Hongshaorou: When Chinese People Miss Home, Their Stomachs Remember This Dish First
Nine hundred years ago, exiled poet Su Dongpo wrote a verse in Huangzhou: "Let it cook on its own, never rush it — when the heat has had its way, it will taste its best." All the secrets of braised pork belly, settled in one poem. In the twentieth century, Mao Zedong's family chef Cheng Ruming, honoring his boss's refusal to eat soy sauce, caramelized sugar for color instead and added dried chilies and fermented black beans — creating the red-bright, savory Maoshi hongshaorou. This glossy, wobbly slab of pork belly is China's number-one home-cooked dish: Shanghai cooks go heavy on soy and sugar, Hunanese cooks won't part with chilies and black beans, and every family argues about its own version while agreeing on one thing — the best hongshaorou is the one on your own family's table. It graces state banquets and humble kitchens alike, anchors the festive table when guests matter, and lives in every Chinese child's memory as the taste of home. When homesickness hits, the Chinese stomach remembers this dish first.
