Maggie Hiufu Wong-Hong KongCNN
The Challenge of Translating Chinese Cuisine Names
The increasing number of foreign visitors to China, partly due to more tourist-friendly visa policies, means that travelers will inevitably come across some perplexing restaurant menu translations while enjoying the country’s famous food.
However, the individuals or apps that attempt to convert these dish names into English should not be held responsible for the often bizarre or sometimes alarming results. According to Isaac Yue, an associate professor of translation at the University of Hong Kong and a specialist in Chinese gastronomy literature, translating Chinese food names into English is simply “an impossible task.”
Yue illustrates this difficulty with an example: “You can translate shizitou (a popular dish from around eastern China and Shanghai) figuratively as ‘Chinese meatball’ or literally as ‘braised lion’s head’ but neither fully captures the dish’s essence or cultural context,” he states.
The scholar confirms the extreme difficulty of the subject, noting that although he writes about Chinese food culture in English, he avoids bringing this topic into his translation teachings. He concluded his personal reflection on the matter by saying: “I contemplated focusing my research on translating Chinese food but at the end of the day, all I could say about that is, well, it’s all so untranslatable.”
The Linguistic and Cultural Roots of the Problem
To understand why the names of these dishes are so hard to translate, one must consider China’s extensive culinary history, which has imbued many dishes with complex stories and imagery.
Fuchsia Dunlop, a British food writer who has focused on Chinese cuisine for more than two decades, believes the core issue lies in the lack of equivalent words in the English language. She explains: “China has an extraordinarily complex culinary culture with a highly specific vocabulary, and in many cases, we do not have equivalent foods, cooking methods, concepts and food shapes in English,”
Dunlop suggests adopting Chinese terms—similar to how English has integrated French culinary words like “chef” and “omelet.” She notes that while the multi-tonal nature of languages such as Mandarin and Cantonese can present a hurdle, it’s a manageable one with education.
Despite improvements in online translation tools in recent years, Dunlop continues to encounter amusing errors during her travels across China. One of her favorites is stir-fried cabbage (baocai), which she saw translated as “handbag food.” This happened because the character bao means “bag” and cai means “dish/food/vegetables.” Another peculiar translation she recalled was for a baked cookie called tieban shao (baked on an iron plate), which was rendered in English as “iron flooring cremation.”
The article concludes by preparing readers for some frequently asked questions about Chinese dishes:
- Is xiaolongbao a bao or a dumpling?
- What exactly are “husband-and-wife lung slices” made of?
The goal is to clarify common misunderstandings surrounding these and other confusing dish names visitors may encounter.
All the dumplings
The “Dumpling” Dilemma: A Catch-All Term
In English, the term “dumpling” functions as a catchall phrase, encompassing a wide variety of Chinese stuffed snacks such as jiaozi, wontons, baozi, siu mai, and xiaolongbao. This broad usage often causes confusion for Chinese.
Food writer Fuchsia Dunlop explains the linguistic mix-up: “This is an incredibly confusing subject because the English word ‘dumpling’ originally referred to balls of dough that were cooked in a stew — but now it is used for a vast range of Chinese snacks with stuffings that are nothing like an English dumpling, and all have their own names in Chinese,”
While calling all these items “dumplings” is not technically incorrect.
Distinctive Chinese “Dumplings”
The following Chinese snacks, though often grouped under the general English term “dumpling,” each possess unique characteristics:
- Jiaozi (or jiao): These are crescent-shaped encased dumplings with various fillings, typically prepared by steaming, pan-frying, or boiling.
- Wonton: Characterized as smaller dumplings with long, thin wrapper “tails.” When deep-fried, they often contain only minimal amounts of meat (not due to stinginess, but by design) and are served with a sweet and sour dipping sauce. Although the English name wonton is a blend of the Cantonese (wan tan) and Mandarin (yun tun) names, it is considered an acceptable translation.
- Baozi: These are steamed pastries made from leavened dough, recognized by the distinctive folds on their tops. They can also be flipped and pan-fried, in which case they are known as shengjian bao.
- Siu Mai: These steamed morsels, which should correctly be pronounced siu mai in Cantonese (rather than shumai), are distinguishable by their thin wrapper that remains open on top. (Note: Dim sim, a popular street food in Australia, was inspired by siu mai and gets its name from a dialect word for dim sum used in China’s southern Taishan region.)
- Tang Yuan / Yuan Xiao: These are rice balls (which may or may not contain fillings) that are typically sweet. They are more accurately described as rice balls rather than “sweet rice dumplings.”
Xiaolongbao
Xiaolongbao are often referred to as “little basket bao.”
Xiaolongbao is often nicknamed the “little basket bao,” a term that refers to the bamboo steamers (little baskets) they are cooked in. However, the name for these popular soup-filled pockets blurs the typical categorization.
The dish’s unleavened, thin wrapper gives it an appearance similar to a jiaozi, yet it is technically classified as a baozi. This confusion is rooted in history: the dish, which originated during the Song Dynasty, was initially closer to a bao with a thicker, leavened skin, and contained a gelatinized broth that melted upon steaming. The soup-filled buns are sometimes simply called tangbao (soup bao) in Chinese.
Conclusion: The xiaolongbao is best described as a hybrid of a bao and a jiao.
Turnip cake vs radish cake
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Despite often being translated on English menus as “turnip cake,” this savory dim sum item (lo baak gou in Cantonese) is actually made from radish, and contains no turnip whatsoever.
The dish is a savory patty primarily consisting of shredded white radish, dried shrimp, and mushrooms. Guo-qing Song, an associate professor in horticulture at Michigan State University, confirms this fact by noting that the plant used is raphanus raphanistrum subp. sativus—the scientific name for a white radish. Song adds that radish is a major winter vegetable in the northern Yangtze River region, alongside Chinese cabbage.
The widespread mistranslation likely originates from a combination of visual similarities between the vegetables and the influence of regional dialects.
Conclusion: The food should more accurately be labeled as radish cake. Alternatively, diners can refer to it by its Cantonese name, lo baak gou, which correctly identifies it as a popular dim sum dish from that region.
Husband-and-wife lung slices
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Translation: “husband-and-wife lung slices” is the name of the dish, fuqi fei pian.
The name of this fiery Sichuan appetizer is misleading because it doesn’t have romance or lung. Fuqi fei pian, or husband-and-wife long slices, is a variety of thinly sliced beef offal cooked in chile oil.
According to legend, the dish was first offered for sale on Chengdu’s streets by a devoted couple.
“Slices of beef offal in a spicy sauce” might be a simple translation, but it would be uninspired and detract from the experience. In situations like this, Dunlop advises eateries to continue using less literal names.
“I think it’s fun to keep the poetry wherever possible, but sometimes you then need an extra line on the menu to explain what the dish actually is,” she says.
When consulting for Barshu, a Sichuan restaurant in London, Dunlop decided to use literal translations on the menu, allowing room for cultural context and extra information.
“You can see translation as part of a more general project to promote cultural understanding of Chinese food: as these dishes become more familiar to foreigners, their traditional names will also become familiar, just like ‘shepherd’s pie’ and ‘carbonara,’” she says.
In conclusion, it is known as fuqi fei pian in Chinese. A description would be a welcome addition to the menu, but in this instance, it’s entertaining to preserve the original meaning in the translated name—husband-and-wife lung slices.
Fish-fragrant eggplant
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Fish-fragrant eggplant, a well-known Chinese delicacy, isn’t really made with seafood.
Yuxiang qiezi, often known as “fish-fragrant eggplant,” is another deceptive Sichuan dish that doesn’t contain any fish.
The pickled chiles, ginger, garlic, onion, sugar, and vinegar that were frequently used in the region’s traditional fish-based meals served as the inspiration for the name.
“Sometimes people just translate it as ‘spicy Sichuan eggplant’, which is helpful, but loses the local cultural flavor. I always translate it as ‘fish-fragrant eggplant’ anyway because it sounds lovely, and I hope English speakers will get to know this dish,” says Dunlop.
As the meal spread throughout China, some people began enhancing its fish scent by adding dried salted fish.
Conclusion: Let’s continue with fish-fragrant eggplant even though it’s not factual. It’s a tasty dish with an interesting history.
Pineapple buns
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Unexpected! There is no pineapple in pineapple buns.
These well-known bao, known as bo lo baau in Cantonese, are actually devoid of pineapple.
The pineapple bun is a traditional Hong Kong baked good on a base of sweet milk bread. When baked, its outside crust, which is composed of lard or butter, sugar, flour, milk powder, baking soda, baking powder, and egg, crackles.
The bun’s checkered design, which resembles a pineapple peel, is where the name originates.
Usually, it is eaten either plain or with a thick layer of butter (pineapple butter, or bo lo yau) in the center.
In conclusion, pineapple buns are a decent translation, although those who enjoy pineapple may be let down when they try one.
Buddha jumping over the wall
Getty Images/iStockphoto/Waqar Hussain.
Legend has it that a vegetarian Buddhist monk leaped over a wall to try this dish because it is so fragrant. A delectable soup from Fujian province, fotiaoqiang is renowned for its expensive ingredients, which include sea cucumber and abalone.
According to legend, the meal had such a seductive perfume that a vegetarian monk was tempted to jump over a temple wall to smell it.
In conclusion, both “Buddha jumping over the wall” and fotiaoqiang complement an English menu and offer a delightful touch of historical flair.
Lion’s head
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A minced pork ball is a lion’s head. It is cooked in a saucepan after being deep-fried, giving it a rough surface resembling a lion’s mane.
About one dish, Xu Ke wrote in a collection of anecdotal writings from the Qing Dynasty, “The lion’s head, named by reason of its resemblance — a pork meatball it is.”
Originating in the northeastern region of China, Shizitou, as it is known in Mandarin, gained popularity in Huaiyang, a province close to present-day Shanghai.
To improve the texture, the minced pork used to make these balls is occasionally combined with chopped water chestnuts, mushrooms, and soaking mantou (bao without fillings). They are frequently deep-fried and then cooked in a claypot or broth.
Conclusion:It might be more accurate to name this one based on its cooking method, such as braised lion’s head, and provide some added details on the ingredients.
What about American Chinese dishes?
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One of the most well-liked Chinese foods in the US is chop suey.
Chinese speakers who like American Chinese cuisine may have noted that items that are now commonly known by their Chinese names are frequently spelled and pronounced differently in English on US restaurant menus.
The fact that Chinese cuisine is composed of a wide variety of regional dishes from locations with their own distinct dialects and cultures must be understood.
Depending on which group of Chinese immigrants presented the meal first, many of the early Chinese foods that were exported to other countries through migration were localized and romanized according to regional languages, much like a game of broken telephone.
This clarifies how to pronounce some well-known Chinese foods in the United States, such as chop suey (pronounced zasui in Mandarin or zap sui in Cantonese) and chow mein (pronounced chao mian in Mandarin or caau meen in Cantonese). Taishanese, a dialect spoken in the Canton region, where many early Chinese immigrants from the United States originated, is probably where these two popular meals were romanized.
Yue offers Peking duck as an example for those who wonder if we should standardize the names of these foods.
“There was this movement to rename the Chinese capital city from Peking to Beijing many years ago,” he says. “That worked, but Peking duck is still Peking duck. As a food item, it’s already been recognized as Peking duck — let’s not mess with that.”
With more Chinese traveling abroad, translation errors can go both ways. For instance, one Mandarin-speaking CNN staffer recalls seeing an amusing mistranslation for “turkey breast” in an airport lounge — in Chinese, the dish was labeled tuerqi rufang (Turkish boobs).
Yue emphasizes that the purpose of a translated menu is simply to appeal to potential diners and make a dish comprehensible.
“Translation does matter to culture, but we shouldn’t have a limited mindset about what culture is. Mistranslation can be just as culturally enriching — if not more so — than a proper translation.”
