Why Is Guizhou the Global Hub for Premium Fermented Foods?

The Treasured Fermented Delicacies of Guizhou

Fermentation: The Magical Source of Guizhou's Flavors.

The warm and humid local climate makes Guizhou a paradise for microorganisms. These tiny organisms, which could have been the enemies of food, were instead befriended by the hardworking and ingenious people of Guizhou. Together with these invisible little lives, they built a kingdom of imaginative delicacies, transforming Guizhou into a world-class hub for fermented foods!

The fermentation starter blocks for Moutai liquor adhere to strict height standards.

Photo courtesy of Jinshi Media.

Don’t believe it? Take baijiu—isn’t it the most iconic fermented delicacy? Guizhou is the birthplace of Moutai, a single brand that accounts for one-tenth of China’s total baijiu exports. In 2017, Moutai’s market value surpassed Diageo (the world’s largest spirits company, with a portfolio spanning top brands in distilled spirits, wine, and beer) and has since remained the world’s most valuable liquor brand. Then there’s fermented black beans—a key ingredient in the "national chili sauce" Lao Gan Ma, which has made its way to over 130 countries and regions, captivating China while conquering the world. And let’s not forget sour soup—during the recent May Day holiday, Guizhou welcomed over 20 million tourists in just three days. How many could resist the soul-stirring allure of a steaming pot of sour fish soup?

Sour fish soup—how many travelers' hearts has it captured?

Why is fermentation so enchanting? Because it transforms fleeting freshness into profound depth. Inside unseen jars and vats, microorganisms break down starch into sweet sugars, then turn them into mellow liquor, while proteins soften into rich pastes. This process alters not just texture and taste but also enriches nutrients and deepens aromatic complexity, making flavors worth savoring.

Fermented black bean hotpot, bubbling with irresistible aroma.

Mountains and Waters, Brewed into an Epic of Time

Among Guizhou’s countless fermented delights, liquor stands as the brightest gem.

Under high heat, the liquor flows forth.

It’s not just Moutai. Guizhou’s liquor scene boasts over a dozen renowned sauce-aroma brands like Xijiu, Zhenjiu, Guotai, Diaoyutai, and Jinsha Cellar; strong-aroma varieties include Yaxi Cellar, Meijiao, Bijie Daqu, and Xishui Daqu, each a household name. Then there’s Dongjiu, which single-handedly defines the "Dong aroma" category and shares the title of national fame with Moutai. In 2022, Guizhou produced 800,000 kiloliters of baijiu—4.3% of China’s total output—yet its sales revenue of 120.44 billion yuan accounted for a staggering 30% of the national market!

Guizhou’s love for liquor runs deep. Archaeological finds from over 2,000 years ago, like the "tao gu" drinking vessels unearthed in northwestern Guizhou’s Western Han tombs and earlier pottery urns and steamers, suggest ancient brewing traditions. Historical records, such as the "Records of the Southwest Yi" and "Shiji: Account of the Southwest Barbarians," document the drinking customs of the Yi and Pu peoples—proof that this land has long been steeped in the fragrance of liquor, making its bountiful harvests no surprise.

Master Peng Chao, inheritor of Moutai’s intangible cultural heritage techniques, inspecting fermenting grains.

Photo courtesy of Jinshi Media.

Majestic Peaks and Winding Rivers: The Terroir of Sauce Aroma

Guizhou has no shortage of towering mountains.

The Wumeng Mountains in the west form the backbone of the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau. From here, the land slopes toward the north, east, and south, crisscrossed by the Dalou, Wuling, and Miao ranges, while rushing rivers carve through the valleys—creating a realm of endless peaks and roaring waters.

Photo by Cao Jingjian.

Mountains serve as natural barriers and boundaries for climate. Cold air from the north slows its southward advance as it encounters layer upon layer of Guizhou's rugged terrain. By the time it collides with the towering Wumeng Mountains, its force is nearly spent, stagnating against the warm, moist air masses from the south to form a prolonged rainfall belt—the famous "Yunnan-Guizhou Quasi-Stationary Front," which ensures Guizhou's air is perpetually rich with moisture.

Guizhou's river network is exceptionally dense. Across its 176,000 square kilometers, there are nearly a thousand rivers with drainage areas exceeding 10 square kilometers, and its groundwater resources are unimaginably abundant. The plentiful surface water and shallow groundwater are not only voluminous but also remarkably pure, providing an ideal natural water source for brewing. Guizhou is home to dozens of renowned liquors, many of which are made directly from river water.

These are Guizhou's "macro-environment," but at the foot of the Dalou Mountains and within the Chishui River Valley, there exists an even more remarkable "microclimate."

The Chishui River is perhaps the most intoxicatingly fragrant river in China. Along its winding thousand-mile course, fine liquors can be found every hundred miles, and the famous liquors produced within its basin account for half of China's top-tier spirits.

So, what makes the Chishui River so unique?

One answer lies in its exceptional geographical advantage. The Chishui River Valley is not far from the aforementioned "Yunnan-Guizhou Quasi-Stationary Front" rainfall belt, placing it among the regions with the highest precipitation and humidity. Even more remarkably, while the Guizhou Plateau averages 1,100 meters in elevation, the Chishui River Valley resembles a deep crevice in the earth, maintaining a lower altitude of 300-600 meters and preserving the high-temperature characteristics of low-latitude regions.

Nationwide, no other baijiu-producing region matches the Chishui River Valley's average annual temperature of over 18°C and humidity of 70%. The extreme heat, humidity, and exceptionally stable air environment—shielded by the Dalou Mountains—allow microorganisms that struggle elsewhere to thrive here, contributing to the uniquely rich and complex jiangxiang (sauce-aroma) flavor.

Fine liquor is highly sensitive to environmental changes. Even along the same Chishui River, the flavors of Moutai, Xijiu, and Langjiu—three major jiangxiang liquors—vary significantly. Zhenjiu, another premium jiangxiang baijiu from the Chishui River basin, has developed its own distinct style due to the clearer weather of Huichuan. Though金沙县 (Jinsha County) also produces excellent jiangxiang liquor, its drier climate results in a cleaner, crisper taste compared to the warm, heavy richness of the valley.

Indeed, replicating Moutai's exact flavor outside Maotai Town is impossible. But considering Guizhou's diverse environments, each locale yields its own distinctive liquor—a delightful surprise in its own right.

The mighty Chishui River nurtures legends of fine liquor.

With pristine mountains and waters, brewing fine liquor requires one more essential ingredient—grain.

In our modern, prosperous society, we often forget how challenging it was to secure grain in ancient times with limited productivity. "Having surplus grain for brewing" even became a measure of a civilization's prosperity. But the people along the Chishui River never worried about this. Northern Guizhou has one of the longest histories of rice cultivation in the province and remains known as its "granary."

Sticky, glutinous red sorghum is the ideal grain for crafting jiangxiang liquor.

What truly propelled the fame of the Chishui River's liquors, however, was—salt transport.

Historically, Guizhou produced no salt, and the salt-rich Sichuan lay beyond the formidable Dalou Mountains. For centuries, this daily necessity had to be imported sporadically from Sichuan, Huai, and Guangdong, making it scarce and expensive.

In 1745, Guizhou Governor Zhang Guangs formally petitioned to bring Sichuan salt into Guizhou and organized efforts to dredge the Chishui River, aiming to fully open this salt route to Hejiang County in Sichuan. After the project, salt boats carrying over a thousand pounds could navigate upstream, unloading at a small riverside village before being transported inland by manpower. This village later became the world-famous liquor town—Maotai Town.

As the saying went, "Sichuan salt flows to Guizhou, and Shaanxi merchants gather in Maotai." Wealthy salt merchants flocked to Maotai Town with vast sums, transforming it into one of Guizhou's most vital commercial hubs. Frequent trade spurred the liquor industry's boom, and liquor became a key commodity for exchanging Sichuan salt. As boatloads of well salt arrived, merchants would return with holds full of Maotai liquor. Thus, Moutai's reputation grew, eventually surpassing even the salt trade. By the Daoguang era (1821-1850), the scale was immense: "No fewer than twenty distilleries, consuming no less than twenty thousand dan of mountain grain."

Among these distilleries, the Chengyi Distillery, founded by the Hua family, was the first to brand its liquor as "Maotai." Alongside the Ronghe Distillery (Wang family) and the Hengxing Winery (Lai family), they formed the precursors of today's Moutai Group—the famed "Hua Moutai," "Wang Moutai," and "Lai Moutai."

"Homes stored only liquor for sale; boats carried mostly salt." Fine liquor gradually gained fame along the sprawling trade routes. During the Anti-Japanese War, the Southwest, as China's rear base, became the nation's economic and political center, allowing Guizhou's long-brewed liquors to shine on a grander stage. The Long March further intertwined Guizhou's liquors with revolutionary memory.

In 1950, exquisite Moutai became the state banquet liquor, and its development received national attention. In 1956, the State Science and Technology Commission included "summarizing and improving Guizhou Moutai's traditional specialty food" in its 12-year science and technology plan. In 1960, the Ministry of Light Industry organized experts to study Moutai's techniques. By 1975, the Chinese Academy of Sciences launched the "Moutai Relocation Experiment" project to expand production capacity.

Such strong support is not merely for the flavor of a fine brew. No, people place their hopes for "the industrialization of baijiu" on Guizhou Moutai. The people need fine wine to fulfill their pursuit of joy in ordinary life; but brewing requires grain, and the rising New China must carefully calculate every investment. Thus, as a leader among Chinese baijiu, Moutai shoulders the responsibility of finding the perfect balance between the two.

This vigorous industrial exploration holds great significance for China's baijiu industry: for the first time, people analyzed the crucial process of "qu-making," isolated and identified brewing microorganisms, solved many challenges in brewing techniques, and provided important references for baijiu of various aroma types and flavors.

Over 70 years, Guizhou baijiu has repeatedly achieved miracles. During the 13th Five-Year Plan period, the annual growth rate of Guizhou's baijiu industry reached 12.7%, with the industrial added value of baijiu accounting for over 30% of the province's total industrial output, making it the undisputed leading industry of Guizhou.

Guizhou baijiu—the undisputed leading industry.

The Soul of Flavor in Ancient Brewing Techniques

The story of fine wine is filled with legends. Yet, the most profound embodiment of human wisdom undoubtedly lies in the brewing process itself.

Today, we have sufficient scientific knowledge to understand that "brewing" is a process where microorganisms convert sugar into alcohol, while other components in the raw materials transform under microbial action into various flavor compounds, releasing enchanting aromas. However, even now, we have yet to fully decipher the aromatic components of many famous liquors, let alone manipulate microorganisms to cultivate the optimal ratio. Ancient people had no microscopes, yet through long coexistence with microbes, they mastered the art of taming flavors.

Qu-making is the secret of Chinese brewers in controlling flavor and the core difference between Chinese and foreign liquors.

What is "qu"? Simply put, it is a "fermentation starter" made from grains. At the beginning of the brewing process, mixed grains like wheat, barley, and peas are pre-fermented to cultivate specific microorganisms, which are then added to brewing ingredients like sorghum and rice to facilitate starch saccharification and alcohol fermentation, simultaneously producing liquor and aroma. "Qu is the backbone of liquor"—with qu, Chinese fine wine achieves stable quality and rich aroma profiles.

For the people of Guizhou, the methods of brewing and qu-making also embody the wisdom of "adapting to local conditions."

As mentioned earlier, the Chishui River Valley has a hot and humid climate, giving rise to a unique "high-temperature" gene in its brewing techniques: high-temperature qu-making, high-temperature stacking, high-temperature fermentation, and high-temperature liquor extraction. The "high-temperature daqu" of Jiangxiang baijiu reaches a core fermentation temperature of over 60°C, selecting microbial communities that are heat-resistant, acid-resistant, and alcohol-tolerant, capable of producing a warm, complex aroma unattainable by other types of qu.

However, precisely because the fermentation temperature is so high, many fragile yeasts—the main force in alcohol production—are inevitably killed. To improve liquor yield, brewers must capture airborne microorganisms during the "stacking" stage, tightly linking the brewing process to the microclimate of the Chishui Valley. Over millennia, brewing microbes continuously enriched the air, turning this small world into a unique natural cellar.

Guizhou's fine wines are not limited to Jiangxiang. For example, Dongjiu possesses its own secret technique, no less remarkable than Moutai's—"cross-distillation."

Moutai's daqu is richly aromatic but yields a relatively low liquor output. Dongjiu also uses daqu, but with additional herbs added to create a more complex medicinal aroma. The fermented grains produced by daqu, known as "xiangpei" by Dongjiu brewers, are solely responsible for aroma and taste, while the task of alcohol production is entirely assigned to separately prepared "xiaoqu." After fermentation, the two types of grains are "cross-distilled," blending the herbal aromas evenly, combining the bold, refreshing taste of daqu with the mellow, lingering sweetness of xiaoqu—a truly rich experience.

Year after year, the ancient techniques continue to be passed down on the land of Guizhou. Only generations of brewers who have deeply understood the pulse of nature could uncover such an intricate secret. Fine wine is a gift of nature, but reverence for craftsmanship and relentless exploration may well be the secret to Guizhou's enduring legacy of fine liquor.

Fermented black beans, dried tofu, tofu puffs—how many delicious codes can be unlocked from soybeans?

You may not know Guizhou's fermented black beans, but you’ve surely heard of Lao Gan Ma. The most iconic flavor of this national chili sauce is "fermented black bean chili oil." Recall that oily, spicy richness, infused with the umami of fermented beans—perfect for spreading on steamed buns, mixing with rice, or elevating a simple stir-fry into a carb-loaded feast, rescuing countless campus days when monthly allowances ran low.

Lao Gan Ma—the perfect match for steaming-hot staples!

Lao Gan Ma’s popularity stems not only from its deliciousness but also from the gentleness hidden behind its fiery heat. Come see for yourself the role of fermented black beans in Guizhou life! Bold, unique flavors guaranteed to redefine your understanding of soybeans.

Tiny beans—when "stinky" reaches its peak, it becomes "truly fragrant."

In fact, the entire southwestern region plus the Hunan and Hubei areas are not short of good fermented black beans, but Guizhou's version stands out as uniquely distinctive.

Fermented black beans rely on molds and bacteria, with molds being more commonly involved. For example, Yongchuan fermented black beans in Chongqing use Mucor, while Liuyang fermented black beans in Hunan use Aspergillus oryzae. However, due to differences in climate and microbial environments, Guizhou's typical fermented black beans are fermented using Bacillus subtilis, resulting in a distinct flavor—interestingly, Bacillus subtilis is also a crucial microorganism in Maotai liquor fermentation, which is why the brewing process of soy-sauce aroma liquor, despite not using soybeans, can still yield a hint of fermented black bean aroma.

Guizhou fermented black beans also look quite "weird": wet, sticky, and even stringy when stirred. Many outsiders seeing it for the first time can't help but exclaim: Isn't this Japanese natto? Indeed, natto is also fermented using a type of Bacillus subtilis, and a few years ago, Japanese scholars even traced natto's origins back to Guizhou. Regardless of whether there's a real kinship, Guizhou fermented black beans undoubtedly surpass natto in both flavor and nutritional content like "nattokinase."

This is Guizhou wet fermented black beans—definitely not natto!

So how are these peculiar fermented black beans made? The method is rustic and homely: wrap cooked soybeans in layers with leaves from the Iris family (known as "fermented black bean leaves"), add no other ingredients, and let them ferment in a dark room for ten days to half a month until they become sticky and reach the ideal "stringy" consistency. These beans can be eaten directly, sun-dried into individual grains for preservation ("dry fermented black beans"), or soaked in tea water with salt, ginger, and garlic to become the more distinctive "water fermented black beans."

Wet fermented black beans are often used to make fermented black bean hotpot, perfect for topping rice.

If you can handle the taste of both wet and dry fermented black beans, you must try "fermented black bean paste" next.

Mash wet fermented black beans into a paste, mix with salt, MSG, ground Sichuan pepper, fennel powder, star anise powder, and other seasonings, then shape into square or oval lumps. Wrap them and place them in a warm spot—like a kitchen corner or even under direct sunlight—until the surface glistens with oil, and the paste is ready.

Due to its complex ingredients and deep fermentation, the paste has an intense flavor. Those unaccustomed might find it "too pungent," but fans grow addicted to it. Slice off a small piece, mix with minced ginger, scallions, and roasted chili, then stir-fry with shredded meat and broth to make a hotpot base. Whether it's soft pork belly, cured meat, or seasonal vegetables, everything cooked in this fermented black bean paste hotpot absorbs its rich, savory depth.

Fermented black beans most commonly appear in Guizhou's sauces and dipping mixes. Here, sauces and dips are like battlefields of flavor, with each shop and household guarding their secret recipes. On this stage of seasoning, chili takes the lead, while fish mint and mountain pepper oil add bold aromas—but fermented black beans provide the foundational umami, forming the stable, robust, and irreplaceable backbone of "Qian flavor."

Water fermented black beans, fish mint, cilantro!

Squeezing out every drop of umami from soybeans, "from birth to death."

After experiencing the bold fermented black beans, Guizhou also offers gentler fermented soybean delicacies waiting to be tasted.

Northwestern Guizhou, with its highland climate, is a major soybean-producing region. The abundance of soybeans has further fueled endless creativity, using fermentation to extract every last drop of umami potential from the beans.

Tofu? Just soak soybeans, grind them into milk, boil it, and coagulate with brine or gypsum—a technique widespread since the Song Dynasty. What does it have to do with fermentation? Plenty! Guizhou's tofu is coagulated using "sour soup."

Making tofu with sour soup is a skill requiring experience, as the sour soup is fermented from the leftover whey of the previous tofu batch. After making tofu this time, the whey is saved again for the next batch. This carefully preserved sour soup, much like the old ferment for brewing or the "starter dough" for baking, is both a process of selecting microbial strains and a way to preserve flavor.

"Lianzha Nao" (vegetable tofu pudding) can also be made using sour soup.

Compared to brine, sour soup is gentler, yielding tofu that's exceptionally tender, smooth, and resilient. Adding leafy greens during coagulation creates the textured "Lianzha Nao," a beloved home-style dish. Pressed into neat cubes, it becomes "sour soup tofu," opening up even more culinary possibilities.

"Loving Tofu Puffs" are stars of Guiyang's night markets. These palm-sized tofu slices are fried until crispy on the outside, then slit open to reveal a creamy, semi-liquid center—thanks to the ongoing fermentation of sour soup tofu. Stuff these "little pockets" with crispy soybeans, minced meat, chili oil, and the love-it-or-hate-it fish mint. The silky tofu soaks up the dipping sauce, making you forget all about the scalding heat.

Loving Tofu Puffs: soft, tender, and oozing.

Even if you've never been to Guizhou, you might have seen "little tofu" at barbecue night markets—small square cubes that look like dried tofu before grilling. When placed on a scorching grill or hot plate, they quickly puff up like little balloons, bursting with juice and an indescribable umami flavor when bitten into. A dip in chili powder makes it an absolute explosion of taste.

Today, about 60% of the little tofu on the market comes from Dafang County in Bijie City, a renowned "hometown of tofu" that masters the art of fermentation. Little tofu gains its unique tender texture after being "fermented" in special containers for a day or two. For a stronger-flavored stinky tofu, layers of white tofu are stacked alternately with special "rice straw" (a type of dried straw, preferably reused from previous tofu-making) until mold grows.

If the moldy tofu is left to ferment further, it will soon turn soft and mushy, becoming what's called "fermented tofu" (or tofu cheese). Guizhou locals prefer a spicy flavor, so the tofu is removed once the mold forms a dense web, coated with salt, sprinkled with liquor, rolled in chili powder, and sealed in jars. After three months, it becomes as smooth as cheese, with an exceptionally rich flavor—perfect for dipping sauces, stir-fries, or even eaten plain with rice.

See how a tiny bean, from soaking to steaming, and finally transforming into a soft paste through mold, is thoroughly utilized by Guizhou people at every stage of its "life cycle"?

With winding mountain roads, everything here can turn sour.

Among the diverse fermented delicacies, the most abundant, unique, and representative of Guizhou's culinary essence is undoubtedly "sourness."

Photo courtesy of Guizhou Pictorial / Photographer: Jiang Shiliang

The humid yet pleasant climate in the mountains fosters abundant growth but makes food preservation a challenge. Guizhou also historically lacked salt, preventing reliance on simple salt-curing methods. Scarcity bred creativity, and over time, the art of "souring" became second nature: pickled sour, fermented sour, vinegar sour, sour soup, sour vegetables, sour meat, sour chili... One could say Guizhou has as many types of sour as it has mountains.

Sour Fish Soup, originating from Qiandongnan—the most skilled and authentic region for souring—has become a must-try for tourists. However, the modern version is adapted; to taste the true local flavor, one must venture deep into the mountains for the wildest, boldest, and most addictive "Guizhou sour."

The Three Sours of Dushan—How Many Dare You Try?

Dushan, a small county in southern Guizhou and the source of the Duliu River, sees heavy rainfall and dense rivers. Ancient banyan trees form vast green canopies, while pristine forests host exotic flora. Ethnic minorities here, living by the water, adore sour flavors, culminating in three unique sours over centuries.

The first is "Yan Suan" (salt-pickled sour). Also called jar sour, it’s famous in Dushan, Sandu, and Libo since the Ming Dynasty. Made with seasonal greens, sun-dried and pickled with garlic shoots, garlic cloves, rock sugar, sweet wine, and chili, it’s a crisp blend of sweet, salty, spicy, and sour. Lu Xun once praised it as "China’s finest vegetarian dish" after tasting it from a Guizhou scholar in Beijing—high praise from a Shaoxing native well-versed in pickles.

The second, "Xia Suan" (shrimp sour), is where things get unusual. Initially, surplus small shrimp were sealed in jars for preservation, accidentally creating a tangy aroma. Now, it’s refined: fresh river shrimp are mixed with salt and liquor, fermented for six months until faintly pink, then seasoned with more liquor, sweet wine, chili, and salt for another half-year.

Shrimp sour paste—fiery and umami-rich.

By then, the shrimp shells turn crispy, the flesh tender, with no fishy taste—only deep savoriness. Commonly used in hotpot (not for broth but to stir-fry beef), fresh mint cuts the richness, while heaps of chili add heat. After the beef, other ingredients absorb the bold flavors, doubling their deliciousness.

Fig 1-2: Shrimp sour stir-fried beef—spicy and addictive!

The most challenging is the third—"Chou Suan" (stinky sour)!

Stinky sour comes in meat and veg versions. Veg stinky sour blends chopped greens and balsam flowers with roasted wheat, fermenting into dark green slurry. Meat stinky sour has no fixed recipe—any fatty pork or beef stewed and fermented works. True to its name, the pungent smell is strong, permeating entire streets. But don’t flee—dishes made with it, meat or veg, grow more addictive with each chew, turning hesitant bites into cravings.

Photo by Chen Weihong

The art of souring isn’t unique to Dushan—it flourishes across Guizhou.

The most common is undoubtedly pickled vegetables.

Everyday pickles are not as elaborate as those requiring over twenty steps like "salt-pickled vegetables." In Guizhou, the popular "quick-pickled vegetables" (or "bath pickles") from the southwest are widely enjoyed. With less salt added, they can be eaten after just a day or two of fermentation. Whether served cold or in soups, they are refreshing and make an excellent pairing for many Guizhou delicacies. For instance, Huaxi beef rice noodles in Guiyang would be incomplete without the tangy pickled cabbage shreds. Pickled radish is another star among pickles—adding rock sugar during fermentation creates a delightful sweet-and-sour flavor. Street vendors selling pickled radish are ubiquitous in Guizhou, where people enjoy it with a sprinkle of chili powder, creating a crisp taste that lingers as a summer memory.

A more traditional method involves no salt. Instead, glutinous rice and rice wine are mixed with greens to initiate fermentation, while chili, ginger, and garlic are added for flavor. After one or two months, the pickles develop a richer taste and longer shelf life. These pickles can be eaten directly, and their brine can serve as a starter for fermenting other foods, layering deeper flavors. Used in soups or stews with melons and beans, they evoke nostalgic hometown flavors for many Guizhou locals.

Among Guizhou’s sour foods, there’s another ubiquitous champion: fermented chili paste!

Fermented chili paste can be considered Guizhou’s version of "chopped chili." Every August and September during the chili harvest, families bring out large wooden basins, toss in the chilies, and start chopping—adding salt, young ginger, and garlic for seasoning, along with sugar and liquor to aid fermentation. The mixture is then packed into jars and stored in cool mountain caves for months, allowing the sour and sweet notes to tame the pungent spice, perfectly embodying Guizhou’s signature "harmonious heat." When unsealed, the paste carries a lingering depth. It features prominently in Guizhou cuisine—try the local "fish-fragrant shredded pork," and you’ll notice a distinct twist compared to Sichuan’s version.

A home-style dish: cold-tossed fermented black beans with scallions and fermented chili paste.

Beyond grains and vegetables, fermented meats offer a uniquely captivating taste.

Take "sour zhā meat," for example—its appearance is striking, coated in a pale outer layer. This is actually a mix of roasted rice flour, dried chili powder, and Sichuan pepper, applied during curing. Marbled pork belly is doused in liquor, coated with the zhā mixture, and tightly packed layer by layer in earthen jars, sealed with palm leaves and inverted over a water tray. After a month or two, the sourness permeates the meat: the lean stays tender, the fat becomes fragrant yet never greasy, and when stir-fried, it’s irresistibly hearty.

In the Miao villages of southeastern Guizhou, exceptional fermented fish is also common. Rice-paddy carp, infused with the aroma of grains, boast tender flesh and fine scales. The fish are gutted, stuffed with glutinous rice and sweet wine, coated in chili and spices, and sealed for fermentation. Once ready, the flesh turns faintly red, saturated with spice. Pan-fried, boiled, grilled, or deep-fried, the blend of salty, numbing, spicy, sour, and sweet flavors creates an intensely appetizing experience.

As mentioned earlier, the modern "sour fish soup" is an adapted version—so what does the original sour broth look like?

The answer lies in the Miao villages of southeastern Guizhou. There, every household keeps a stout "sour jar" near the stove, holding the purest, oldest "white sour." Rice water is poured into the jar, mixed with a spoonful of aged sour broth as a starter, and sealed for a day or two until the sourness develops. A little is taken and replenished, making the jar seem inexhaustible—much like the cyclical philosophy seen in Guizhou’s sour tofu.

Another classic is "wild tomato sour." These small, irregularly shaped wild tomatoes pack an intensely tangy punch. Fermented for a month or two, they turn into a thick sauce. A single lick of this red sour broth could make your teeth ache and your nose sting, yet the tomato’s rich aroma is unparalleled. Some villages also blend white sour with fermented chili paste for a vibrant, tangy-spicy broth that’s incredibly appetizing.

Photo / Guizhou Pictorial, by Jiang Shiliang

The sour fish soup served in urban restaurants is a refined fusion: 70% white sour blended with 30% red sour, softening the sharp acidity while highlighting the gentle rice fragrance, making it more palatable for visitors. A tender rice-paddy fish simmers in the clear broth, releasing a wild freshness, followed by the lively kick of mountain pepper oil. Soon, the chili’s heat emerges, leaving diners slightly sweaty yet thoroughly invigorated.

The sour broth enhances the meat’s succulence.

Photo / Lu Yukun

While sour fish soup wins over tourists, sour-broth rice noodles have also gained fame beyond the province. Brands like Nanshanpo and Huangguoshu Three Bowls sell these noodles nationwide, while Majiang Mingyang, with the largest sour broth production base in China (21,000 fermentation jars), ensures Guizhou natives everywhere can savor hometown flavors. They’ve even won over "sour-obsessed" fans overseas!

Fig. 1: Fermentation test jars in Nanshanpo’s research lab. Photo / Chen Weihong

Fig. 2: The expansive Yumeng sour broth fermentation base. Photo / Zhang Luo

From birth to maturity, through long fermentation, food undergoes magical transformations—time’s alchemy at work. But look further back: over millennia, Guizhou’s ancestors tamed wild mountain flavors into gentle sourness, freshness, and richness. Isn’t this, too, a marvel wrought by time?

Guizhou has nurtured treasures that astonish the world through centuries of dedication. Yet this is far from the end, as more surprises await their moment to shine.

For this vibrant land understands the power of time like no other.

Graphics | Yu Yitiao, Jiuyang

Cover Image | Jinshi Media

Expert Interview/Review for This Article—

Qiu Shuyi, Dean of the School of Brewing and Food Engineering, Guizhou University