A Bite of Fuzhou | Xing Na: A Guide to Unlocking Fuzhou Laohua
What exactly is laohua? A search on DeepSeek yields the following answer:
This explanation may raise doubts among many Fuzhou locals. For example, the interpretation of “hua” in laohua. Some have told me that “hua” refers to Xinghua rice noodles from Putian. But to me, a northerner, Fuzhou laohua is like an elevated, clear-broth version of spicy hot pot. Locals love it because it is highly customizable. Whether you prefer meat, seafood, or vegetables, all can be included. Non-locals appreciate it as a small window into Fuzhou culture. I still remember the first time I stood in front of Rong Ji Hai Xian Lao Hua - it felt as though I had discovered an entirely new world.
Although I had already read on several official WeChat accounts and Moments about how popular this restaurant was, what ultimately led me there that day was its proximity to my home. It wasn’t until I later heard its name announced at the 2024 Michelin Guide Awards Ceremony that I realized my introduction to laohua had such a prestigious starting point. But back to the ordering counter, any outsider is bound to get lost in a laohua shop, simply because you never expect there to be so many choices in the realm of food.
I remember it clearly: a clueless out-of-towner standing in the queue, not even knowing what each ingredient was called. In a flustered rush, I piled various neatly arranged ingredients from small square dishes onto my tray, added a plate of cold marinated appetizers, a mysterious translucent “slime”-like snack I couldn’t identify (it reminded me of a jelly-like game character), and my favorite cucumber juice. I smiled as I paid the bill: nearly 80 yuan…
Laohua will humble anyone who have a large appetite yet a small stomach.
Ultimately, it comes down to greed. I wanted to try everything, and ordered whatever caught your eye. But once you calm down, you realize that laohua isn’t a “price trap.” Now, every time I return to Fuzhou from a business trip, I instinctively head to Rong Ji. Fresh vegetables, freshly sliced pork shoulder, and two live prawns were selected with no carbs for just a bowl of broth. That “slime” turns out to be taro cake, which I now order lightly pan-fried taro cakes. I would then add a perfectly cut fried dough stick and, without fail, a cucumber juice. The total is just around 40 yuan.
The most memorable laohua experience I’ve had was on a summer day nearing 35°C. That afternoon, I was waiting at a bookstore on Yantaishan to meet a visitor - a very elegant and poised friend who worked at a five-star hotel. Over tea, our stomachs began to growl, and we quickly decided on A Xin Fresh Laohua.
It was my first time eating at A Xin. My friend, still in his three-piece suit, braved the heat for nearly 20 minutes to get there. When we arrived at the counter, my soul trembled—the ingredients looked like they had been transported directly from the wet market. The prawns were still jumping. It’s no exaggeration to say that this was the first time I truly understood the meaning of fresh laohua.
Since I learned that ordering staple food is not necessary when you order laohua, I’ve always asked the staff to cook just a bowl of soup from the chosen ingredients: tender pork liver, explosively fresh oysters, cauliflower (my must-order every time), and never-forget fluffy betel taro. A Xin’s Fuzhou garlic sauce is another marvel. It imparts a distinct local flavor to every ingredient. Although I skip the noodles or laohua rice noodles, I never pass up the freshly fried dough stick, soaking it in the broth just like the locals do before biting in.
Even without a Michelin Bib Gourmand listing, A Xin Fresh Laohua has long been at the top of the laohua circle in Fuzhou. Whenever foodie friends from Beijing or out-of-town gastronomy lovers visit Fuzhou, I take them to A Xin. Eventually, we realized it’s hard to even get a seat - the place is just that popular. But if you happen to bring a friend who insists on doing things their way, there’s a chance they’ll unknowingly turn the experience into a northeast spicy mix.
One of my best friends once did exactly that. When we were both living in Beijing, we’d have meals together at least three days a week. I took him to A Xin, only to turn around and see his tray filled with needle mushrooms and starchy sausages. I was stunned: “Why would you skip all the fresh food? Are you eating spicy mix?” Then I realized that he didn’t recognize the pig liver edge, big-headed prawn, or live octopus. After all, people can only choose what they know.
In fact, every Fuzhou local has their own laohua story. One night, near midnight, we set out to find a place for a late-night laohua supper. A local friend led us past bustling “internet-famous” eateries, winding through alleyways until we reached a small neighborhood spot: Fuyu Fresh Laohua.
The tables and chairs were spotless, and the atmosphere was devoid of touristy flair. Just a few tables of locals enjoying simple food. The richness of pork liver and the sweetness of razor clams filled the air with warmth. As we chatted, the shop owner told me they had spent almost their entire life working in laohua shops day after day. They keep slicing, boiling, simmering, and cleaning without even knowing what “Black Pearl” or “Michelin” means. This was just another ordinary night at a modest Fuzhou laohua shop with no glamour and noise, yet these small eateries collectively preserve the city’s local flavors and constitute the everyday charm of its street life.
So, which laohua restaurant is your favorite? Can you share it with me?
Author: Xing Na
Veteran Media Professional
Lifestyle Writer
Manager of Model Bookstore