Yunnan-style hot pot

Yunnan-style hot pot

　　It’s the dead of winter, and more and more people are heading to restaurants to eat hot pot. But when I dine out, I’d rather order a few lukewarm stir-fried dishes than have hot pot—not because I’m eccentric or deliberately going against the trend, but simply because I’m a true-blue Kunming native who can’t stand the heavily Sichuan-flavored hot pot, and nowadays almost all the hot pot in Kunming is Sichuan-style anyway.

　　Sichuan-style hot pot is known for being numbing, spicy, fishy, and scalding. Of these four most distinctive traits, I can’t stand the first three, let alone praise them. Also, Sichuan-style hot pot is like a dye vat—no matter how vibrant the green vegetables, how white the glass noodles, how pink the fresh meat, how pale yellow the tofu skin, or how dark the wood ear mushrooms, once they go into the hot pot, they instantly change color. In our Kunming dialect, we say such discolored food has “lost its look,” and food that’s lost its look naturally affects your appetite. But sometimes the weather really is too cold, and eating several plates of lukewarm stir-fried dishes just doesn’t hit the spot—this is when I start missing Kunming-style hot pot.

　　In the past, Kunming-style hot pot was called a “steam pot,” and eating it was referred to as “eating steam.” The old steam pots were different from today’s hot pots. The finest ones were made of silver, while the slightly less luxurious ones were crafted from white copper, red copper, brass, and aluminum, in that order. A steam pot had an upper section for holding broth and ingredients, and a lower section for burning charcoal—the two were connected and quite pleasing to the eye. The broth in a Kunming steam pot was especially refined, usually made from original chicken stock, bone broth, or ham bone broth. Aside from a bit of salt and a small amount of MSG, no other seasonings were typically added, giving the broth a deliciously fresh and sweet taste that suited the palates of old-time Kunming locals perfectly. Once the broth came to a boil, ingredients like tofu skin, glass noodles, wood ear mushrooms, daylily buds, fried tofu, wheat gluten, meatballs, ham slices, cabbage, leafy greens, pea shoots, and pork loin slices could be added one after another—all of which retained their original colors after cooking. Older locals preferred their food soft, mild, and very hot, while younger folks liked it a little more firm and crisp. When eating steam pot, you could adjust the heat according to each person’s age and taste, and pick out the meat and vegetables at just the right time. For those diners who craved extra salt or loved spicy food, a few small side dishes of condiments were also available. Such a steam pot offered both delicious broth and fresh ingredients—you could enjoy the food and sip the soup, catering to all ages and tastes, making it especially beloved by true Kunming natives. When I was a child, my family would eat this kind of steam pot every New Year’s Eve. Sitting around the octagonal table in the main room, the whole family would enjoy the steaming pot, fully immersing themselves in the festive atmosphere and familial warmth—it was truly delightful.

　　In today’s fast-paced life, it’s certainly challenging for restaurants to keep using the traditional steam pots, but by inheriting the Yunnan flavor tradition, preserving the Kunming taste, and using modern hot pot equipment, they can surely stand out in the food industry and attract many local diners.