Amid Food Safety Anxiety, How to Safeguard Your Plate?
In Chengdu’s Yulin Community, ‘One-Pot Abbess’ Xia Lili is guiding her dining companions to forge deeply intimate connections with nature and farmers through food, building a traceable and diverse repository of sustainably sourced ingredients. Over time, this innovative approach to ‘eating well’ has revealed profound changes among her table mates. It is not merely their physical health that has improved, but their daily habits and mental well-being too. Food has helped them rebuild a healthier relationship with themselves, standing as a straightforward and direct means of coming to terms with oneself and resisting alienation.
We hope these stories from the little dinner table in Yulin, Chengdu, will also help others shake off a sense of powerlessness and chart a course for action.
I. Good Meals Mean Early to Bed and Early to Rise
Previously, they frequently ordered greasy, salt-heavy takeaways accompanied by coarse, tasteless white rice—one person likened the rice in takeaway containers to “chewing wax.” Consequently, they never felt much enthusiasm for meals, regarding eating purely as a mechanical necessity to stay alive.
Perhaps “losing one’s appetite” has become a modern malaise. Amid material abundance and a relentless pace of life, our innate sense of hunger has long faded, yet we still force ourselves to eat at mealtimes dictated by societal routines. Admittedly, another key factor is that most food delivery services use inferior rice, resulting in meals that simply aren’t enjoyable to eat.
If meals lack flavour, there is little motivation to eat properly. Unsatisfying food yields only a fleeting sense of fullness, leaving one constantly feeling hungry—or, more accurately, craving. When burning the midnight oil, working overtime, or grappling with anxiety, many turn to constant snacking to satisfy cravings, relieve stress, or reward themselves. This perpetual grazing, however, overworks the digestive system, pushing it into exhaustion. Over time, how could the body possibly remain healthy?
If daily routines are erratic, balanced nutrition simply cannot be achieved. Operating as a modest support system for everyday life, the shared dining table exists to help each participant live more healthily. That is why, for anyone joining the communal meal plan, I always emphasise two principles: first, “gather for meals punctually,” and second, “eat with care.”
Keeping to a set mealtime proved a considerable challenge for the freelancers among us, who were used to late nights and reluctant to rise. Yet, enticed by the promise of wholesome food shared with friends, and gently prodded by the rule that latecomers must “punish” themselves by washing the pots, everyone found the resolve to get up before eleven o’clock.
Each time I portioned out the food into lunch boxes for the table mates, I would invariably offer a few gentle reminders:
“During mealtimes, put away your phones, switch off gaming, and keep conversation to a minimum. If you can focus entirely on the food entering your mouth, chewing slowly and thoroughly, you will learn to truly listen to your body through these deliberate actions. In doing so, you can respond to its signals and foster a healthier relationship with yourself.”
Eating well is the most fundamental act of self-care.
II. Healing Appetite Loss
Axia has a slender frame, and at 1.75 metres tall, she often looks rather gaunt. Over the past few years, amid sweeping changes in the wider climate, career shifts, and strained family relations, she developed a mild case of anorexia. When she heard I had set up this small dining table, she decided to join as a meal companion simply to see how it would go.
I recall that on her second day of collecting meals, I happened to be serving stir-fried beef mince with long beans—made to Hu Xuemei’s recipe, with a handful of pickled long beans tossed in. Chuchuzi, who was dining in the garden downstairs with her at the time, promptly reported to our group chat: “Axia has finished both her lunch and dinner portions.”
A month later, A-Xia sent through a “report” detailing two noticeable changes since joining the shared dining table: “First, I no longer need to rely on sheer willpower. Instead, driven by a natural motivation, I wake up punctually and collect my meal on schedule. Second, my appetite has truly returned—I’ve put on two or three kilograms. This wasn’t the result of rigid dieting and exercise regimes, but a natural shift into a more balanced, effortless way of living.”
“A more balanced, effortless way of living”—what a lovely phrase. I hadn’t expected that Sister Yiguo’s shared table would prove so effective for a loss of appetite, and it truly brought me joy.
The way wholesome food nourishes us varies from person to person. The very same meal combinations catered to the different needs of our dining companions: they helped Chuzhuzi shed more than five kilograms while cutting back, and helped A-Xia put on two or three kilograms when she needed to gain. Naturally, my own weight has remained steady for a long time, resting comfortably within the range I consider most sensible.
The 600 yuan each contributed monthly stretched far beyond its actual market value under the management of this ‘skilful host’, and they were more than happy to simply turn up and eat without a second thought. When they heard I’d be taking a break over the summer holidays, a few even let out a groan: “If you’re not cooking during the holidays, I won’t have a clue what to eat every day.”
III. The Rice Bowl is Sacred and Inviolable
After launching our communal dining initiative, I ramped up our ingredient orders. Each month, via the Chengdu Life Market, I arrange for Chen Ying from Encounter Farm to bring over 5 kg of rice from Meishan. I then source millet, glutinous rice, brown rice, seeds, nuts, and pulses from other farming friends, creating a traceable, varied little pantry for our meal companions.
With this pantry as a foundation, and supplemented by Hu Xuemei’s vegetable boxes, our meal companions can rely on a solid baseline of daily nutrition.
These dining companions originally preferred meat and considered it a dietary necessity. However, they happily embraced the plant-based, naturally prepared meals at our table. Going for so long without craving meat prompted them to reflect on how their previous eating habits had originally taken root.
A person’s dietary habits, alongside their perception, understanding and judgement of food, are largely shaped by their childhood environment. I feel profound sympathy and understanding for A-Xia’s loss of appetite, as my own parents also had a tendency to criticise me at the dinner table. That feeling of swallowing mouthful after mouthful, tears welling up from grievance or anger, is truly distressing. Throughout my teenage years, I was frequently plagued by stomach aches, little realising it was my repressed emotions searching for an outlet.
Fortunately, children do grow up. Once they have learned and mastered the essential skills for independent living, they can find ways to distance themselves from parents who fail to respect them, resort only to constant nagging, and even seem to drain energy from their children.
Having once secured autonomy over my own life through “knowing how to cook”, I wanted to pass on the wisdom I had gathered from my own experiences to my son, Le Mao. I also hoped that one day he too could attain “autonomy over his life” through “autonomy over his food”. Consequently, the area of his upbringing to which I devoted the most time was introducing him to food.
Once he was weaned, I named every single food item he ate. As he grew a little older, I would have him sit in his high chair to watch me prepare meals. When he was older still, I took him to visit markets and farms. We even did a stint working on several farms, and back home, I involved him in growing vegetables, fruit and rice in our own plot.
The “I Want to Know My Food” reading group was another community initiative launched alongside his journey into understanding where his meals come from. Within a shared-learning environment that thrived on mutual encouragement, Le Mao gradually matured into someone who understands where food originates, knows precisely what he wants to eat, and holds a firm belief in the principle that ‘one’s rice bowl is sacred and inviolable’—a strong sense of dietary autonomy.
On one occasion, a few families gathered at a restaurant. During the meal, an older woman—who had a habit of doting on children—went rather overboard with serving them, her enthusiasm bordering on a mild desire for control. Le Mao made his refusal clear, turning down the meatball she offered. Undeterred, she fell back on her ingrained habits and simply placed it in his bowl anyway. In that moment, Le Mao was furious. “Sharing a meal should be a joy,” he said. “But if you’re forced to eat something against your will, it ruins the whole experience! Un-p-lea-s-ant!”
The atmosphere grew tense, leaving the woman rather flustered and out of place. Yet I believe Le Mao did nothing wrong. His actions served as a quiet lesson to every child at the table: resisting oppression begins right here, at the dinner table.
It brings me great joy to see children learn to guard their dietary autonomy. I also hope more adults will come to understand what truly lies behind the food on their plates. Since setting up our community dining table, I’ve shared several relevant books in our group chat, encouraging the other members to read up on food whenever they can. It helps them grasp why our diets should centre on wholesome, plant-based foods, and why it matters to know who grows our food and how it’s produced.
On one occasion, a fellow diner asked why we don’t serve more meat dishes. I explained that we would happily include them if we could source trustworthy options—such as free-range black pigs raised by farming friends in the mountain valleys of Gansu, or pigs from a familiar farm fed on home-grown grain. In such cases, it’s perfectly fine to buy a little for a treat.
Working within a tight budget while prioritising safety, our cook has her own practical workaround. Occasionally, to complement our plant-based meals, she’ll visit a reputable supplier’s stall at the local market to pick up some fresh ribs, shredded pork, or mince, preparing a small meat dish to round things out. Naturally, intensively farmed pigs fed on commercial grain do not compare in flavour to free-range or traditional farm-reared ones. Yet, enjoyed occasionally and in moderation as a dietary supplement or a change of pace, they are perfectly acceptable.
The essential takeaway is this: throughout our shared meals, each person must take the initiative to learn about their food, understand their own bodies, and clarify their dietary needs. Only then can we secure our own rice bowls through the simple, profound act of ‘eating well’, achieving self-care at the most fundamental level.
Editor: Xu Youyou