Suíjiāng 绥江, CHINA – The road from Yibin to Suíjiāng is a six-lane highway possibly indicative of healthy funding for public works until our driver turns off the road revealing a different tale. Following the Jinsha River, a segment of the Yangtze River, we pass small villages appearing abandoned; buildings paneled with ceramic tile chipped and falling off, roads cratered with potholes, and an occasional resident appearing from behind a glassless windowsill. What has happened here? Is this a piece of China the authorities forgot? As I ask our driver, the uncle who fetched my team and I from Yibin’s train station, “Why are these villages empty?” I notice an abandoned factory across the river.

In three years, the Xiangjiaba Dam will be completed and waters from the Jinsha River will flood the valley. Many villages have emptied and their folk have moved to other cities or up towards higher ground. Today we arrive in the city of Suíjiāng, a hilly city that shares the same fate. A white pillar gleams against the lush green cornfield on a hill, marking the level at which the water will rise. Families will receive 5,000 RMB per member to relocate; little compared to the amount the family must invest into their new lives.

From the hill upon which the Chen family lives, they can peer into the valley awaiting to be submerged then cast their sights upward to the cranes that build the new city, Suijiang Hubinshengtai Xian (湖宾生态县).

The family’s nephew, Chen Tian Chong (陈天冲 , in photo at right), looks to the rising waters earnestly as he works in home remodeling and awaits the flowing opportunity. He is 38 and lives on the second floor with his wife and daughter. For now business has been very slow while no one has interest to fix anything before the flood; he finds the 5,000 RMB per head to be a great deal.

Liu Ayi and Chen Shifu live with their son, Chen Jian in the same building with Chen Shifu’s nephew, Chen Tian Chong. Both Liu Ayi and her husband manage the cooking, but due to a recent traffic accident, Chen Shifu is confined to his wheelchair and can only give direction. Liu Ayi appears to have a solemn personality throughout our visit, but I dare not assume reasons as to why. Her son is shy and smiles seldom if at all. Chen Shifu seems to bear the lightness in the family of three, pivoting about in his chair explaining the ingredient names for each of the four dishes during the lesson.

Suíjiāng is in the Yúnnán province, but sits on the border next to Sìchuān. Liu Ayi’s family originates from across the Jinsha River in Píngshān Xiàn (屏山县) of Sìchuān province. If I haven’t lost you yet, I’ll simplify – the family lives in Yúnnán, but is culturally Sìchuān.

Hissing on the wok first is one of China’s famous meat dishes, Hui Guo Rou (回锅肉), known to English speakers as Twice Cooked Pork. Liu Ayi tossed in a plate full of red and green spicy chilies and despite the setting of our large room with an opened garage-sized door, we still cough from the pepper-fumed air. The meat used is called Wu Hua Rou (五花肉), five strata of skin, fat, lean, fat, and lean akin to a rash of bacon.

Slices of pork liver tossed into a mélange of Sichuan peppercorns, dried chilies, and spicy fermented bean paste are stir fried with Xuè Pí Cài (血皮菜, Gyunura Crepidioides), regal leaves of violet and green. While the flavor was pungent and packed with spicy distractions, my taste buds could still detect the iron flavor I’ve always struggled with. Strangely, I have no problem with liver pâté.

Growing up I was not a fan of liver and the only way I ever had it prepared was grilled in soy sauce with sliced onions – hated it! My mother served it with salad so I did my best to swallow every cut of liver with a mouthful of iceberg lettuce hearts. I don’t know if kids in China have the same aversion to liver as kids in the states, but Liu Ayi’s recipe, Xuèpícài Chǎo Zhūgān (血皮菜炒猪肝, Xuepicai Stir-fried with Pork Liver) might explain why the nieces and nephews had no problem chowing down the dish during lunch.

Two more dishes finished the cooking lesson.

Qīng Jiāo Chǎo Ròusī (青椒炒肉丝, Green Pepper Stir-fried with Shredded Pork)

Chǎo Nánguā Jiān (炒南瓜尖, Stir-fried Pumpkin Leaf Shoots)

Recurring flavors of Sìchuān peppercorns and dried chilies define my first impressions of Liu Ayi’s family recipes.

Liu Ayi’s entire family present in Suijiang have joined for lunch. Three tables brought together allow for a remarkable spread including more dishes prepared by the grandma, Zhuang Waipuo. My contact, Yating, has arranged for more family visits in the homes of more Ayi’s (aunties) and Shushu’s (uncles) spanning from Sìchuān to Yunnan. If the gathering and table I’m seated at now is any notion of what to expect for the following few weeks, my return to Beijing will demand hours of hitting the gym. One thing is for sure, I’m helplessly happy when surrounded by the energy of family and home cooked food.

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