A Classic Example of Lizhi Wei, the “Litchi” Flavor Profile

This recipe is part of our series on fùhé wèi (复合味), Sichuan’s 20+ complex flavors. For more details about this flavor combination, along with other recipes that exemplify this profile, visit our new Lizhi Wei page. (Other fuhe wei combinations can be found through the menu.)

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When I was a child, the dishes that impressed me most were those with a bit of presentation. When I went to restaurants with my family, pork over crispy rice (guōbā ròupiàn; 锅巴肉片) was always a hit. The waiters would first serve a plate of freshly fried rice crackers, then pour the pork, in a thick sauce, over them. As the sauce hit the crackers, you’d hear a satisfying sizzle, adding an auditory and aromatic component to the presentation as the steam spread through the air. Before I tasted the dish, my mouth was already watering. 

This dish is a classic example of lìzhī wèi, or “litchi flavor,” one of Sichuan’s fuhe wei, the “complex flavors” that underpin many local dishes. The sauce for guoba roupian has flavors reminiscent of litchi fruit: You notice a sourness first, followed by a lingering sweetness.

It had been years since I last ate this dish, but while researching this flavor combination, I visited one of Chengdu’s oldest restaurants, Pan Xiang Shi (盘飨市), to try it again. Watching the waitress perform the pour and hearing the sizzle again brought back a wave of nostalgia and refreshed my memory of the taste. The restaurant’s version features an impressive dome-shaped cracker (kept in just one piece) topped with pork as well as celtuce, bamboo shoots, wood ear mushrooms and carrot, all cooked in a thick sauce. I grabbed a piece of the cracker as soon as I could so it still had a satisfying crunch. As I continued eating, the crackers gradually soaked up the thick, sweet-and-sour sauce.

Guoba roupian likely originated in the early 20th century. Legend says that it was served in Chongqing restaurants during the Sino-Japanese War, but the first written records I could find come from cookbooks from the 1960s including Sichuan Recipes (Sìchuān Càipǔ, 四川菜谱) and Chongqing Famous Recipes (Chóngqìng Míngcàipǔ, 重庆名菜谱). The dish is also known as tángxiǎng ròupiàn (堂响肉片), which roughly translates to “pork slices that make a sound in the room.” It was especially popular in Sichuan in the ’80s and ’90s, when you would regularly find variations made using squid, sea cucumber and fish.

Today, you’ll still find versions made with a variety of topping ingredients, but in my opinion, an ideal plate of guoba roupian should have tender pork slices, crispy crackers and a glossy sauce with a balanced sweet-and-sour flavor. That’s the version that I’ve started recreating back home, in my own kitchen, and the version I’ve shared here.

Making the Crispy Rice (Guoba)

The challenging part of this dish is making the guoba, the crispy rice crackers. Guoba originally referred to the crisped rice stuck to the bottom of a pot of rice, which was common when rice was cooked in a wok or an iron pot, before the age of rice cookers in Sichuan households. Over time, chefs cleverly turned what was once a cooking byproduct into a delicious dish that can be served all on its own (without the full pot of rice alongside). Today, it is enjoyed as a stand-alone dish and as a snack, sold by the bag and often seasoned with mala or barbecue spices. 

To make guoba, you’ll need leftover, cooled white rice—either medium-long grain like jasmine or short-grain like sushi rice. When I want guoba, I just make an extra portion of rice when I’m cooking it for dinner (in my rice cooker); this way I have cooled leftover rice the next day. 

While there are a few different ways to make guoba, I make mine on a baking sheet: I press the rice between two sheets of parchment paper, using a spoon or small rolling pin to flatten it out, until it forms a thin, even layer with the grains still sticking together. I then remove the top sheet of parchment and use a bench scraper to push the edges in a bit so that the layer of rice is nice and neat. Lastly, I bake the rice in a preheated oven at 350ºF (175ºC) until it is lightly golden. Finally, I deep-fry the guoba to give it a puffy and crispy texture. Baking it first dries out the rice, making it quicker to fry later. (You can prepare the baked guoba a day ahead of time and store it in an airtight container until you’re ready to finish the dish.)

Choosing and Cutting Vegetables for Guoba Roupian

Traditionally, guoba roupian uses fresh or preserved bamboo shoots, dried shiitake mushrooms and wood ear mushrooms and, sometimes, additions like carrot, celtuce or leafy greens (such as pea shoots). For accessibility, I made this recipe with green asparagus and tender choy sum leaves (also known as yu choi), which are readily available here in Germany, but vegetables like celery and baby bok choy work well, too. This recipe calls for cutting the vegetables, aromatics and pickled chilies into a “horse ear” shape (马耳朵)—a diamond-like cut. For the asparagus (or celery), scallions and Sichuan pickled chilies (homemade or store-bought), you make this shape by cutting on a sharp diagonal, making pieces about 1-inch long. For carrots, you cut them into thin slices, then stack the slices and trim them into a diamond shape. This technique gives the dish a more refined and uniform look.

Making the Litchi Sauce

The flavors of the classic litchi sauce are built from black vinegar, sugar, salt and soy sauce; in this recipe, Shaoxing wine and msg are also added. Guoba roupian is a “big litchi” style dish, with a more generous use of both vinegar and sugar than you find in “small litchi” dishes such as kung pao chicken. The key to getting the sauce right is to use slightly less sugar than vinegar; I use 3 parts vinegar and 2 parts sugar in the recipe below. All of these ingredients are combined in a pre-mixed wok sauce that is stirred until the sugar and salt are fully dissolved, then added to the dish during the cooking process.

Managing the Stove

Much of the appeal of guoba roupian lies in the dish’s sizzling sound, which requires some multitasking to produce. In restaurants, this process is often done with powerful burners (and, possibly, with two different chefs taking care of the rice and sauce elements).

At home, I use a wok for the pork and vegetables while I simultaneously start to heat the oil in a small pan on the other side of my stove (though I don’t bring it to deep-frying temperature yet). When the pork and vegetables are nearly done, the process speeds up: I keep the topping warm in the wok, leaving it over low heat with a lid on, while I focus on frying the crackers. Once the crackers are ready, I pour the still-hot pork mixture over them at the table. (Alternatively, you can turn off the wok entirely while you fry the crackers, then very quickly heat the mixture up again before serving.) 

Timing is key here. Both components need to be hot—especially the crackers—to create the sizzle. That said, if one of the elements cools too much before you serve it, and you miss out on creating the classic crackling sound, the dish will still be delicious, and the crackers will still stay crisp for a while as the sauce soaks into them.

For more rich, flavorful pork-based dishes, check out Taylor’s Sichuan Twice-Cooked Pork (Huiguo Rou, 回锅肉), Kathy’s Sichuan Tangcu Paigu (Sweet and Sour Spareribs, 糖醋排骨) and Georgia’s Yunnan-Style Quick-Cooked Pork With Scallions and Garlic Chives (Xiaochao Rou; 小炒肉).