A Four-Hands Dinner That Was Music to Our Palates
[ Four‑hands Dinner ]
A piano duet form,
now a set phrase in fine‑dining circles,
usually a joint dinner by two star chefs.
‘Four‑hands’ naturally means two musicians (or cooks) working in close ‘connection’, together playing (cooking) one piece (one table).
A dinner that’s worth the ticket usually features two chefs with serious pulling power.
When I first heard of a ‘four‑hands supper’, my teeth and tongue couldn’t stop dancing. Not any more. First, there are too many now. Second, they’re a mess.
‘Playing together’ sounds easy, is hard to do, and all too often each plays (cooks) his own tune. To me, the most exciting prospect for diners is when two very different chefs join forces and come up with something like a folk symphony or country heavy‑metal mash‑up. But the reality is, chefs in top restaurants are already as busy as soldiers in battle. To carve out time to recompose (the menu) and deliver a highly fused, technically flawless ‘Guangling San’ four‑hands – easier said than done.
The situation of ‘Pine winds sigh, elegant notes drift / High mountains, flowing streams, a kindred spirit’ isn’t impossible, but if Boya and Ziqi just jam in private it’s fine; bringing that to the public stage is a bit irresponsible. I think a big banquet needs stability – the last thing you want is to ‘surprise’ your guests.
Recently I had a four‑hands dinner called ‘In Search of Suzhou Flavour’, presented by Zhang Li of Suzhou W and Xu Jie of the Xingguo Hotel, and it felt like what a true four‑hands should be. Food writer Shen Jialu put it well: ‘The Suzhou palate is Shanghai people’s taste bud mentor,’ which is really a comment on culinary history.
I think a successful four‑hands boils down to a few things:
1. Each chef’s past work relates to the overarching theme of the dinner.
2. Their cuisines or expressive styles are similar.
3. The chefs admire each other, and their teams have a foundation of tacit understanding.
As it happens, Chef Zhang Li is in Suzhou, Chef Xu Jie in Shanghai; both are masters of Suzhou cuisine. One innovates Suzhou with a global outlook, the other inherits its traditions through the discipline of state banquets. Of course, both are meeting points of innovation and heritage, blending seamlessly into a single Su‑Hu taste.
Old gents’ talk and Fengmen’s market basket
No matter how solemn a four‑hands dinner, the best start is a pre‑concert talk with the conductor, composer and critic. In our Suzhou‑cuisine circle that means the true masters: Mr Huang Xin, Mr Xu Hefeng, Mr Hua Yonggen and Mr Shen Jialu. They fell into lively food talk and spontaneously formed a Shanghai‑Jiangsu ‘senior summit’ at the table.
Shanghai cuisine’s foundations blend Anhui cooking, the ‘cleaver gang’ and a large dose of Suzhou style, but the apex is the understated, gentlemanly Suzhou cuisine. These elders talk substance, every word hitting the mark. Shen Jialu said, ‘This lunch is Flowers blooming on the tip of the tongue.’
While the experts flashed their connoisseurship, we eaters were already sharpening our teeth. I’m talking about myself and many distinguished faces around me.
I envied the ‘young lady’ wearing a pearl necklace in Fengmen Market, strolling leisurely, a little flashy, yet justifiably self‑assured.
It wasn’t her fur‑wrapped Rubenesque figure that made me drool; I was simply curious what she ate. Her mouth was a basket that held only deliciousness, never letting a drop of saliva escape. No matter how picky, Suzhou cuisine is full of treasures.
Seasonal produce at the market looked tender and dewy, home‑grown yet brimming with a timeless strength.
Clutching an invitation, I gazed at far‑off cooking smoke, nibbling Suzhou arrowhead crisps, waiting for the Buddha to smell a fragrant soul.
This was the sourcing trip for the four‑hands. I was a cake in right hand, cake in left hand, trailing two seasoned fresh‑faced men to Suzhou’s number‑one ingredient haven: Fengmen Market. Zhang Li and Xu Jie can hold forth on every single ingredient of Suzhou cuisine, so tagging along was wise.
Two years ago I finished a long piece on my childhood love of Suzhou rice cakes; after two weeks of eating them I resolutely cut all carbs. But the taste of lard seeping into glutinous rice truly beguiles the mind! Li Bai kept thinking of gold; I could only repeat ‘spend a fortune, it will come back.’ Ah, just eat.
Suzhou cuisine has always carried a bookish air, developed in gentry kitchens and spread far and wide by men of letters. I just wrote about Yunlin goose and Ni Yunlin, and now at the sight of ‘Luzhi’ I’m reminded of Lu Guimeng’s Fuli duck soup. The great food writer and man of letters Lu Wenfu and Zhou Shoujuan forged their deep friendship over shared meals. The key to a good meal, in Lu Wenfu’s words, is to ‘eat the chef’; only people who don’t know food ‘eat the restaurant’. Zhou Shoujuan, after naming the chef, would never order further: ‘To order more is a bit stingy and can easily disrupt the chef’s overall design.’ I think this still holds true. A chef’s tasting menu remains the highest level.
In my heart, one ‘cake’ wave hadn’t subsided before another rose. Because I saw the characters ‘甪直’, also written ‘六直’ – it’s a town (east of Wuzhong District, Suzhou, on the border with Kunshan). And the character ‘爊’, unique to Suzhou cuisine, Zhang Li explained: read āo, meaning to bury food in warm ashes and let it cook through. This isn’t done for novelty; in the old days, firewood couldn’t be instantly extinguished, so cooking with the residual heat of dying embers became a distinct technique. Isn’t that low‑temperature slow cooking?!
I still have endless daydreams about reviving ancient recipes – perhaps tradition and modernity will spark new wonders here. In ancient times, Luzhi was also called Fuli. The Tang poet Lu Guimeng lived here and styled himself ‘Mister Fuli’. Fuli duck soup, a thick potage, was first made by Lu Guimeng himself for his dear friend Pi Rixiu. Just imagine a great poet washing his hands to prepare soup – technique aside, the dedication and sincerity were absolute.
A few days ago I had fish‑lip‑and‑duck soup at Hong Kong’s Luk Yu Tea House; it probably has some connection to this ancient dish. Who knows the exact lineage through the dazzling Shanghai of old? But Fuli duck soup is far more elaborate: tender duck, ham, pork tendon, dried scallop, river shrimp, bamboo shoot slices, shiitake mushroom, shepherd’s purse… just the ingredients list sends waves of umami through the air! There’s a saying in Luzhi: ‘Once you taste Fuli duck soup, you wouldn’t let go even if slapped in the face.’ Perhaps heated by the market stroll, I was tasting from stall to stall and felt a dreamy burning sensation on my cheeks.
I’ll never forget the moment the elders suddenly decided to tour the Suzhou W kitchen – the unfazed confidence on Zhang Li and Xu Jie’s faces, born of long‑standing mastery.
Shopping done, the feast was about to begin!
Suzhou W’s meticulously crafted A and B menus
I asked Zhang Li: ‘You created two brand‑new menus for one four‑hands?’
Zhang Li grinned sheepishly: ‘Cooking a banquet is like shooting a TV show I’m on – when emergencies crop up, you’ve got to have a backup.’
A Menu: Easygoing version
Developed independently by Zhang Li
‘Prosperity Blossoms’ – cuttlefish as petals, coriander flower as pistil, caviar as its heart, graceful and poised.
With a cry of ‘Wind and Water Rise’, a splendid ‘Prosperity Toss’ brings first luck.
A plate of 16‑flavour abalone blooms.
Fresh seasonal shepherd’s purse paves the runway for ‘Dragons Galloping’ (lobster). I dared to finish the Qianlong sauce‑braised pork (Suzhou red‑cooked pork in a bun) without exceeding my weight limit.
Anyone stuck on a rainy‑snowy road will envy Chef Zhang Li’s bowl of ‘Russian Soup Noodles’. There really is Russian sausage in it, and the noodles have a northern heart, part instant, part pasta.
I dumped a bit of the table’s ‘Clover and Turtle Skirt’ into it: the crunch of pickled cabbage, the glutinous softness of turtle skirt, the freshness of alfalfa – would make any sharp southerner instantly forget the anxiety of watching A‑shares while stuck in traffic in an EV.
A final bowl of red‑osmanthus and fox‑nut sweet broth – another sweet, flowery new year!
B Menu: The proper version
Co‑created by Zhang Li and Xu Jie
Prosperity Blossoms by Zhang Li
The first cold dish, ‘Prosperity Blossoms’, sees Zhang Li pickling cherry radish in beetroot juice, pairing it with sweet‑sour‑hot scallop. Same shape, different tastes. The radish and scallop are arranged as a peony, dotted with Thousand Island Lake caviar and coriander flower – a symbol of thriving, blooming prosperity.
Dragons Galloping by Zhang Li
The second cold dish, ‘Dragons Galloping’, uses low‑temperature slow‑cooked baby lobster, paired with fresh sea urchin and capped with a transparent Shaoxing‑wine jelly. On the side, Sichuan‑pepper‑and‑numbing lobster legs. The concentrated savouriness opens the palate and carries a wish for a great run, soaring to success.
Spring Reflection Abalone by Zhang Li
The third cold dish, ‘Spring Reflection Abalone’, features live six‑head abalone from Dalian. Inspired by winter yielding to spring, the abalone is served two ways: one flavoured with winter‑cured dried mustard greens, the other with a spring‑green toon‑bud sauce.
Swallow’s Nest ‘Yandu’ Soup by Zhang Li
For the soup, Zhang Li simmers a whole pork hock, a whole grass duck, cured pork, spring bamboo shoots and bean‑curd‑skin knots into a rich broth. Then he wraps bird’s nest in bamboo pith and bundles cured pork, fresh pork and bamboo‑shoot dice in bean‑curd‑skin knots – a unique take on the classic Jiangnan ‘Yandu Xian’ (braised spring bamboo shoot soup).
Cherry Sea Cucumber by Zhang Li
The first hot dish, ‘Cherry Sea Cucumber’, uses the classic Suzhou‑style cherry‑red‑cooked pork method on sea cucumber. It’s paired with seasonal flowering alfalfa: a dried‑alfalfa paste as filling, fresh alfalfa on the side. One mouthful and the fragrance celebrates spring.
Pot‑Sticker Pond Fish by Xu Jie
The second hot dish, ‘Pot‑Sticker Pond Fish’. The spring treasure tánglǐ fish is a rare find now. Xu Jie beats the skinned fish into a paste while keeping the fibres, wraps it in caul fat and presses it against the wok’s edge, slow‑frying to golden. A few drops of glistening fruit vinegar cap it. A giant pot‑sticker, skin thinner than cicada’s wing yet smooth and springy, the moment it meets the lips they shine with glossy richness – all one voluptuous savour.
Qiankun Fermented Pork by Xu Jie
The third hot dish, ‘Qiankun Fermented Pork’ – the name says there’s a ‘universe’ inside. A seemingly plain slab of fermented pork belly, but when cut, the filling between the lean and fat layers oozes with the meat juices: sea cucumber, abalone, conpoy, whelk, ham, chicken gizzard, pork dice, fox nut… This universe‑swallowing fermented pork tastes positively ‘luxurious’, with the fragrance of fermented rice and the freshness of the sea.
Green Snail Rice by Zhang Li
The staple, ‘Green Snail Rice’. A Suzhou saying goes, ‘Pre‑Qingming snails beat fat goose.’ Before the Qingming Festival, grass grows long and swallows dart – a season of celebrated spring foods. Zhang Li uses the delicacy river‑snail meat, making it as a clay‑pot fried rice with silver‑fish sauce, plus shrimp, dried‑scallop floss and green chilli – a mouthful of lasting umami.
Biluochun on Water by Zhang Li
This Suzhou‑inflected dessert, ‘Biluochun on Water’, is Zhang Li’s innovation. He uses the water‑caltrop stem (one of the ‘eight water immortals’ of Suzhou) that resembles tea leaves to form a jelly, shapes matcha ice cream and chocolate into a snail shell, and pours green spinach juice around. The refreshing, gently sweet taste and that splash of green irresistibly conjure the terraced hills of Biluochun tea on East Mountain.
Everyone moved from ‘seeing mountains as mountains’ to ‘seeing mountains as no longer mountains’ and back again. It was the most memorable meal I’ve had this year.
After much thought, for the main event jointly by Suzhou W Hotel and Shanghai Xingguo Hotel, Zhang Li presented the B menu. Mr Huang Xin presided, with Master Hua Yonggen, Master Xu Hefeng and Mr Shen Jialu contributing to the ingredients, flavours, forms, vessels and culture, making a good thing even better. That makes me eagerly await the next banquet.
When Jiangnan people eat, elegance radiates from within. Ms Barbie once described the highest realm of a fine meal: ‘Not piled high with premium ingredients, from appearance to taste it simply makes you comfortable.’ That is a dining table’s finest inner silk.
And so we arrive at the Xingguo Hotel.
Xingguo Hotel’s ‘Blossoms’
In a spring of fresh green everywhere, Shanghai truly welcomes ‘Blossoms’. I was fortunate to attend a spring feast in Building No. 1 of the Xingguo Hotel – the ‘Copper House’ roofed with copper sheeting, which since its opening in 1934 has hosted countless dignitaries and recorded the splendour of the social elite.
Before the banquet started, I messaged Li Shu and Shen Jialu online about the origins of ‘bald lung’ and ‘Farewell My Concubine’. Amusingly, Chef Xu Jie’s skills are pure state‑banquet style, and these days he’s been cooking ‘Farewell My Concubine’ daily.
A rich chicken‑broth base full of treasures. In a casual photo he sent, I saw boneless ‘tiger palm’ (turtle legs) with free‑range chicken, plus two crowning glories: turtle skirt and coin‑shaped Jinhua ham. My mouth couldn’t help watering.
A few days earlier, Zhang Li’s boat banquet featured an astonishing crab‑roe and puffer‑fish bald lung – an upgrade from the classic green‑fish bald lung, inspired by the Suzhou famous ‘burbot‑lung soup’.
I thought to myself, for this Shanghai Xingguo Hotel × Suzhou W Hotel · Su Yan joint four‑hands, chefs Xu Jie and Zhang Li, dressed like black‑and‑white piano keys, could easily pull off a Suzhou‑cuisine ‘Blossoms’ feast!
Rose‑Marinated White Shrimp, Spring Chive Snail, Smoked Leaping Mullet by Xu Jie
Rose‑marinated white shrimp, spring chive snail meat, smoked jumping mullet – a delicate cold trio in an ivory‑white treasure box, a refreshing overture.
A Spoonful of Spring Soup by Xu Jie
Chef Xu Jie picked tips of spring bamboo shoots, mustard‑cabbage hearts, broad beans and sweet peas, topped with this year’s fresh Biluochun tea buds, to make this bowl close to the heart: ‘A Spoonful of Spring Soup’. Hours of simmering free‑range chicken from Jiuhua Mountain with ham yield an intensely clear consommé, tea‑coloured. The first spring soup uses that superior golden broth, enriched with seasonal mountain bamboo‑shoot tips, spring broad beans, honey‑sweet peas, fresh abalone slices and fresh Biluochun leaves. The broth is clear and deeply savoury, the seasonal vegetables sweet and crisp – layer after layer, as if one stood among spring hills and fields.
Butterfly Bone and Fish Maw by Xu Jie
Then came a dish glazed with thick, rich sauce: ‘Butterfly Bone Fish Maw’. ‘Butterfly bone’ is the pig’s knee joint, combining the textures of fatty meat, lean meat and cartilage in one bone – the ‘butterfly’ shape escapes me, but it sent my tongue into a butterfly dance.
Master Xu Hefeng, a national‑level culinary master and Suzhou‑cuisine authority, said nobody makes this old dish any more; to eat it is a blessing.
This is a nearly lost old dish, now excavated, understood and innovatively adapted into this robust, bone‑strengthening Suzhou‑style spring dish. Only two knee bones from a black‑haired pig are used, prized for both sinew and flesh, paired with fish maw and braised into a secret sauce – a fusion of gelatine richness and distinctive flavour.
Pond Slice Baby Lobster by Zhang Li
Chef Zhang Li employed the Suzhou technique of fermenting with lees: only the single ‘pond slice’ of flesh from the tánglǐ fish is taken, along with baby lobster balls, all resting on a steamed‑egg‑white bed that lifts the sweet, lees‑perfumed tenderness. Tánglǐ fish is the Suzhou people’s spring darling; from a roughly 100‑gram fish, only those two fillets are used, matched with lobster – a seafood‑and‑river‑food pairing seasoned with the suavely familiar fermented‑rice flavour, adding deeper poetic charm to the verdant spring.
Turtle Skirt Stuffed Tripe by Zhang Li
The next was a richer bite: the swim bladder of spring season long‑snout catfish stuffed with water chestnut and bamboo‑shoot dice, plus turtle skirt, served alongside a tempura‑fried glossy turtle skirt and flowering alfalfa. Zhang Li said the blossom‑season soft‑shell turtle is spring’s finest ingredient, and the skirt is its best part, tempura‑fried, combined with the plump long‑snout catfish. Its swim bladder is used to thicken the oily, luscious sauce – crispy outside, glutinous within, a skirt in lewd delight.
The old gents joked this was a fish ‘pining for spring’. The conversation bloomed with the season too.
Morel and Asparagus by Xu Jie
Morels stuffed with knifefish paste, white asparagus shaved crisp in a rich stock, rapeseed‑flower tips added to the dish – the first‑crop morels, filled with seasonal fish meat, paired with white asparagus. The profound umami of the fish broth saturated every ingredient, elevating freshness to a higher key.
5J Chinese Toon Noodles by Xu Jie
Hand‑made duck‑egg noodles tossed with diced 5J ham and Chinese toon, fragrant with ham oil.
Malt‑Vegetable Ice Cream, Cinnamon Apple Glutinous‑Rice Dumpling by Xu Jie
Indian aster ice cream is a tease; the cinnamon apple sticky‑rice dumpling is a challenge to the classic green rice ball, reminding us that spring isn’t just green but also carries the pink of cherry blossoms.
A good four‑hands is a seamless whole, musical fullness emanating from within.
Two people can produce the feeling of a symphony. This time, the moment they decided to play together, the performance had already begun…
Do you like Suzhou cuisine?
A symphony is like a world.
Food Bless You!
Consultant for ‘Once Upon a Bite’
Host of ‘A Table of Gods’
Producer of ‘Wild China’ and ‘Life Is Worth 369’
