Chengdu Universiade Travel Guide: Must-Try Skewer Eats You'll Love

On July 28, 2023, the 31st Summer World University Games (commonly known as the "Universiade") opened in Chengdu.

If you're lucky enough to be in Chengdu during this time, after watching the intense and exciting competitions, grabbing some equally fiery skewers would surely be incredibly satisfying!

The Chengdu Universiade venues resemble a giant "hot pot of skewers."

The skewers mentioned here are not "grilled skewers" but a delicious food soaked in spicy red oil broth—bamboo sticks skewering beef, chicken gizzards, pork intestines... Though Chengdu is famous for hot pot, skewers, as a spicy dish, are less "refined," more down-to-earth, more rustic, and endlessly varied.

A handful of bamboo skewers, glistening with oil and irresistibly fragrant.

Chengdu has been talked about far too much, and the Universiade has redirected attention to this city. Today, let’s delve into the Chengdu underworld hidden in these skewers.

As evening falls, the streets and alleys of Chengdu are filled with a pungent aroma. Bamboo sticks skewering beef, chicken gizzards, and pork intestines bubble in a fiery red broth, embodying the passion of Chengdu locals and paying homage to the city’s over 20,000 hot pot restaurants and their devotion to spicy cuisine.

A family enjoying skewers together, full of joy.

Skewers 1.0: From Bicycle Racks to the Dining Table

Chengdu locals eat skewers without fussy formalities, yet with an unspoken rhythm. Sit down, pick your ingredients, and as the pot heats up, the essential dipping sauce arrives—a clear oil sauce with garlic, cilantro, and scallions to perfectly preserve the spicy flavor; a dry mix with soybean powder and crushed peanuts to enhance and release the aroma; or a rich broth-based sauce to elevate the original taste with a hint of planned spiciness.

True Chengdu natives prefer dipping sauces that reflect their free-spiritedness—mixing dry and broth sauces to satisfy late-night cravings. Add cilantro and scallions for an extra thrill beyond the "standard."

Chengdu locals’ skewer dipping sauces never follow the rules.

Many outsiders wonder: Why do Chengdu people, who love hot pot so much, remain obsessed with skewers?

Strictly speaking, skewers are a branch of hot pot, a variation of Sichuan-Chongqing hot pot. Though similar in flavor, skewers and hot pot differ in preparation, eating style, and local perception. Visually, hot pot uses plated ingredients while skewers use sticks. Historically, skewers emerged earlier—cheaper and less fussy about setting—making them more beloved in Chengdu.

Early skewers were street food, cooked and served on plates.

For instance, if I crave hot pot but don’t want a heavy or formal meal, I might choose skewers. They’re more casual, inclusive, and liberating—no stiff posture or toasts needed. Amid rising steam, tensions ease, belts loosen, and the day’s stress dissolves with each stick.

Chengdu skewers rose to fame in the early 1980s. Inspired by Leshan’s "skewered ingredients" style, street vendors introduced this highly mobile snack, calling it "málàtàng."

In the early days, skewers were called "málàtàng" and were a common street food.

Back then, trendy youth gathered near Tianqiao Bridge, Huaxing Street, Qingnian Road, Kejia Alley, Caoshi Street, and Luomashi. Vendors pedaled bicycles through crowds, with one side holding bamboo baskets of skewered ingredients and the other a portable coal-fired pot. Wherever the bike went, the aroma followed, captivating restless appetites.

Early on, sesame oil was expensive, so skewers were dipped in rapeseed oil. The earliest beef skewers were simply coated in chili powder and threaded onto thin bamboo sticks before boiling. Over time, vendors replaced heavy clay pots with lighter aluminum pots, attaching handles with twisted wires—the earliest "portable málàtàng."

The early skewers: portable spicy hot pot.

Portable spicy hot pot flooded school gates that year, with many elderly vendors pushing carts to set up stalls. Sliced cabbage and potatoes were skewered, then dipped into dried chili powder moistened with sesame oil poured from plastic bottles, creating a fiery red spectacle. After the era of street stalls and bicycles, skewer shops gradually emerged in Chengdu. Initially, they were simple single-story houses, or sometimes the ground floor of a residential building, with a broken wall, a few tables, skewered vegetables, and a coal stove—business thrived.

Historically, skewers are "the taste from 1989."

In early 1989, in a single-story house on Chengdu's Dianjiangtai Jiaozi Street, an elderly woman and her daughter started their skewer business. The shop had only five tables. Back then, the woman was still young, her daughter unmarried, and the shop had no formal sign. Over time, customers spontaneously called it: Laoniur Skewers. (Laoniur: Chengdu dialect for an older woman.)

Some skewers carry flavors only old Chengdu locals understand.

Laoniur Skewers always stood out: the tables and stools were bright red, the stools low, and the broth not too oily, but their beef, gizzards, duck intestines, and rabbit kidneys were exceptional. By 1993, Dianjiangtai Street underwent urban renewal, and the family relocated the shop to a residential compound, breaking a wall on the first floor to reopen. Soon after, the daughter gave birth to a child with intellectual disabilities, and the three generations ran the small shop together.

Skewers 2.0: Kerosene stoves and the memory of 1.2 mao.

From 1991 to 1992, influenced by upscale hot pot restaurants like Huangcheng Laomao, Shizilou, Yeguangbei, Dafuhao, and Yulong, Chengdu's skewer shops began improving their ambiance and service. Back then, coal stoves were banned within Chengdu's Second Ring Road, so most skewer shops used kerosene stoves. The scent of clear oil broth mixed with kerosene became the earliest olfactory memory of skewers for Chengdu natives born in the '70s and '80s.

Old-school skewers, brimming with the lively atmosphere of street life.

In 1992, Huanhou Alley behind West China Hospital became a battleground for skewer shops. In 1993, a shop named Hongfuchun Skewers rose to dominance with over 50 tables, the largest in the alley. A local saying went: "The skewer shop closest to the public toilet tastes the best," referring to Hongfuchun.

In the '90s skewer scene, Zitongqiao's Wangmei Skewers was hard to get into, while Yulin and Yuanji Skewers were always packed. Amid fierce competition, Chengdu's skewer shops began developing brand awareness—registering trademarks, patenting chili dip recipes, and even upgrading furniture. Even without grandiosity, they aimed for elegance in details.

Skewer ingredients are incredibly diverse, beyond imagination.

During this time, the first skewer shop on Changtian Road in Wannianchang opened, named Zhouji Skewers. Back then, the East Second Ring Road was still seen as Chengdu's "urban-rural fringe." Nearby, middle-aged women played mahjong, and when hungry, they'd order hot pot noodles and skewers at Zhouji. Finishing the noodles and skewers wasn't enough—they'd drink the broth to show appreciation.

In the late '90s, Yanlai Mini Hot Pot next to Xuedao Street was bustling. Cilantro beef was their signature, winning over even spice-loving Chengdu locals with its tender, flavorful white broth beef. While most skewers cost 0.1 mao, Yanlai charged 0.12 mao, earning it the nickname "1 Jiao 2" (meaning 0.12 yuan in Mandarin).

Cilantro beef skewers, an irresistible flavor.

The floor of "1 Jiao 2" bore witness to unseen fervor. Diners rushed in, servers hurried, and spills of oily broth left the rough cement floor coated in a layer of hardened grease, creaking underfoot and tripping the unwary.

People seek the taste memory of skewers in old shops.

Skewers 3.0: Harley-Davidson outside "Toilet Skewers."

Around 2006, Laowan Portable Skewers on Beilei Street near Yulin Middle Road sparked a revival of portable skewers. Many shops opened under the "portable skewers" banner, but by then, the concept had changed.

Portable skewers—keeping the family together, skewer by skewer.

The only place that could rival the flavors of the past is probably a shop in Dongguang Community. Its name is straightforward: Handheld Chuanchuan Xiang. Every day, the owner stands in front of a massive pot under dim lighting, blanching beef in handfuls and steaming rice noodles in baskets. The menu is limited—just a few items. After selecting, the owner doesn’t say much, just nudges his chin, signaling: "Put it here, that’s enough."

The beef chunks are large, and eating two or three skewers in one bite is the most satisfying. The flavor is marinated, yet it carries the simple, unambitious taste of earlier times. The wet and dry dipping sauces, fiery red and bright, mingle with minced garlic, piled into a small mountain at the corner of the metal tray, waiting to burst forth.

Handheld skewers paired with chili and minced garlic—that’s pure bliss.

The boss is skilled, and the boss’s wife is talkative. Their quiet-and-lively dynamic makes the work feel effortless. The boss’s wife says they first started on Chunxi Road. Over the years, she’s taken on 47 apprentices. Of course, not all of them lived up to expectations—some learned the craft, then scoffed at the humble setup and struck out on their own, opening hotpot or fish restaurants. But in the end? The boss’s wife’s exact words: "They flopped hard!"

"Now in Chengdu, the thriving handheld skewer businesses belong to three main factions: me, my younger sister, and my niece." One evening, the boss’s wife buzzed around energetically, while the boss stayed busy in the background. During breaks, he sipped plain tea, still silent.

The busy boss reflects the booming skewer business.

In 2007, Sister Kang’s Chuanchuan on Zhongdao Street blew up. Its popularity even revived the struggling Lu Ma’s Cold Pot Skewers across the street. The next year, "The Flower of Xi’an South Road," Auntie Li, set up a skewer stall at the entrance of her neighborhood with her whole family. A glass cabinet, two electric rice cookers, and three big basins of marinated dishes—Auntie Li went heavy on the salt and spice. How spicy was it? Back then, the youth of West Chengdu would say: "Like a shrew’s scolding."

Some skewers were described as spicy as "a shrew’s scolding."

That same year, Liu Fan and a friend opened a skewer shop in the city. The shop had no name and stood next to a public toilet. Customers who couldn’t find it were often told, "Find the public toilet, and you’ll find the shop." Thus was born the legendary Chengdu institution: Toilet Chuanchuan.

In an era before Weibo or WeChat, Toilet Chuanchuan was featured in news programs, newspapers, and magazines, becoming the first skewer shop with viral appeal in Chengdu’s collective memory. Diners flocked to it, and at its peak, over 200 numbers were handed out daily. Riding the wave, Liu Fan planned to expand, trademark the name, and franchise it. But stepping outside, he realized the streets were already flooded with "Toilet Chuanchuan" copycats.

The most hidden alleys hold the most delicious skewers.

There were at least thousands of imitators. Frustrated, Liu Fan retreated to his roots, focusing on perfecting his one and only Toilet Chuanchuan. He even rebranded it with a 14-character name: "Chengdu’s One and Only Toilet Chuanchuan with No Branches." Back then, he parked a Harley-Davidson motorcycle outside the shop. When reporters asked which Toilet Chuanchuan was real, he’d reply: "The one with the Harley." Liu Fan bet that no copycat skewer boss in those days could afford a Harley.

In 2013, Chengdu’s skewer scene suddenly got creative with beef. Large skewers were hearty, small ones flavorful. Some started stuffing beef with wild peppers for a layered, escalating heat. The next year, Tianxi Dry-Mixed Skewers appeared near Xinhong Road, and Taohua Qian opened in Shiren Community. Owners began experimenting with dishes, drinks, and desserts, giving Chengdu’s skewers an early influencer vibe.

From the start, Chengdu’s skewers had viral potential.

By 2016, Mala Tang by the Road opened on Zhimin Road, pulling Chengdu’s skewer lovers into the influencer era with its courtyard-style decor, square tables, stools, tin pots, and bamboo baskets. In 2017, the authentic Gangguang Wuchang Jiezi Skewers was shut down, while chain stores like "Gangguang Wuchang Little Gizzard" sprouted everywhere. Near Chunxi Road and 339 Riverside, Zuo Lengchan, run by a Zigong native, won hearts with beef now stuffed with king oyster mushrooms, bamboo shoots, and more.

Over time, skewer ingredients grew more diverse.

Chengdu’s skewers could string together a whole history.

Today, Yanlai Mini Hotpot has been renovated, Toilet Chuanchuan’s glory has faded, and Zhou Ji Chuanchuan Xiang on Changtian Road is gone. But you can’t deny it—over the years, the pots, stoves, dishes, and broth temperatures have changed. Only Chengdu’s love for skewers remains the same.

Of course, as skewer varieties multiplied, the very concept of "skewers" grew fuzzy in many minds, even distorted.

The idea of skewers blurred as their types expanded.

To Chengdu locals, mala tang is unique to Sichuan. Unlike the nationwide term for boiled dishes served with sesame paste as the main condiment, "mala tang" in Sichuan is essentially similar to chuanchuan xiang. Chuanchuan xiang is the collective name for mala tang that has evolved with more standardized settings, ingredients, and seasonings. It represents Chengdu people's memories and nostalgia for skewered dishes from the early 1990s to the present, as well as countless spontaneous cravings.

As for the popular bobojji and fried skewers, their similar forms often lead to confusion with chuanchuan xiang. Bobojji involves skewered cooked food soaked in a cold broth, while fried skewers are made by deep-frying skewered meat and vegetables in spiced oil. The mere act of "eating food on skewers" encompasses such diverse techniques, reflecting Sichuan people's unique culinary aesthetics and the brilliance of their creative inspirations that make food shine.

People often mistake bobojji for chuanchuan xiang.

Over four hundred years ago, when the Chinese first encountered chili peppers, they could never have imagined that, long afterward, the flavor of spice would be so vividly embodied in Chengdu's skewered dishes. From Chongqing to Chengdu, from hot pot to chuanchuan xiang, the people of Sichuan and Chongqing have developed their own system for interpreting spiciness. A handful of skewers captures the distinctive ease, brightness, and bold spirit of Sichuan's street life.

A handful of skewers is a snapshot of Chengdu's "slow living."

In the past, people loved to romanticize Chengdu's leisure and comfort, yet no one truly traced the origins of this so-called slow life. Few knew that Chengdu locals' anxieties, busyness, and toil ultimately dissolve in this deep reddish broth. After finding joy in food, all that remains is the cheerful call—"Boss, count the skewers!"—echoing under the night sky. It’s a sound of candor, straightforwardness, and countless Chengdu people overcoming their struggles to make peace with themselves.

WeChat Editors | Bingling Du, Xiaoqi Zao

Originally titled "The Skewer Scene of Chengdu," this article was first published in the mook *Local Flavors · Hot Pot*, with edits and abridgments.

This article is original content from [*Local Flavors*].