How Many Herbs, Flowers, Leaves and Roots Are Hidden in Shanxi Noodle Bowls?

Before the arrival of Spring Begins, Shanxi people are already counting the days on their fingers: When can they grab their little shovels, rush to the hillsides, pluck elm seeds, pick locust flowers, gather alfalfa and white mugwort, and bring all these heaven-sent wild vegetables home?

Once the wild vegetables are brought home, they become a feast on the table.

Photo / Home-cooked dishes by Xiaoxiao’s mom from Yuncheng

Shanxi people understand best how to coexist with nature. In their eyes, fields and treetops are natural vegetable gardens. When all things grow, they carefully harvest this fleeting freshness; during harsh autumns and bitter winters, they use jars and pots to create a world of pickled, dried, and sun-cured wild vegetables, extending the essence of sunlight, rain, and mountain breezes indefinitely.

When the light flavors of the countryside meet the ingenious world of Shanxi noodles, what kind of culinary feast will unfold?

The wilder, the fresher! Flowers and grasses enter the dough.

Shanxi people’s love for wild vegetables is a matter of survival. In the early Ming Dynasty, frequent floods in the Yellow River basin led to droughts in Shanxi. When further hit by locust plagues and sandstorms, "men venture beyond the pass, women forage for wild vegetables" became Shanxi’s wisdom for coping with natural disasters.

Wild vegetable bolanzi, the freshest taste of spring

Originally a humble dish born from food scarcity, bolanzi unexpectedly sparked creativity. This dish, blending vegetables and flour into a steamed delicacy, is both a side and a main. In spring, when wild vegetables abound, Shanxi people boldly experiment with flour and greens, elevating bolanzi to its wild vegetable version.

Photo / Huitu Net, Photographer / Zhuge Buliang

Tender white mugwort and fragrant alfalfa are natural companions for bolanzi. As the saying goes, "White mugwort in the first month, mugwort in the second, fit only for firewood by the third." When its grayish buds release their unique scent in the spring breeze, digging for white mugwort becomes a family activity. After cleaning and drying, it can be tossed with tofu, steamed with wheat flour, or luxuriously mixed with oil and flour to make white mugwort bolanzi. In Yuncheng, people season it with angelica, sand ginger, and spices, paired with Shanxi aged vinegar and local chili, creating a white mugwort feast.

White mugwort, steamed with wheat flour, is equally fragrant and delightful.

Photo / Huitu Net, Photographer / Guangfeng Recipes

Around the Spring Equinox, alfalfa is just an inch or two tall, growing in clusters. Picking it is laborious—each stem must be plucked by hand. Because of the effort, alfalfa is almost always used for bolanzi. Its tender, bright green texture yields a subtly sweet dish. Even the humblest wild greens can transform into a plate of springtime splendor.

Tender alfalfa offers even more culinary possibilities.

When noodles meet wild vegetables, how many possibilities arise?

Yuguye, a wild vegetable that emerges in late spring, is said to be a Taiyuan invention, also called "honggu’er." Its plump leaves have tiny spines on the underside, making them ideal for zhuanjianjian.

Dipping the stems in a flour batter and boiling them creates a dish that’s both noodle and vegetable. The batter must be just right—neither too thick nor too thin—to cling firmly to the leaves. Shanxi people master this with a mix of white, red, and bean flour, crafting a resilient batter that perfectly suits yuguye.

Yuguye zhuanjianjian, warm and soft.

Bitterless and fresh, shepherd’s purse is a classic spring wild vegetable. At its tenderest in March and April, it’s praised in the Book of Songs: "Who says bitter herbs are bitter? They’re sweet as shepherd’s purse." Shanxi people go further, calling it "February’s miracle herb" or affectionately doubling its name, like "ji-ji cai." In Xinzhou, it’s even called "mogengen," showing their fondness. Shepherd’s purse pairs perfectly with noodles—think dumplings or wontons. Shanxi people also love it in pancakes or as a tofu soup, a poetic ode to spring.

The steaming shepherd's purse and tofu soup captures the fresh essence of spring.

Wild vegetables are a tender haven, softening the rustic simplicity of staple foods, yet they are also the spark of spring—untamed and fierce, igniting the passion of the wilderness.

"On the third day of the third lunar month, bitter herbs sprout." Shanxi people truly relish the bitterness. Bitter herbs, also known as sweet chicory, are easily confused with endive. Cold-tossed bitter herbs have a mild astringency—their bitterness is refreshing, offering a delightfully bitter experience. In Xinzhou, people blanch the bitter herbs, soak them in water, then toss them with garlic, scallion oil, chili, and sesame, transforming their flavor from bitter to sweet!

With the chef's skillful touch, even the bitter taste becomes exceptionally delicious.

Photo / Huitu Net, Photographer / Helpless

Not everything thorny is a rose—it might be thistle. Covered in prickles, it stings when harvested or washed, yet its medicinal value—"cooking and eating it dispels wind-heat"—was discovered early. Shanxi people fearlessly gather it with homemade sickles and forks, filling baskets before knocking off the thorns. Blanched and dressed with oil and seasonings, thistle offers an earthy aroma and a tingling thrill.

Pickled wild garlic is also delicious~

Wild garlic is as fiery as a wild horse. In the barren early spring, it blazes like stars across empty fields. Harvesters are relentless, braving tattered pants and rugged hills to dig up these fragrant treasures. The white bulbs, with their roots, carry a spicy freshness—perfect for vinegar-pickling, stir-frying with eggs, or deep-frying. Once fried, wild garlic releases an intoxicating aroma, pairing perfectly with hand-pulled noodles.

When "bolanzi" (a Shanxi dish) mingles with wild greens, the blossoms on treetops inspire both bending and climbing, bringing joy and nostalgia.

When locust blossoms perfume the air, Shanxi children gather them by the bagful, snacking as they pick. Crushing the petals releases their natural sweetness. Mixed with flour and steamed, the blossoms take on a crystalline texture, their delicate fragrance enhanced by garlic and sesame oil—a true "Shanxi flavor."

Sweet-tossed locust blossoms can also pack a spicy punch.

In times of famine, elm seeds could sustain a family for half a month; now, they're a spring delicacy. Their subtly sticky texture pairs well with grains, making them ideal for steamed "kulei" or "wowo" (corn or oat buns). Another method: sun-dry the seeds, mix with flour, steam gently, and top with garlic sauce for a hearty bowl. Elm seed flatbreads, buns, pancakes, and soups are all winners.

Wheat rice, steamed buns—simple elm seeds offer endless possibilities~

Photo / Yuncheng Xiaoxiao Ma’s Home Cooking

Among these leaves, none is more intoxicating than pungent, addictive Chinese toon. Harvest it early—pre-Grain Rain to enjoy its lingering aroma; later pickings are bland. Tender shoots, still dewy, shine in tofu, chicken, or soybean salads, or as crispy "toon fish." Classic toon scrambled eggs never disappoint. Blanched toon turns from purple to green, then mixed with eggs for double umami. But in Shanxi, noodles reign supreme: toon tossed with noodles and topped with eggs creates a sticky, fragrant masterpiece.

The freshest toon noodles—a once-a-year treat~

Shanxi folks have clever tricks for handling all kinds of leaves.

Willow buds, called "scenery willow" in Xinzhou, are flavorful but slightly bitter. As soon as they sprout, riverbanks swarm with harvesters. Blanched and soaked overnight, they lose their bitterness, perfect for tea or salads.

Poplar leaves follow a similar process. Climbers scale trees, gather tender leaves, then soak them for days to remove bitterness and sourness. Tossed with scallions and vinegar, they make a refreshing salad, great with "nagao" (a dough dish) or stuffed into oat dumplings with shredded potatoes.

Willow bud scrambled eggs—spring's most irresistible flavor.

How can wild vegetables be enjoyed all year round?

To gather Nostoc commune, one must seize the moment after the spring rain but before the thunder. As the local saying in Datong goes, "Nostoc commune meets a drizzle—it flourishes." When the light rain subsides, the air is filled with the fragrance of earth and withered grass, and the Nostoc commune, having absorbed ample moisture, stretches out plump and slippery. It’s perfect for chopping into fillings for dumplings or buns. Alternatively, it can be stir-fried with eggs, paired with a plate of pickles, and enjoyed with corn porridge. For more refined dishes, there are cold Nostoc commune with scallions, Nostoc commune with dried shrimp, or Nostoc commune stewed with vermicelli and tofu soup. No matter how it’s prepared, the elegant and fresh Nostoc commune always showcases its unique flavor.

Nostoc commune with millet porridge is also an authentic Shanxi delicacy.

By the height of summer, between Lesser Heat and Greater Heat, mushrooms are at their peak. On rainy mornings, damp soil mounds emerge, and only those who venture out before dawn can pick the freshest wild mushrooms. These mushrooms are used to season sorghum noodles or cooked into Tai mushroom and lamb kao lao lao, leaving a lingering aroma in the mouth.

Tai mushrooms with lamb and oat kao lao lao—a signature delight for Shanxi locals.

Harvesting in season is just the first step in preserving wild flavors. To enjoy spring all year round, much more effort is required.

After the autumn harvest, it’s time to hurry and pickle vegetables. "A few cents per pound, ten yuan lasts till spring; a pot of stew in deep winter, its fragrance wafts far and wide." Pickles bring warmth to the harsh cold of the Loess Plateau. Cabbage, radish, scallions, mustard greens, and potherb mustard are staples, but wild vegetables still hold the most winter charm.

The first batch of toon shoots is fleeting—even if left unpicked, they quickly age. To honor spring’s gift, people in Taiyuan pickle toon shoots. Blanched toon shoots are drained and layered in earthen pots, sun-dried until the liquid turns crimson. Salt seeps in, releasing their fragrance. Pickled toon shoots make a perfect side dish, pairing with corn porridge, pancakes, or even tossed into noodles with the infused toon water.

Only by pickling toon shoots can one truly savor spring.

In Shanxi, no wild vegetable is unfit for drying. Fresh greens, sun-dried, become winter versions of shepherd’s purse, purslane, and locust flowers, extending their edible lifespan and developing new flavors. Wild mushrooms from Mount Wutai, silver plate mushrooms from Mount Guancen, and hedgehog mushrooms from Mount Zhongtiao are also dried, their umami intensified and preserved for long-lasting natural deliciousness.

Spring’s wild daylilies, once dried, become a year-round delicacy.

Only the land-dependent, land-loving people of Shanxi understand: long ago, at the dawn of agrarian civilization, vegetables were wild too. Now, as seasons renew, the land expresses its enduring abundance through wild greens.

Plants and grains share a bond, as do noodles and vegetables. Between people and the land, it has always been this way—mutual nourishment, inseparable.

Nostoc commune oat dumplings—the hauntingly nostalgic taste of home.

Text | Zhan Yimeng, Cat Knight

Text editor, Image editor | Cat Knight

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