All China eats in Chongqing, Chongqing eats in Wanzhou!

Mention Wanzhou, and many people's first thought is the nationwide sensation "Wanzhou Grilled Fish": the fiery combination of grilling followed by stewing, delivering a spicy, tender, and addictive flavor that epitomizes the vibrant essence of Sichuan-Chongqing cuisine. One might even say Wanzhou defines what "grilled fish" truly is.

Through grilled fish, people came to know "Wanzhou District, Chongqing," yet few realize that Wanzhou was once a city rivaling Chongqing in scale. While the municipality shines brightly, this small "city" has its own unique charm and cannot simply be defined as "a part of Chongqing."

The Yangtze River flows around the city, shaping its glorious past.

Let’s open a map and see where Wanzhou lies. Guarding the gateway to the Three Gorges, with Fengdu upstream and Fengjie, Wushan downstream—all historic cultural cities—Wanzhou sits quietly among them, unassuming yet exuding an air of quiet authority, living its ordinary life with understated confidence.

Low-key yet proud, Wanzhou once thrived on shipping and played a crucial historical role during wartime as a major producer of strategic materials like tung oil and hog bristles. Alongside Chengdu and Chongqing, it was one of Sichuan’s three economic hubs, collectively known as "Cheng-Yu-Wan." After the Anti-Japanese War, Chongqing’s status as the provisional capital faded, and Wanzhou’s strategic importance declined. But with the construction of the Three Gorges Dam, Wanzhou shouldered the monumental task of relocating reservoir migrants, overseeing six counties—Kaixian, Zhongxian, Yunyang, Fengjie, Wushan, and Wuxi—earning the title "First City of Three Gorges Resettlement." Once the mission was complete, it quietly stepped back, leaving no trace.

Glug-glug, glug-glug… This is Wanzhou’s most enchanting sound.

If you’re lucky enough to meet a Wanzhou local, after a few drinks, they might reveal a hint of unfulfilled pride: "Everyone knows Chongqing is a food paradise, but why does no one praise Wanzhou’s culinary wonders?" And it’s not just local bravado—while tourists flock to Chongqing for food, the most discerning Chongqing gourmets are already driving to Wanzhou!

What makes Wanzhou Grilled Fish so irresistibly fragrant?

Wanzhou’s most famous dish is undoubtedly "grilled fish." In the world of grilled fish, there are only two kinds: those from elsewhere and Wanzhou Grilled Fish—a belief held by locals and grudgingly accepted by everyone else.

Wanzhou Grilled Fish—no one can deny its greatness.

As a small riverside city, much like downtown Chongqing, the broad streets along the Yangtze are the locals’ favorite bustling spots. Restaurants line the streets, and as dusk falls, tables and chairs spill onto the sidewalks, bathed in neon lights and clinking glasses. Rows of sizzling grilled fish in iron pans, heated by alcohol burners, fill the air with their aroma. Across the river, the Wanzhou Grilled Fish Academy stands tall, its red neon characters glowing like stars in the night sky.

In Wanzhou’s old town, hotpot and grilled fish shops dominate the streets!

This is the most common sight for visitors. But ask a local where to eat grilled fish, and they’ll likely flash a smug, mysterious smile: "Who goes to the riverside? For real grilled fish, you gotta go to the old town’s XXX on the hill," or "The XX Grilled Fish under my building is the best"—echoing the same tone Chongqing natives use for hotpot. Yet, truth be told, grilled fish shops are everywhere here. Locals say the dish didn’t originate in Wanzhou but "swam" upstream from the Daning River. Thus, it’s practically a twin to Wushan Grilled Fish, though their cooking styles differ. Regardless, one rule is sacred: riverside cities demand fresh fish. Any restaurant daring to serve dead fish would face public scorn and exile from Wanzhou.

How could you not eat fresh fish by the river?

The secret to Wanzhou Grilled Fish lies not just in the final bubbling iron pan but in the meticulous preparation long before it hits the table. A fish—usually grass carp or common carp, though black carp is a modern twist—is freshly killed, cleaned, and scored. The tender fish is clamped in a wire mesh and grilled over charcoal, constantly flipped until both sides develop a smoky crispness. This first step ensures the skin’s perfect crunch, a fragrance only charcoal can impart.

The "grilling" is done before serving.

Next, the fish is placed in a pan, doused with the chef’s secret broth—boiled to perfection. Over the years, flavors have diversified: numbing-spicy, peppery, sour-spicy, red oil, fish-fragrant, sweet-and-sour, even sesame paste or wasabi. But classics like mala (numbing-spicy) and pickled pepper remain crowd favorites. The hallmark of grilled fish—first grilled, then stewed—means the pan is set over a small charcoal fire or alcohol burner, letting the broth bubble and seep into the fish. One bite delivers crispy skin and tender, spicy flesh—utterly unreasonable deliciousness.

Every shop’s broth recipe is a closely guarded secret.

A great fish deserves great sides. Common accompaniments—konjac, lotus root, potatoes, cucumber strips, onions—soak up the broth, some soft, some chewy. The key difference between Wanzhou and Wushan styles lies in the sides: Wushan places them beneath the fish, Wanzhou on top. Locals have debated superiority for years, but for diners, satisfaction is all that matters!

Slightly charred skin paired with rich broth is the ultimate indulgence.

"Once you leave Wanzhou, there will be no more noodles to eat!"

Grilled fish is famous nationwide, but in the eyes of Wanzhou locals, it’s just a dish with a big reputation. What they take the most pride in is actually Wanzhou noodles—different from Chongqing’s famous "xiaomian." How proud are they of their noodles? Almost every Wanzhou native living elsewhere sighs and shakes their head: "Once you leave Wanzhou, all you can eat is rice noodles!"

Wanzhou’s cold noodles, with their refreshing mustard kick, are absolutely addictive!

In truth, Wanzhou noodles should be considered a mood-setting delicacy. In the early morning, sunlight and mist rise simultaneously from the Yangtze River, spilling over the low hills on both banks, waking the riverside town. Up and down the slopes, Wanzhou residents emerge from their homes one after another, only to find the small street-side shops already steaming with boiling noodle broth. Sitting down for a bowl of noodles marks the official start of a Wanzhou local’s day.

The day must begin with Wanzhou noodles!

The most commonly eaten noodle in Wanzhou is undoubtedly "zajiang." In recent years, like Chongqing, "wanzajiang" (pea and minced pork noodles) has become wildly popular—it’s hard to say who influenced whom—but Wanzhou has undeniably added its own unique twist. The peas are just as soft and glutinous, and the "zajiang" is still a mix of minced pork, fermented bean paste, and Sichuan peppercorns, yet it carries an extra layer of balanced fragrance. Not satisfied with that, Wanzhou locals also add bean sprouts, greens, soybeans, and peanuts for extra flair. The freshly cooked noodles, slick and firmer than typical alkaline noodles, are tossed with the hot seasoning, slurped up in one go, and thus become a source of pride and nostalgia for Wanzhou people.

But "zajiang" alone isn’t enough to showcase Wanzhou’s dedication to perfecting a bowl of noodles—their toppings are even more extraordinary. Unlike Chongqing’s pairing of braised dishes with "xiaomian," Wanzhou prefers freshly stir-fried toppings, and the stir-frying skills of noodle shops here are unmatched. The kitchen bustles with activity as the toppings are laid over chewy noodles bathed in a spicy red broth, creating a sizzling wok aroma. Choices abound: fatty intestines, chicken giblets, "zajiang," pickled vegetables, or shredded pork stir-fried with mustard greens and peppers—all highlighting freshness and fragrance. There’s also a pickled pepper version, featuring stir-fried kidney, liver, or eel, coated in a sticky, fiery red sauce that clings to every strand, each bite delivering a spicy punch that leaves you sweating and exhilarated.

Where else can you find such noodles once you leave Wanzhou?

Of course, in Wanzhou’s mornings, you can also have a bowl of "baomian." "Baomian" are wontons, known as "chaoshou" in Chongqing. The name is quite literal: dough wrapped around meat filling—what else could it be? "Baomian" can also be topped with various sauces or paired with noodles to become a "yuanyang mian" (mandarin duck noodles). With the hearty addition of meat filling, the flavors gain even more depth.

"Baomian," dry or in soup—the choice is yours.

Stepping out of the bustling noodle shops and climbing the hilly streets, you’ll find roadside snacks like "luobosi youqian’er" (shredded radish fritters) and "jisuzi babaa" (glutinous rice cakes shaped like a chicken’s crop—though containing no chicken). These treats, freshly fried and dripping with oil, stare at you enticingly, making it impossible to resist even if you’re already full. In an instant, the aroma of glutinous rice, the numbing spice of Sichuan peppercorns, the heat of pepper, and the fragrance of rapeseed oil fill your mouth. These Wanzhou snacks, too, awaken the town’s life from the crack of dawn.

Wanzhou’s "luobosi youqian’er" and "jisuzi babaa" (no chicken crop inside, by the way).

Photography / Xiaoye Yinghua, Chongbuzhi

Why are "gege" everywhere in Wanzhou?

Walking through Wanzhou’s streets, you’ll often hear the word "gege." Don’t be mystified—unlike the imperial "gege" (princess), here, it’s something to eat.

Spot the steamy stove, and you’ve found "gege"!

These "gege" are nothing exotic—just small bamboo steamers, petite and fist-sized, stacked high on a steamer, earning their seemingly fancy yet utterly humble name. In Wanzhou, eating "gege" is an incredibly convenient fast meal, featuring common ingredients like fatty intestines, ribs, or lamb, layered over taro, potatoes, or sweet potatoes, mixed with seasoned rice flour, and drizzled with sesame oil before serving.

Among these, lamb "gege" is the most complex to prepare. The lamb is cut into small pieces, marinated overnight, and the next morning, mixed with fermented bean paste, Sichuan pepper powder, and other spices. The stirring process lasts at least 20 minutes before steaming over high heat for 15 minutes, releasing an irresistible aroma that whets every food lover’s appetite.

"Gege" are easy to eat but hard to make—sometimes you even have to fight for a seat at the shop.

Truly, Wanzhou’s "gege" exude a strong local charm and a bold, straightforward spirit. One famous "gege" shop in Wanzhou reportedly closes for the summer—a primitive form of "hunger marketing" that doesn’t hurt business but instead highlights the Wanzhou attitude: business is business, life is life, and neither should interfere with the other. Strolling the streets, hearing the lively calls—"Boss, two fatty intestines, extra tender!" "Two more lamb ones!"—anyone would agree: this spicy, vibrant, carefree way of living is what life’s all about!

Sichuan and Chongqing are the holy lands of hot pot, and Wanzhou people share an extraordinary passion for it, though their taste preferences differ slightly from Chongqing's—they specialize in small hot pot. True to its name, the small hot pot is indeed small. Compared to the all-encompassing, bold red oil hot pot people are familiar with, the small hot pot is almost like a single main dish. It’s not cooked over a flame for long periods but is instead prepared in the kitchen and served in a small stainless steel pot.

The "pot" in Wanzhou small hot pot is quite special.

This small pot is also unique, resembling a fusion of an alcohol stove and the copper pot used for Beijing-style instant-boiled mutton. A charcoal or alcohol flame burns in the center, while the food simmers in a deep ring around the "small chimney." A small water-filled bowl is placed on top to block the steam vent, locally called a "water bowl," said to make the fire burn stronger. The pot bubbles vigorously, with meat and vegetables bobbing in the rich broth, steam rising—truly a flavorful experience.

The broth for small hot pot typically comes in two varieties: clear and spicy, though in recent years, a "yin-yang" (dual-flavor) option has emerged as a novelty. Unlike the red oil hot pot, small hot pot emphasizes not just spiciness but also the natural flavors of the ingredients, adding a layer of freshness to the numbing heat. The ingredients are simple: bean sprouts and radish form the base, with options like braised beef, pork intestines, or trotters, or a clear broth with tomato meatballs. After finishing the meat, a small basket of fresh vegetables—leafy greens, vermicelli, seaweed, tofu—can be added for a light finish. A full meal like this costs around 60-70 yuan, enough for a hearty dinner for two.

Once you start eating small hot pot, you won’t stop until you’re stuffed.

Like many old districts, the most authentic local eateries often thrive in shabby storefronts, and small hot pot is no exception. Despite its "small" name, its lively, down-to-earth charm is deeply ingrained in Wanzhou people’s DNA.

Wanzhou is just such a place—everything feels homely and unassuming, yet this very quality makes it unforgettable to its people. Its rivers, mountains, slopes, and alleyways embody the classic mountain city image, drawing even Chongqing urbanites for weekend getaways. Time seems to move slower here, gentler and warmer.

Wanzhou, Wanzhou—this city and its people live leisurely amid rich, everyday vibrancy.

The most ordinary flavors are often the most unforgettable.

Chongqing cuisine is numbing, spicy, fresh, and fragrant—and it’s not❗just❗Wan❗zhou❗

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