Cantonese Dim Sum: Not for Eating, but for 'Tan' — How Cantonese People Turned Breakfast into Art

One. The Cantonese Chef at Giaogiao Says: You Italians Eat Like You're Catching a Train

In 2023, a Cantonese chef came to the back kitchen of Giaogiao. His surname was Chen; everyone called him Master Chen. He had worked for eighteen years at a time-honored teahouse in Guangzhou, specializing in dim sum.

On his first day in Florence, Master Chen observed the Italian chef making lunch. From prep to plating, each dish took an average of twelve minutes. From sitting down to leaving, guests averaged forty-five minutes.

Master Chen shook his head.

"The way you eat," he said, "is like catching a train."

The Italian chef didn't understand: "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you eat to 'finish.' We Cantonese eat to 'tan.'"

"What is 'tan'?"

Master Chen put down the shrimp dumpling in his hand, wiped his hands, and said seriously:

"'Tan' is enjoyment. Not enjoyment of the food, but enjoyment of time. One pot of tea, two baskets of dim sum, and you can sit from eight in the morning until eleven. These three hours, we are not 'eating'; we are 'living.'"

The Italian chef's eyes widened: "Three hours? For breakfast?"

"Yes. This is called morning tea."

Two. 'Tan': Cantonese People Eat Time as If It Were Food

Master Chen taught me one thing: the core of Cantonese morning tea is not the dim sum, but 'tan.'

The word 'tan' in Cantonese has multiple meanings. It can mean 'to sigh,' or 'to marvel,' but when used for morning tea, it has only one meaning: slowly, carefully, unhurriedly, enjoying the present moment.

Wuhan people eat hot dry noodles; they must finish within three minutes. Cantonese people eat morning tea; three hours is just the beginning.

This is not because Cantonese people are lazy. On the contrary, Guangdong is one of the most industrious places in China. Since the Qing Dynasty, Guangdong has been China's trade window; merchants at the Thirteen Factories dealt with foreigners every day, calculating money until midnight. But the busier the people, the more they need a way to 'brake.'

Morning tea is this 'brake.'

At Giaogiao, Master Chen once made morning tea for the Italian chef. Not officially, but after work, setting up a small table in the back kitchen, brewing a pot of Tieguanyin, steaming four baskets of dim sum: shrimp dumplings, siu mai, char siu bao, and phoenix claws.

The Italian chef ate for forty minutes. He already felt it was long.

Master Chen said: "This is only the first pot of tea."

"There's a second pot?"

"Morning tea usually has three pots. The first pot is to wake up, the second pot is to savor, the third pot is to chat."

"Chat?"

"Yes. Cantonese people drink morning tea not to eat, but to talk. A family, a few old friends, sitting together, discussing yesterday's news, chatting about their children's studies, complaining about the weather. The food is an excuse; time is the main character."

Three. Dim Sum: Not Dishes, but Craft

The Italian chef asked me: "What is the difference between Cantonese morning tea and Italian breakfast?"

I thought about it: "Italian breakfast is the extreme of 'simplicity.' An espresso, a croissant, five minutes. Cantonese morning tea is the extreme of 'complexity.' One pot of tea, over a dozen baskets of dim sum, three hours."

"Why does it need to be so complex?"

"Because complexity makes you slow. Simple things, you eat and leave. Complex things, you need time to digest."

The shrimp dumplings Master Chen made are the soul of morning tea. One shrimp dumpling must meet four standards: skin as thin as paper, filling as fresh as the sea, pleats as fine as silk, shape curved like the moon.

"Skin as thin as paper" — made from澄面 (wheat starch), the transparency must reach the point where you can see the shrimp inside.

"Filling as fresh as the sea" — the shrimp must be fresh, not frozen. Add a little pork fat for oily fragrance, plus a little bamboo shoot for crunch.

"Pleats as fine as silk" — one shrimp dumpling must have at least twelve pleats, with equal spacing between each pleat.

"Shape curved like the moon" — after steaming, the shrimp dumpling must present a crescent shape, neither collapsed nor broken.

After hearing this, the Italian chef said: "This is different from Italian ravioli."

"How is it different?"

"Ravioli skin is thick, because it needs to wrap cheese and meat; thick skin can hold it. Shrimp dumpling skin is thin, because the shrimp inside is whole; it doesn't need wrapping, only holding."

"Yes," Master Chen said, "ravioli is the art of 'wrapping,' shrimp dumplings are the art of 'holding.' One hides, one reveals."

Four. The Trolley: Not Service, but Choice

What confuses Europeans most about Cantonese morning tea is the trolley.

In an Italian restaurant, the waiter gives you a menu, you order, the kitchen cooks, the waiter serves. The process is clear, roles are distinct.

In a Cantonese teahouse, there is no menu. Waitresses push a small trolley, filled with steamers, shuttling between tables. You see her coming, reach out to stop her, lift the lid to look: shrimp dumplings, siu mai, char siu bao, spare ribs, phoenix claws, rice noodle rolls... whatever you want, point at it, the waitress puts it on your table, and stamps your tally card.

The first time Marco experienced morning tea, he was completely baffled.

"No menu?" he asked.

"No."

"Then how do you know what there is?"

"Look at the trolley."

"What if the trolley doesn't have what I want?"

"Wait for the next one."

"And if the next one doesn't have it either?"

"Wait again."

Marco was silent for three seconds: "This is not efficient."

"Yes," I said, "but this is 'tan.' You cannot rush. You have to wait, look, and choose. This process itself is enjoyment."

The Italian chef added: "This is different from Italy's 'slow food.' Italian slow food is 'slowly cooking'; Cantonese slow food is 'slowly choosing.'"

"Yes," Master Chen said, "and you never know what the next trolley will bring. This 'unknown' makes every basket of dim sum like a gift."

Five. Tea: Not a Supporting Role, but the Main Character

Europeans easily misunderstand morning tea: they think 'tea' is a drink to accompany dim sum, like coffee with a croissant.

But in Cantonese morning tea, tea is the main character. Dim sum is the supporting role.

Master Chen said: "Morning tea without tea is not morning tea."

"Why?"

"Because tea is the 'relief.' Dim sum has a lot of oil — pork fat in shrimp dumplings, lard in siu mai, honey sauce in char siu bao. Eat too much, and you get greasy. The function of tea is to cut the grease."

"Then why not just drink water?"

"Water can't cut grease; it only dilutes. Tea can cut grease because tea polyphenols can break down oil. Moreover, tea has aroma, which can reset your sense of taste. After eating one basket of shrimp dumplings, drink a sip of tea, the flavor in your mouth is cleared, and the next basket is a new flavor."

The Italian chef suddenly understood: "This is like Italian wine pairing. After eating one dish, drink a sip of wine, clear the flavor, then eat the next dish."

"Yes," Master Chen said, "but wine is 'enhancement,' tea is 'balance.' Wine makes food more exciting; tea makes food more comfortable."

At Giaogiao, the Tieguanyin Master Chen brewed used tea leaves brought from Guangzhou. He said: "Italian water is too hard; it's not as good as Guangzhou for brewing tea. But the tea leaves are real, and that is enough."

Six. When I Explain Morning Tea to Marco, I Don't Explain Food, but Attitude Toward Life

After eating the morning tea Master Chen made at Giaogiao, Marco said to me:

"Coach, I have eaten Italian breakfast for thirty years, and I never thought breakfast could be this long."

"What do you think now?"

"I think Italians are missing something."

"What?"

"Italians put 'slow' in the food — slowly making sauce, slowly stewing ragù, slowly fermenting bread. But Italians don't put time in 'eating.' They eat fast."

"Yes."

"Cantonese put 'slow' in eating. The food can be simple, but the eating time must be long."

"Yes."

"Now I understand," Marco said, "Wuhan hot dry noodles are fast within fast, Cantonese morning tea is slow within slow. China is not just one speed. China has many speeds."

I said: "Yes. The philosophy of Cantonese morning tea is: no matter how busy life is, give yourself three hours to do nothing but drink tea, eat dim sum, and chat. These three hours are respect for life."

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> Coach Liu Says

> Cantonese morning tea is not the most delicious breakfast in the world, but it is the most 'luxurious' breakfast in the world. What is luxurious is not the food, but the time. One pot of tea, from hot to cool; a few baskets of dim sum, from morning to noon; a few words, from all corners of the earth to family trivialities. The next time you go to Guangzhou, don't go to an internet-famous teahouse. Go under the arcades of the old district and find a shop that has been open for fifty years. The entrance is full of bicycles, and inside is full of white-haired old people. Order a pot of Pu'er, ask for a basket of shrimp dumplings. Don't look at your phone, don't look at your watch. Just sit, drink tea, and listen to the old people at the next table chatting. At that moment, you will understand what 'tan' means.

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