Braised Pork Knuckle

Braised Pork Knuckle

　　In the old days, when having a meal of meat was as exciting as celebrating the New Year, serving a large, glossy red pork knuckle slow-cooked to rich fragrance at a banquet was the most thrilling thing imaginable. But nowadays, with so many delicious foods available and dining trends having changed dramatically, what’s popular on the table are fish heads and chicken feet, but not big chunks of meat or big bowls of wine. As a result, many men who, like Su Dongpo, would feel lost without their beloved braised pork, unfortunately lack his straightforwardness. They parrot others’ words, claiming they don’t care for such fare, not realizing that while many things can be faked, one’s stomach cannot.

　　　　Pork knuckle is delicious, and naturally, every region has its famous knuckle dishes—such as Dongpo Pork Knuckle, Crystal Sugar Pork Knuckle, and Broad Bean Pork Knuckle. But Shaanxi’s pork knuckle dishes are especially renowned. I remember in 1989, the then-famous Qujiangchun Restaurant on Jiefang Road, following up on its Tang-style and Qujiang dishes, played the historical culture card by launching Qin-Han cuisine. At the mention of Qin-Han cuisine, many celebrities in Xi’an eagerly accepted invitations to dine—after all, no one had ever seen what the people of the Qin and Han dynasties actually ate. When the feast began, the waitstaff served a huge braised pork knuckle, red, tender, and fragrant. A dab of mustard paste made it even more delicious. I noticed several elderly gentlemen enjoying it immensely. Then someone whispered, “Isn’t this just the ‘knuckle with handle’ from Dali?” Before the comment ended, another voice announced the dish’s name as “Grilled Shoulder,” explaining that it evolved from the story of Fan Kuai hacking away at a pork knuckle on a shield during the Feast at Hongmen. Based on Sima Qian’s description, Fan Kuai ate a raw knuckle to show defiance to Xiang Yu—a far cry from today’s experience of savoring a richly aromatic braised knuckle in an elegant setting. Still, the story reminds diners that Shaanxi’s pork knuckle dish boasts a long history.

　　　　Nowadays, pork knuckle dishes can still occasionally be found in Xi’an’s restaurants, but they’re rare. One reason is the labor-intensive, slow-cooking process. Another is the pricing—such dishes don’t fetch high prices, making them less appealing to restaurateurs than seafood, which can be quickly boiled and served for fast profits. Instead, at modest street-side eateries, a braised pork knuckle or mustard pork knuckle often becomes the signature dish. Guests sip ordinary liquor, munch on peanuts, and wait patiently. Then, at the call of “It’s ready!” a glistening, crimson knuckle is placed on a large plate. With a gentle lift of chopsticks, the jujube-red skin peels away. If there’s a lady at the table, someone will invariably offer it to her, saying, “Here, this is full of collagen—it’s good for your skin!” The ladies usually frown and hesitate before finally giving in to the aroma and digging in.

　　　　Coincidentally, in the small towns of southern China, there’s also a special fondness for braised pork knuckle. A few days ago, I visited Zhouzhuang, a famous water town near Kunshan, where small shops along the streets were selling the local delicacy “Wansan Pork Knuckle.” It’s said that during the early Ming Dynasty, the wealthy merchant Shen Wansan, known as the richest man in southern China, always served this braised pork knuckle as the first main dish when hosting banquets. At lunch, we naturally ordered one. After the tour guide finished telling its story, she deftly cut the large knuckle into pieces using a thin, sharp bone near the bone marrow—apparently a method pioneered by the Shen family. In truth, this cutting technique is used everywhere when eating pork knuckle; it’s just that Shen’s fame has led everyone to attribute good methods to him. Shen Wansan didn’t end well. Being so wealthy, he wanted to do something grand. First, he funded the construction of the Jubao Gate in Nanjing (now Zhonghua Gate) for Zhu Yuanzhang. Later, he offered to contribute a third of his family fortune to reward the army—an act that incurred the wrath of Emperor Zhu, who exiled the entire family to Yunnan, leaving behind a thought-provoking tale in Zhouzhuang. But reportedly, the Shen family’s pork knuckle dish became a famous dish in Yunnan because of it.