The Soy Sauce Map of China
Soy sauce, the taste of China. China, the soy sauce empire.
This dark, glossy, and clear liquid not only forms the flavor foundation of Chinese cuisine but also bridges time and space with its unique taste: it carries a civilization of thousands of years and lingers on our tongues, becoming an authentic flavor that is forever sought after yet always within reach.
Soy sauce, the water of life in the East,
And the breath of the Chinese soul.
Pictured is a soy sauce workshop in Luzhou, Sichuan.
China is so vast that one flavor cannot define it.
Even soy sauce, nurtured by time and terroir, takes on countless forms—similar in appearance but vastly different in essence. To northerners, soy sauce might just be "soy sauce," at most divided into light and dark varieties. But to southerners, soy sauce and its derivatives are so diverse that they confidently savor it as a cultural experience.
Light and dark soy sauces are only two broad categories,
From which countless seasoned soy sauces derive,
Some for braising meat, some for steaming fish, some for stir-frying…
Chinese chefs conquer the culinary world with a barrel of soy sauce.
Whether it’s homestyle red-braised pork or braised pig trotters, restaurant dishes like scallion-braised sea cucumber or sizzling oil eel noodles, staple foods like dry-fried beef hor fun or soy sauce meat buns, or even overseas favorites like sweet and sour pork or three-cup chicken—this "water of life" unlocks the essence of Chinese cuisine, connecting the meridians of countless flavors and making China’s culinary culture shine brightly in the world.
Soy sauce, the most authentic taste of China,
Is also our gift to the world.
Today, let’s talk about this seemingly humble yet incredibly important condiment.
The differences in taste between northern and southern China can be glimpsed from the kitchen.
For example, if you say, "Add some soy sauce," a northerner might bring out light soy sauce, while a southerner would ask, "Which kind?"
Soy sauce, with its complex flavor profile, is itself a marvel.
In a northern household, vinegar often comes in large bottles, while soy sauce might only occupy a few small ones. Southerners, on the other hand, have it reversed: vinegar is limited to a few bottles (or even very small ones), while soy sauce varieties are dazzling—labeled as steamed fish soy sauce, mushroom light soy sauce, seafood soy sauce, cold dish light soy sauce, soy paste, meat soy sauce… And the most commonly used one is always in an extra-large bottle.
Take a look at the distribution of soy sauce production, and you’ll understand:
Why do people in southern China have a special pursuit for soy sauce?
That's right, southerners particularly love soy sauce, and when it comes to being particular about it, they are absolutely serious.
For Cantonese people, soy sauce is their lifeline!
Let's first take a trip to Guangdong. Located in the subtropics, the region has extremely hot, humid, and long summers, while winters are damp, cold, and short. Living here, it's easy to suffer from "internal heat": occasionally developing mouth ulcers, swollen and sore throats, red gums, or sudden nosebleeds. Without a light diet, one simply doesn't feel well.
Cantonese dim sum. Whether it's char siu bao or chicken feet with black bean sauce,
the flavor of soy sauce is deeply infused in them.
At the same time, Guangdong is rich in products, a paradise for all kinds of delicacies. With so much to eat, no matter how light and fresh, seasoning is needed; heavy spices like chili and Sichuan pepper won't do (they cause internal heat~), and salt and spices can't be used excessively (they generate heat~). Soy sauce, which balances saltiness and umami while naturally enhancing flavor, is naturally more popular.
The local products and climate have led to Guangdong's reliance on soy sauce.
Thus, soy sauce and Cantonese people have mutually achieved each other, harmoniously coexisting by the southern seas.
For example, the Cantonese invented steamed fish soy sauce—a blend of light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, rock sugar, huadiao wine, and other ingredients simmered together to create a sweeter, more umami flavor. It's perfect with seafood or rice noodle rolls (and doesn't cause internal heat~). To efficiently make roasted meats, they also created mushroom dark soy sauce—dark and shiny like petroleum, a little goes a long way in coloring and enhancing flavor. So convenient (and economical~).
Whether it's steamed fish or rice noodle rolls, soy sauce is absolutely essential.
Every Cantonese person carries in their heart the childhood memory of lard-topped rice. In those days of material scarcity, pouring hot seafood soy sauce over steaming rice could instantly evoke a meat-like umami, enough to make a meal. If conditions were better, a spoonful of white lard was added. When it met the hot soy sauce, the result was a delicious aroma that made one forget life's hardships and recall only mother's loving face...
Clay pot rice, the upgraded version of soy sauce mixed rice.
Soy sauce is something we can't let go of. It quietly embodies the small joys of ordinary people.
Even when eating fruit, Cantonese people love to dip it in soy sauce.
In Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shanghai, soy sauce is absolutely indispensable!
In Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shanghai, soy sauce takes on a new feeling.
The lower Yangtze River region has distinct seasons and diverse products. People here have the confidence to eat according to the season, and there are subtle differences in taste preferences within the region: northern Jiangsu prefers light and savory flavors, while southern Jiangsu loves rich, oily, and red sauces. However, both are united by one dish—Yangchun noodles.
From Nanjing to Yangzhou, to Suzhou, Hangzhou, and Shanghai,
Yangchun noodles, with soy sauce as the base, are an invincible presence.
You must not underestimate this bowl of noodles. Its taste code lies in the distinctive soy sauce-based broth.
Shanghainese prefer scallion oil soy sauce, made by simmering scallions with light soy sauce and adding thoroughly cooked dried shrimp (kaiyang), which is then mixed with noodles. Yangzhou natives favor shrimp roe soy sauce, which pairs perfectly with noodles or wontons, delivering an umami punch that is simply irresistible. Nanjing residents, on the other hand, blend several types of soy sauce, simmer them, and add lard, creating an aroma so enticing that it’s impossible not to drool.
For Jiangsu-Zhejiang-Shanghai wontons, the soy sauce broth is extremely important.
People here not only love the umami of soy sauce but also its sweetness.
Braised pork ribs are Wuxi locals' "heart's delight." They adore red-braised dishes, cooking with "soy sauce in one hand and a sugar can in the other." In their eyes, true "nong you chi jiang" (rich oil and deep soy sauce) must use soy sauce with rock sugar, as white sugar lacks soul. As the wok steams, sugar and soy sauce meld together, coating the ribs. Picking up a piece, the "sugar shell" stretches into threads, blending sweet and savory flavors with an intensely rich taste.
Whether it’s rich oil and deep soy sauce or clear, fresh sweetness,
without soy sauce, the taste of Jiangsu-Zhejiang would be lost.
The soul of soy sauce comes from terroir and culture.
In fact, the earliest soy sauce originated in the north and was an extremely precious royal delicacy.
The ancient classic "Zhou Li" first documented "jiang" (sauce): "For the king’s meals, six grains are used, six animals for meat, six clear drinks, 120 delicacies, eight rare dishes... and 120 jars of sauce."
The earliest soy sauce evolved from meat, similar to fish sauce.
The Zhou royal court was located in the Central Plains, so soy sauce naturally had northern origins. However, the "jiang" mentioned in "Zhou Li" referred to meat-based sauces made from animal proteins like fish, meat, or shrimp, called "hai" (醢). Later, people discovered that the clarified liquid from these meat sauces—the naturally fermented meat broth—was even more delicious than the sauce itself, giving rise to the precursor of soy sauce.
However, since meat sauce was already precious, meat-based soy sauce was even more valuable, reserved only for royalty and nobility at the time.
During the Han Dynasty, people began using soybeans as a substitute for meat,
leading to the soybean soy sauce we know today.
Eventually, soybeans replaced meat as the main ingredient for soy sauce. The Eastern Han classic "Lunheng" mentioned "bean sauce," while the Northern Wei’s "Qimin Yaoshu" detailed its production: steam soybeans, add koji mold, salt, and spices, then ferment naturally in jars. After filtering, "qingjiang" (clear sauce) was obtained. This ancient soy sauce, similar to today’s light soy sauce, was affordable for common people.
By the Song Dynasty, brewing techniques had improved further, and soybean-based soy sauce became rich in umami. It completely replaced meat-based soy sauce as a daily condiment for Chinese people.
According to traditional methods, soy sauce production follows "spring koji, summer sauce, autumn oil."
A good bottle of brewed soy sauce requires at least six months.
Today, with advancements in brewing techniques, soy sauce has evolved into various forms, such as steamed fish soy sauce and mushroom dark soy sauce. Depending on regional natural conditions, soy sauce in the north and south also differs.
The hot and humid south typically employs natural fermentation to brew soy sauce: soybeans are steamed, mixed with flour to create koji, then combined with high-concentration brine and sun-dried for about half a year, resulting in a richer and more mellow soy sauce. The dry north is suited for solid-state low-salt fermentation, where indoor heat preservation replaces sun-drying. Using less salt and controlling the fermentation speed facilitates large-scale production, yielding a lighter taste compared to naturally fermented varieties.
Naturally brewed soy sauce has a superior flavor.
Brewing soy sauce heavily relies on climate and geography. Ideal regions require warm, humid weather and ample sunlight to allow full fermentation of soybeans, enhancing the aroma and richness of the soy sauce. Access to water and salt is also crucial—preferably coastal areas (with sea salt and natural rainfall) or regions with salt mines (well salt and river water), coupled with a steady supply of soybeans (and convenient transportation), to produce high-quality soy sauce.
Xiamen: a site of traditional soy sauce brewing.
Thus, the Pearl River Delta, Yangtze River Delta, and Sichuan-Chongqing region have become the main hubs of soy sauce production in modern China, forming a "tripartite dominance" in the Chinese soy sauce industry. This has also fostered a strong "soy sauce confidence" among southerners.
Thanks to salt mines and developed water systems, Sichuan-Chongqing soy sauce is of excellent quality.
Photo: Soy sauce sun-drying by the Chishui River in Luzhou, Sichuan.
The soul of soy sauce comes from unique terroir, diligent hands, and ancient wisdom passed down through generations. This dark, glossy, mysterious liquid of the East, like our ancient civilization, is profound and unadorned.
For thousands of years, we have expanded soy sauce into a culture world that is both umami-rich and intricately complex.
As a condiment, it deeply permeates our cuisine and indirectly influences every aspect of life, constructing an incredibly beautiful panorama of umami. It is so remarkable that it has consistently shaped the culinary culture of China and even East Asia. Some even say: the taste of the East is the taste of soy sauce.
Soy sauce: China’s delicious gift to the world.
Photo: Soy sauce koji during fermentation.
In 753 AD, Monk Jianzhen traveled to Japan and brought Tang-era soy sauce-making techniques. Around 1200 AD, Japanese Monk Kakushin came to China to study and brought Song-era soy sauce back to Japan. Since then, soy sauce brewing took root in Japan, merging with local miso to form today’s Japanese soy sauce.
Throughout its long history, Chinese soy sauce also spread into Southeast Asian cuisine via maritime trade, cultural exchanges, and the migration of Chinese people to Southeast Asia over the past three centuries. This is why many Chinese have a special fondness for Southeast Asian flavors—it resembles Chinese taste, yet is not entirely the same.
Soy sauce has traveled the world with the footsteps of the Chinese diaspora.
Photo: A Vietnamese soy sauce workshop, brimming with Chinese flair.
It has even acquired new cultural metaphors. In earlier years, we have memories of "fetching soy sauce" for the family: carrying an empty bottle, queuing at the store, watching the dark, shiny soy sauce flow through a funnel into the bottle. The best part was, you could buy exactly how much you wanted, and use the leftover change to buy snacks—a simple joy.
The taste of home is always the most inadvertent—
a fleeting whisper that gently brushes your heart.
Thus, "fetching soy sauce" became a cherished memory. "Every child grows up and learns to fetch soy sauce" was also elders’ way of acknowledging a child’s growth and maturity. Today, "fetching soy sauce" also metaphorically means "none of my business," which is quite amusing.
For Chinese people, "getting soy sauce" is a cultural phenomenon.
The photo shows a grand scene of ten thousand people getting soy sauce in Zhenjiang, Jiangsu.
Never underestimate soy sauce. It is incredibly important—both the taste of home and the flavor of China.
Cover image | Visual China Group