Jiayu (dish)

Jiayu (dish)

　　Jiayu (dish)

　　This is no ordinary fish. What makes it unique is that its scales are actually enclosed within its skin, and it has a pointed snout like a mouse’s, with two whiskers hanging from the corners of its mouth. What puzzled Weishi Qiang the most was that the fish’s skin grows outside its scales—but no one could answer his question, not even the old fishermen who had spent their whole lives fishing. It is said that the name of this fish was given by an emperor. During the Tang Dynasty, when the emperor made a southern tour and passed through this area, the imperial chef bought this fish from two fishermen and cooked it for the emperor. The emperor, finding its shape strange but its taste delicious, asked the chef what it was called. The chef didn’t know, so the emperor named it Jiayu, also known among the people as the Emperor Fish. Since then, this fish has been listed as a tribute fish.

　　Because Jiayu lives in deep-water rocky caves at the confluence of three rivers, in the days when fishing techniques were not yet advanced, it could only be easily caught during the dry season. But nowadays, with such advanced fishing technology, Jiayu has become a common dish on the tables of fresh river delicacies in the area.

　　What is most praiseworthy about Jiayu is its flesh—snow-white like jade, with a cake-like texture. When stirred with chopsticks, it doesn’t feel like meat, but more like stirring solidified fat. It melts in your mouth instantly, as if snow had entered a warm room, blending right in. That feeling is truly indescribable, ethereal and barely there, leaving behind only the lingering umami of its freshness.