China's Breakfast Capital: The Unsung Hero Is a Bowl of Rice!

The New Year drama "Blossoms" has made many residents of Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shanghai nostalgic for the simple yet elegant "Bao Zong soaked rice" from their memories—a bowl of steaming white rice with a rustic charm, paired with the familiar aroma of pickled vegetables and the subtle sweetness of starch.

Few people know that Wuhan also excels at soaked rice. Don’t believe it? Just look at the growing number of "Fish Head Soaked Rice" restaurants around you.

Wuhan is often called the city of "breakfast" where carbs are celebrated in endless creative ways. From hot dry noodles and fried sesame cakes to sweet glutinous rice balls, shaomai, and three-delicacy bean skin pancakes, this land where southern rice meets northern wheat plays a symphony of carb indulgence, each dish brimming with bold, hearty flavors. Amidst this, "soaked rice" quietly holds a special place in the hearts of locals.

Unlike the Jiangnan-style soaked rice, Wuhan’s version is more like "sauce-mixed rice," or as locals say, "tao fan." Take the currently trending "Fish Head Soaked Rice," for example: a fatty fish head is stewed, and the thick, sauce-like broth is mixed into rice. The grains, coated in the rich soup, become glossy and fragrant, enhancing the carb experience so irresistibly that one might even forget to eat the fish itself. At home, a pot of rib-and-lotus-root soup is often used for soaking rice, though any dish with ample broth—braised pork or duck—will do.

This "rice-in-soup" approach may seem humble, but it has comforted countless rushed weekday mornings and fulfilled many a child’s craving. The steaming combination of broth and rice, warm and filling, embodies the deepest understanding and respect for carbs in this land of fish and rice.

If you love rice, it’s hard not to adore the way fat and grains meld seamlessly. I highly recommend visiting an authentic Hubei restaurant to experience the lavishness of "Fish Head Soaked Rice."

The fish used is bighead carp, with a head weighing at least two or three pounds—its cheek meat plump, tender, and rich in oil, the translucent collagen wobbling at the touch of chopsticks. The fish head is braised, but first seared to remove any fishy taste and highlight the silky texture of its fat and collagen, while the skin gains a hint of caramelized aroma.

The star of the show is the braising sauce, infused with scallions, garlic, dried chilies, a touch of lard from stir-fried pork belly, and the depth of fermented bean and chili pastes. Simmered over low heat, the sauce thickens, clinging to the fish and concentrating every drop of flavor.

Now, the rice. In Wuhan, the most beloved rice is steamed in a "zengzi," an old-fashioned steamer that yields loose, slightly firm grains with an intense fragrance. To the uninitiated, this texture might seem undercooked, but once drizzled with fish broth and mixed, the magic becomes clear: the grains expand just right—neither mushy nor tough—releasing a subtle sweetness that delivers pure satisfaction.

Some might say: "All this praise for Fish Head Soaked Rice, but isn’t it just ‘rice-in-soup’? A frugal habit from harder times." True, families once saved every drop of broth from humble fish stews to mix with rice. But why fuss over a dish’s origins? Deliciousness is enough.

Wuhan lies at the eastern edge of the Jianghan Plain, crisscrossed by rivers and lakes—a true "land of fish and rice." The deep love for these staples drives locals to savor every bit of flavor, using rich broths to elevate rice to its fullest potential.

Wuhan’s love for broth-soaked rice means the local cuisine abounds in saucy dishes. Here, cooking is called "shao cai" (braising), and "men shao" (stew-braising) dominates home kitchens. Freshwater fish and seafood are simmered in spicy broths until tender, thickened to concentrate every drop of essence. These dishes often pair with small clay pots, kept bubbling at the table—a winter comfort in homes without central heating.

Braising isn’t a haphazard toss-in-the-pot affair; each ingredient demands care.

Take Wuchang fish: steamed, it’s exquisitely fresh; braised, its sweetness must be preserved without overcooking. Homestyle braised catfish (jiangtuan) is even better—large, few bones, firm flesh that, when slow-cooked, rivals pork belly in texture. The sauce must be thick and glossy, the starch-thickened broth blending with fish collagen like melted aspic—utterly irresistible.

Braised turtle, a restaurant luxury, shines when its gelatinous "skirt" is enriched with lard. Searing the meat in lard before stewing unlocks its umami, yielding a dish that’s both fishy-fresh and pork-tender, the collagen so rich it sticks to your lips.

These braised dishes—plus duck, young chicken, ribs—are perfect "rice partners." In a braising restaurant, forget "carb control." Devour meat and rice with abandon, even embrace the extra pounds. A full belly is life’s greatest joy.

How many uniquely Wuhan flavors burn this fiercely?

For wandering Wuhan natives, homesickness often strikes the stomach. While Fish Head or Braised Duck Soaked Rice can be recreated abroad, "Lotus Root Soup Soaked Rice" is the hardest craving to satisfy—the ingredients and cookware are near-impossible to find elsewhere.

"Lotus root soup" (officially "rib and lotus root soup") stars the藕, not the meat. Hubei’s finest—Bahe, Honghu, or Jingzhou’s nine-hole藕—are famed, but Wuhan insists on Caidian’s red lotus藕, packed with summer-fall starch: sweet, powdery, yet with distinct threads that withstand long stewing, turning melt-in-mouth tender. For richer broth, marrow-filled leg bones are added, lending a milky depth.

The soup must be stewed in a "diaozi," an earthenware pot with twin handles. Locals swear by aged diaozi, claiming "an old pot can brew soup from plain water." Indeed, the dark, well-used pots coax the藕’s sweetness into the broth, creating a layered carb bliss when mixed with rice.

The capacity of a clay pot is much larger than that of a regular earthen jar, so the stewed soup is definitely too much to finish in one meal. Therefore, besides "drinking directly" or "pairing with rice," lotus root soup has another more common way to be enjoyed—hot rice soup. This involves cooking rice directly in the soup. Why not just reheat the soup? Because overnight steamed rice tends to harden and "regress," making it less soft and fragrant even when soaked in hot soup. Cooking it together with the soup revives the rice, achieving the best of both worlds.

From this perspective, hot rice soup is just a homely way to handle leftovers, not an extraordinary delicacy. But just as many believe that only overnight rice makes the best fried rice, the reprocessed hot rice soup has a unique charm that captivates the family. The reheating process inadvertently extends the stewing time of the soup and vegetables, making them softer and more flavorful, while also allowing the rice and soup to blend seamlessly. Hot rice soup is always served piping hot, savory, and tempting—a perfect quick breakfast for busy weekdays. Adding a few fish balls while cooking makes it a hearty energy-boosting meal.

Of course, it’s not just lotus root soup that can be used for hot rice soup; any dish with broth is suitable. Stir-fried greens with pork cracklings is a classic choice. But the most delicious versions are those with starchy meat broths, like potato and pork rib soup or chicken and chestnut soup. The potatoes or chestnuts can be mashed with a spoon and mixed into the rice, creating an incredibly satisfying bite.

Because hot rice soup is so beloved by Wuhan locals, it has now transcended its original definition as a "leftover dish." It’s common to cook a fresh pot of vegetables or stew a new batch of soup just for making hot rice soup. Small eateries like "Mom’s Hot Rice Soup" or "Three-Delicacy Hot Rice Soup" are also common on Wuhan streets, using specially simmered bone broth and generously adding ingredients like stuffed fish balls, quail eggs, pork liver, wood ear mushrooms, and luncheon meat. A bowl of such hot rice soup is even more lavish than a "top-tier" spicy hot pot. Yet, strangely, this version never tastes quite as satisfying—so for tourists wanting to try it, the best bet is to "mooch a meal" at a local friend’s home.

As a city of culinary delights, Wuhan never lacks creative carb-heavy snacks, but the simplest staples like soaked rice and hot rice soup still hold a special place in locals’ hearts. Sometimes, even locals mutter that "soup over rice makes you gain weight," yet they steadfastly charge toward this stumbling block on their weight-loss journey.

There’s no helping it—the joy of hot soup and rice reaches deep into the human soul, so don’t even think about resisting. Come to Wuhan and enjoy a few more bowls of steaming hot rice soup. After all, those who love life also love to eat.