Schizonepeta, coriander, shiso, Alpinia officinarum...
How many fragrances grace the dining tables of Henan people?
In Henan, spring begins at the dining table.
When tender buds on branches, riverside galangal, and sprouting wild herbs emerge, Henan's appetite awakens from the dull winter, invigorated by a breeze of spring.
Photo / Tuchong Creative
Schizonepeta, coriander, shiso, sesame leaves, Alpinia officinarum... These young sprouts, arriving with the spring breeze and dewy freshness, naturally become the stars of the table. But Henan's "seasonal specialties" aren't limited to spring. Some shoots bud in spring, bloom in summer, and quietly mark the passage of time on Henan's dining tables. (To see how Henan people savor summer, check here👉 How can Henan people survive summer without schizonepeta?)
Henan people have bold tastes—a single bowl of spicy soup can contain over a dozen spices. With each sip, the warming broth swirls on the palate, leaving a lingering, assertive aftertaste. By the time the flavor fades, it's time for another bowl. Henan people have a knack for seasoning—despite spices making up 50% of the soup, other ingredients' flavors aren't overpowered but instead enhanced.
Beyond satisfying local tastes, Henan has produced seasonings like Lotus MSG, Nande Spicy Blend, and Wang Shouyi Thirteen Spices, dominating kitchens across China.
One of the earliest spices introduced to China.
Cuisine often reflects a region's essence—why are Henan people so fond of these unique aromas?
Henan is inherently an agricultural powerhouse. For millennia, the Yellow River has carried fertile sediment, carving out lush land where civilization and plants thrived. The soil, soft like chocolate cake, nurtures even the most delicate blooms.
Henan life is inseparable from schizonepeta.
Common Henan ingredients like coriander, fennel, and cumin originated in Europe, arriving via the Silk Road to take root in the region's countryside.
Most Henan dishes rely on coriander.
Growing on the same land, these plants, like the people, are humble yet resilient. They sprout in spring, flourish in summer, and sprawl across fields and riverbanks—often mistaken for weeds.
Rarely the main attraction, their distinct fragrances elevate countless dishes, enriching not just Henan's but China's culinary tapestry.
Henan people: No coriander, no flavor!
In wheat-waving Henan, the air is perfumed with grain.
This is a kingdom of wheat—noodles and steamed buns, though sweet, are bland alone. So, Henan turns to backyard greens and wild sprouts. With coriander and schizonepeta, simple carbs transform into flavorful feasts.
Fresh and deodorizing, the finishing touch.
It is no exaggeration to say that these uniquely flavored dishes are a major culinary innovation by the people of Henan, a testament to their wisdom in adapting to the environment and a new exploration of taste.
Coriander, known as cilantro to most, appears remarkably often in Henan cuisine. Whether it’s a bowl of noodles, a plate of cold dishes, or a soup, tossing a handful of coriander into the pot is a common practice in Henan cooking.
As a versatile "substitute" for coriander, basil is also a favorite among Henan locals. Even the most mundane flavors in cold dishes or noodles can be instantly revitalized with the addition of basil. Meanwhile, seasonings like stone basil and fennel easily awaken the Henan spirit.
Henan-style garlic sauce noodle soup must include basil.
In Henan, all ingredients complement each other. Just like the spices in spicy soup, they never overshadow the main ingredients but instead work like magic. They are far more than mere garnishes for wheat flour—swap the proportions of flour and seasoning greens, and coriander, basil, and fennel shoots become the stars of the show.
Steamed coriander is a common dish in Henan. In late spring and early summer, coriander grows lush in a corner of the yard, ready to be picked effortlessly. A quick rinse at the well leaves droplets on the leaves, reflecting a vibrant green under the sunlight.
In Henan, anything can be steamed—even basil.
After washing and cutting the coriander, let it drain before coating it lightly with flour. Once evenly coated, steam it immediately. In no time, the unique aroma of coriander pierces through the lid, testing the diner’s patience.
Once steamed, the coriander is thinly coated with flour, giving it an amber-like translucency. The freshness of the coriander bursts through the flour, quickly dominating the taste buds, while the mildness of the flour fills the aftertaste, creating perfect harmony between teeth and tongue. Here, it’s both a dish and a meal.
Henan-style steamed dishes can be enjoyed at home,
or found as staples in local restaurants.
Beyond common coriander and basil, Henan boasts many other uniquely fragrant greens. Like basil often mistaken for sweet basil, shixiang herb is frequently confused with mint.
Known as shixiang or stone basil in Henan, its scientific name is spearmint. While it resembles mint in appearance, shixiang leaves are darker in color. Unlike mint’s slight pungency, shixiang offers a much fresher scent.
Photo/Original Creativity
In southern Henan, shixiang is a true summer specialty. On scorching days, a bowl of shixiang garlic noodles is the ultimate proof of one’s Henan identity.
Shixiang is best picked young. The leaves are crushed with garlic and ginger, then drizzled with sesame oil and a pinch of salt, making the perfect topping for cold noodles. The herb lends a faint minty aroma to the dish, with a refreshing coolness—like a breeze after a summer storm.
While shixiang is best served cold, sesame leaves are meant to be eaten hot. To Henan people, every part of the sesame plant is precious. Beyond its rich seeds, the leaves are also a delicacy.
Every summer, sesame leaves are at their peak. Unlike basil or shixiang, they must be blanched before eating. This removes their natural astringency, leaving a slight bitterness with an inexplicable richness that keeps you chewing for more.
But people in Henan usually cook sesame leaves before eating them.
Sesame leaf noodle soup is a common dish, preferably made with hand-pulled noodles. The soup becomes thicker after adding sesame leaves. The grayish-brown leaves intertwined with noodles resemble preserved mustard greens.
Sesame leaf "Xian Hutuo" is another classic pairing. After stir-frying scallions, ginger, and garlic, water is added, and sesame leaves are boiled with crushed tofu, green beans, and tomatoes. Finally, a flour paste is stirred in, creating a seemingly messy but heartwarming dish symbolizing reunion.
Henan people typically handle vegetables in two ways: eating them fresh or making them into pickles, as with mountain galangal.
Growing in riverside shrubs, mountain galangal carries a fresh, herbal aroma and crisp juiciness. Biting into it releases a sweet, refreshing liquid. Every summer, Henan locals bring it home and enhance its natural sweetness with just sugar, liquor, soy sauce, and salt.
These wild flavors, transitioning from fields to dining tables, reflect Henan people's exploration of life and reverence for the land.
Header image | Tuchong Creativity
Cover image | Visual China