One: Giaogiao's Big Plate Chicken Night: Three Continents in One Dish
In the summer of 2019, a special guest came to Giaogiao. His name was Abudou, a Uyghur from Xinjiang, studying architecture at a university in Florence. He was tall, with a full beard, and spoke Chinese more fluently than Italian.
The day he came to Giaogiao, he looked at the menu for a long time, then raised his head and asked me: "Coach Liu, have you ever made Xinjiang food?"
I said: "I've made Lanzhou noodles and Sichuan hotpot base at Giaogiao, but Xinjiang food... no."
He said: "Then do you want to try? I'll teach you how to make Xinjiang big plate chicken."
That night, Giaogiao's kitchen became Xinjiang. Abudou pulled out dried chilies from his bag that he had brought from Xinjiang—those blood-red chilies, three times spicier than what Giaogiao normally used. He also brought Sichuan peppercorns, star anise, cinnamon, and some spices I couldn't name.
"The secret of big plate chicken is not the chicken, it's the combination of these spices." he said.
We used a whole chicken that Giaogiao kept in stock, chopped into pieces, blanched, caramelized with sugar, then added dried chilies, Sichuan peppercorns, ginger slices, and garlic cloves, stir-fried until the aroma overflowed. Then we added beer—not water, beer—the malt fragrance of beer and the fat of chicken fused together, creating a strange charred aroma.
Then we added potatoes. Xinjiang potatoes have yellow hearts and high starch content, when stewed they become mealy, absorbing all the broth. We couldn't find yellow-heart potatoes in Florence, so Abudou said: "Then use Italian potatoes, after all potatoes are globalized.
We stewed for forty minutes, then added wide noodles at the end. Those wide noodles, cooked together with the big plate chicken, absorbed the chicken broth and chili flavor, becoming even more delicious than the chicken itself.
That night, all of Giaogiao's Italian guests asked: "What is this flavor? I've never tasted anything like this."
Abudou said: "This is the taste of Xinjiang. Xinjiang belongs to China, but the taste of Xinjiang is the world's."
Marco took a bite and said: "This flavor... is like a bazaar. I can smell Eastern spices, Western potatoes, and... beer?"
I said: "Yes. Big plate chicken is not a 'pure' Chinese dish. It has potatoes—from South America; chilies—from the Americas; beer—from Europe; chicken and noodles—from China. This is a globalized dish, created at the Silk Road crossroads of Xinjiang."
Two: The Birth of Big Plate Chicken: How a Highway-side Restaurant Changed the Taste of Northwest China
The history of big plate chicken is not long. Some say it was invented in the 1980s at a small highway-side restaurant in Shawan County, Xinjiang.
At that time, Xinjiang's highways were being built, and long-distance drivers needed a food that could quickly fill them up, with strong flavor, and high energy. The small restaurant owner stewed chicken, potatoes, and chilies in one pot, served with wide noodles. Large portions, affordable, spicy enough to satisfy. After eating, the drivers were refreshed and continued driving.
This dish quickly became popular along Xinjiang's highways. Because it was served in a big plate, it was called "big plate chicken."
Abudou said: "Big plate chicken is not a court dish, not a literati dish, it's a driver's dish. It was born not for elegance, but for survival. Long-distance drivers need calories, need spice to stay alert, need potatoes to fill their stomachs. Big plate chicken gave them all."
Marco asked: "Is this like Italian highway restaurants' pasta al pomodoro?"
I said: "Same spirit, but completely different form. Italian highway food is simple—tomatoes, garlic, olive oil, pasta. Xinjiang big plate chicken is complex—over a dozen spices, beer, chicken, potatoes, noodles, all in one plate. Italians pursue purity, Xinjiang people pursue abundance.
Three: Potatoes: Why Must Big Plate Chicken Have Potatoes?
The potatoes in big plate chicken are not a supporting role, they are the second protagonist.
Xinjiang potatoes are different from elsewhere. Xinjiang has large temperature differences between day and night, abundant sunlight, and potatoes accumulate more starch. After stewing, the potatoes become mealy—not crispy, not hard, but that kind of texture that melts at a touch. At the same time, the potatoes absorb the chicken broth and chili flavor, each piece of potato is a concentration of flavor.
Abudou said: "In Xinjiang, potatoes and chicken are equal. Big plate chicken without potatoes is not big plate chicken."
Marco asked: "What's the difference from Italian patate al forno (roasted potatoes)?"
Abudou said: "Italian roasted potatoes are independent—they have their own flavor, eaten with meat. Big plate chicken potatoes are fused—they merge with chicken, chili, and broth into one body. You eat a piece of potato, and at the same time taste the chicken, the chili, and the spices."
I said: "This is like Italian pasta being 'layered'—each thing keeps its own flavor; big plate chicken is 'fused'—all things become a new flavor together."
Four: Wide Noodles: Why Add Noodles at the End of Big Plate Chicken?
After eating the chicken and potatoes in big plate chicken, the final step is adding noodles.
Not serving separately cooked noodles, but directly putting raw noodles into the big plate chicken's broth, letting the noodles cook in the remaining chicken broth and chili. Noodles cooked this way, each strand wrapped in broth, spicy, fragrant, fresh, salty—one bite, more satisfying than the chicken itself.
Abudou said: "Xinjiang people eating big plate chicken, the last thing eaten must be noodles. Because noodles are the summary of the essence. Chicken and potatoes release their flavors into the broth, and noodles absorb all the flavors. The last bite of noodles is the climax of the whole big plate chicken."
Marco said: "This is like Italians eating risotto? The last bite is the most concentrated?"
I said: "Yes! But risotto is 'reducing'—the broth is slowly absorbed by the rice, becoming thick in the end. Big plate chicken's noodles are 'absorbing'—the noodles absorb all the broth, leaving only chilies and peppercorns in the plate. Two philosophies, same goal: making the last bite the most delicious."
Five: Xinjiang: Why Can Big Plate Chicken Only Be Xinjiang's?
Abudou said, big plate chicken could only be born in Xinjiang, because Xinjiang is the only one.
Xinjiang is China's westernmost province, the Silk Road passes through here. For two thousand years, Eastern silk, tea, and porcelain, Western spices, grapes, and carrots, all met here. Uyghurs, Han, Kazakhs, Hui, Mongols... dozens of ethnic groups coexist here.
This multicultural fusion is reflected in food as not pursuing 'authenticity,' only pursuing 'deliciousness.'
Abudou said: "In Xinjiang, there is no 'authentic Uyghur cuisine' or 'authentic Han cuisine.' Uyghurs also make dumplings, Han people also make pilaf. Big plate chicken is the product of this fusion—it uses Chinese chicken, European beer, South American potatoes, and American chilies, all stewed in one pot."
Marco said: "So Xinjiang is China's melting pot?"
Abudou said: "No, Xinjiang is China's crossroads. A melting pot is fusing into one body, a crossroads is each going their own way, but meeting here. Big plate chicken is the product of this 'meeting'—it preserves each ingredient's identity, but together, becomes something new."
Six: Why Doesn't Giaogiao Serve Big Plate Chicken?
Giaogiao's kitchen can't make big plate chicken. Not because of technique, but because of atmosphere.
Big plate chicken needs a big wok—Giaogiao's wok is not big enough. Big plate chicken needs big fire—Giaogiao's stove is not fierce enough. Big plate chicken needs a big plate—Giaogiao's plates are Italian delicate small plates, can't hold Xinjiang's generosity.
More importantly, big plate chicken is a food where a group of people gather around a big plate to eat. It doesn't fit Giaogiao's "one person, one portion" Western-style model. Big plate chicken needs sharing—you take a piece of chicken, I take a piece of potato, finally everyone competes for the noodles together. This shared chaos is something Giaogiao's table etiquette cannot accommodate.
Abudou said: "Giaogiao is good, but Giaogiao is refined. Big plate chicken is rough. Refined and rough, both are right, just different lifestyles."
I said: "Yes. Giaogiao sells details, big plate chicken sells the whole. Giaogiao lets you slowly savor, big plate chicken lets you swallow in big mouthfuls. They are not enemies, they are different choices."
That night, before Abudou left, he said to me: "Coach Liu, if you have a chance to go to Xinjiang, I'll take you to Shawan, to eat the most authentic highway-side big plate chicken. That feeling of big plates, big spoons, loud talking, you'll never find in Florence."
I said: "I will go. Not for the big plate chicken, but to feel that crossroads."
[Series Complete]
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Fifteen dishes, fifteen stories, fifteen ways to understand China.
From the icy world of Northeast China to the Silk Road of Xinjiang, from the thousand-year-old city of Xi'an to the dockside of Chongqing, from the refinement of Shanghai to the roughness of Changsha, from the slowness of Guangdong to the speed of Wuhan—every dish is the character of a place, the survival wisdom of a group of people, an attitude toward life.
In the kitchen of Giaogiao, Coach Liu, with one wok and one pair of chopsticks, told fifteen stories about China.
But this is just the beginning.
China's food map has far more than fifteen dishes.
See you in the next season.
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