China's Bacon Capital: Where Every Household Masters the Art of Cured Meat

In the memories of Sichuan and Chongqing locals, catching the scent of pine and cypress smoke while walking down the street signals the approach of the New Year. With a metal barrel and a stack of smoky firewood, cured meats begin to be smoked in every household's courtyard or kitchen during this season. Meat marinated with spices and fine salt turns golden to dark brown after smoking, glistening with oil when cooked—rich yet not greasy, bursting with flavor upon each bite.

This is cured meat, as essential to Sichuan and Chongqing as hotpot, and a defining flavor of the New Year.

From the entire twelfth lunar month through the Spring Festival, while social media buzzes with diverse regional dishes, no Sichuan or Chongqing household skips cured meats—some might even call it an obsession. Elders pause to admire rows of bacon and sausages hanging from balconies and windows, exclaiming, "This family’s smoked meat is so evenly cured, the color is just perfect!"

Sichuan and Chongqing’s cured meats boast dazzling variety and flair, with each region—Ya’an, Dazhou, Chengkou, Rongchang, Aba—having its own secret recipes and distinct flavors, leaving one utterly spoiled for choice.

Ya’an’s Huangmu bacon stir-fried with garlic shoots fills the room with aroma; Chongqing’s Baishiyi smoked duck, chopped into chunks and drizzled with sesame oil and Sichuan pepper, makes mouths water at first whiff; tearing into a Chengkou smoked rib with a swig of liquor embodies boldness; Dazhou’s cured pork knuckle melds seamlessly with stewed potatoes...

Locals here aren’t just connoisseurs but master makers. For this annual delicacy, specific cooking methods pair with regional specialties: Should it be high-mountain Huangmu bacon from Ya’an or time-honored Chengkou cuts? Ethnic-inspired twists or Auntie Li’s 20-year market stall staple? Famous, traditional, innovative, or fusion—cured meats fiercely compete for a spot on the New Year’s table.

Stroll through farmers' markets between heavy snow and winter solstice, and you’ll see ceilings draped with crimson meat curtains, the air thick with seasonal smoke, five-spice, and mala notes. Butchers, usually idle by afternoon, hustle nonstop, their stalls flaunting handwritten signs: "Smoked ribs ¥48/jin, bacon ¥28/jin, spiced meat ¥28/jin, sausages ¥38/jin, trotters ¥38/jin, pork head ¥28/jin," plus "BYO meat, processing fee ¥5/jin." Though no lanterns hang or festive songs play, you know the New Year nears—and your steps grow lighter.

Cured meats have graced Sichuan and Chongqing memories for generations. In pre-refrigeration eras, preserving slaughtered hogs through salting and smoking ensured meat supply until spring, partly explaining its southern prevalence. After all, northern winters were nature’s freezers...

Ancestors discovered that salt-cured, spice-enhanced meat developed unique flavors while lasting longer—like air-dried spiced meats, also a cured variety. Yet traditional bacon typically endured smoking too. Made mostly in winter, it became a New Year feast centerpiece, embedding this "holiday flavor" deep in local palates and heritage.

So why is Sichuan-Chongqing cured meat so delicious?

Climate and terrain set the stage. In Ya’an’s mountains, Huangmu town’s bacon stands out—elevated at 2,000 meters, its cool, humid air lets salt, Sichuan pepper, and spices work magic on local black pork. As humidity and time pass, moisture and sugar decrease while saltiness rises. Smoking at 30°C with fragrant local woods boosts amino acids... transforming pork into imperishable aged bacon.

This alchemy yields Huangmu bacon: glossy fat, russet lean meat, translucent collagen-rich skin, and an unforgettable aroma.

Beyond ideal curing, smoking demands craftsmanship. Chengkou County, Chongqing’s highest-altitude area, produces historic "China Time-Honored Brand" bacon. Using local pork rivaling Spanish Iberico, it’s uniquely "kiln-dried"—oak charcoal’s residual heat slow-cures the meat over 90+ days, prolonging protein and fat breakdown to amplify savory free amino acids.

Chengkou bacon’s golden hue and lingering richness need no elaboration, but its smoked ribs are a revelation for finger-licking enthusiasts. Bone-adjacent meat gains intensified savor after curing—balanced salinity, robust aroma, perfect solo or with liquor, each bite followed by a sip for lasting aftertaste.

Just among renowned Sichuan-Chongqing bacons: Dazhou’s bright-hued, mellow-scented cuts; Qingcheng Mountain’s golden-layered slices; Aba’s juicy, fragrant slabs; Bashan’s tender marbled strips; Rongchang’s prized pork legacy; Wushan’s char-then-cure specialty...

Yet across this vast region, countless hidden cured gems remain undiscovered.

Take Sichuan sausages, beloved nationwide yet also the ultimate DIY project here. Few outsiders know that in this "everyone’s a chef" land, each household’s recipe differs.

Salty, sweet, numbing, plus fermented depth form the signature base—thanks to glutinous rice wine or liquor, pepper, Sichuan pepper, salt, and MSG. Beyond that, preferences diverge: chili? sesame? five-spice? smoking? Some crave smoky notes; others love pure meat studded with peppercorns. Debates over "best" never end.

This diversity stems from zero additives—just local culinary confidence. Tradition no longer suffices, hence innovations like "sausage ribs": chopped ribs and meat stuffed into casings. Beyond marinade depth, bones add extra savor. Biting into cartilage offers textural joy—a snack-time delight.

With such perfection, the simplest prep suffices: boil or steam, slice, and savor. Lifting the lid reveals neatly arranged bacon slices emerging from steam. Held to light, each piece glows warmly—rich yet not oily, tender yet firm, radiating pure meaty bliss.

Yet with such delicacies at hand, how could one resist the itch to unleash their potential in the "flavor paradise" of Sichuan and Chongqing?

Locals here exhibit fierce loyalty to their seasoning traditions, yet Sichuan-Chongqing cured meats embrace a fusion of influences—beneath their smoky surface, ingredients from all corners of China find harmony on a single plate.

Guizhou’s fish mint, Hunan’s pointed peppers, Shandong’s garlic stems, Jiangxi’s artemisia selengensis, Yunnan’s tea tree mushrooms, Sichuan’s garlic sprouts, bitter melon, snow peas, sweet potatoes… These pair with cured meats in endless permutations, ensuring no repetition for a hundred days. Think sweet-and-crisp stir-fried sweet potatoes with bacon, tender-spicy stir-fried pork snout with peppers, or fragrant stir-fried snow peas with spicy sausages—each ready to devour in just five minutes.

For the imaginative southern Sichuan folk, cured meats aren’t limited to vegetables—they even stir-fry them with brown sugar! Sliced fatty bacon is fried until oily, removed, then brown sugar is melted in the pan before reuniting with the meat. The result? Sticky, caramelized strands clinging to each slice—a rich, sweet-savory relic of times when meat, fat, and sugar were treasured luxuries.

Of course, stir-frying isn’t the only way—winter’s pride lies in "stewed" cured meats.

When Hubei’s prized powdery lotus root meets Sichuan-Chongqing cured meats, a steaming pot emerges: savory broth, melt-in-your-mouth bacon, and smoky-infused lotus. Yet the soul of this dish? A last-minute handful of "pea tips," their freshness cutting through the richness—guaranteeing at least three bowlfuls.

At its core, steaming or boiling cured meats unlocks perfection. Whether layered with preserved mustard for a steamed "kourou" or sliced straight after boiling (like pork tongue or liver), each bite dazzles. Paired with a dip of ground chili and Sichuan pepper, the numbing-tingling finish demands another bite—and another drink—in triumphant satisfaction ("Yo bu dao tai!").

"One cured meat, a hundred eats"—Sichuan-Chongqing folks even pair it with crispy spring rolls or caviar. Dare to dream, and surprises follow. Even Sichuan sausages reinvent "Cantonese claypot rice": no soy sauce or seasoning needed—just pure, nose-tingling umami.

Though urban air rarely carries the scent of cypress-smoked bacon nowadays, the arrival of "Pork Slaughter Soup" in restaurants signals households’ bustling New Year preps. For wanderers afar, the mere thought of that juicy, smoky bite sharpens the pull of home.

Childhood memories of New Year hang from rafters—sausages and bacon, firecrackers from the corner store, unfinished homework, midnight sulfur fumes, the first sweet rice ball, red envelopes from elders. These fading snapshots sharpen with one stolen bite of cured pork ear, sneaked from the kitchen on that long-ago New Year’s Eve.

Sichuan-Chongqing cured meats make the holiday "spicy-fragrant."

Original content by [Di Dao Feng Wu].