Huangling Jiaotuan

Huangling Jiaotuan

　　Jiaotuan is a rustic dish from the Western Shaanxi region. To make a good jiaotuan, you need 72 stirs. Making jiaotuan isn’t difficult, but it’s very labor-intensive — you hold the flour in one hand and a rolling pin in the other, pouring the flour evenly into a pot of boiling water while continuously stirring until there’s no dry flour left. Then you pour in a certain amount of boiling water and use the rolling pin to divide the mixture into chunks. Once it starts boiling and bubbling, stir vigorously until it becomes uniform with no small lumps. Pour in boiling water for a second heating. After it’s cooked, give it one final stir — and your pot of jiaotuan is ready. A good vinegar sauce makes the jiaotuan delicious, and making the sauce is quite particular too: it should include sesame oil, chili, mashed garlic, minced ginger, sesame seeds, and more.

　　In the 1960s and 1970s, jiaotuan could be called a life-saving meal for farmers. Back then, grain rations were low and coarse grains were common. Farmers almost never had a meal without jiaotuan. The reason was that jiaotuan has a high water content — a small amount of flour could produce a large volume of food to stave off hunger. Made with sorghum or corn flour, when eaten with vinegar sauce, the coarse grains’ drawbacks were masked, offering good texture and even stimulating the appetite.

　　Speaking of jiaotuan, there’s also an interesting story behind it. This tale took place in the spring of 1966.

　　1966 was the height of the era of “taking class struggle as the key link,” a time thick with revolutionary fervor where everything was prone to being politicized. Everyone lived in fear — a slight misstep could lead to criticism and struggle sessions. Early that year, in Qianyang, a small mountainous county, hundreds of cadres were dispatched from central and provincial authorities to take up positions in county-level government offices, communes, brigades, and production teams, launching an intensely combative Socialist Education Movement in the countryside.

　　The five communes to the east of the county — Nanzhai, Shajia’ao, Cuijiatou, Huangli, and Qianchuan — were led by Sha Feng, head of the Political Department of the People’s Liberation Army General Political Department (later appointed Minister of Agriculture), along with members consisting of department-level cadres from the General Political Department and cultural troupe officials. Relations between the military and locals were excellent, and their work proceeded smoothly. During their time with the masses, stories about eating jiaotuan were born.

　　Life for farmers in the 1960s was tough, and their diet mainly consisted of coarse grains. Jiaotuan was a daily staple. Members of the social education work teams ate at assigned homes, going from house to house from the east end of the village to the west, then back again. Those who came from the capital had never eaten jiaotuan before. When they arrived at a villager’s home and saw nothing but a plate of chili sauce and a big bowl of paste-like porridge, they were stunned and didn’t know how to eat it. The host, noticing the guests’ confusion, straightforwardly said: “Dip it!” The word “dip” (蘸) sounds like “stand” (站), so the visitors from the capital thought it meant to stand up to eat. They stood up from their wooden stools, picked up the vinegar sauce, and reluctantly sipped it. The sour and spicy taste was hard to bear, but they then picked up the big bowl and felt overwhelmed — the porridge was hard to swallow. Still, they held their breath and finished the meal.

　　After the meal, the city folks gathered and asked each other what they’d eaten. One of them sang out in a Beijing accent: “We ate porridge and drank chili water!” Another added: “We had three things that all tasted the same — the side dish was sorghum jiaotuan, the soup was sorghum porridge, and the bread was sorghum flatbread.” Everyone laughed.

　　Over time, these people from the capital not only learned to eat jiaotuan but grew to love it. Especially the women, who would specifically request to eat jiaotuan at local homes and even learned how to make it from the village women.

　　The year after the social education campaign ended, Zhang Laohan, chairman of the Poor Peasants’ Association in Shijiaping, Shajia’ao, along with several villagers, visited Beijing carrying the deep gratitude of the whole village to see the former cadres. During a meal, while chatting about Qianyang and its people, the topic turned to differences in eating habits. Someone from the capital said emotionally: “The jiaotuan you made back there was delicious — we just can’t make it ourselves.” Old Man Zhang insisted on making it for them on the spot. Everyone was delighted. So they made it in a steel pot over a honeycomb coal stove. With one strong stir, Old Man Zhang poked a hole in the pot, spilling the unfinished jiaotuan all over the floor. The host laughed, and the guests felt embarrassed. Before long, the story spread across Qianyang. People even made up a ditty about it: “Old Man Zhang from Shijiaping went to Beijing to make jiaotuan, poked a black hole in his steel pot, and spilled jiaotuan all over the carpet.”

　　Source: Office of the People’s Government of Huangling County