China's Most Appetizing Cold Dish Province: The Undisputed King of Flavorful Appetizers

After the Start of Autumn, the weather in the north and south of China can be described as "polar opposites." Northerners have already experienced the comfort of "autumn arriving overnight," turning off air conditioners and pulling up blankets at night. However, summer in many southern regions remains in "to be continued" mode, especially in Sichuan-Chongqing and South China, where the scorching heat continues to dominate.

But no worries—the people of Sichuan have their own "survival rules." In one hand, they hold dishes like chilled pig's head salad and cold-spiced rabbit cubes; in the other, they serve up cold chicken noodles and Leshan "pot-pot chicken"... When it's this hot, eating cold dishes is the way to go!

Accustomed to a laid-back lifestyle, Sichuan folks mostly avoid cooking in summer beyond boiling congee. In the realm of "cold-eating summers," they’ve mastered a comprehensive playbook—dishes like "Couple’s Sliced Beef," "Mouthwatering Chicken," and "Lizhuang Sliced Pork" have long become iconic representatives of Sichuan cuisine. Zigong’s cold-spiced rabbit has been packed into backpacks by travelers and spread far and wide, while Leshan’s "pot-pot chicken" offers a new way to enjoy hotpot skewers chilled.

Strolling through Sichuan’s streets, you’ll find that the word "cold" dominates their summer life. Various cold-tossed dishes, redolent with chili oil, rule the dining tables at home. And then there are the snacks: cold noodles, jelly noodles, rice cakes, "shrimp-shaped" rice jelly... Just how refreshing is a Sichuanese summer meal?

When summer heat kills your appetite, what’s the solution? Sichuanese say: cold-tossed dishes! Every summer, cold-dish stalls pop up everywhere, bustling with customers before and after mealtimes. Grandmas ("gaga") wrapping up mahjong sessions before picking up their grandkids often stop by a street-side stall to grab a bowl of chili-oil-tossed pig’s ear strips, then head home to smash some cucumbers, add ginger, garlic, and sesame oil, and pair it with chilled congee... The aroma of chili oil in cold dishes is a scent deeply embedded in the memories of many Sichuan kids.

The swift mixing skills of the aunties at cold-dish stalls are a sight to behold. Since cold dishes are mild in flavor, seasoning is key. The shop’s signature chili oil is indispensable—its bold fragrance elevates meat dishes, transforming plain sliced pork into something vibrant with just a few spoonfuls. But chili oil alone isn’t enough; stalls display over a dozen seasonings—ginger, garlic, sesame oil, soy sauce, Sichuan pepper, sugar, vinegar—layering flavors to create a rich, numbing-spicy, sweet-and-savory complexity.

There are also subtle distinctions: for example, cold-tossed sliced pork benefits from extra pounded garlic for freshness; rabbit cubes, prone to gaminess, pair well with fermented bean paste; and for cold fish, a sprinkle of chopped chili brings out the best brightness. "One dish, one flavor; never tire of refinement" is a Sichuanese culinary creed.

Cold-dish stalls offer a variety of meats, but cold chicken sells fastest—it even transcends summer to become a year-round staple. Each region has its own take: Yingjing’s "bang-bang chicken," Leshan’s white-cut chicken, Junlian’s peppery chicken, Gulin’s spicy chicken... All different, yet united in harmony. But veterans agree: high-end restaurants can’t match the flavor of small-town eateries. Free-range chicken, firm yet tender, infused with local spices—each bite blends heat with umami, leaving you licking your chopsticks.

While cold chicken is beloved, pork ("Eight Precepts") claims half the cold-dish universe in Sichuan—ears, stomach strips, intestines, sliced pork, trotters... Every part is fair game. Cold-dish masters wield their knives like artists, slicing pork thinner than wood shavings, the fat and lean melting on the tongue. Ear slices and stomach strips, meanwhile, offer a crisp, spicy crunch, whether drenched in chili oil or dusted with ground pepper—pure bliss.

Sichuanese have also mastered many other cold-eating techniques: Zigong’s cold-spiced rabbit is a travel-worthy delicacy—if you’ve never teared up from a Sichuan roommate’s homemade version, have you really lived? Zigong is also obsessed with "dipping sauces," turning mixing into dipping, with endless chili-oil-based sauces for different dishes—a true "dipping sauce convention." Meanwhile, Leshan invented the ultimate summer alternative to hotpot skewers—"pot-pot chicken," where chicken slices, feet, potatoes, and lotus root take a chilly bath in chili oil topped with sesame seeds, creating a fragrant, mellow heat that makes you want to drink the leftover sauce.

No worries—even when the cold dishes are gone, the chili oil lives on. "Saving the sauce for noodles" is the highest praise a Sichuanese can give. Toss in some noodles after the meat, and it’s "absolutely perfect!"

"Live-captured" lettuce, cold-tossed fish mint...

A meal isn’t complete without veggies, though Sichuan’s cold-tossed greens might surprise outsiders. Anyone who’s studied in Sichuan likely has a "victim" story: seeking relief from spice with cold lotus root or lettuce, only to have their taste buds assaulted by chili oil and sizzling heat—enough to down half a bottle of sweetened soy milk.

Speaking of greens, the "king of kings" in cold-veg territory is fish mint—foreigners fear it, but locals adore it. To them, cold-tossing is its destiny, preserving its pungent freshness while amplifying its kick. Die-hard fans split into "stem lovers" (for their plump crunch) and "leaf lovers" (for their tender aroma), both pairing perfectly with fava beans for an unbeatable drinking snack.

Not all cold veggies are fiery, though. Some are mild, like "volcanic snow" (sugar-tossed tomatoes), a hit with kids at banquets, or cold broccoli, long beans, and cucumber—safe choices that skip the chili oil for gentler garlic-sesame dressings. But be warned: even then, Sichuanese will stubbornly add a few slivers of chili for principle’s sake.

And don’t forget the pickles—though not a "main dish," their tangy crunch (especially young ginger and long beans) shines when tossed with chili oil. With meats and veggies on the table and chilled mung-bean congee to wash it down, it’s a classic summer meal. The congee, a heat-beating staple, soothes the palate with its mild, comforting warmth.

The word "cold" defines Sichuan summers—beyond dishes, there’s cold noodles, jelly noodles, rice cakes, "shrimp" jelly... All working together to keep tongues cool.

Cold noodles and jelly noodles are summer’s dynamic duo, curing Sichuan kids’ lost appetites. Alkaline noodles, boiled and fanned to silkiness, get dressed in chili oil, sugar, vinegar, scallions, cilantro, and crispy peanuts. Beneath them, shredded mustard greens and bean sprouts add crunch, creating a symphony of textures. Guangyuan’s steamed cold noodles stand out—made from rice batter, sliced into chewy ribbons, and served spicy.

Jelly noodles come in more varieties—pea, mung bean, rice... Translucent and bouncy, they’re deceptively mild-looking. One bite, though, and tears may flow—hence the name "heartbreak jelly noodles."

But summer’s sweetness balances the heat. Round, moon-like rice cakes soak in brown sugar syrup, dotted with osmanthus for fragrance. Or, hot rice batter dripped through a sieve into cold water forms "shrimp" jelly—soft, sweet, and utterly soothing.

Bowl after bowl of delicious food delights the palate with coolness while warming the heart. The ever-expanding family of "cold" dishes stands as the best proof of Sichuan people's passion for life.

This article is original content from [Di Dao Feng Wu].