In this town, one dish is the epitome of swine dining

Sichuan cuisine has become very popular in recent years. But often it's hard to find the meat hidden among the red and green peppers. For gourmets, there is one dish that's an exception to this rule - Lizhuang White Meat.

Lizhuang (the Li's Village) is located on the southern bank of the Yangtze River near Yibin, Sichuan province. During the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression (1937-45), some 12,000 refugees flooded into this village and turned Lizhuang into a thriving town.

The sun was bright and warm when I arrived recently in Lizhuang. The first sound I heard was the scream of pigs. The tall white-washed walls with black-tiled roofs made it hard for me to find the source of the sound.

A three-wheeled vehicle broke down at the crossroad and a stout driver jumped down to fix it. The passengers were three pigs. They were rather thin and looked at me with tearful eyes.

The man said he was sending the pigs to the butcher. "They are very young," I observed. The man looked at me with a sideways glance: "If they grew fat, would you eat them?"

"Pigs are smart, do they know they are going to die?" I asked. "They sure have a clear heart!" "Then they must feel very sad." The man broke into laughter: "They don't have time to feel sad! They will be reborn as humans and it's their turn to eat meat!"

I soon learned that locals favor small pigs. The most famous "Lizhuang white meat" comes from pigs' bottoms and the dish dates back some three centuries. At the much-celebrated Liufen Restaurant, I knew what dish I had to order.

The big plate soon arrived. The meat looked inviting with a tray of red pepper. The waiter wouldn't reveal the recipe, but pointed at the kitchen window. With a roof tile-sized knife, the head chef dressed in white, was handling a chunk of meat. As the knife flew, paper-thin slices piled.

The seasoning didn't look like anything special. But the waiter said it was a fine mixture of pepper, garlic, sesame oil and sugar. I dipped one slice into the seasoning. It melted on my tongue.

"Bravo!" I said, following the example set by other customers. The red-faced restaurateur stood up, folded his hands and bowed. "The dish does not need any promotion. What you are eating today is exactly the same as the dish served for Professor Liang Sicheng."

Back in the 1930s, meat was a prized dish, even for famed professors like Liang, Fu Sinian and Luo Ergang who moved to Lizhuang with Tongji University. Wang Shixiang, a leading antique collector who once worked at the Palace Museum, was only a poor student in Lizhuang. He probably dreamed of the white meat every night.

The only exception was Herrmann Adolf Weit, a Jewish professor, who often dropped in. Speaking no Chinese, he managed to reach a mutual understanding with the restaurateur.

If he patted his bottom once, the waiter would serve 0.25 kg of white meat; twice, half a kilo. With the best meat, no words were necessary.

(China Daily 03/06/2008 page20)