For a thousand years, the Chinese winter's poetic charm has begun with a slow sip of huangjiu.

[ Bistro in Song Dynasty ]

Song Dynasty Bistro

French sinologist Jacques Gernet once said,

"In 13th-century China, the degree of modern civilization was astonishing."

Countless "Fine Bistro" taverns within the city walls,

with gold and silver tableware vying for splendor,

minimalist kiln-fired porcelain wine vessels,

the poetic wine culture of winding waterways and floating cups...

Shaoxing wine only finally settled on its name in the Song Dynasty: "In 1131, Emperor Zhao Gou took the meaning from ‘carrying forward the great prosperity for all generations, reviving the unfinished work of a hundred kings’ and changed the reign title to Shaoxing Year 1." Huangjiu (yellow rice wine), with a history of over a thousand years in China, was an essential part of Song life—its refinement and character inseparable from this captivating amber hue.

Recently, through the connection of Xiaokuan—the head of Big Mouth food media and a celebrated gastronome—I met Shun Ge. He believes that the zenith of ancient Chinese lifestyle was in the Song, so he gave his groundbreaking new huangjiu a name: "Slow Song" (Man Song).

Brewing good huangjiu is just like drinking it well. That "slowness" is perfectly captured by Su Dongpo in his "Ode to Pork": "Wash the pot clean, use only a little water, let the firewood smolder without flame. Let it cook at its own pace—don’t rush it; when the time is right, it will be delicious on its own."

Treating meat and wine with care seems trivial, but slow cooking over a gentle fire—if it yields true flavor—is worth it.

The style of huangjiu was born in the Song, where it was drunk chilled.

Su Shi wrote: "One should pour half-ripened goose-yellow wine, reflecting the clear blue water and sky after the rain." Li Qingzhao sighed: "Don’t let the cup be too deep with amber thickness; not yet drunk, my mind already melts." Goose-yellow and amber—both describe the huangjiu of the Song. That avant-garde beauty was indeed a fresh splash of color in the Song sky.

"I studied in Japan in my early years, lived there for eight years, and worked in the wine industry for four. I love China’s huangjiu and hope to turn it into a Chinese product the world can enjoy. Our winemaker spent 30 years in France and now works permanently in Zhejiang," said Shun Ge.

In fact, as early as the Song Dynasty, huangjiu was already being enjoyed with flair. With Kaifeng as the capital of the Northern Song, merchants flocked together, and trade stimulated the development of alcoholic drinks in the Central Plains. Historic famous wines emerged one after another, such as the "Huangfeng Wine" specially produced for the emperor by the Guanglu Temple. Su Shi mentioned in a poem: "The New Year has already bestowed Huangfeng wine; old ambitions still share the bream fish." There was also the Bingtang Wine of Huazhou. Huang Tingjian in "Pure Serenity Music · Banquet" lamented: "Bingtang wine is so good, I only regret the silver cup is too small." For Man Song, this is just the opening paragraph.

World-class Master of Wine Fongyee Walker visited Shun Ge’s winery and remarked: "Now is a great era for the international promotion of ‘Man Song.’ Three prevailing trends work in its favor. First, from 2000 to 2010, the wine world favored rich, heavy flavors; after 2010, there was a shift toward elegance and lightness—Man Song’s flavor profile fits this trend. Second, countries like Georgia, Chile, and Spain have seen a resurgence of concepts like clay vessels and natural wines, and for Man Song, being traditional is right on trend. Third, restaurants in Denmark, Norway, Rome and beyond are popularizing fermented foods, which pair beautifully with Man Song huangjiu."

Beyond merry drinking, Song people also left behind brewing texts like "The Classic of Wine from the Northern Mountains" and "Su Dongpo’s Wine Classic." Their records of making qu (fermentation starters) and brewing are remarkably similar to today’s huangjiu production—so many recipes, so many methods. If we don’t travel back in time to taste them, our imagination may be the only limit. But no matter what, ancient brewing followed the rhythm of the four seasons, revering the pure gift of nature.

Shun Ge smiled and said, "Burgundy’s biodynamic methods are the origin of natural wine; in fact, Man Song is also a natural wine. We add nothing—just rice, wheat, and water, fermented in nature, aged and matured in nature..."

I wholeheartedly agree with Xiaokuan that wine is a tiny playground of the soul—on one hand, it dispels worries; on the other, it adds joy.

Truly, was huangjiu any different for the literati by ancient West Lake? When the great writer Su Shi drank and roamed, he once composed a perfect couplet involving a "tin flask" that no one could match for centuries. The line went: "Lifting a tin flask, roaming West Lake, the tin flask dropped into West Lake—alas, the tin flask."

"Chilled huangjiu is so good!"

"Song people drank it iced just like this."

This insight came from Teacher Chen Li, a walking food encyclopedia. He explained that in ancient times at this season, scholars would take wine to admire the autumn colors, then bury the wine in the ground. When they went on spring outings the next year and dug up that tin flask, it still held an icy chill. In my understanding, ancient double-walled tin flasks were usually used for warming wine.

I couldn’t help but marvel: those old wine-and-meat souls by Song-era West Lake were truly romantic!

The Jiangnan flavor of huangjiu.

Deep sleep cannot dispel the lingering fragrance; "Man Song" danced gracefully at Sanyan Pavilion beside West Lake.

The rough edges of huangjiu aged in thousand-year-old cellars instantly dissolved; the scent of flowers and fruit, the taste of sunshine, slowly unfurled in the glass. Most Hangzhou natives have ancestral roots in the ancient Yue region. My maternal grandparents came from two prominent Shaoxing families during the Republic of China era—the Gu family, who were merchants, and the Zhou family, who were scholars. So much time, let it flow on; it’s all in the blood.

Duck Liver Pâté | Apricot, Huangjiu Jelly

Three golden-yellow ingredients come together, different textures, a shared splendor. The huangjiu jelly made with Man Song Fengtan wine seals a tipsy spirit, appetizing and bright. The pale jade-green shell holding the varying shades of yellow is infused with scallion-oil fragrance—rich and delicately beautiful. The duck liver pâté is fresh, smooth, and tender; with a bite of apricot, sweetness meets you head-on.

I took a big sip of the mellow Fengtan wine, thinking to myself: this richness not only goes perfectly with foie gras but is a natural match for the dark soy sauce-heavy cuisine of Jiangsu and Zhejiang. Closing my eyes and taking a few more sips, I suddenly regretted it—wouldn’t it go to my head?

"People say huangjiu gives you a headache, but that’s actually from impurities in the plant proteins during rough processing—those tend to produce fusel oils. The production process requires polishing away the excess to ensure a good physical experience. In fact, after we finished making ours, we once drank two whole bottles; the next day we still felt perfectly fine. That was our destructive test," Shun Ge reassured.

Caviar | Fermented Grain Egg Custard, Mushrooms

My alcohol tolerance was never good to begin with... By now, all the dishes had become a gentle breeze in my mind, wafting in like Song dynasty lyrics. The umami of mountain and sea burst forth at the first touch. A gentle bite of caviar, and freshness flooded the palate; the fermented grain egg custard added the sweet richness of crab roe and crab paste, complemented by the wild, earthy notes of mushrooms—intertwining into a fresh, transcendent spirit.

Man Song Fengtan Wine, Shaoxing, China

A sip of Fengtan wine, handcrafted using ancient winter brewing methods, enters the throat—layer upon layer of multi-year base wines create a richness and depth like a roller coaster for the taste buds. This "winter brew" uses polished rice from Northeast China as its raw material. The entire process involves complex steps: soaking rice, steaming rice, placing it into jars, fermenting, pressing, filtering, and sealing the jars—each step meticulously "sculpts" the final flavor. The wine is pure and soft, its amber hue exuding a subtle, lingering fragrance, condensing the sweetness of time.

Sister Song’s Fish Soup | Crucian Carp Broth, Vegetables

Xiaokuan noted that Hangzhou locals like to add a splash of huangjiu when cooking. Spot on—Sister Song’s Fish Soup contains it, and this is the natural, harmonious "source" that pairs Jiangnan cuisine with huangjiu.

As recorded in "Ancient Matters from the Wulin Garden," Sister Song’s Fish Soup makes its entrance next. A beautiful woman named Song the Fifth Sister, "a native of Kaifeng who migrated south with the emperor to this place, made a living by preparing fish soup by West Lake"—thus emerged today’s Hangzhou dish, Sister Song’s Fish Soup. Crucian carp broth serves as the base; mushrooms, fish, and shredded bamboo shoot each retain distinct character. Ginger and pepper bring the broth’s fresh warmth; taking a sip, the scenery of Song times remains.

Grouper | Bald Butter, Ginger-infused Crab Oil

This wine also pairs beautifully with the profuse, unctuous richness exclusive to autumn and winter. Egg custard forms a dome, framing a landscape of bald butter and grouper, beneath which beads of black vinegar sauce hide—a world unto itself.

Sourness in food whets the appetite. What about wine? As Xiaokuan said: "Acidity is part of its backbone, and an important expression of its aging potential. What truly allows huangjiu to conquer time is not its aroma, but its acidity." With the second wine, Man Song · Reserve Crisp Huangjiu, I could clearly sense a higher level of rice-bran aroma, plus that "acidity" that makes the dining table even more cheerful.

Man Song · Reserve Crisp Huangjiu, Shaoxing, China

Unlike traditional glutinous rice huangjiu, Man Song selects Wuchang rice from Northeast China for its stronger rice fragrance. Drawing on the sake rice-polishing technique, the rice is milled to 38%, resulting in a wine that is light, pure, high in acidity, with notes of caramel and toasted bread—unexpectedly harmonizing perfectly with crab.

"A good huangjiu possesses a universal language, and the cost of market education should be low. You understand it the moment you taste it, you like it right away, and it represents China while being presented in a way the world can grasp. I think Shun Ge’s wine has made a very ingenious attempt in this regard," said Xiaokuan.

Delicately filtered by hand to retain more nutrients and aromas, it has a balanced, layered mouthfeel that can be enjoyed at different temperatures: chilled, it’s round and refined; at room temperature, fresh, fragrant, and soft.

Wagyu Beef | Glutinous Rice and Yam, Huangjiu Sauce

If it’s not red wine, only a full-bodied white wine would normally do with beef. But when huangjiu steps in, it’s completely effortless. The aroma of wagyu needs no introduction; glutinous rice turns into dewdrops, yam is starchy yet firm, and snow pea sprouts leap playfully in between. Slices of beef from the Loire Valley are pan-fried—tender, fragrant, with clear, delicate texture. Sufficient airiness between the slices leaves no trace of greasiness, only the pure, dry fragrance of beef, set off by the crisp elegance of the huangjiu—a seamless affair.

5J Ham | Northeast Rice, Honeyed Beans

Time for the main staple. The ham, tender and draped over greenery, still retains a trace of wok hei. Quiet, glutinous Northeast rice and tender honeyed beans complement each other, paired with the savory ham, dancing with unbridled joy.

By now I was full, and a little tipsy from food and wine, needing a more refreshingly crisp little huangjiu to lift my spirits.

Man Song · Classic Crisp Huangjiu, Shaoxing, China

Brewed with Jianhu Lake water from Shaoxing, red-skinned wheat qu, and Northeast rice polished to 35%, this Man Song Classic Crisp Huangjiu removes impurities through milling to reduce sugar. The wine is naturally clear, gliding smoothly over the palate, pacifying the taste buds.

Borrowing the blending method of non-vintage Champagne, multiple vintage treasures collide and harmonize to the greatest extent, expressing multi-layered flavors. Micro-oxygenation technology adds finesse to the mouthfeel, wrapping the tongue in a sense of joy—truly comparable to a blissful outing.

Huangjiu Walnut Ice Cream | Brown Sugar Biscuit Crumbs, Vanilla Panna Cotta

The dessert concludes things exquisitely, leaving behind the pure, gentle sweetness of huangjiu. The entire curated menu, with wines paired from rich to light, gradually clarifies the flavors of Jiangnan.

Under a modern banner, recounting Eastern elegance.

"Chinese fine dining has always lacked a suitable food-pairing wine, and huangjiu is a taste memory shared by Chinese people worldwide." This was the original intention that Zhang Shun—founder of Man Song Winery—repeatedly emphasized when talking about his transformation from running a wine business to developing high-end huangjiu.

These words from Shun Ge may sound like pure nostalgia, but he built everything on technique. Man Song's winemaker Wen Nan has focused intently on Shaoxing huangjiu brewing technology over the past seven years. "Drawing inspiration from the brewing philosophy of Japanese sake, while inheriting Shaoxing's traditional craftsmanship, I constantly pursue the innovative integration of international brewing styles. For me, Shaoxing huangjiu is a complex and refined art; each brew is both a scientific practice and a challenge. I hope to bring China’s Shaoxing huangjiu to the international stage through my professional research and practice, presenting the world with a unique Chinese wine and food culture," he said.

In fact, even before collaborating on this menu created by celebrity chef Yu Ning at Sanyan Pavilion, Man Song had already been making frequent appearances at sophisticated banquets across China. Top domestic restaurants have been rapidly adding Man Song to their official menus. I recall my own experiences at Lanting Yong, LingLong… all had Man Song. Between East and West, elegance and roundness, this refined huangjiu moves with ease.

Yu Bin, the master behind Sanyan Villa (La Villa Restaurant) under the Zixuan group, which just forged a strategic partnership with Man Song, is a grandmaster of refined Jiangnan cuisine. He said: "Actually, Hangzhou itself has a habit and culture of drinking huangjiu. Since I started in the restaurant business, I’ve found that if huangjiu is too rich and heavy, it affects the taste of the dishes and is hard to integrate with our food; guests also worry about high sugar content. It wasn't until we tasted Man Song that we realized huangjiu can be extremely crisp and clean."

As early as the beginning of this summer, Man Song selected Chengdu's Yinlu Ancient-Method Sichuan Cuisine restaurant to launch the global brand unveiling of China's premium huangjiu. With the theme "Slow Food, Slow Drink, Slow Living," they jointly interpreted the ultimate contemporary Song-style life. In a courtyard building steeped in Eastern Zen aesthetics, a stick of incense was lit, a cup of tea whisked, a painting hung in the room, flowers arranged in a vase—quietly opening the Man Song moment. Most recently, Man Song also became a symbol of "slow" wonder at a Beijing Christmas.

Straddling Chinese and Western cultures, Man Song has gradually become an ideal companion to Chinese flavors—whether in new-wave Eastern elegance or as a soulmate to the Eight Great Cuisines, it has limitless room to unfold.

Man Song’s chief, Zhang Shun, brought Man Song to Xiamen this time. The name "Man Song" sounds similar to the English word "monsoon"—evoking the image of an ancient scholar bowing courteously at first meeting. But Xiamen is different; scholars here have harmonized for years. Before the first round of drinks was finished, everyone was earnestly contributing trivia: in the Xiamen dialect, "Man Song" sounds exactly like "slow enjoyment." Thus, the wine’s fragrance gathered joy in the air, naturally.

The rice used in Man Song includes varieties like Koshihikari and Akita Komachi, milled to remove 30%–50% of the outer layers of protein and fat. This is the secret behind Man Song’s lingering beauty and why you get drunk so slowly. General Manager Kuan said, "It’s truly rare to be able to describe a huangjiu with the word ‘crisp.’"

From tipsy to mellow, there is no worry of a heavy head. This "slowness" mirrors Brother Jie of Shangqing’s philosophy of hospitality—building friendship over time, with old friends covering the four corners of the world, a scale perhaps rivaling the new fans lining up nationwide for photos with him. He is righteous and generous, like his private stash of Xiamen’s one-of-a-kind antique giant blowfish skin; seafood expert Uncle enthusiastically explained it, Soy Sauce Brother wholeheartedly recommended it.

The golden, glutinous blowfish skin was, without Brother Jie needing to point it out, incredibly honest in texture—a superior substitute for the giant grouper skin in "Kunlun Abalone" from the Manchu-Han Imperial Feast. The raw fermented aroma of abalone, paired with the mellow fragrance of the Reserve Crisp huangjiu, with its plum acidity and hint of jujube sweetness, made the dish even more splendid! The famous "dogshark liver" in Shangqing’s liver and belly dishes is Brother Jie’s signature creation; he holds the sole exclusive supply in all Xiamen. This of course comes from years of support from old fisherman friends. This dish, along with the red mushroom stewed blood eel, is perfect with the lighter, more refreshing Man Song Classic Crisp Huangjiu. This chilled drink, with a structure akin to Champagne, is full yet effortless—a favorite among women.

There was great news that brought a round of applause from everyone at Hai Hai Ren Sheng: the trophies from the 2023 Hong Kong International Wine & Spirit Competition (HKIWSC) had just arrived. China's new-wave huangjiu brand "Man Song" won, in a blind tasting, a total of four major awards: one Best Food & Wine Pairing award, one Gold, and two Silver medals.

After three rounds of wine, good friends had relaxed the feast into a full-scale talk show. Director Wang Shengzhi of "Shang Xin Ba, Fu Wei" is a quirky genius; his witty remarks always found a humorous partner to field them. Sitting across the table, I felt like I was watching a stand-up comedy. Even he said, "I never imagined a business dinner could be this fun."

We no longer need to pair huangjiu with fennel beans like Kong Yiji, but the elegance of Song Dynasty banquets seems never to have gone out of fashion. The Chinese dining table is changing; Eastern and Western cultures intersect in "Man Song"; the beauty of "slow" unfolds leisurely, and has always remained unchanged.

Do you like huangjiu?

the rustling leaves,

have a voice that answers the storms,

but who are you so silent?

I am a mere flower."

Food Bless You!

Advisor for "Once Upon a Bite"

Host of "A Table Like a God"

Producer of "Wild China" and "The World is Worth 369"