When Royal Banquets Were Surprisingly Modest

The fantastical journey of Tang Sanzang and his disciples in Journey to the West features lavish banquets hosted by kings at every stop—or so it seems. Descriptions like “jewel-adorned delicacies” and “fragrant fruits” paint a picture of opulence, yet a closer look reveals pork, chicken, mushrooms, and millet—dishes hardly fit for royalty. Was this a case of the author’s limited imagination? Surprisingly, historical records confirm that even imperial feasts could be strikingly ordinary.

Take the birthday banquet of a Northern Song emperor, meticulously documented in The Eastern Capital: A Dream of Splendor. Despite the grandeur—attended by nobles, officials, and foreign envoys—the menu listed fewer than 20 dishes: rice noodles, fermented rice soup, roasted lamb, and stuffed pancakes. No exotic delicacies, just hearty staples. This contrast between pomp and simplicity invites us to explore the true flavors of ancient Chinese power.

Decoding the Imperial Menu: A Glossary of Modesty

### The Mystery of “Double Serving” and “Single Serving”
Song dynasty culinary records often mention shuang xia (双下) and du xia (独下), terms that puzzled historians for centuries. Misinterpreted as “double stuffing” or “two-handed eating,” they were actually portion indicators: shuang xia meant double servings, du xia single. For instance, “lamb with fermented beans (double serving), stuffed dumplings” simply directed servers to offer extra helpings of lamb.

### The Emperor’s Chopsticks: A Symbol of Power and Protocol
A single chopstick changed history. During the Chu-Han contention, strategist Zhang Liang used one to sketch battle plans for Liu Bang, securing the Han dynasty’s founding. By the Song era, however, such informality was taboo. When a minister accidentally knocked Emperor Gaozong’s chopsticks during a banquet, he was exiled. Ming founder Zhu Yuanzhang, despite his peasant roots, punished an official for “over-politeness” with chopsticks—a faux pas that smacked of elitism.

Dining Etiquette: How Chopsticks Made (or Broke) Fortunes

### The Princess Who Lost Her Marriage Over Table Manners
Tang Emperor Xuanzong barred his daughter Yongfu from marrying after she pointed chopsticks at him during a meal—a grave breach of decorum. Her sister Guangde, by contrast, epitomized propriety: never holding spoon and chopsticks simultaneously, and later enduring exile with her disgraced husband.

### The Fastidious Princess of Song
Song Taizong’s daughter Jingguo elevated dining to an art: alternating utensils meticulously, never crossing them. She even spied on her husband’s guests through screens, judging their character by chopstick etiquette. Yet her system faltered—after all, as the text wryly notes, “foreigners fumbling with chopsticks hardly lacked merit.”

Feast as Theater: The Imperial “Vegetable-Picking” Banquet

Each spring’s “Vegetable-Picking Festival” saw concubines foraging wild greens, later served at a whimsical banquet. The real entertainment? A lottery: guests drew silk scrolls naming dishes; matching the emperor’s current bite won jewels. While nobles enjoyed risk-free play, eunuchs and maids faced penalties—singing, poetry, or gulping ginger water.

Tipsy Royalty: When Empresses Outdrank Emperors

Contrary to modern stereotypes, noblewomen like Song Empress Meng drank heartily—even brewing their own wines. After one drunken incident, her husband confined her, yet later rulers supplied her with monthly wine stipends. Similarly, Emperor Gaozong’s mother, repatriated after 20 years in captivity, requested “hometown wine”—prompting a 25-gallon monthly allowance.

Legacy: Why Ancient Banquets Still Matter

These accounts reveal a paradox: imperial dining oscillated between ceremonial splendor and rustic simplicity. Far from indulging in mythical delicacies, emperors often ate like commoners—just with more ritual. Today, as food historians reconstruct these meals, they uncover not extravagance, but a cultural ethos where “modesty at table mirrored virtue in rule.”

From chopstick diplomacy to drunken princesses, these stories remind us that power, even when served on golden plates, tastes remarkably human.