Sichuan’s Take on Orange Beef

One of the best ways to deepen your understanding of Sichuan cuisine is through learning about the province’s fùhé wèi (复合味), a collection of more than 20 classic flavors and flavor combinations. Fuhe wei forms the foundation of many iconic Sichuan dishes. Among the most famous are combinations like málà (spicy and numbing), which is practically synonymous with Sichuan cooking; jiācháng (translated as “home-style”), which is based on doubanjiang, salt and soy sauce; and tángcù (sweet and sour). All of these flavor profiles are staples of both traditional and modern Sichuan kitchens, including mine. 

One flavor profile that has always intrigued me is chénpí wèi (陈皮味), which centers around chenpi, or dried mandarin peel (tangerine or another variety). This flavor profile is described as “fragrant from chenpi, rich, spicy and numbing, with a lingering sweetness” (陈皮芳香，麻辣味厚，略有回甜) in the Encyclopedia of Sichuan Cuisine (川菜烹饪事典). It’s traditionally used in cold dishes made of chicken, rabbit or beef; the dish most associated with it is fried beef with tangerine peel (chénpí niúròu, 陈皮牛肉), which is often served at room temperature, as an appetizer. 

I don’t recall having chenpi dishes when I was growing up in Sichuan, despite the fact that older cookbooks refer to it as a common fuhe wei. Search for them on Dazhong Dianping (China’s version of Yelp), and you’ll find that these dishes simply aren’t as prevalent as those featuring Sichuan’s other signature flavors; only a handful of restaurants in Chengdu even offer them. So, to better understand this flavor, I decided to try making chenpi niurou at home.

Chenpi: A Medicinal and Culinary Treasure

Chenpi (陈皮) is aged, sun-dried citrus peel made from mandarins, produced mainly in Guangdong, Fujian and Sichuan. Widely used in traditional Chinese medicine, it has a rich aroma that has also made it a prized aromatic in Chinese cooking. As the peels age, their bitterness mellows while their floral, citrusy aroma and flavor become more concentrated. This flavoring is added to meat dishes, spice blends like shisanxiang (十三香, thirteen-spice) and snacks such as preserved plums (chenpi mei, 陈皮梅). It’s believed to enhance the aroma of all of these dishes and to cut through the richness or gaminess of meats like beef and goose. However, because it still retains a slight bitterness, even after aging, it’s typically used sparingly. 

Mandarin fruit was domesticated in southern China, and Xinhui (新会), a district in Jiangmen, Guangdong, is the most renowned source of chenpi in China. With a tradition spanning more than 700 years, the region produces some of the most prized aged peels—some matured for 20 to 50 years—which can fetch tens of thousands of dollars per kilo. Thanks to my tea connoisseur parents, I always have a small stash of chenpi at home in Berlin. They buy it from a tea seller we met in Shunde back in 2019 who let us sample his prized batch of Xinhui chenpi. Since then, my mom has kept in touch with him, placing orders through his pengyouquan—the WeChat equivalent of a Facebook feed. It’s a trust-based business model common among older generations: Orders happen via chat, payments are sent, and the goods arrive by mail. 

At home, I mostly use this chenpi to make tea, often adding it to aged pu’er or steeping it on its own as a remedy for a sore throat and cough. It’s one of my favorite winter drinks. Occasionally, I’ll throw a piece into a meat braise (like pork belly or beef), where it adds a wonderfully fragrant note. The Mala Market’s chenpi is also sourced from Xinhui, but as it is meant mostly for culinary uses, it is aged for only two years and is therefore more affordable, while still supplying “orange”-flavored Chinese dishes with a depth of flavor and bitter edge that fresh oranges lack.

Making Beef With Tangerine Peel at Home

Since there’s little information about this dish online, I turned to older Sichuan cookbooks like Popular Sichuan Cooking (《大众川菜》) for guidance. The method for making chenpi niurou is quite consistent across all the versions I found: Thinly sliced beef is deep-fried and set aside, then dried chilies, Sichuan pepper and chenpi are briefly stir-fried before everything is simmered together with a bit of broth until the dish turns glossy and aromatic. Finally, everything is left to cool, allowing the flavors to meld together, before being served as a leng cai (冷菜), or liang cai (凉菜), a cold or room-temperature appetizer. This technique, known as zhá shōu (炸收)—literally “fry and reduce”—is common in restaurant kitchens, especially for the cold version of tangcu paigu (sweet-and-sour pork riblets). Deep-frying helps the meat keep its shape, while simmering allows the flavors to soak in and tenderizes it.

When I finally tried making beef with tangerine peel myself, I could barely wait for the meat to cool before sneaking a few bites. The flavor was rich and aromatic—spicy and savory with a lingering sweetness, just as the book described. It reminded me of lěngchī (冷吃) dishes I loved in Sichuan—cold, spicy snacks like fried rabbit or beef dressed in an addictive sauce of dried chili and Sichuan pepper. These dishes, known as xiàjiǔ cài (下酒菜), are the perfect drinking companions. When I was in college, a classmate from Zigong once shared a lengchi rabbit (lěngchī tù, 冷吃兔) her father mailed from home—it became an instant hit with everyone. The beef version, often labeled lengchi niurou (冷吃牛肉) or málà niúròu (麻辣牛肉), is still quite a popular Sichuan appetizer.

After that first dish of chenpi niurou, I’ve continued to make this delightful appetizer for myself and friends, refining the recipe each time. The version I’ve shared here is based on the classic recipe in Popular Sichuan Cooking with I twist: I’ve added a double-frying technique I learned from China: The Cookbook (Kei Lum Chan) that involves frying the beef at 300ºF until it is just cooked, then raising the temperature of the oil to 375ºF and frying the meat a second time, until it is nicely browned. This process ensures that the meat cooks evenly and gives it a crispy exterior and a tender interior. This frying step makes the whole dish a little more complicated, but for those wanting to dive deeper into traditional Sichuan cooking, it’s a flavorful lesson. Better still, the result makes an excellent party snack or appetizer.

For more flavorful beef dishes, check out Xueci’s Chongqing Blanket Noodles With Stewed Beef (Niurou Pugaimian, 牛肉铺盖面), Georgia’s Hui-Style Stir-Fried Beef With Pickles (Suancai Chao Niurou; 酸菜炒牛肉) and Taylor’s Sichuan Water-Boiled Beef (Shuizhu Niurou, 水煮牛肉).