Meet Laoganma, “The Godmother”: China’s Best Chili Oils + Sauces

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laoganma black bean and chili crisp sauce comparison

Godmother to the Rescue

Eleven-year-old Fongchong had been in the United States for a week in February 2011 and had found almost nothing she liked about it. Everything was foreign and strange in the extreme—the language, the food, her house, her parents. Now she was having dinner with people who looked like her and talked like her, but still it was weird.

The food these college girls had made for her was familiar, at least—sweet-and-sour ribs, red-braised pork—and somewhat comforting, but Fongchong remained quiet and standoffish, unsure about everything, her perpetual grimace firmly in place.

That is until she got a taste of the mapo doufu.

There it was! The big intense flavor and mala burn that she loved so much. A taste that made her remember her favorite foods from home. Her face brightened as the soft tofu melted like a cloud in her mouth and the spicy bean sauce electrified her brain and speech. She began to laugh, and even joke, turning on the playful charm her dad and I had glimpsed a few times in China as we adopted her—in other words, turning on the real Fongchong.

I liked the mapo doufu too, even though I knew it wasn’t authentic—meaning made the way it is in Sichuan—because I had already logged many hours in Chengdu cooking schools and home kitchens as a journalist and organizer of Sichuan culinary tours. I could detect no doubanjiang, or chili bean paste, which is the earthy-chili soul of mapo doufu, made of fermented broad beans and chilies in Pixian County.

But my Taiwanese-American friend’s mapo doufu had its own irresistible chili bean allure. I quizzed her, and she graciously revealed her secret ingredient—a bright red jar featuring a photo of stern-faced Laoganma, literally “Old Dry Mom” but idiomatically “Godmother.” She let Fongchong and me sample some of the black bean sauce straight from the jar, and we were both instantly hooked.

That was the night Fongchong met The Godmother—”her” godmother—and the first of hundreds of times she would be both soothed and thrilled by her over the next four years of her new life. As my daughter’s personal Chinese cook, I too was soothed and thrilled as I learned about all the Laoganma chili oils and sauces and their infinite uses as ingredients, condiments and shortcuts.

laoganma black bean and chili crisp sauce comparison
Spicy Chili Crisp on the left, and Black Bean sauce

I learned that Laoganma devotees (in America, mostly Asians at that time) swore by Laoganma’s Spicy Chili Crisp—a super complex chili oil condiment, with abundant shallot crisps, Sichuan pepper bits and preserved black soybeans (douchi). We became addicted to that one too, but our first love was the company’s Black Bean sauce, which does away with the onion crisps and doubles down on the pungent douchi, or, in other words, pure umami. They are both spicy hot, but in a good, easily edible way. (There are others as well, including a chili oil with peanuts, one with rutabaga and beancurd and, in China, some with meat as an ingredient. The company also does a mean mala hotpot sauce.)

Fongchong is a Cantonese with an outlier palate who prefers everything bold and spicy, so Laoganma became her go-to condiment for anything I made her with insufficient kick. When I was still figuring out how to feed her three meals a day of real Chinese food in a city that doesn’t have any readymade, I quickly learned that either sauce is a shortcut to flavor in a simple stir-fry or noodle sauce.

I love the Chili Crisp in any Sichuan cold noodle or cold chicken dish or as a topper for fried rice. (Note that Chili Crisp is not directly substitutable when recipes call for chili oil because it is packed with chilies and has little oil; use it in addition to chili oil.) The Black Bean sauce pairs well with stir-fried noodles, chicken, pork or vegetables. Go here for my Laoganma Black Bean Chicken recipe.

If I don’t include one as I cook, Fongchong loads it on her snacks herself: Black Bean goes on stir-fried greens, or directly on top of boiled wheat noodles as a sauce; Spicy Chili Crisp goes in wonton soup or as part of a dumpling sauce with soy sauce and black vinegar.

FC eats noodles
A generous portion of Laoganma Black Bean sauce makes stir-fried noodles disappear.

I almost couldn’t believe there existed such a shortcut to complex Sichuan flavors. None of the Sichuan-cuisine experts I know in Chengdu ever introduced me to Laoganma sauces, perhaps because they’re not actually from Sichuan but from the neighboring province of Guizhou, which has a similar love of mala—ma being tingly Sichuan pepper and la being chili pepper. But I’m sure my Sichuan friends cheat with them too, as they are wildly popular throughout China, and on my most recent trip to Sichuan I saw them on the shelves of every supermarket I visited.

Who Is The Godmother?

I was curious about The Godmother, and a little internet research revealed that she is one Tao Huabi, who as an illiterate, widowed mother opened a small noodle shop that gained a wide following due specifically to her chili sauce. In 1996, she shut down her restaurant to take her growing line of chili sauces into production. Turns out she got her Godmother nickname precisely because she was so motherly and protective of her employees.

Almost two decades later, China’s Chili Sauce Empress still runs the privately owned Guizhou company with her two sons. “For a woman who is illiterate and with no background in finance, Tao’s is the success story of all time,” said Women of China magazine. “She has made a five-yuan jar of chili sauce as famous as the top-rated Maotai liquor brand.”

Laoganma’s success spawned legions of imitators, the largest of which she has battled—and beat—in court over trademark infringement. A 2014 media report on the publicity-shy company said management is not interested in going public or seeking capital to expand. Good enough. As long as she can make enough to stock my local Chinese market and keep my child happy I’m fine with The Godmother not becoming a household name in America.

Though we’re certainly not the only Americans with a secret addiction to Laoganma. In a 2012 episode of The Mind of a Chef, Anthony Bourdain’s show that followed Momofuku chef David Chang on his food travels, Chang went to a market in New York’s Chinatown. He proselytized much as I am here about the life-changing products you can find there. He never mentioned The Godmother, but something in his cart caught my eye and I rewound to see that I was right: It was loaded up with jars of Laoganma.

The Godmother has seen us through all the ups and downs of adapting to adoption. Fongchong was still shell-shocked that first week in America, terrified and angry at the new, strange world she found herself in, and one of her first complaints to the Mandarin speakers at dinner was that we didn’t know how to cook and didn’t feed her.

I knew then that I had my work cut out for me. Even though I had been learning Chinese cooking for years before I even thought about adoption, I now had no confidence at all that I could match the three meals a day of home-cooked food she got at her foster home in Guangzhou.

There was a long road ahead, and I eventually got my footing, but The Godmother turned out to be a godsend in those early days.

Sourcing Laoganma

Laoganma sauces are pretty easy to find in Chinese supermarkets in the U.S. In fact, sometimes they are hard to miss, as in this photo of a display at Great Wall market in suburban Atlanta. They should retail in a store for around $2 per jar, which is without a doubt the most flavor you can buy anywhere for $2.

A tower of chili power
comparison between original laoganma bottle and competitor's featuring a man's face
The Godmother on the left, and a wannabe on the right

You can trust just about any authentic Laoganma product. We’ve lately become enamored of her spicy preserved cabbage-and-chili condiment, used as a topping for rice, congee or soup, but also tasty in a vegetable stir-fry. The Godmother never lets us down!

Do you love The Godmother? Let me know how.

***

2021 Update: Years after this fateful meeting, as chili crisp finally became the “it” condiment outside China as well as in and new brands proliferated, we introduced our own DIY Mala Chili Crisp and Chili Oil Kit.  Our ingredients and recipe were modeled on a Laoganma-like sauce, of course, since it is the original chili crisp. But as great as it is, after you’ve eaten it on everything for a decade as Fongchong has, you’re looking for a variation, a new take on the OG. Making your own chili crisp makes chili crisp your own!

About Taylor Holliday

The Mala Market all began when Taylor, a former journalist, created this blog as a place to document her adventures learning to cook Sichuan food for Fongchong, her recently adopted 11-year-old daughter. They discovered through the years that the secret to making food that tastes like it would in China is using the same ingredients that are used in China. The mother-daughter team eventually began visiting Sichuan’s factories and farms together and, in 2016, opened The Mala Market, America’s source for Sichuan heritage brands and Chinese pantry essentials.

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96 Comments

  1. Hallo
    I am housemother to Chinese student pilots in South Africa and was introduced to the joys of Lao Gan Ma through my “kids”. Needless to say, I am a complete addict now and have converted my life partner as well who was not a spicy food supporter to begin with ! I would love to experiment and make a similar product for our household as we use a lot of it but it is not easily found here in our little town. As a matter of fact any help or suggestions are welcome as this food journey is and has been quite an adventure.

  2. Just a weeks back I bought a chili oil in a 7-11 here in the Philippines because we ran out of the brand that we used to have. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that it tasted better and has an interesting aroma and flavor when added to noodles and other dishes. As the label was written in Chinese I searched the net found it here in your site.

    Its interesting to know that there is a story around that jar of sauce and happy to read everything including your recipe and those sauces which I always see in supermarkets. I’ll definitely try some of those mouth watering dishes and cook it for the family.

    1. Thanks for writing, Edward! It’s fun to hear from people all over the world who love the Godmother. I wish we could get LGM in 7-11 here, but we have to go to Asian supermarkets. Enjoy!

  3. TH, I am SO incredibly glad to find your site and the ACTUAL name of this wonderful jarred beauty. I was turned onto it by a chef here in Boston, so I am going to link him to this site. He calls it LadySauce because no one could quite figure out the words. It totally rocks and we have a hard time finding it here- but it does show up in certain Asian groceries and within 2 weeks is totally gone again. I saw another one with a younger, different woman in the picture- is that another wannabe?? THANX so much for this needed info!!

    1. You are welcome! I had no idea when I wrote this how many fans Lao Gan Ma has in the U.S. and elsewhere outside China. Welcome to the club!

  4. Thanks for the recommendation, now I’ll have to look for this in my local Chinese mart 🙂

  5. Gosh, I bought a bottle of this home from Tibet with me in about 2000, never could find it here, then found it, then it drops in and out of sight. Whenever I see it, I grab a few bottles. Just finished my last one yesterday. I’m just gonna buy it online I think. It’s a wonderful addition to anything chilli. I love Lao Gan Ma 🙂

  6. The sauces look great– but, does it bother y’all that these products contain MSG? Or is that a foolish concern?

  7. I just discovered your blog, and I love it! I’m actually from Guizhou and came to the U.S. when I was 6. When my parents discovered Lao Gan Ma in the late 90’s, I felt like I finally had a taste of home. My dad has always told me that the characteristic of Guizhou spiciness, as opposed to Sichuan’s “ma la,” was “xiang la,” meaning “fragrant hot.” Hence the shallots and other ingredients that give Lao Gan Ma a more complex flavor. If you ever get a chance to go to Guizhou, I’d highly recommend it. The beef noodle soup there is still not something I’ve come close seeing replicated here in the U.S.

    1. Hi Dan,
      Thanks for your great note. I would love to know more about Guizhou food and possibly make it there some day as part of a southern China trip. It would be interesting to see how the food changes from Sichuan to Guizhou to Yunnan. So thanks for the info. I’m definitely a fan of xiang la!

    2. I heard some Chinese friend say that every Chinese man has a mistress, in the form of this old lady 😀

  8. I love Godmother’s chili oil, the one with peanuts in it! The last time we went to the local Asian Market, my Chinese friend from Gaungzhou suggested it. He said most Chinese family’s have it in their kitchen. That was all I needed to hear! Haha!

    Now I use it all the time for my stir-fried meals. One heaping table spoon in the pan towards the end, and it is total deliciousness!

    I love the website and I am enjoying reading about your journey! Thank you for sharing with us all. Good luck! Bao zhong! Take care!