Stir Fried: How the Silk Road created the first Asian food diaspora
Easy-to-transport foods, like noodles and dumplings, were necessities along the trade route
Words by Clara Wang
Stir Fried: The story of any immigrant diaspora is the story of how outsiders became insiders, and nothing tells this story better than food. Names may get scrambled, languages forgotten, neighborhoods gentrified—but no matter how muddled histories become, the truth is served on a plate. Stir Fried breaks down the weird, messy, bastardized fusion cuisines that tell the story of Asian diaspora communities around the world.
The Silk Road was the first great globalization scheme. From 130 B.C. to 1453 A.D., ideas, goods, cultures, and religions flowed between this overland trade route connecting the Far East, China, and Europe. These traders had to eat on the go, and the foods they brought with them were the ancient-world equivalent of instant ramen and camp chili: easy to transport, quick to cook in large batches over a campfire with minimal utensils, and easily shareable among hungry travelers. Thus, it’s no surprise that foods that were easy to dry, freeze, store, and cook—like dumplings and noodles—traveled so extensively across the Silk Road, where they continue to flourish in recognizable forms to this day.
Merriam-Webster defines “diaspora” as “the movement, migration, or scattering of a people away from an established or ancestral homeland.” This column is about the diasporas of Asian people, and the forces shaping the forms of their food. What about the reverse? What happens when the biggest forces of global history blow certain foods across the desert, to the other side of the world?
Dumplings
The popular origin of dumplings in ancient China begins in the Han Dynasty (206 B.C.-220 A.D.) about 1,800 years ago. Legend has it, prominent physician Zhang Zhongjing created the first jiaozi when he wrapped a blend of medicinal herbs and meat in dough to resemble ears as a treatment for the villagers’ frostbitten extremities. Variations of the dish eventually spread westward through India, the Himalayans, what is now known as Central Asia, and the Roman Empire. However, the reverse may be true: steamed dumplings may have been brought by Turkic and Mongol peoples to eat along the Silk Road. While forms and filings change, people around the world continue to commune around the delicious concept of cooking filling in dough.
Mantou, Mandu, Mantu, Manti
Steamed dumplings were most likely brought to many countries along the Silk Road by Turkic and Mongolian people, who carried the frozen or dried dumplings as snacks to cook on the road. The earliest reference to a steamed bun or dumpling is the Chinese word mantou in Jin dynasty records (266 A.D.-420 A.D.). While modern Mandarin today refers to mantou as plain steamed buns, mantou in ancient times were stuffed with meat and similar to what we now call baozi.
Most Asian countries have their own versions of the steamed dumplings. Korea has mandu, Japan has manju, Mongolia has both unfilled mantuun buuz and filled buuz, and the Himalayans have momos. As none of the mantou variations has any native meanings in other languages, the linguistic origin of the term “mantou” is probably linked to the Uyghurs in China, whose traditional dish “mantau” translates to “bread prepared in steam.” (This tracks with the theory of Turkic and Mongolian travelers spreading them along the Silk Road.)
In Central Asia, they have mantis, which are typically larger in size. Uzbek mantis, for example, are palm-sized packets wrapped in a thin unrisen dough. Popular fillings for Uzbeki mantis range from root vegetables to mutton, but it always includes a bit of minced onion and lamb fat for flavor. Kazakh and Kygyz manti follow a traditional Uyghur recipe and are normally filled with minced lamb, beef, or horse meat, sometimes with chopped squash or pumpkin, and spiced with black pepper.
Turkish mantis meanwhile, are smaller—more like ravioli or a wonton—and usually topped with a garlic yogurt sauce and red pepper flakes. Bite-sized Afghan mantu are similar to Turkish manti in their size and sauce, and are sometimes served with a tomato-based sauce, a stew, or gorma.
Pelmeni, Kinkali
The stuffed and boiled Russian pelmeni is a direct descendant of jiaozi and was probably carried by Mongols to Siberia and the Urals, where they spread throughout today’s Eastern Europe (thicker-shelled Polish pierogi, thin-shelled Ukrainian vareniki). Like manti, pelmeni were perfect road snacks, and became popular among Russian hunters because they were easy to freeze and cook in the Siberian wilderness. Unlike pierogi and vareniki, pelmeni fillings are always savory and usually raw before cooking. Depending on the region, they are boiled in salted or plain water, or sometimes in a meat broth. They can be eaten alone or topped with sour cream, butter, or other condiments like vinegar or horseradish.
When Mongols brought dumplings to Georgia, they became soup dumplings. The tennis-ball sized dumplings, called khinkali, hold a mixture of meat, spices, and herbs bursting with juice akin to their tinier Chinese cousins. You hold the dumpling by a handle of dough (which is often discarded after eating) formed when closing the top.
Samsa, samosas
Samsas and samosas came the other way on the Silk Road, from West to East when traders brought the early version, sambosas, from the Persian Empire (present-day Iran). In India, sambosas became samosas, stuffed pastries with vegetable or meat fillings, fried in oil and redolent with strong spices. In Central Asia, samsas are baked in the tandoor and sometimes stuffed with sweet fillings like walnuts and hazelnuts.
Noodles
In 2005, archeologists discovered a 4,000-year-old bowl of noodles in Northern China. Before the discovery of these long yellow millet noodles, the earliest written recording of noodles had dated back to a Han Dynasty book from 2,000 years ago. Since then, traders have brought noodles to Central Asian countries across the Silk Road.
Marco Polo and the myth of pasta
Many of us have heard the legend of Marco Polo bringing noodles to Italy. However, that enduring myth was probably planted (or at least encouraged) by Big Pasta; Macaroni Journal, a North American pasta makers trade magazine, first published an article titled “A Saga of Cathay” in 1929, chronicling an Italian sailor who was sent ashore on a small Chinese island and saw a young woman cooking “strings.” While China was the first country to create noodles, pasta had been in the Mediterranean at least since the 4th Century B.C.—long before Marco Polo’s 13th Century expedition.
Laghman
Laghman probably came to Central Asia through the largely Muslim Uyghur and Dungan (Hui) peoples of China, spreading to Persia and Russia as conquerors redrew boundaries. The name “lagman” comes from the Chinese word for “lamian,” or “stretched out dough.” The Greeks had a dish called “laganon,” a layered baked pasta dish that now ends up on our plates as lasagna. In Central Asia and China, laghman refers to homemade, hand-stretched wheat noodles boiled and mixed with stir-fried toppings that give off a lot of juice, which acts as a sauce for the noodles and can be drunk upon completion. Sometimes, the bowl is filled to the top with meat broth. A classic Uzbeki/Uyghur laghman recipe tops hand-pulled noodles with stir-fried chunks of lamb, onion, tomato paste, and bell pepper.
We may think of globalization as a modern phenomenon, but the Silk Road was what first set today’s cultural interconnectedness in motion. Ultimately, there are only so many ways to prepare food. Whether noodles were invented in China and brought to the Mediterranean, or if both places independently figured out that drying thin pieces of dough was a time-saving way to cook, it’s perhaps less important than why people continue to eat pasta and noodles—because it’s delicious and convenient.
Published on October 9, 2024
Words by Clara Wang
Clara Wang is a freelance writer based in Austin, TX but often found wandering abroad exploring culture through the lens of food and drink. Her work has been featured in publications such as Conde Nast Traveler, Food & Wine, Eater Austin, BuzzFeed, Refinery29, the Austin American Statesman, and the Daily Dot. Her monthly column Stir Fried explores Asian diasporic cuisines around the world.
Art by Ryan Quan
Ryan Quan is the Social Media Editor for JoySauce. This queer, half-Chinese, half-Filipino writer and graphic designer loves everything related to music, creative nonfiction, and art. Based in Brooklyn, he spends most of his time dancing to hyperpop and accidentally falling asleep on the subway. Follow him on Instagram at @ryanquans.