Each step of salting, drying, and smoking the meat influences its unique range of flavors and aromas.
Ask someone from Hunan about the qualities of la jou, and the response will be similar to asking a farmer from Peoria about sweet corn or a Georgian about grits: A gleam in the eyes, a barely restrained smacking of the lips, and a torrent of words about the best ways to prepare and serve a regional specialty.
China's Hunan province experiences bitterly cold winters that bring food cultivation to a virtual standstill. Consequently, la jou, or "preserved meat," became a diet staple during the cold season. Following the winter harvest, families would prepare extra quantities of preserved meat, fowl, and fish—the usual basic ingredients of la jou—in anticipation of the harsh weather ahead.
Their work coincided with the Lunar New Year, the most important annual Chinese festival, which also signaled the beginning of the post-harvest slack season for China's predominantly agricultural society. During the festival, people gave thanks to the gods for the blessings of a good farming harvest and also enjoyed a rare vacation with family members while resting from their year-round hard labor.
Over the centuries in Hunan, la jou became a special delicacy for this festive time. While the necessity for processing vast amounts for the long winter has declined in recent times, the tradition of preparing, eating, and presenting gifts of la jou during the Lunar New Year is continued by people of Hunanese extraction everywhere.
The food's name has a long history. The latter character, "jou" (sounds like "row"), simply means "meat," while "la" is a bit more complicated. According to ancient tradition, the la sacrifice was offered in the 12th lunar month, and the name of the month itself eventually acquired the same name, la yueh, or the la-month. Ultimately, the word la was also given to the preserved meat and fish made during this time of the year.
According to 65-year-old Kuei Tsu-chun, who has made the special Hunan la jou in Taiwan for nearly 30 years, almost any kind of meat can be used as the main ingredient. Most popular are pork, fish, chicken, duck, beef, and even pork liver or tongue. There are three major steps in processing la jou: salting, drying, and smoking.
In a heavy Hunan accent, Kuei explains that during the first step salt is blended and fried with spices, such as star anise, cloves, and fennel. After the mixture cools, it is evenly applied on the meat, which is then tightly pressed, layer upon layer, in a vat that must be tightly sealed for ten days to half a month. Sometimes the salting can last up to a whole month if the weather does not cooperate, because clear weather and sun are necessary for the next step.
The drying process begins by taking the salted meat out of the vats and hanging it piece by piece in places that are both well ventilated and exposed to the sun. By the end of a day of drying, a layer of salt efflorescence will emerge on the surface of the meat. After this occurs, the meat is ready to be immersed into the remaining salt water in the vats and be tightly pressed once again until the next day. After three to five days of repeated drying and immersing, the meat is ready for the third step, smoking.
This is perhaps the most difficult part of the process. "It all depends on experience," Kuei says. "The crucial point is that the smoke must reach all the meat equally without becoming overly concentrated. Over-smoking will not do."
Kuei remembers people in his hometown using pine or cypress branches to smoke the meat. But these days he uses charcoal on which wood chips, rice husks, citrus skins, peanut shells, or bagasse create the incense-like smoke that gives la jou its special range of flavors.
"There would be absolutely no New Year's mood if la-jou were not available during the festival."
Some aged Hunan natives recall that in their mainland hometowns making la jou before the Lunar New Year was such a big event that a few families even built special houses for smoking the meat. Because people are now more restricted by time and space, a recent adaption has been to smoke la jou in large, barrel-size buckets.
The meat is hung strip by strip across the mouths of buckets partially filled with smoldering charcoal and other ingredients to "flavor" the smoke. Iron wires or wood rods hold the meat in place. A gunnysack then covers each bucket to prevent the smoke from escaping too rapidly. After the meat turns red, it is a sign that the delicious Hunanese style of la jou—noted throughout China for its rich color, flavor, and taste-has been properly smoked.
The smoked meat can be stored for a long time. Kuei says, "In my hometown at Tsuyang, my family even had some la jou preserved as long as 20 years. "
Peng An-Jen, who owns a retail store on Roosevelt Road in Taipei, has been selling "Hunan la jou" for more than 30 years. He says that in his native town of Wukang, almost every family made their own la jou—and they all claimed that the best variety was produced in their county because each family had a secret recipe handed down from generation to generation. Contrary to what might be expected, it was nearly impossible for people from other provinces to buy the famous la jou in Hunan, since nine out of ten households made it only for their own use.
Beginning with each winter solstice, housewives would start busily preparing la jou. Peng says, "There would be absolutely no New Year's mood if la jou were not available during the festival." Kuei agrees, and they both claim that they learned to process la jou not "intentionally," but from constant observation in childhood.
The origin of la jou is lost in the mists of tradition, but modern techniques certainly have their roots in ancient methods of preserving meat. Kuei explains that ever since his youth he remembers "During the New Year festival period, food markets would curtail business for at least half a month, families would hold sacrifices, and many guests would come to pay their New Year's calls. Each family, therefore, had to prepare additional food in order to make it through the festival activities. La jou served multi-purposes—it could be used for long-time food storage, for sacrificial offerings, and for entertaining guests with a sumptuous feast."
La jou can be eaten as the main course or mixed with other foods in delicious combinations. Some people hold that la jou, when steamed until the fat turns a transparent gold and the lean meat a dark red, is the best dish to accompany serious drinking. Others prefer la jou fried with garlic cloves, claiming the lean meat thus cooked has a fresher taste and the fat is less greasy.
"The fame of 'Hunan la jou' was widely circulated throughout China during the expedition of the Hsiang Chun," Peng explains. "Hsiang Chun" was a general name given to military units from Hunan during the Ching Dynasty. The troops, led by the famous scholar-official-general Tseng Kuo-fan (l811-1872), became particularly well-known for their successes in a series of battles in 1850-1864 to suppress the Taiping Uprisings, or self-styled "Heavenly Kingdom of Peace."
During the long, intense military campaigns, it was only natural that the soldiers felt nostalgic and desired hometown cuisine. They therefore made la jou both to remind them of home and also to keep their meat from spoiling.
The fame of la-jou spread across China during a five-year military campaign.
The heavy humidity of Taiwan, unlike Hunan's dry, cold winter climate, is not particularly suitable for making and preserving la jou. Nevertheless, la jou remains an indispensable food during the Spring Festival, although few individual families make it for themselves. Most people now purchase ready-to-eat la jou from local shops.
In recent years, la jou has come under criticism for health reasons. Li Chin-feng, professor of the Graduate Institute of Food Science and Technology, National Taiwan University, says that from the viewpoint of food preservation, he does not think the processing of la jou is acceptable because there are safer and simpler methods of food preservation. He admits, however, that "since in the course of salting and smoking the particular flavor of la jou is generated, the old methods have survived until today."
New Taste trends and health worries about la-jou processing have diminished its popularity.
But Li raises some more serious concerns. He says that some manufacturers add sodium nitrite both to color the meat and prevent possible food-poisoning. When too much sodium nitrite is used in the production process, frying of the la jou may release dangerous carcinogens. "Therefore, it is better to cook la jou by steaming instead of frying," Li advises.
In addition, when organic substances such as citrus skins and bagasse are used in the smoking process, substances such as phenol may be produced that bond with the meat and pose potential health hazards. Moreover, the special flavor produced from fat oxidization through long-time contact with the air can also generate carcinogens, raising fears of cancer among heavy eaters of la jou.
Hunan natives and la jou manufacturers, on the other hand, insist that they and their ancestors have a long history of eating la jou without encountering health problems. "Well, 'hygienic' and 'scientific' are two quite different things," Li explains patiently. "It is improper to say that the foods our ancestors ate are all good or bad. What we should emphasize is how to evaluate them and find the best way of food processing so that we can satisfy the gourmet palate and meanwhile do no harm to our physical health."
Today's trend toward eating natural health foods also makes traditionally "processed" la jou seem behind the times. While bending down to salt a barrel of pork, Kuei sighs and says that business is now far worse than before. He is even seriously considering closing his shop next year. If new taste trends and health worries triumph, perhaps the special smell of freshly-fried "Hunan la jou" will remain only in memory—a traditional aroma accompanying centuries of New Year's celebrations finally dissipating like the smoke from one of Kuei Tsu-chun's barrels.