For Jiangnan People, All Nostalgia Is Found in the "Eight Aquatic Delicacies
The people of Jiangnan are the most particular about the basic human desires: food and romance.
In late autumn, Jiangnan is never without the "Eight Immortal Aquatic Delicacies" — so fresh they'll make your teeth drop.
Legend has it that when the Eight Immortals, including Tieguai Li and He Xiangu, descended to earth and traveled to Jiangnan, they encountered a vicious flood dragon. Together, they subdued the dragon and left behind eight magical instruments, which transformed into the "Eight Immortal Aquatic Delicacies." From then on, Jiangnan became a land of abundance, and the people lived in peace and prosperity. That flood dragon must have been a serious foodie, utterly tamed by these eight delicacies — so fresh they made its teeth drop.
How exactly the Eight Immortals subdued the flood dragon, we may never know.
But one thing is certain: the Eight Immortal Aquatic Delicacies can truly conquer any food lover's palate.
After the First Frost, when Jiangnan enjoys clear autumn skies, the lingering fragrance of fresh lotus roots gives way to the crisp sweetness of water chestnuts and the soft, glutinous texture of foxnuts infused with osmanthus fragrance. Women carrying baskets of the "Eight Immortal Aquatic Delicacies" on shoulder poles, in twos and threes, become a unique sight along the roads.
Now living in Lingnan, where water resources are also abundant, I always feel like something is missing. Here, tropical fruits are plentiful, and roasted meats and sweet soups are enjoyed to the point of stomach aches. There are no bitterly cold winters without heating, but neither are there distinct seasonal changes or delicacies that vary with the time of year.
In Jiangnan, each season has its own beauty.
And the aquatic foods, naturally, differ with the seasons.
So, whenever the seasons change, I find myself unconsciously seeking out the seasonal delicacies of my hometown as a way to soothe my homesickness. Water chestnuts in spring, lotus roots in summer, arrowheads in late autumn, and water celery in winter. From March to October, wild rice stems are at their freshest, along with bright red water chestnuts, soft and white foxnuts, and Taihu water shield — these are the famous "Eight Immortal Aquatic Delicacies."
Tasting these fresh, succulent delights, one can't help but feel that living in Jiangnan is truly a blessing.
Miss the Eight Immortal Aquatic Delicacies, and you'll have to wait until next year with tears in your eyes.
The dining tables of Jiangnan people are always deeply connected to the seasons. Even when giving gifts, if it's food, seasonality is key. No matter how exotic the delicacies, they may not compare to in-season ingredients — arrowheads still coated in mud, water celery with its "herbal" aroma, casually packed in plastic bags, all become rare treasures.
Osmanthus wine-poached foxnuts, sweet and warm with a soft, glutinous texture.
Photo / keepheart, Image / Huitu Network
Early in September, a friend from Suzhou sent me a box of freshly harvested foxnuts. Lingnan doesn't experience First Frost, but on a sunny afternoon, I still boiled water and made a bowl of sweet foxnut soup with fresh osmanthus flowers. It was comforting and warm.
Foxnuts, also known as gorgon fruits, typically grow in shallow lakes and ponds. Their leaves are larger than ordinary lotus leaves, spread flat on the water with a low rim around the edge, like large frying pans. Jiangnan summers are sweltering, and when children tire from playing in the water, they climb onto the tough, flexible foxnut leaves and lie down comfortably for a while. The coolness is refreshing, and the water remains calm — a rare delight.
Foxnuts: a uniquely Jiangnan freshness.
Heavy oils and rich sauces don’t quite suit foxnuts. They are usually boiled plain or cooked with fermented rice wine to preserve their original fresh flavor. When the west wind begins to blow, a bowl of osmanthus wine-poached foxnuts is fragrant, sweet, and warming — just thinking about it brings happiness.
If you don’t know how to pick arrowheads, you’re missing out on one of Jiangnan’s greatest culinary pleasures.
When the weather gets colder, people in Jiangnan start to look forward to arrowheads.
When "the autumn wind blows and crab claws itch," it's time for arrowheads to hit the market. A pile of muddy arrowheads placed in front of a vegetable stall may seem inconspicuous, with a faint earthy smell. However, food connoisseurs can see through the mud and glimpse the plumpness of the arrowheads by their warm pale-yellow hue.
Some people don’t bother to look closely and just buy them straight away:
"This year’s arrowheads aren’t tasty! They’re too thin!"
Arrowheads grow in paddy fields, and their corms are eaten as vegetables. They are also known as "cigu." In Jiangnan, farmers plant a few arrowheads wherever there is water—along riverbanks, in fields, and on plots of land.
My mother loves making stir-fried arrowhead with pork slices. She washes and slices the arrowheads, cuts lean pork into thin slices, and marinates them briefly with rice wine and salt. After heating the oil, she first stir-fries the pork slices, then adds the blanched arrowhead slices and continues stir-frying. Finally, she adds water and simmers the dish briefly before serving. The result is a delicate and tender stir-fried arrowhead with pork.
Arrowheads are fragrant, sweet, and slightly bitter.
The pork slices are tender and exceptionally refreshing to eat.
Photo by Wang Daodao / Image from Huitu.com
After a meal of stir-fried arrowhead with pork, autumn is almost over, and vegetables become scarcer. In the past, life was slower, and vegetables were enjoyed seasonally. In each season, encountering each vegetable, making a simple seasonal dish, and sharing it with family could turn even the most ordinary days into something poetic and beautiful.
In winter, all things wither, but water dropwort thrives.
When the weather turns even colder, it’s the season for water dropwort to hit the market.
Old-timers in Suzhou know that the eastern suburbs of the city—places like Chefang, Huangtiandang, and Guoxiang—are where water dropwort is grown. In winter, when the cold wind is biting and water freezes, it’s the best time to harvest water dropwort. Along the moist soil of field ditches, amidst withered yellow grass, dark green spots unexpectedly emerge—that’s water dropwort.
While all things wither and dry grass stretches to the horizon, water dropwort grows wildly.
Newly sprouted water dropwort is a rich purplish-red. After being swept by the northwest wind, its leaves gradually turn emerald green, standing out vividly amidst the withered yellow desolation. Pushing aside the dry grass, a shovel cuts about one or two centimeters from the main stem, digging up the soil with force. Along with thin white roots and a faint earthy fragrance, a stalk of water dropwort is harvested.
This touch of green seems to tell people that spring is coming.
Both the stems and leaves of water dropwort are edible, and there are many ways to prepare it. Briefly blanched in boiling water and dressed with soy sauce, sesame oil, and other seasonings, it becomes a crispy and refreshing cold dish. Stir-frying it with dried tofu is another popular method. This dish is colorful and fragrant, with water dropwort tasting fresh and crisp, and the dried tofu tender and chewy. The combination is perfectly balanced, delivering a lasting freshness.
If you haven’t eaten water shield, you haven’t truly been to Jiangnan.
After the Lunar New Year, spring arrives in the blink of an eye. The season for water shield comes, but you must return to your hometown to taste it.
This plant, which resembles a water lily and is rich in gel, has slippery stems and leaves. Though it has no distinct flavor of its own, it wins people over with its smooth, tender texture and refreshing mouthfeel. Its enjoyment is inseparable from water, and it is often cooked in soup with whitebait—a classic pairing. The water shield is silky, the whitebait is delicate, the egg whites are fluffy, and the ham adds a subtle saltiness that doesn’t overpower. Every spoonful is a taste of pure freshness.
Water Shield and Whitebait Soup, a rare delicacy of Jiangnan.
The harvesting of water shield begins in April and lasts until the golden autumn of October. People sit in small boats, scooping up buckets of water shield from Tai Lake. We eat its bud-like tender leaves. Water shield grows rapidly, and within three to five days, it loses its mucilage, depleting its culinary value. Precisely because of this, it is also a rare delicacy of Jiangnan.
The taste of water shield is hard to find outside Jiangnan.
How delicious is it? Since the Song Dynasty, water shield has been a tribute alongside exotic flowers and stones, as well as silks and satins. Throughout various dynasties, the royal family led the trend of tasting Tai Lake water shield. Only the finest water shield is tender and smooth, making it irresistible.
What you consider the ultimate freshness is just ordinary in Jiangnan.
Many say Hubei lotus root is unparalleled, but the people of Jiangnan aren’t entirely convinced. After all, lotus root is famously one of the "Eight Immortal Aquatic Delicacies."
Lotus root has its unique charm in different regions.
But the ones grown at home are always the best.
In Jiangnan, after spring comes the season for eating lotus root. Before outside cuisines became popular, Suzhou basically had only two ways to eat lotus root: candied lotus root and lotus root starch.
Osmanthus candied lotus root: pale ivory-colored lotus root slices, filled with jade-white glutinous rice in the holes, are exceptionally beautiful. Topped with golden osmanthus flowers and drizzled with amber honey, the slices become even more translucent and fragrant. Taking a bite, the tenderness of the lotus root, the stickiness of the glutinous rice, the fragrance of osmanthus, and the sweetness of honey blend wonderfully on the tongue. Even those who don’t usually enjoy sweets can’t help but fall in love with it.
Select year-old large lotus roots and stew them until tender.
Paired with local glutinous rice, it’s fragrant and sticky.
Photography/qibajiu789789, Image/Hui Tu Net
Lotus root starch is a completely different way of eating.
On a sweltering summer afternoon, when the heat breeds restlessness, the streets offer chilled lotus root starch. Served in ceramic bowls like smooth jelly, a bowl bought to quench thirst is refreshing and cooling, even more comfortable than having cold drinks. After finishing the lotus root starch, as the sun sets in the west, cool breezes blow through the alleyways, and another day passes.
Dried lotus root is ground into powder and can be eaten after mixing with boiling water.
With osmanthus lotus root starch, even the bitter summer doesn’t seem so hard to bear. Even during the long winter, when feeling a little hungry, a bowl of hot osmanthus lotus root starch, tender and smooth, is warm and enjoyable.
People in Jiangnan like to eat raw water chestnuts.
In July, the lotus pond’s fragrance is always accompanied by another fresh scent. As night falls, the moist air over the pond slowly carries this reclusive fragrance—it is the water chestnut.
Many have only eaten old water chestnuts simmered over low heat in winter. In fact, the old water chestnuts with curved horns are just one variety. In Jiangnan, most water chestnuts are eaten fresh. Among fresh water chestnuts, the best are the water red chestnuts. Unlike the double-horned old chestnuts, mature water red chestnuts have four outward-pointing spines.
Surprise! In Jiangnan, water chestnuts can be eaten raw.
Red water chestnuts have soft, thin shells and are juicy with tender, delicious flesh, making them suitable for raw consumption. In contrast, mature water chestnuts, when boiled in their shells, become soft, glutinous, and sweet, offering a different flavor. From the End of Heat to White Dew, it is the season for red water chestnuts to hit the market. Their vibrant color, especially in clear, calm water, seems to dye the water instantly.
Pluck one from the water, bite open the shell, peel it, and the tender white flesh slips smoothly into your mouth. In Jiangnan, every season has its specialty foods. The taste of fresh water chestnuts is so light that only a hint of sweetness lingers on the tip of the tongue, compelling you to reach into the water for more until the fragrance fills your mouth.
Boiled mature water chestnuts offer a richer, deeper flavor.
In Jiangnan, water chestnuts can be enjoyed from White Dew until late autumn, from the rising waters of autumn ponds to their receding levels. After the red water chestnuts are gone, there are green ones, and even after the green ones, there are sunken water chestnuts. Like mature water chestnuts, sunken ones can be boiled and eaten. Though they lack the tenderness of fresh ones, they carry a heavier, sweeter taste reminiscent of winter.
My grandmother had a specialty dish: water chestnut cake made from water chestnut powder, rice flour, and sugar, all mixed and steamed. Fresh red water chestnuts can also be juiced, left to settle overnight, then simmered with a little sugar. The result is no less delicious than Cantonese sweet soups.
Water chestnuts and wild rice stems—they understand you better than you think.
In the blink of an eye, winter arrives. For the New Year, pairing water chestnuts with rice is a custom unique to Jiangnan. Just as Northerners hide coins in dumplings for good luck, adding whole, unpeeled water chestnuts to the rice on New Year’s Eve symbolizes digging up big water chestnuts in the coming year and making a fortune.
Today, water chestnuts are a familiar taste nationwide.
Finally, let’s talk about wild rice stems, another of my favorite foods.
There’s a riddle in Suzhou: “From afar, it looks like grass; up close, it resembles a big-bellied aunt.” The answer is wild rice stems. They are harvested twice a year, typically in the fifth and ninth months of the lunar calendar. Nowadays, wild rice stems are grown on a small scale, with limited yields, yet they feature in many seasonal dishes: shredded pork with wild rice stems, wild rice stems with green soybeans, braised wild rice stems, scrambled eggs with wild rice stems…
Wild rice stems are tender and fresh, but they are becoming increasingly rare.
Suzhou once cultivated wild rice stems extensively, with places like Huangtiandang outside Fengmen being representative. Vast stretches of lush wild rice plants stretched as far as the eye could see, with thousands of households working diligently year-round to cultivate them. Today, it is hard to find authentic local wild rice stems. The wild rice fields outside Fengmen have become industrial zones. The relentless wheels of economic development have erased all traces, leaving one unsure whether to feel regret or fortune.
All of this is encapsulated in the sound of oars and lights and the "Eight Aquatic Delicacies."
The elegant and vibrant Jiangnan derives its spirit from the presence of water. Aquatic foods bring the flavors of nature, with wind, frost, rain, and dew all infusing into the taste. Jiangnan emphasizes "seasonal freshness" for this reason—seemingly unrelated factors like climate and humidity are preserved in the food as another form of energy.
In Jiangnan, following the seasons and the water allows one to eat with spirit.
An aunt who settled in Beijing rarely returns to Suzhou, but her mother-in-law always brings her some wild rice stems. Northern vendors, largely unfamiliar with the nature of wild rice stems, often bundle them up and sell them casually on the streets. In reality, as an aquatic plant, wild rice stems must be kept in water to maintain their freshness. Away from their homeland, they often become tough and stiff, like a woman whose youth has faded too soon, making one yearn even more for home.
Nostalgia is inextricably linked to the taste memories of childhood.
Photography/Yiliu Visual Studio, Images/Hui Tu Net
When I was young, my family was poor, and wild rice stems were usually reserved for guests. When visitors came, my mother would send me to the wild rice field by the pond to gather some. Fresh wild rice stems, stripped of their green outer layers, reveal pure, delicate flesh, occasionally carrying the unique fragrance of water plants. Then, plucking a stalk of green soybeans from the edge of the pond, we could stir-fry them together with the wild rice stems.
The edamame is first stir-fried in hot oil until the skins are slightly wrinkled, then shredded water bamboo shoots are added, and both are stir-fried together until cooked. Each edamame bean nestled among the shredded water bamboo shoots, with vibrant green dots set against a backdrop of jade white, resembles rippling water waves. The tender and sweet water bamboo shoots, combined with the fragrant and soft edamame, create a fresh, savory, tender, and juicy delight.
Living in Jiangnan is truly a blessing.
Like the Eight Immortals crossing the sea, each displaying their own divine powers. The sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, and fresh flavors of the "Water Eight Delicacies" all evoke the warm memories of hometown and childhood.