Stewed Loach with Taro

Stewed Loach with Taro

　　Although southern Jiangxi is mountainous, it is crisscrossed with rivers, dotted with clear, rippling waters and vast paddy fields where loaches thrive—plump, tender, and lively. Farmers often go catching them at night with lanterns, hauling in baskets upon baskets in just half a night. Especially during the spring planting season, catching loaches while working in the fields is a delightful pastime. When they catch a lot, they keep them in jars for easy access, scooping them out with a ladle whenever they want to eat—very convenient. As for taro, there’s an abundance of it. Locals love growing taro, and during the Qingming Festival, they spread pig or cow manure in the fields once or twice, then apply urea similarly, prompting the taro leaves to shoot up rapidly. Once the leaves grow over a person’s height, it’s time to harvest the taro. Farmers dig taro only when they want to eat it, harvesting one clump at a time. Since the taro stays buried in the fields for long periods, it remains fresh. So, during the Qingming planting season, most people dig taro while also selecting seed taro to replant immediately in new taro fields. Every part of the taro is edible—the leaves, the main tubers, and even the small taro corms can all be cooked into dishes. Starting from the seventh lunar month, taro becomes a popular food, and some families even treat it as a staple, serving it frequently.

　　Xingguo is a traditional Hakka county with rich and unique local customs. The locals are especially warm and hospitable to guests. It’s said that in the old days, rural life was hard, and people sometimes had to trade eggs for oil and salt. When unexpected guests arrived and there was nothing fancy to offer, they would dig up a clump of taro from the field and scoop out a ladle of loaches from the jar, toss them into a small pot, and simmer them over an open flame for half an hour. The result—a fragrant, delicious dish ready to serve.

　　First, they peel a clump of taro, revealing white, cotton-like flesh that turns soft, fluffy, tender, and snowy white when cooked, rich in starch. The loaches are alive and kicking when dropped into the pot, turning out tender and smooth. Add some chili peppers and a pinch of salt—even without oil, the flavor is extraordinary, with a natural sweet-savory taste. In this dish, not only are the loaches and taro delicious, but the broth is even better. After drinking too much liquor, you crave something to go with the rice. Scoop up a bowl of rice, mix it with the taro broth, and despite the spice that burns from the lips to the cheeks, your stomach feels perfectly satisfied.

　　Nowadays, as living standards have improved, this dish is no longer found only in local homes—it has made its way proudly onto the menus of restaurants and eateries. Flip through the menu, and “Loach with Taro” stands out prominently. Unlike fish, meat, chicken, or duck, which you might tire of after eating them for a couple of days, this dish seems to never go out of style.