China's Lamb Masters: No One Eats Lamb Like Xinjiang People!

Perhaps no one raises sheep better than the people of Xinjiang.

Few can rival Xinjiang locals in their mastery of cooking and eating lamb.

Xinjiang ranks first in per capita lamb consumption in China, nearly double that of Inner Mongolia, the second-place region, making it the undisputed champion of lamb consumption.

Xinjiang’s unique geographical position has made it a Silk Road thoroughfare and a crossroads of civilizations. Livestock from the Eurasian steppe, spices from East, Central, and West Asia, and culinary techniques from the Central Plains, the Western Regions, and the grasslands all converge and blend here. These factors combine to elevate Xinjiang’s lamb cuisine to unparalleled heights.

Xinjiang boasts nomadic-style dishes like hand-torn boiled lamb (seasoned only with salt) and kebabs, as well as grilled meatballs and pilaf with deep roots in West Asian cuisine. There are also baked buns and whole roasted lamb cooked in tandoor ovens, a method widespread in West and Central Asia and even India. More recent additions include rice-stuffed sausages, flour lung stew, and stir-fried noodles with overcooked meat—a testament to Xinjiang’s evolving culinary history. Locals even pay attention to seasonal variations, lamb breeds, and origins when enjoying their meals.

Photo / Jiangtu; Image / Tuchong Creative

For instance, goat meat, with its stronger gaminess, rarely appears on Xinjiang tables despite the region’s wide variety of sheep breeds. Only in late autumn and early winter, after goats graze on frost-covered high-altitude grasses and medicinal plants, do they transform into "frost-nibbled" delicacies—completely free of gaminess—revered as a premium tonic and even called "medicinal meat." And this is just a glimpse into Xinjiang’s vast lamb universe.

Where in Xinjiang has the best lamb? Of course, my hometown!

Xinjiang is vast, covering one-sixth of China’s territory. From the snow-capped Altai Mountains to the desolate Tarim Basin and the Turpan Depression (China’s lowest land elevation), the region encompasses immense diversity in climate, soil, and water. Naturally, the sheep breeds adapted to these varied environments differ greatly.

In Altay Prefecture, at Xinjiang’s northernmost edge, the vertical climate variations are stark. Kazakh herders migrate seasonally across desert grasslands, mountain meadows, and alpine pastures, ensuring their livestock enjoy "seasonal delicacies" year-round. The Kazakh sheep they’ve bred are among Xinjiang’s oldest lineages, with subtypes found across northern pastures. Even China’s first fine-wool sheep breed, the Xinjiang Finewool, traces its ancestry to them.

A goat-catching competition in Tekes County, Ili Kazakh Autonomous Prefecture.

In Xinjiang, sheep even become part of entertainment.

The most famous is the Altay sheep, known for their massive size and fat-rich tails and hindquarters resembling camel humps. Their large frames yield abundant meat, while the fatty deposits provide aromatic richness, and the well-marbled muscle ensures tender texture.

Prepared by Kazakh herders, Altay sheep are simply boiled in water with salt, resulting in succulent hand-torn meat. This breed’s culinary value has been recognized since ancient times—it was offered as tribute to the Tang Emperor Taizong during the Zhenguan era.

Their disproportionately plump hindquarters are iconic.

Farther south, in Tacheng Prefecture at the northwest edge of the Junggar Basin, the renowned Bashibai sheep thrive on grasslands and deserts. Infused with wild argali bloodline, they’re hardy naturals for free-range grazing, yielding exceptionally tender, juicy, and flavorful meat with minimal sinew. Among Xinjiang’s top-tier lamb varieties, Bashibai stands out.

In the scorching, arid Turpan Basin (summer highs of 50°C, winter lows of -20°C), where camelthorns dominate the desert landscape, only the salt-tolerant Toksun black sheep flourish. Nourished by sweet camelthorns, their meat is tender and rich without greasiness—so delicate that it can even be steamed like seafood.

Xinjiang’s sheep exhibit astonishing diversity.

The vast, flat Bayanbulak Grasslands in southern Xinjiang feel more like Inner Mongolia—fittingly, as it’s a Mongolian enclave. The locals brought their Mongolian sheep, the Bayanbulak breed (or Chatyn fat-tailed sheep), which over centuries adapted so well to Xinjiang’s grasslands that they crossed the Tianshan Mountains, becoming dominant in both central and southern foothills.

Herds of black-headed sheep on the Bayanbulak Grasslands.

Photography / wzkdream

The most renowned sheep breed in southern Xinjiang is the Yuli Luobu sheep, one of China's three most famous sheep varieties. They thrive in desert and semi-desert environments, drinking glacial water from the Tianshan Mountains and feeding on a diverse diet ranging from reeds, licorice, and poplar leaves to camel thorns. Simply boiled with a bit of saltwater, their meat is naturally fragrant and entirely free of gaminess. Yuli Luobu sheep have a high lean meat ratio, aligning with modern dietary preferences. The small amount of fat adds a creamy, milky richness—a single bite turns it into an unforgettable delicacy, the "white moonlight" of sheep.

In the Kashgar Mal Bazaar livestock market, a row of sheep tied together.

Other famous breeds include the Dangba sheep, Hetian sheep, Cele black sheep, the cold-adapted Kirgiz sheep, as well as imported varieties like the Changji Dorset and Manas Suffolk sheep. There’s also the Dolan sheep, once sold for 14 million yuan per breeding ram and still exorbitantly priced today.

So, which sheep tastes the best? Xinjiang locals will surely say, "Of course, the ones from my hometown!" Xinjiang is vast, and its sheep varieties are equally diverse, each with unique flavors. What people truly cherish is the nostalgic taste of the sheep they grew up eating.

At the Kashgar livestock trading bazaar,

Sheep neatly arranged.

In Xinjiang, sheep are either boiled or braised.

From snowy mountains to basins, from oases to deserts, Xinjiang’s diverse sheep breeds are treasures left by nature and ancestors. Whether boiled or roasted, Xinjiang people know how to bring out the best in each sheep, maximizing their value and unleashing their richest aromas.

However, just as Lanzhou doesn’t have "Lanzhou hand-pulled noodles," Xinjiang doesn’t have "Xinjiang lamb skewers" smothered in cumin and chili powder—only "kawap" (Xinjiang skewers, overwhelmingly made of lamb, with little beef). The soul of Xinjiang skewers isn’t the thin layer of seasoning but the luscious tail fat hidden between the meat chunks.

The melting tail fat "fries" the meat at high heat, sealing in juices for a crispy exterior and tender interior. First-time eaters might mistake it for undercooked, while Xinjiang regulars specifically request it "extra crispy!"

Photography / Jiangtu; Image / Tuchong Creative

Walking through Ürümqi streets, you’ll often see signs for Mori kawap. Originating from Mori Kazakh Autonomous County, this style represents the boldness of Kazakh grilling. Skewered on red willow or thick iron sticks, the date-sized meat chunks are lightly salted. One taste of its tender, juicy richness, and the mere mention of "Mori" will make mouths water.

Kashgar also offers "meatball skewers"—minced lamb leg mixed with spices, shaped into long strips on skewers for a softer, more aromatic bite.

"Jar kawap" (rack烤肉) is another tandoor-roasted specialty.

Xinjiang cuisine thrives on cultural exchange. In recent years, a quirky dish—watermelon烤肉—has emerged from Kashgar. Lamb stuffed into a watermelon and slow-cooked in a tandoor infuses the meat with a hint of fruity sweetness.

Some tandoors are large enough to fit five or six whole sheep for roasting.

The tandoor is Xinjiang’s ultimate tool for cooking sheep. Whole lambs are skewered on branches, coated in a marinade of egg yolk, turmeric, salt, cumin, and pepper, then placed in the tandoor after dousing the coals with saltwater, covered to slow-roast.

After a long wait, the golden-brown roasted lamb emerges. A hot bite delivers crispy skin bursting with rich fat, outer layers infused with spice aromas, and inner meat remaining tender and juicy. Roast whole lamb is perhaps the most visually striking and decadently satisfying烤肉.

Photography / Jiangtu; Image / Tuchong Creative

Those who truly appreciate lamb know that boiling it in clear water is the highest praise for the animal. Hand-pulled lamb served in a basin naturally carries the festive atmosphere of gatherings with family and friends. Traditionally, lamb ears are given to children as a symbol of obedience, the cheek meat is offered to the host as a gesture of gratitude, while the easily chewable hip and pelvic bones are prioritized for the elderly... Behind the seemingly casual hand-pulled lamb lies profound ethnic banquet etiquette. Amidst the tide of urbanization today, the ceremonial aspect of hand-pulled lamb has faded, but the pursuit of its original flavor remains unchanged.

The truly unpretentious way to cook lamb is the solo-friendly "pot lamb." Red dates, goji berries, potatoes, yellow carrots, carrots, white radishes, onions, chickpeas... all may appear in a nostalgic, chipped enamel mug. The broth in the mug is rich and flavorful, with tender meat. Breaking apart a piece of naan to soak in the soup can warm you all day, providing hearty satisfaction. Originating from the 1960s during water conservancy projects in Kashgar's communes, it is a legacy of its era.

Xinjiang's high altitude results in a lower boiling point for water, making steamed dishes rare. However, the people of Turpan, living at China's lowest elevation, relish steamed Toksun lamb, which preserves the meat's natural juices and offers a stronger lamb flavor than boiled versions. Some Xinjiang locals even drive hundreds of miles just for a taste.

Rough yet substantial, pot lamb is a gift from a bygone era.

Photography / Jiangtu; Image / Tuchong Creative

After decades of hard work by people of all ethnic groups, Xinjiang has seen the rise of modern cities like Urumqi, Kashgar, and Karamay. Stir-fried lamb, compared to grilled or boiled lamb, is more urbanized, with "guo you rou" (oil-fried meat) epitomizing Xinjiang's migration and urbanization. Originating from Shanxi, this dish was adapted in Qitai County—a major grain-producing area—into a lamb dish. Served with hand-pulled noodles, it is both wok-fried aromatic and incredibly filling. Truck drivers transporting grain from Qitai popularized this dish, spreading it beyond Xinjiang and onto the menus of every Lanzhou noodle shop.

Some stir-fried lamb dishes skip vegetable oil, using lamb tail fat instead—known as "dry-frying." Cooking lamb in its own fat intensifies the flavor, layering richness upon richness—truly a "lamb on lamb" experience.

Xinjiang's stir-fried lamb offal is also exceptional.

Photography / Jingzhe; Image / Tuchong Creative

Who needs meat when you have offal?

Beyond this, Xinjiang's lamb cuisine has unlocked the ultimate culinary secret—protein paired with carbs.

A Xinjiang morning begins with tea and "samsa" (baked buns). The most traditional version uses only tender, well-marbled leg meat, while modern twists might include tomatoes and bell peppers. Either way, biting through the flaky crust releases a burst of lamb broth on the tongue, with the aroma of lamb fat filling the nostrils.

Samsa's crispy exterior and juicy filling pair perfectly with tea.

At noon, "polo" (pilaf) takes center stage, infusing rice with lamb's fragrance. By evening, wrapping grilled skewers in warm naan offers a chewy, layered bite where the charred exterior and tender meat blur the lines between wheat and lamb aromas. This protein-carb combo fuels Xinjiang from breakfast to late-night snacks.

Apricot and lamb pilaf—a potful of Xinjiang's essence.

While lamb is meticulously utilized, offal is never wasted. Unlike lamb's purity, Xinjiang's offal dishes embrace bold flavors.

At Xinjiang's barbecue stalls, one might spot "fake kidney" skewers—dark, greasy, and suspiciously named. In reality, it's liver wrapped in caul fat, seasoned with onion. Biting in, the crispy fat cracks open, releasing warm oil, while the liver melts on the tongue. The liver cuts the fat's richness, and the fat masks the liver's gaminess—far surpassing real kidney in flavor.

Xinjiang's unfairly maligned "fake kidney."

Photography / Behind the Scenes; Image / Huitu

The next-level bold dish is "stuffed spleen"—fatty lamb tail meat packed into a spleen and grilled. Compared to crispy fake kidney, the spleen is chewier, sometimes tough for the uninitiated. Slow chewing reveals intense bloodiness and gaminess. This hardcore barbecue splits opinions in Xinjiang: most reject it outright, while a minority hail it as sublime. The latter can't pass a stall without ordering one, devouring it scalding hot, lips glistening with grease.

Even Xinjiang locals can't tell exactly how many ways there are to prepare offal in Xinjiang.

If you enjoy the chewy texture and pungent offal flavor, you can try the king of bold flavors—grilled sheep intestines.

A more popular option is spicy braised sheep trotters, featuring tender, chewy trotters paired with a richly flavored broth that often leaves diners in tears from the heat. Meanwhile, the seemingly intimidating sheep’s head is deftly dismantled by the vendor into a bowl of meat, with even the brain pan-fried, allowing diners to focus solely on savoring its complex layers of texture while guessing whether that last bite was cheek or eye.

Top: Spicy sheep’s head; Bottom: Spicy sheep trotters.

For more niche choices, there are rice-stuffed sausages (michangzi) and flour lung (mianfeizi) from Ili. The deluxe version of michangzi mixes rice, sheep heart, liver, and meat with spices before stuffing it into casings, resulting in a soft, fragrant bite. Mianfeizi involves rinsing gluten from flour and injecting the starchy water into sheep lungs, yielding a richer, smoother texture than boiled lungs. Both dishes originated from frugal times when Ili housewives maximized precious meat, unintentionally creating iconic Xinjiang snacks.

Michangzi and mianfeizi are usually served together.

Some may raise sheep better than Xinjiang locals, but few can rival their mastery in eating them. Their love for sheep is all-encompassing—embracing every part of the animal and internalizing the care bestowed by nature and herders.

Authors | Tuni, Bi Zhuolin

Cover image | Tuchong Creativity · Jiangtu