl of plain steamed rice (though a fresh forkful is simplistic deliciousness).
Right after my visit to the doctor I called my father and met him at a restaurant we frequent for dimsum. The first thing I ordered was that bowl of congee, containing shredded meat, some herbs, and crisped shards of crackerlike bread (named after a much hated Chinese General). It appears bland but explodes with flavour. It's warming. It's healing. A complete meal in one bowl. I can see how the doctor could turn to this simple dish, and I respect him for doing so, rather than prescribing antibiotics.
More often than not food affects our well being; making us ill, helping us heal, or stabilizing our physical body so our systems can take over and get to work at making us better. Sometimes it makes us uncomfortable, sometimes it wraps us in a blanket of comfort. But for all the things it can do, I'll never again will I underestimate the expert of camouflage - a simple bowl of congee.
