Who Eats Pork Better Than Northeasterners?

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When it comes to Northeastern cuisine, what images come to mind?

Is it a table of "Kill-the-Pig Feast" with snow swirling outside the window and a roaring fire in the hearth? Or pushing open the door of a deli in winter, wiping the fog off your glasses, and seeing a mountain of sticky, steaming pig trotters in a large basin? Perhaps a plate of glistening, clean, and tender stir-fried pork intestines that elevate offal to its most delicious form? Or a pot of thick, bouncy, and glossy pork bones?

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The Northeast is vast, and its cuisine is even more diverse. But upon closer inspection, you’ll find that aside from unavoidable classics like stewed chicken with mushrooms, stewed goose with pickled cabbage, and Demoli stewed fish, almost all the bold, authentic, and unforgettable Northeastern "hard dishes" derive their ingredients from pork.

As the undisputed world leader in pork consumption, pork is the most important animal ingredient in the culinary traditions of most regions in China. And the Northeast is undoubtedly a crucial part of China’s pork-eating map.

Photo/VCG

Northeasterners eat pork lavishly and meticulously; fiercely and satisfyingly. They savor the lingering, nuanced flavors of high-quality pork fat and the warmth and passion of snowy plains and scattered villages. Most importantly, pork in Northeastern cuisine isn’t limited to "Kill-the-Pig Feast" or sweet and sour pork—Northeasterners and their chefs understand pork far more deeply than most outsiders realize.

Are Northeasterners rough and unrefined?

When it comes to pork, they’re more meticulous than anyone.

The Northeast was originally the homeland of the Manchu people. Though the Manchu language is now endangered, many Manchu words remain in Northeastern dialect, such as "卖单" (daydreaming), "果" (sucking), and "整景," among others.

A closer look reveals an interesting phenomenon: most Manchu words in Northeastern dialect are relatively complex verbs, adverbs, or verb-object phrases, while the few surviving nouns almost exclusively describe parts of a pig.

The most familiar Manchu noun to Northeasterners is probably "galaha," a small bone from the knee joint of pigs and other animals. To the ancestors of the Tungusic peoples, it was the most spiritual bone in an animal. Jurchen generals used it to strategize battles, shamans and healers used it for divination, and by modern times, pig galaha had become an important toy for Northeastern children.

A galaha game in Manchu folk performances.

I remember as a child, when my family stewed pork knuckles or when we ate them at restaurants, the elders would always try to save the galaha for me if the dish featured the fattier hind knuckle. But by then, I already had plenty of toys, and the galaha held no special appeal, so their kindness often went unappreciated. Yet even today, when eating pork knuckles, checking whether it’s a front or hind knuckle and whether the galaha can be extracted has become second nature to me.

Then there’s "nangnangchuai," the redundant fatty meat from a pig’s belly—the worst cut on the pig, given a specific name as a warning to avoid it. Today, its meaning has expanded beyond pork. Every Northeastern man strives to avoid being described by his wife as "covered in nangnangchuai."

Photo/HuiTu

Another term is "halaba," the meat from the pig’s shoulder blade. Traditional Northeastern chefs would cook halaba with the bone intact, then shred the meat into strips and pile it beside the bone. Old friends would leisurely pick up the meat with chopsticks, dip it in garlic sauce, and savor the perfect balance of fat, lean meat, and tendon—the pinnacle of pork flavor.

The Manchu language’s precise细分 of pig parts stems from pigs being the most important livestock for the Jurchen people for millennia. These enduring Manchu "pig nouns" in modern Northeastern dialect prove that the region’s immigrants, who "charged into the Northeast," have inherited the long-standing pork-eating culture of its indigenous people. Contrary to the stereotype of Northeasterners being rough and straightforward, they are more refined and meticulous about pork than anyone.

Among the细分 parts of the pig, Northeasterners’ favorite is arguably the diaphragm—locally called "huxinrou" (heart-protecting meat) or "youbian" (oily edge) in Shenyang. As the name suggests, this cut is wrapped in a layer of springy membrane, with lean meat marbled with rich fat, offering exceptional chewiness and flavor.

Those who know Northeastern cuisine never miss an order of stir-fried huxinrou with green peppers when dining out and drinking. The bold wok-fried酱油香 blends perfectly with the slightly charred, crispy huxinrou, making it a perfect pairing for both liquor and rice. Huxinrou is also great for烧烤—a signature of Liaoning烧烤 is烤油边 (grilled youbian), where large skewers of youbian sizzle on the grill, delivering a satisfying crunch. In Shenyang’s Xita烤肉 joints, which blend Korean influences, whole strips of youbian are grilled on a plate, snipped with scissors when nearly done, and dipped in烤肉酱 for another delicious variation.

Spicy Pepper and Heart Meat, a classic hearty dish perfect with drinks.

Photo/Tuchong Creative, Photography/chengxinstock

When it comes to barbecue, Hegang-style barbecue, which has gained popularity in northern China in recent years, excels in the meticulous division of pork. Locals in Hegang always order, besides the timeless classic "fat-and-lean" (sprinkled with sugar), incredibly tender pork skin, delicate plum-blossom meat, chewy raw or cooked tendons, and bone marrow. The bone marrow is particularly noteworthy—rarely seen in barbecues elsewhere. Chefs somehow extract the marrow, roast it until crispy in its solidified form, resulting in a melt-in-the-mouth texture with rich, savory fat.

In some Jinzhou barbecue joints, whole grilled pig spleen (known as "lianti") is served: the elongated spleen is skewered on trident-shaped metal sticks, roasted until sizzling with oil, then seasoned with barbecue spices and salt. Small cuts are made along the edges, earning it the local nickname "Great Sword." It’s crispy and fragrant. Grilling lianti is tricky—the line between undercooked and burnt is razor-thin. In rural Northeast China, after slaughtering a pig, children would often take the spleen, bury it in stove ashes to roast until hard and crispy, then dust it off and share it with friends—a cherished, now likely vanished, memory of Northeast countryside childhood.

Lianti is also essential in the Northeast’s old-school drinking dish—"Fried Trio." The trio consists of chicken crown fat, lianti, and pork kidney, fried to crisp perfection in precisely measured proportions using oil rendered from the chicken crown fat. The result is crispy yet slightly tender inside, with lianti balancing the texture and the kidney delivering bold flavor. No one knows who first devised this brilliant combo, but it remains a top-three drinking snack in the Northeast.

Photography/NARASSK

From cast-iron pots to Western dining tables:

Northeast China’s pork dishes span Eurasia.

When it comes to Northeastern pork cooking, the quintessential image is a bubbling cast-iron pot, steam parting to reveal a hearty stew of pickled cabbage, meat chunks, big bones, and blood sausage...

Photography/Qiu Huining

In Northeastern dialect, there’s a verb called "hu." Similar to stewing but distinct in nuance: stewing is regular boiling, while "hu" requires high heat and prolonged cooking—potatoes must turn mushy, pork knuckles fork-tender, and the whole pot must reach a sticky, "overcooked" state to qualify as "hu" (hence Northeasterners say "stew fish," never "hu fish").

For pork, "hu" is the old-school Northeasterner’s go-to method. The ancient Jurchens loved "hu"-boiled pork. After the Qing Dynasty entered China proper, to honor ancestors, rituals required plain "hu"-boiled pork in cast-iron pots—no salt added. Post-ritual, attendees had to eat it, much to the nobility’s dismay; some secretly added salt or soy sauce blocks, risking punishment. Beijing’s famed "Shaguo Ju" restaurant built its reputation on "white meat" hot pot, using surplus plain-boiled pork from imperial kitchens.

Photo/HuiTu, Photography/Lan Qi Ka Lun

At Northeast hog-feast banquets, every part of the pig gets "hu"-ed—yes, even liver, typically prized for its tenderness, is boiled until firm-then-soft, then hand-torn or sliced. Though losing its silkiness, it gains a magical texture and intense aroma. A big chunk chewed with a bite of fatty pork dipped in garlic sauce is pure bliss.

Besides "hu," steaming is another primal Northeastern pork technique. Beyond simply steaming marinated lean meat to pair with rice, the standout is steamed pork blood. Fresh blood, seasoned and mixed with soybean oil and eggs, is steamed until honeycombed inside—a sign of success. The result is silky-smooth, with scallions, blood, and oil aromas melding seamlessly, a banquet favorite.

Steamed pork blood, as tender as egg custard.

Photo/Tuchong Creative, Photography/chengxinstock

Beyond these rustic methods, Northeastern pork dishes also incorporate refined Shandong culinary elements.

Shandong migrants, the backbone of "Chuang Guandong," brought classic Shandong techniques to Northeast cuisine. Dishes like "liu rou duan" (sautéed pork chunks) and "dry-fried/soft-fried tenderloin" showcase Shandong’s "double-frying with batter at varying oil temps." But in the Northeast, portions grew larger, flavors bolder, gradually evolving into a distinct style.

Crispy "white meat," derived from Shandong’s "candied white meat."

Photo/Hui Tu Net, Photographer/yudesheji1

In Northeast China's restaurants, there is also an extreme old-school Shandong dish—Crispy White Meat. To put it plainly, Crispy White Meat is essentially candied pork fat. Strips of fresh pork fat (note: it must be pure fat, with no lean meat at all) are deep-fried to set their shape, then repeatedly coated in syrup, much like sweet potatoes. Later chefs even liked to sprinkle cheap, colorful chocolate shavings on top before serving—truly "one bite and you're hooked," earning it the title of Northeast China's top "dark cuisine." This dish is actually very labor-intensive and was highly sought after during times of hardship. However, as people's diets became richer in fats over time, it gradually faded from the culinary scene.

When it comes to handling pork offal, Northeastern cuisine also deeply embodies the essence of Shandong cuisine. Dishes like Braised Intestines, Braised Tripe Slices, Braised Liver Tips, Braised Three Delicacies, and Stir-Fried Kidney Flowers use bolder ingredients and seasonings compared to traditional Shandong dishes. Meanwhile, dry-fried dishes like Dry-Fried Lungs or Dry-Fried Tripe Strips seem to borrow techniques from Sichuan cuisine. In short, they all push the irresistible aroma of pork offal to its limit. Every Northeastern city has a few restaurants specializing in offal, and these small eateries are always surprisingly packed, a testament to Northeasterners' love for pork offal.

Photo/Tu Chong Creative, Photographer/yudesheji1

Beyond traditional local stewing and classic Chinese techniques like frying and braising, the presence of Harbin—a unique major city in the Northeast—has also subjected Northeastern pork cooking to strong European influences.

The most typical "Russian-fusion Northeastern dish" is Sweet and Sour Pork (Guobaorou). Its frying technique is rooted in Shandong cuisine, but its flavor profile was actually adapted by chefs of the past to suit Russian tastes. Large slices of fried pork are coated in a sweet sauce, then finished with cilantro, garlic, and vinegar to create a perfect sweet-and-sour balance—a flawless example of East-meets-West cuisine. Today, this dish ranks as the most famous in Northeastern cuisine, embodying the region's unique geographical and historical background.

Sausage-making, originally an ancient European pork-eating tradition, has now deeply integrated into the daily life of many Northeastern cities, especially Harbin. Harbin Red Sausage, a European-style sausage primarily made with garlic and pork, is now undeniably a "Northeastern specialty." Walk into any Northeastern deli, and you'll see trays filled with stewed and tea-smoked pork knuckles and head cheese alongside towering stacks of sausages. Their uniformly bright red hues make them seem perfectly harmonious, though their origins actually span the entire Eurasian continent.