Without This Tiny Ingredient, 42 Million Fujianese Would Lose Their Appetite!

Vinegar-soaked, boiled, dry-fried, mortar-crushed, sugar-coated, salt-sprinkled, crispy and crunchy—the more you chew, the richer the oily aroma becomes... This humble legume is affordable yet intensely fragrant and rich in oils, effortlessly complementing any ingredient. It has undeniably become the king of nuts, reigning over taste buds nationwide. But when it comes to the love and imagination for peanuts, no place rivals—Fujian.

Peanuts are versatile and take on countless forms.

Across the eight regions of Fujian, people’s affection for peanuts is equally strong, though generally, the further south you go, the higher the "peanut concentration" in their veins. In the morning, they’re awakened by a bowl of sweet peanut soup, while rich peanut milk and milk loaded with peanut crumbs compete to form the perfect pairing with fried dough sticks. At noon, a plate of peanut butter noodles satisfies; by night, hot pots, barbecues, and late-night snacks showcase the principle of "peanuts go with everything" to its fullest. During festivals, it’s practically a peanut convention—fragrant, crispy, soft, sticky, sweet, or savory pastries, candies, and snacks send peanut lovers into a frenzy.

Peanuts are not native to China. Originating in South America, they arrived via the Maritime Silk Road during the Ming Dynasty, entering through the southeastern coastal regions—Fujian being one of the first provinces to embrace them.

Fujian’s peanut desserts are dazzlingly diverse.

Photo / "Once Upon a Bite 4: Planet of Grains"

These plump, pale legumes took root here. Though Fujian isn’t the top peanut-producing province, it boasts renowned varieties like Longyan Liancheng peanuts, Laifang peanuts, Yakou peanuts, and Pingtan peanuts. Fujian’s culinary scene is rich with land-and-sea delicacies, yet it’s the lush, slightly sweet, oily aroma of peanuts that lingers in daily meals, season after season, forming the most unforgettable flavor of this land.

How many faces can one "earth bean" have?

In southern Fujian, peanuts are called "earth beans"—a name that captures their essence: aren’t they just beans grown in the soil?

Peanuts bury their fruits underground, so children who grow them often recall this ritual: a week or two before harvest, they’d pull up a plant or two to check. Freshly ripe peanuts have a raw sweetness lost in cooking—firm yet irresistibly crisp and juicy. A light boil with salt softens them; a gentle bite releases a burst of sweet juice.

The simplest preparation best highlights peanuts’ natural sweetness.

Longyan’s premium peanuts are ideal for "wet roasting." Freshly harvested, they’re boiled for flavor and slow-roasted over low heat. Unlike fiercely stir-fried peanuts with their charred aroma, this method locks in every nuance of protein and oil, deepening in flavor with each chew.

Wet roasting preserves sweetness while adding crunch.

In Fuzhou, "sun-dried" peanuts are more common. Boiled and dried under the sun, this preservation trick also showcases locals’ confidence in peanuts’ inherent taste. The result is a crisp yet slightly chewy texture, layering the fragrance.

Xiamen’s "fish-skin peanuts" are legendary—many fly with Xiamen Airlines just for that onboard packet! Named for their thick sugar coating (originally made with fish gelatin), modern versions skip the fish but keep the glossy shell encasing crispy peanuts, balancing sweet and salty to addictive perfection.

Yes, this is why I fly Xiamen Airlines.

"Huatang" is another sugar-coated peanut snack, but with a thicker, melt-in-your-mouth shell. Crunching through the sweet glaze and rich nut creates a child’s irresistible delight—defying parental warnings about "overheating" with stealthy handfuls.

Homemade "peanut cakes" reveal Fujian’s peanut obsession—because these "cakes" barely contain any. A thin, porous crust half-wraps whole peanuts, as if the flour exists just to deliver more nuts per bite.

Wife cakes have no wife; peanut cakes need no cake.

For peanut desserts, options abound. "Peanut gā" coats roasted peanuts in hot syrup, creating a sticky, jaw-working treat perfect with tea. Peanut cakes are tender, leaving gentle tooth marks, while glutinous rice balls (má cí guǒ) rolled in peanut crumbs, bean powder, sesame, and sugar blend chewiness with nutty sweetness.

Runbing is a thin pancake that can be wrapped around mochi and peanuts to eat.

Peanuts appear frequently in various snacks. Whether it's the sweet filling of manjiangao, the thick "peanut paste" in runbing, or the grainy stuffing in zhakou and caitouguo—Fujian people seem to invent endless excuses to devour peanuts in their dim sum.

The above examples are about "eating" peanuts, but Fujian people are even more creative when it comes to "drinking" them.

For Quanzhou locals, nine out of ten days start with a bowl of peanut soup. Quanzhou people call it "tudouren tang," where "ren" in the Southern Min dialect sounds similar to "milk," leading many to mistakenly believe this thick, white sweet soup is brewed with milk. In reality, just like milky-white fish soup doesn't require milk, the rich proteins and oils in peanuts, when boiled vigorously, naturally create a fragrant broth. The challenge lies in achieving a creamy texture while keeping the peanuts intact yet melting in the mouth—a true test of heat control. Loaded with sugar and often topped with a beaten egg, peanut soup becomes a hearty meal. Skip the spoon; dip and scoop with a fried dough stick (youtiao) for a warm, satisfying experience.

High-energy yet non-greasy, peanut soup is the perfect breakfast choice.

At breakfast stalls, peanut milk is the ideal partner for youtiao. Similar to soy milk but richer, thicker, and more decadent, it’s a local favorite. Peanut milk is also sold elsewhere, but only locally made versions are packed with crushed peanuts, delivering an energy boost.

A bowl of peanut sauce can mix with the entire universe!

Peanut sauce holds an unrivaled status in Fujian—perhaps surpassing even aged vinegar in Shanxi or sesame paste in Beijing—because it is literally everywhere!

Banmian (mixed noodles) is a test of hand-eye-mouth coordination, especially popular in Shaxian. Thick peanut sauce is slightly loosened, and the noodles are tossed in the bowl the moment they’re served, with a dash of vinegar and soy sauce added without delay. Any hesitation, and the sauce clumps stickily with the noodles. A perfectly mixed bowl, slurped up effortlessly, is the highlight of the meal.

Every Fujianese has their own banmian expertise.

Peanut sauce also pairs with wontons (bian shi), steamed dumplings, xiaolongbao, and even drizzled over zongzi with braised pork and egg yolk during Dragon Boat Festival. But Guangdong friends, brace yourselves—Zhangzhou’s rice noodle rolls (changfen) can also include peanut sauce, blended with satay sauce and oyster sauce for a richer, deeper flavor.

Outside Fujian, spicy hot pot (malatang) lovers are divided into two camps: the Sichuan faction loves numbing spice with thick red broth, while the Northeast prefers milder flavors with milky soup and sesame paste. In Fujian, there’s no debate—mixing malatang with peanut sauce is simply the natural order.

Wontons are, of course, best with peanut sauce!

Barbecue, the eternal king of night markets, is inseparable from peanut sauce. Chicken legs, pork belly, and enoki mushrooms are common elsewhere, but the magic lies in slathering them with thick sauce as they sizzle, letting the salty-spicy-sweet flavors bloom under high heat.

To understand local flavors, try mi xue gao (blood rice cake). Soaked in pig’s blood, this glutinous rice cake is denser than blood tofu and more fragrant than plain rice balls. Grilled until slightly charred and drizzled with peanut sauce and a sprinkle of cumin, it’s the perfect companion for summer night beers. Then there’s chewy grilled bai guo (rice cake), brushed with sauce and lightly sugared for a sweet-savory Fujian twist. "Fist meatballs" (quantoumu), made from tendon, minced meat, mushrooms, and scallions, gain extra nuttiness from peanut sauce.

Cucumber slices, chicken wings, bai guo, and mi xue gao are all quintessential Southern Fujian barbecue flavors.

Photo / Lala Carolyn

Jiu jiu luo (squeaky clams) are a must for Quanzhou late-night snacks. These tiny clams require tedious prep: scrubbing, rinsing, snipping tails, and hours of cooking. Yet Quanzhou locals adore them, even naming them after the "squeaky" sound they make when eaten. Boiled clams are shaken in enamel pots with sauce—the quality of peanut sauce and shaking technique define each vendor’s secret recipe, with each master offering a unique style that keeps you coming back for more.

Quanzhou stir-fried nail clams also treat peanut sauce as a standard seasoning.

Fujian has another soulful sauce that relies on peanuts: satay sauce.

The original version of satay sauce was Southeast Asian sate, made with crushed peanuts blended with lemongrass, turmeric, galangal, and various seafood products, creating a bold, spicy, and intensely flavorful condiment. When it spread to Fujian, the locals, with their milder palates, adapted it slightly—toning down the pungency while allowing the rich peanut base to shine even more lingeringly.

This flavor is deeply ingrained in Fujianese DNA. Whether for hotpot or fried skewers, a dab of satay sauce instantly doubles the enjoyment. Its influence also spread from southern Fujian to eastern Guangdong, where even Fujianese people seem tastier under its spell.

An ordinary bowl of noodles becomes irresistibly charming with a touch of satay.

The most irresistible local delight is a bowl of satay noodles. Thin, chewy strands are generously topped with abalone, prawns, and sliced meat. A spoonful of satay sauce stirred into the broth turns it a gleaming red, releasing oceanic umami and a subtle kick of spice. Don’t forget to add peanut butter—mix it in while hot, slurp heartily, and feel every pore tingle with satisfaction as a light sweat beads on your forehead.

Eat peanuts, and good things will "peanut" (happen).

Plump, pale peanuts are a symbol of good fortune in many places, but in Fujian, they’re tied to the wish for "prosperity and thriving descendants." Whether for celebrations, festivals, or daily offerings, peanuts are never absent.

In Longyan, peanuts carry a festive significance. When a couple gets engaged, the groom’s family sends dowries, and the bride’s family reciprocates with peanuts—distributed to neighbors to announce the wedding. During the wedding night, the hosts scatter baskets of peanuts for guests, symbolizing "early birth of a noble son." Come Lunar New Year, every household stocks peanuts. A local saying goes: "Two hands bow, a red tangerine is given; a slight bow, a handful of peanuts is offered." Red envelopes aren’t essential, but no visit is complete without tangerines and peanuts.

Only with peanuts and tangerines does it feel like New Year!

The already abundant peanut desserts become even more dazzling during festivals.

At Winter Solstice, families gather to make "mi shi"—glutinous rice balls rolled in crushed peanuts and bean flour, their sweetness embodying hopes for reunion. On the 29th of the lunar month, "ao jiu porridge" is served, featuring water chestnuts, peanuts, red dates, and longan, with soft-boiled peanuts playing a key role. Peanut crumbs are indispensable in fillings for yuanxiao (Lantern Festival dumplings), zongzi (Dragon Boat Festival rice wraps), and mooncake prizes during Mid-Autumn "bo bing" games.

Jinjiang’s Dragon Boat Festival meat zongzi absolutely cannot do without peanuts.

In the twelfth lunar month, assorted "stove candies" become peanuts’ exclusive stage.

The best treat to "seal the Kitchen God’s mouth" is "gong tang" (tribute candy). "Gong" originally meant "pounded" in Hokkien (hence "gong wan" or meatballs), and this candy is made by pounding peanuts, maltose, and sugar into a crispy yet chewy delight—the star of stove candies. Other peanut confections compete fiercely: red-skinned, white-skinned, salted peanuts... all structurally similar but with more varied coatings. Then there’s crispy rice cake, where toasted puffed rice and peanuts are glazed with sugar and sliced—light yet bursting with graininess, each bite a sweet bliss.

Peanut candy isn’t just for Kitchen God offerings—it can be crumbled over anything for extra flavor.

Making "hong tuan" (red dumplings) is a big event for Putian families during New Year. The fillings can be sweet (mung bean, red bean, brown sugar, or dried sweet potato—peanuts always fit) or savory (glutinous rice with peanuts, mushrooms, and shredded pork for depth). In Quanzhou, "hong gui guo" (red turtle cakes) are the equivalent, with peanut-sesame fillings being especially popular. The red yeast-infused glutinous wrappers, stamped with auspicious patterns, steam into a symbol of prosperity for the coming year.

Peanuts, peanuts—wherever they land, they take root, much like Fujianese people who thrive wherever they roam, bearing rich fruits in fertile soil. Now, as the early winter chill sets in, it’s time for peanuts to lead the army of roasted snacks into streets and alleys. With each step closer to year’s end, the air grows thicker with their aroma. Wanderers far from home—does this ubiquitous peanut fragrance stir memories of familial bonds and warmth?

Made it this far? How about some peanuts?

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Image Editing | YIRAN, Cat Knight