China's Top Garlic-Eating Province: So Hardcore That Even Locust Blossoms Are Drenched in Garlic Sauce!
Not all Shandong people love eating scallions.
If you ask a Shandong local whether they enjoy pancake-rolled scallions, they might not be thrilled to answer—after all, only about one-third of Shandong’s regions actually eat these pancakes. And while scallions are great, not everyone is a fan.
But if you ask instead: “Do you eat steamed buns with garlic?”
You might just get a reply like: “Obviously! Who eats garlic on its own—that’d burn your stomach!”
Shandong is home to two nationally famous “hometowns of garlic”—Jinxiang and Lanling (formerly Cangshan)—and ranks first in garlic production across China. In 2021, Shandong planted 3.95 million mu (around 263,000 hectares) of garlic alone, more than double that of Jiangsu, the second-largest producer. And when it comes to consumption, Shandong’s numbers are through the roof.
Of course, just as one rice feeds a hundred different people, not every Shandong local loves garlic. In a province as vast and diverse as Shandong—with its mix of coastal and inland regions—garlic-eating habits also vary.
In southern Shandong, where Jinxiang and Lanling are located, garlic lovers abound. Street vendors offer garlic in generous amounts, and even sweet locust flowers picked in spring are served drenched in mashed garlic. Further north, in central and northwestern Shandong, both pancakes and big steamed buns share the stage with garlic—snacking on raw garlic is no big deal, and no barbecue is complete without it. In coastal areas, the “garlic craze” cools slightly, but garlic remains essential for seasoning fresh seafood and stir-fries.
In short, despite regional differences, Shandong people’s love for garlic is like Yu Qian’s love for animals—
It’s something they need at every single meal.
Of Shandong’s 10,800 dishes, garlic stars in nearly 9,000.
Shandong cuisine has deeply influenced culinary systems across northern China and even the northeast. Many local specialties actually originated from Shandong chefs and their apprentices. The most obvious trace of this history? Throughout the North China Plain and the three northeastern provinces, the sizzle of stir-frying in every household is fragrant with garlic and scallions.
Without garlic, Shandong cuisine loses half its power!
The most famous Shandong dishes belong to the refined “official mansion cuisine,” which can be roughly divided into three schools: the fresh “Jiaodong style,” the aromatic “Jinan style,” and the elegant “Confucian Mansion style.” What they share is a pursuit of refinement and balance. You won’t find extreme flavors in Shandong cuisine—even strong ingredients like kidney or large intestine are meticulously processed to remove any unpleasant odors and enhance umami, a process that simply can’t happen without garlic.
Take the famous “Braised Intestines in Brown Sauce,” for example. The cleaned intestines are steamed, boiled, fried, and braised multiple times, with ginger, scallions, and garlic working together to neutralize gaminess without leaving behind too much sharpness. The finished dish is date-red, rich, and fatty yet not greasy. Even those who usually avoid offal might be surprised into taking a second bite.
Home-style Shandong cooking is even more deeply rooted. If you visit a Shandong household, your host will likely proudly serve “Garlic-Burst Pork”—thinly sliced pork stir-fried lightly with garlic until just fragrant. Overcook the garlic, and it loses its aroma; undercook it, and it’s too spicy. Only with perfect wok heat can you achieve tender, savory meat. And when you clean two bowls of rice with this dish, your host’s satisfaction will reach its peak.
Photo/shuizhongya2018
Some local Shandong dishes outside the traditional cuisine system also rely heavily on garlic. The famous “Zaozhuang Spicy Chicken” gets its deliciousness from a local rhyme: “Scallions in segments, garlic in chunks, peppers in rolling cuts—and don’t forget the cilantro when you start frying.” Then there’s “Linyi Garlic Fish”—steamed fish topped with garlic paste and chili oil, creating a delicate balance of freshness, aroma, and spice that’s irresistible even from the smell alone.
Without garlic, Zaozhuang Spicy Chicken just wouldn’t be the same.
By day, Shandong shows you the mighty Yellow River flowing into the sea and the majestic Mount Tai—solid and profound. But by night? Whoa! The air is filled with the smell of delicious grilled skewers—who has time to think about anything else?
For barbecue, start in Jinan—the “Kebab Capital” that consumes 7.2 tons of grilled meat a day. Set up a small table, take a stool, and listen to the vendor’s call: “Fresh lamb skewers, want some, laosher?” Meanwhile, a rustling sound catches your ear. Look around, and you’ll see diners at every table peeling garlic themselves. A bite of meat, a bite of garlic—the crisp, spicy kick cuts through the grease and gaminess. Now that’s the proper way to enjoy barbecue.
"Freshly grilled lamb skewers, want some, sir?"
The "garlic clove meat" skewered with a piece of meat and a garlic clove is also not to be missed. The garlic is roasted to a slight golden brown, yet still retains ample juiciness. With one bite, the meat juices and garlic juices mix together, their aroma rushing straight to the top of your head.
Zibo's barbecue has its unique edge: a small grill paired with thin pancakes, something you won't find anywhere else in the country. The skewers are served about 70-80% cooked, leaving the final doneness to the diners. Unfold a pancake, place two spring onions, dip the skewers in a mix of sesame salt and crushed peanuts, roll it up, and give it a pull—but don’t rush to eat it yet. Squeeze on some garlic chili paste, stuff in a couple of garlic cloves, and then take a bite. Full! Satisfying! exhilarating!
Garlic clove meat with thin pancakes—so satisfying!
Qingdao folks love "chuozi meat." In Qingdao, "chuozi" refers to a winnowing basket, and the tool used to grill chuozi meat is just like a small winnowing basket. Large chunks of pork belly and garlic tumble together in the chuozi, sizzling and releasing an oily aroma that can practically captivate your soul.
Roasted garlic is sweet and soft—so incredibly fragrant!
Of course, the soul of Qingdao barbecue has to be seafood. Think mussels, razor clams, crabs, squid, abalone, lobster, clams, oysters, fresh scallops… They’re not worried about how much you can eat, just whether your stomach is big enough. To tell if a restaurant knows its stuff, see if they use "golden and silver garlic" when grilling oysters and scallops. The minced garlic is added in two batches—half cooked until fragrant, half fresh and tender—bringing out both a toasty aroma and a fresh sweetness, maximizing garlic’s ability to enhance umami. While devouring large bites of meat, wash it down with a few gulps of Factory No. 5 draft beer, and your entire summer feels complete.
No one can resist oysters grilled with golden and silver garlic. No one!
If you don’t come to Shandong, you’ll never know how fresh garlic can be.
Everything mentioned earlier uses garlic as a condiment. To truly understand how Shandong people eat garlic, you have to share a meal of dumplings with them. Then you’ll realize that dipping dumplings in garlic paste is nothing—eating dumplings while biting into garlic cloves is the real thrill!
One dumpling, one garlic clove; for a steamed bun, at least three cloves. If you finish a meal without polishing off two whole heads of garlic, it means you didn’t fully enjoy it.
Eating dumplings without garlic? Was the meal even worth it?
"Isn’t it spicy?" you ask. A Shandong local hands you a garlic clove to try for yourself.
Spicy! The moment your teeth break the skin, the garlic juice rushes eagerly to your taste buds, surging up to the top of your head and burning down to your heart. You want to sneeze, you want to cry—one bite of garlic feels like it’s cleared all your senses. But it’s so fresh, with a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste. Only then do you understand: with such incredibly fresh garlic grown in Shandong’s soil, who wouldn’t love it?
Fresh garlic belongs to summer, but to taste it at its peak, you need to act in spring.
While everyone else is foraging for wild vegetables, Shandong people are scouring the hills for wild garlic. Wild garlic tastes somewhere between scallions and garlic, carrying the unique freshness of the mountains. Chopped and mixed with tofu, it’s so fresh it’ll make your eyebrows fall off. When locust blossoms bloom, pick a cluster, coat them in flour, steam them, and drizzle with garlic paste. Don’t think this is strange—one taste will convince you. Fresh, fragrant, sweet, and spicy, it’s like having the entire flavor of spring in your mouth.
Pickled wild garlic is also delicious~
Pluck some fresh garlic sprouts from your own garden and dip them in fermented bean sauce—you’ll be swallowing the entire year’s freshness of that garlic plant. Wait ten days to half a month, and the garlic scapes emerge. These can also be dipped in sauce, though they’re a bit spicier now, so sweet bean sauce helps balance the heat. Alternatively, blanch the garlic scapes and marinate them with seasonings for an hour or two—the texture becomes more complex, but the freshness remains undiminished.
The first stir-fry of spring: garlic sprouts with pork belly.
If you haven’t yet mastered the skill of eating raw garlic straight, garlic paste is always a good option. There’s a trick to pounding garlic paste with a mortar: the key is to keep your hand steady. Big, heavy strokes will splatter garlic juice everywhere—that won’t do. Use small, quick, and powerful "taps" to make the paste fine and sticky, perfect for mixing with anything.
Garlic paste is incredibly versatile. People in southern Shandong love steaming elm seed money steamed buns, and dipping them in a bit of garlic paste—this prevents them from being rough or astringent, instead making them mouthwateringly delicious. Yantai-style焖子 (fried starch jelly) is tasty, but no matter how much seafood or shrimp sauce is added, it feels like something is missing without garlic paste to enhance the flavor. In Weifang, people must eat sesame paste mixed vegetables in summer; although sesame paste is good, a spoonful of garlic paste is needed to truly give it its soul.
How can you eat elm seed money steamed buns or sesame paste mixed vegetables without garlic paste?
Fig. 1: Elm seed money steamed buns. Photo/VCG
Fig. 2: Sesame paste mixed vegetables. Photo/只会爬树的猫
In spring, coastal areas have another exclusive dish to go with alcohol—raw mixed snapping shrimp. Freshly caught pistol shrimp are not cooked but marinated raw with shredded ginger, minced garlic, and drizzled with piping hot chili oil. The texture is both sweet and plump, making people exclaim, "If I could eat three hundred fresh shrimp a day, I’d never regret being a Jiaodong native."
Snapping shrimp have no fishy smell at all~
When it comes to eating garlic paste, people in southern Shandong have a clever trick: boil an egg until it’s well-done, peel it, throw it into a garlic mortar along with a clove of garlic and some salt, then mash it all together to create an incredibly delicious egg and garlic mix. Don’t be fooled by its simplicity—the crumbly yolk, chewy egg white, and crunchy minced garlic are so good that they can be spread on steamed buns, mixed with rice, or even used as a condiment for bicycle brake pads (just kidding, don’t actually try that…).
悄悄跟你们说，拌面也挺好吃的。
After all this, some friends might still frown and say, "No matter how delicious garlic is, the smell is just too strong."
This isn’t a problem—Shandong friends have a solution: after eating garlic, just munch on two apples. This is no joke; the rich polyphenols in apples react with the sulfur compounds in garlic, effectively reducing the garlic odor. Actually, eating some lettuce or chewing mint leaves also works, but with Yantai apples readily available, why not enjoy something good?
If all else fails, have a clove of sweet pickled garlic instead—it’s sweet~
There are countless pungent flavors in the world, but Shandong people have a special love for garlic. (You say scallions? Aren’t those fruits?)
Admittedly, garlic has the ability to make people keep their distance: it’s spicy on the first taste, burns the heart upon closer savor, rushes up the nose and to the brain, and even three mouthfuls of steamed bread can’t suppress the fiery heat rising from the chest. Its smell is comparable to a mobile biochemical weapon.
Only after tempering steel into softness does one realize that garlic is a gentleman among flavors: it’s always the first into the wok, cutting through grease, absorbing oil, and boldly drawing out the freshness of all other flavors, while itself retreating into the background, leaving only a hint of soft sweetness.
Roasted garlic is always very gentle.
Pungency is garlic’s integrity; sweetness and softness are its warmth. Just like a tough and unyielding man, it holds a heart that embraces all things with tenderness.
Even Shandong children who have left home and aren’t particularly fond of garlic will be reminded of once-ordinary memories and garlic’s many virtues when they catch its familiar scent.
So they dig out the head of garlic their parents tucked into their luggage, peel it, take a bite, and their eyes suddenly feel a little warm.
It’s not homesickness—it’s just that this garlic is really spicy.
It’s winter—time for the family to start pickling Laba garlic, right?