Everything Green Is Veg, Everything That Moves Is Meat | Food & Biodiversity
A Word from Foodthink
For most people, the most direct way to get involved is simple—through what we eat. Through our diet, we can savour the wonders that biodiversity brings, but we can also degrade the environment and even drive species to the brink of extinction or wipe them out entirely through overconsumption.
How should we eat responsibly? Recently, Foodthink and Tencent Science Channel’s programme *Species on the Table* invited four farmers, ecologists, anthropologists, and natural history writers to discuss wild vegetables and the complex relationship between food and biodiversity.
Roundtable Guests
I. Yunnan’s Perspective on Wild Vegetables: What’s Green is a Vegetable, What Moves is Meat
Three years ago, she began systematically documenting the natural history of a local farmers’ market in Kunming, recording over 300 species of wild mountain vegetables. Excerpts of her notes were published in *October* magazine. How did you first become interested in the topic of wild vegetables?
Banxia: Let me start with a story about wild vegetables! Around 1997, when I had only just begun my career as a writer, I travelled to Pu’er (then known as Simao) for a writers’ retreat. During the event, I met Huang Yan, a Hani ethnic minority writer. After the gathering, she invited me over to her home. When it came time to cook, I noticed her kitchen contained some meat but almost no vegetables. Puzzled, I was about to ask when she gestured for me to follow her outside. We walked a couple of laps around the back of the house, and before long, she had gathered three types of wild vegetables. She told me, “You know what? For us Hani people, what’s green is a vegetable, and what moves is meat.”
Two of these wild vegetables bore rather unusual names: Xuantong Cai and Xianfeng Cai, both named after Qing dynasty imperial reign eras. I recognised the Xianfeng vegetable straight away—it’s the common beggarticks, those little weeds whose hooked seeds cling to your clothes as you walk past, hitching a ride to disperse. I was quite puzzled: why would beggarticks carry such a regal name?
These days, whenever I get the chance, I still forage for these wild vegetables. I’ll pick the tender shoots of the Xianfeng vegetable, give them a quick blanch in water, and toss them into a cold salad—it’s delicious.
Tian Le: “What’s green is a vegetable, what moves is meat.” I first heard this phrase from Jino ethnic friends in Xishuangbanna. Yunnan truly is a hotspot for biodiversity in China. Li Ruijun, also from Kunming, shared a similar story with me. He holds a master’s degree in anthropology from East China Normal University, works as a freelance writer, and currently serves as a research consultant for food documentaries. With extensive fieldwork experience, he has long focused on Yunnan’s ethnic minority cultures, dietary customs, and multispecies relations.
Li Ruijun: During my undergraduate studies, I focused on the dietary practices of the Jingpo people. When I visited their communities, I discovered that for an outdoor meal, they only needed to pack salt and rice. Which plants could be eaten on the mountainsides or by the riversides—all that knowledge lived in their heads. The men would bring a single machete; without any cooking utensils, they’d simply chop bamboo into tubes and gather banana leaves on the spot. From ingredients to cookware, everything was sourced directly from nature. I’m from Kunming myself and always thought I was quite accustomed to eating wild vegetables, but visiting the Jingpo communities in Dehong broadened my definition of food considerably. Their knowledge of wild edibles is simply staggering.
II. The Farmers’ Market with the World’s Greatest Variety of Wild Vegetables
Banxia: After taking early retirement in 2020, I had plenty of free time and was looking for a project to take on. It just so happened that my home is only 300 metres from the Zhuaxin Farmers’ Market in Kunming—a five- or six-minute walk away. So I went in every day, staying as long as I liked. Sometimes I’d make a special trip just to buy a knob of ginger, or another trip for a few Sichuan peppercorns. The more I wandered around, the stronger my curiosity became to identify those unusual ingredients. I began sharing my discoveries on social media, and others did too, which sparked a lot of interest. Nowadays, the Zhuaxin Farmers’ Market has become a popular destination for visitors and social media posts.
Banxia: I dare say that the variety of wild mountain greens available at the Zhuaxin Farmers’ Market in Kunming is not only the greatest in China, but in the entire world. Yunnan’s diverse geography and topography have fostered rich ethnic and biological diversity, which in turn has given rise to an extraordinary range of food ingredients. At farmers’ markets elsewhere in the world, you probably wouldn’t find so many people eager to try all sorts of wild vegetables. But among the ethnic minority communities in Yunnan, such as the Hani and Jino peoples, they truly live up to the legend of Shennong, the mythical sage who tasted every herb.
While observing the market, I’ve made friends with several of the stallholders. It’s actually these vendors who have acted as promoters of the wild mountain greens. Local foragers would bring their harvest to the market and ask the stallholders to sell it on their behalf. The stallholders could settle payment only after the goods were sold; if anything went unsold, the foragers would simply take it back. Thanks to this arrangement, the range of wild mountain greens at the Zhuaxin Farmers’ Market has grown year by year. One particular stall run by an open and straightforward lady has caught my eye, and I’ve spent a lot of time observing her and chatting. Her stall boasts the widest selection, and when I counted them one day, I was surprised to find as many as 106 different types of wild mountain greens on display.
III. Matsutake mushrooms driven to the brink of endangerment by consumption
Li Ruijun has long researched Yunnan’s wild mushroom culture and has written about fungi for publications including Foodthink and The Paper. Could you help us understand the story behind this sudden surge in popularity?
Li Ruijun: From what I’ve observed, 2020 marked a clear turning point in the popularity of wild vegetables and mushrooms. The pandemic created somewhat contradictory attitudes. While some worried that consuming wild foods carried health risks, others who had been cooped up in cities for months turned to nature for respite. More focused on their well-being than ever, they craved foods they perceived as healthier and more natural.
What stays vividly in my mind is the scene I encountered on a Yunnan mountain in July 2020: it felt like there was discarded litter every few paces, and more hikers every few steps after that. That year, I noticed a massive influx of people heading into the woods, primarily to forage for mushrooms and wild greens. What struck me as rather reckless was that they’d pick whatever caught their eye without the necessary expertise, operating under the assumption that anything wild and natural must inherently be beneficial. Previously, living in the city, they would mainly buy foraged vegetables and mushrooms from markets, where safety inspections and oversight meant the risks of consumption were largely filtered out. But when they went into the woods themselves without that knowledge, the dangers were significant. As a result, the number of poisoning cases linked to wild vegetables and mushrooms in Yunnan that year skyrocketed, sparking several trending topics online.
Returning to matsutake, which is being driven to the brink by consumption. This is closely tied to its biological nature. It has an exceptionally long growth cycle; the mycelium may need to develop underground for seven or eight years, or even longer, before it can fruit and mature above ground. Yet a formidable commercial value chain now exists around it. Demand is so voracious that the pace of consumption simply outstrips the mushroom’s ability to grow. Once tracts of woodland are contracted out to foragers, the anticipated yield is often pre-booked long before the fungi even emerge. Compounding the issue is the climate: in recent years, Yunnan has grown increasingly arid with diminishing rainfall, resulting in sparser fungal yields. This year, the fruiting season arrived roughly two weeks later than usual, and the harvest was particularly meagre. Consequently, the mushroom has become increasingly scarce, harder to come by, and correspondingly more prized.
Li Ruijun: Legend has it that the matsutake was the only species capable of growing in the nuclear fallout zone following the atomic bombings of Japan. In truth, this claim has never been substantiated and has simply evolved into an urban myth. Within commercial contexts, it has been attributed increasingly mysterious health benefits. Some claim it can combat cancer, bolstered by certain nutritional studies suggesting that matsutaketriol (a compound found within the mushroom) can influence cancer cells. Yet we all know that even if a substance shows some effect, it must be administered in the correct dosage and over an appropriate course of treatment to be truly effective. However, through commercial marketing, this nuance was stripped away, leaving the simplified message that simply eating matsutake will ward off cancer. Rather amusingly, matsutaketriol is predominantly concentrated in the thin membrane beneath the cap. This led to the advice that this layer should never be broken during preparation, which in turn fuelled the market phenomenon where tight-capped, unopened mushrooms command a significantly higher price than those whose caps have already expanded.
The matsutake has thus grown increasingly mystified. Its legendary status stems from these urban myths, compounded by dwindling yields that render it increasingly scarce. Topped off with relentless commercial packaging, the mushroom has been elevated to something almost mythical.
The same marketing playbook applies to other ingredients, such as truffles, which are simply traditional edible fungi. Truffles emit a distinct, pungent aroma reminiscent of the pheromones released by a boar in heat. This taps into a rather old-fashioned belief: that what you eat directly replenishes your body. It’s not just a Chinese notion; people elsewhere have long subscribed to similar ideas, leading to claims that consuming truffles enhances one’s natural allure. Once imported to China and slickly repackaged for the market, this narrative seamlessly aligned with traditional Chinese notions of wellness and nourishment, giving rise to the claim that truffles are beneficial for both women and men. In reality, this whole health-and-vitality rhetoric was entirely absent from our historical relationship with the ingredient.
Banxia: Beyond the matsutake, truffles have also become increasingly difficult to source; we’re practically digging them to extinction. In countries like Italy and France, strict regulations govern their harvest. Truffles can only be foraged using trained dogs or pigs to detect their scent. Those who make it their trade are known as truffle hunters. China has even introduced trained truffle dogs in regions like Chuxiong, a major fungal-growing area, yet few are willing to adopt this method. I’ve watched footage of truffle harvesting here, and the soil is completely turned over, dug to depths of at least half a metre. The truffles are being dug up smaller and smaller. When sliced open, they are pale white or at best grey, entirely lacking the deep, mature black of a properly developed specimen.
IV. Foraging Wild Greens: A Time-Honoured Tradition
Sun Shan is a co-founder and current chairperson of the Watershed Conservation Centre. She began farming in 2015 to immerse herself in the land, agriculture, food, ecology, and a self-sufficient lifestyle. Currently based in Ottawa, Canada, she runs the ‘Chi Garden Ecological Farm and Fermentation Kitchen’. She has hosted natural herbal salve workshops at Foodthink and has frequently shared her ecologically grounded perspectives and practices on food and farming.
Sun Shan: It is not just in China; foraging for wild plants and mushrooms is a tradition found across the globe. Given my background in ecology, alongside my own work in small-scale agriculture and nature education, I have always been particularly drawn to these diverse foraging traditions.
The first tradition that shaped me was, naturally, growing up as a Northerner from China in North East Asia, where I was exposed to a wide variety of wild edibles from a young age. Furthermore, as an ecology student, I acquired substantial botanical knowledge through both my studies and professional work.
The second formative influence comes from the Indigenous peoples of North America. Long before European arrival, and before natural landscapes were transformed into modern industrial agriculture and urban sprawl, these communities—much like other peoples around the world—had already cultivated extensive place-based traditional knowledge. This encompassed local wild greens, fungi, and more, extending far beyond culinary uses to include medicinal applications and deep ecological understanding. Regrettably, during the colonial era, much of this rich knowledge system was severed from intergenerational transmission. Today, it has become a rare body of knowledge, largely unfamiliar to anyone outside Indigenous communities.
Sun Shan: The third tradition I have studied comes from European immigrant settlers. They brought with them primarily European botanical systems and herbal traditions. For instance, the Peterson series, well-known for its field guides, includes the *Field Guide to Edible Wild Plants*. This volume details hundreds of edible and medicinal plants found across eastern and central North America. There are many similar reference works in North America; while their authors were historically European herbalists and botanists, these guides now increasingly incorporate Indigenous food systems and foraging methodologies.
Sun Shan: Beyond reference books, there are also numerous foraging communities. Take the local Ottawa group, Foragers of Ottawa, for example: participants from diverse cultural backgrounds regularly use the group to ask questions, discussing how to forage particular wild plants, whether it is appropriate to harvest them, and so forth. Across these books and communities, the two principles most consistently emphasised are safety—knowing how to identify edible species and distinguish them from toxic look-alikes—and sustainability—harvesting with restraint to avoid disrupting the ecosystem.
Sun Shan: Herbalist Nicole Teck developed a foraging ethic based on impact levels. The lowest tier includes species that are abundant and widespread, such as garlic mustard. This is an invasive plant; it flourishes even in severe storms, and no matter how much is picked, there is no danger of extinction. The highest tier comprises species that are critically endangered and highly sensitive. These should be revered; even if they are delicious, they must never be harvested. This includes native, slow-growing perennial plants in the forest. Much of this foraging ethic stems from the teachings of Indigenous peoples, who have established a sustainable coexistence with natural ecosystems.
Sun Shan: You cannot forage wild vegetables without viewing nature through an ecological lens. Our ecosystems are inherently highly diverse. British author Richard Mabey records a fascinating detail in his book Weeds. Botanist Salisbury ventured into the wild and, upon returning, managed to cultivate 300 plants representing over 20 different species of weeds from the detritus caught in his trouser cuffs. This rich ecosystem is a shared one, providing sustenance not only for humans but also for insects and countless other creatures. Therefore, when we discuss wild vegetables, we must never lose sight of this ecological perspective.
V. What’s It Like Growing Wild Greens in the City?
There’s a little story behind her invitation today. On one occasion, when she came to Foodthink for a meeting, she brought along a bag of freshly picked goosefoot. She sorted the greens during the meeting, and afterwards prepared a cold salad of wild vegetables for everyone, instantly making a name for herself. She has also been a guest at Foodthink’s book club before. So, as a professional working in urban biodiversity conservation, how does Tan view this topic?
Tan Lingdi: The urban green spaces we often see tend to be monocultures. Uniformity might look tidier, but it can actually give rise to a host of problems. For instance, people are deprived of diverse natural experiences. Much like a single-species lawn, if you crouch down to look, you’ll find very few varieties of wildflowers. Moreover, compared with lawns that tolerate weeds, monoculture lawns are more prone to disease and consequently require heavier pesticide use. Furthermore, single-species environments can lead to food shortages for other organisms, such as insects and birds.
To restore urban biodiversity, we need to advocate for changes in the maintenance and management standards for urban green spaces. For example, previous standards forbade weeds on lawns, but we are pushing for policies that allow a certain tolerance for weeds to grow. We also actively plant certain weeds, including plants that provide both food and nectar, which help pollinating insects like bees.
One study points out that cities actually serve as sanctuaries for pollinating insects. In areas heavily impacted by humans, the countryside can paradoxically be a less hospitable environment for them due to higher pesticide use. Therefore, planting food and nectar source plants tailored for pollinators in urban areas can greatly support them. Initiatives like “rewilding urban green spaces,” I believe, offer city dwellers more opportunities to encounter wild greens, insects, and so on.
When introducing these native plants, we usually trial them first in the backyard of our office at Peking University to see how they fare. During the trial phase, we have to weed out competing grasses at the right time, particularly fast-growing, highly competitive wild edibles like lamb’s quarters. Since I’d already pulled them up, I thought I might as well eat them. After a quick blanch, they taste quite good. That’s what prompted me to bring some lamb’s quarters to a Foodthink meeting that time.
It’s important to note that lamb’s quarters contain porphyrin-like compounds. After eating them, you should avoid prolonged sun exposure, as they can trigger a phototoxic inflammatory response.
6. Wild vegetables are a gift from each region’s ecosystem to us
Sun Shan: We know of over 15,000 edible plant species, yet fewer than a tenth—around 1,000 at most—are actually cultivated today. Fewer than 150 plants form the backbone of our diet, and 90 per cent of human food comes from just 20 species. This means that between the 15,000 edible species and the ~1,000 we grow, the vast majority remain undomesticated. Our staple crops are even more concentrated: wheat, rice, maize, and barley together make up three-quarters of the global grain market.
Many wild, perennial grains remain undomesticated. Why? There are likely several reasons. Take the trout lily as an example. It is fairly common in Japan, China, and North America. At its base grows a small, starch-rich tuber. In Japan, it is known as katakuriko, which simply means starch. Historically, the roots and rhizomes of many wild plants served as primary starch sources. One reason the trout lily was never domesticated is probably its very low yield. Once a more reliable starch substitute is found, there’s little incentive to rely on plants that are both low-yielding and difficult to domesticate. Throughout human evolution, only those plant species capable of supporting growing populations and offering predictable harvests were ever domesticated.
The wild species mentioned earlier—such as bamboo-leaf greens, matsutake, and truffles—are deeply interwoven with their ecosystems. Their root systems, fungal networks in the soil, nutrient cycles, and entire life histories are all inextricably linked to the local environment. Even if scientists were to study them extensively, replicating those conditions artificially would remain highly unlikely. I don’t believe every plant should be domesticated either. These wild vegetables and fungi should be seen as gifts from each region’s ecosystem. They evolved in symbiosis with other species, and within that sustainable, interdependent relationship, humans are merely one part of the whole.
Originally published in Tencent News’ “Let’s Chat Science”
Reprinted with permission from the Foodthink WeChat Official Account
Compiled by: Muye
Editor: Tianle