September 2022: OF LOST HORIZONS, CLOUD MOUNTAINS, AND ONE GIANT WATER BASIN
Usually, titles of monthly features are explicit and conclusive enough for any visitor of The Kitchen Scholar to skip clicking and learning more about the common motif shared among the featured recipes. But if the title has baited you into wondering about the connections of lost horizons, cloud mountains, and a giant water basin to one another, these references pertain to the southwest Chinese province of Yunnan and thus, its regional Dian cuisine will be the highlight of the website this month.
Despite a territorial totality of twenty-three provinces, five autonomous regions, four municipalities, and two administrative regions, the one-billion Chinese inhabitants are not an ethnic monolith unified by the Mandarin language. More so, China only had its regional cuisines condensed to eight major styles- quite a measly number for the third-largest country in the world! Yunnan, however, stands out as a living proof against the common misconceptions towards the entire Chinese demographic and the trivial categorization of Chinese soul food. Ethnic diversity and varied terrains mingle in Yunnan to not only captivate the imaginations of travelers on the Shangri-La idealized from James Hilton’s Lost Horizon but to also conceive the most esoteric provincial cooking of China, which deserves an added spot to the existing circle of eight.
Home to almost half of China’s ethnic minorities that comprise a third of the provincial population, Yunnan literally translates to “south of the cloud”, the yun or clouds being a tongue-in-cheek reference to the Yun Mountain Range (or “Cloudy Peaks”) that was terminologically integrated with the Sichuan Basin. Tibetans, Naxi, Pumi, Nu, and Dulong occupy the rugged north; Shui, Zhuang, Miao, and Yao live in the fluvial east; Dai, Jingpo, Achang, De’ang, Lahu, and Wa inhabit the fertile west; Tai, Bulang, Jinuo, Hani stay at the subtropical south, and Bai, Yi, Hui, and Mongols headquarter themselves around the central valley. Given the concentration of unique cultures within one province, Yunnan bore the regional name of Dian, an ancient word for “basin”, truly a fitting synonymous title given to the Chinese melting pot.
Aside from the people, the geographical neighbors of Yunnan contribute significantly in defining the authentic flavors the province offers. Sichuan in the north boldly pervades with the affinity for mouth-numbing hot and spicy pungency; Tibet in the northwest lends its spiritual heartiness of meat and dairies; Xiang influences from Guizhou in the east provides the darkness of salty and sour pairings to the fiery piquancy; Guangxi in the east shares the exquisitely rich flair of Cantonese flavors, and the southern triumvirate of Myanmar, Vietnam, and Laos indoctrinates the copious use of herbs for a light touch of the Indochinese appeal.
There is also the pressing matter of ingredients that bring out the unique identity of Yunnanese cuisine. Edible species of boletes, morels, matsutakes, and truffles flourish freely in the forests, paving an Asian take on mushroom cookery. Hams suspended from the rafters age for a year to reach their umami taste and rival the same cured pork products of Spain and Italy. Frying fresh farmer’s goat cheese places Yunnan in the special forefront of Chinese lactose intolerance. Flowers and ferns make their way into fragrant salads, soups, and stir-fries to balance the flow of human energy or qi.
Ask any mainland Chinese the first dish they associate with Yunnan, and chances are, “Guoqiao Mixian” or “Crossing-the-bridge Rice Noodles” will be the statistically predominant response. In a way, the point-blank name of the dish perfectly represents and symbolizes the totality of Yunnanese cuisine as an idyllic frontier of Chinese gastronomy connected by the intersectionalities of cultural diversity and geographical variety. To fully understand and appreciate the provincial cooking of Yunnan, the bridge must be crossed a self-discovery of uncharted flavor combinations.
