Jianshouqing’s Roast: Do You Even Deserve to be from Yunnan?

In Yunnan, every mushroom season brings a collective frenzy akin to a mass ‘poisoning’ (and yes, we mean that in the literal sense of wild mushroom toxicity). In recent years, as wild mushrooms have gained popularity beyond the province and broken into the mainstream, every season seems to bring some unexpected drama that ripples through the Yunnan wild mushroom market, impacting everyone from the foragers to the restaurant owners. Just as *A Bite of China* propelled matsutakes into the spotlight a few years ago, the ‘red cap, white stem’ viral trend did for red mushrooms in 2021, and Barbie Hsu did for truffles in 2022, this year the *Jianshouqing* mushroom has gone global, sparked by US Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen.

I have to admit, Janet Yellen’s visit brought a staggering windfall to the mushroom sellers. June is already an expensive month for Jianshouqing, but combined with marketing slogans like “mushrooms first, people second”, they have been elevated to “Jianshou-gold”. Prices became so absurd this season that even locals—poor souls like me—could barely afford a few mouthfuls. Furthermore, “the Goddess of Wealth” ordering four plates of stir-fried mushrooms in one go was a bold move; she is a true honorary Yunnanese! Most born-and-bred locals, including my own family, aren’t nearly as brave.

Every Yunnanese household has a designated, highly-skilled mushroom chef; no one dares eat fungi unless cooked by this specific person. In my home, that is always my mum, and whenever we have Jianshouqing, the whole extended family is called over to share. A friend once joked that this communal eating is a case of “shared benefits, shared risks”. Of course, anyone who has shared a plate of Jianshouqing is essentially a friend for life—or at least, someone you’ve faced death with!

Lard and garlic, a mix of stir-frying and deep-frying, ensuring nothing sticks—this is my mother’s timeless secret for frying mushrooms. She only stops when the moisture has evaporated and the aroma of oil fills the air, her arms already aching from the effort.

When you’re staring at those glistening mushrooms, thinking you’re about to feast, the elders will always caution you: ‘Don’t get greedy’ and ‘Don’t eat them on an empty stomach’. There’s always at least one person so cautious they won’t touch them at all, and even long after the meal has been digested, they’ll still be asking everyone if they’ve started seeing ‘little people’.

This extreme caution stems from our all-too-familiar experience with the ‘thrill’ of sudden, inexplicable poisoning; it feels as though one small mistake in preparation could lead to ‘seeing little people’. Yet, we would never blame the *Jianshouqing* itself for being poisonous! (They’re so delicious, how could the mushrooms be at fault!) This leaves outsiders bewildered: ‘If they’re poisonous, why on earth do you eat them?’

It’s worth considering: could ‘being poisonous’ and ‘being edible’ actually be two different things?

The Yunnanese diet is full of ‘poisonous’ foods. Common examples include yams, konjac, taro flowers, runner beans, broom, and white flowers—all of which can cause poisoning if not prepared or cooked thoroughly. ‘Poisonous’ wild mushrooms include those with toxic side effects for humans, those whose toxins are neutralised through processing to make them edible, and those that are edible for us but lethal to insects and other animals.

While some wild mushrooms contain one or more toxins harmful to humans, methods such as boiling, rinsing, or pickling can remove these toxins or denature them, rendering the mushroom edible (there are even recorded cases of people eating the legendary and highly toxic *Amanita muscaria*). Based on the target organs affected, experts have categorised mushroom poisoning symptoms in China into seven types: ① acute liver damage; ② acute renal failure; ③ gastroenteritis; ④ neuropsychiatric; ⑤ haemolytic; ⑥ rhabdomyolysis; and ⑦ photosensitive dermatitis.

Furthermore, data from an analysis of 223 poisoning cases in Yunnan between 2013 and 2022—where species identification was performed—revealed that the poisonings fell into the six categories excluding the haemolytic type. Among the ‘Red Jianshouqing’ variety, *Boletus lutosus* ranked third in terms of the number of neuropsychiatric poisoning cases. These incidents occurred primarily in domestic settings, and there were no recorded deaths following clinical treatment.

It is evident, therefore, that while Red Jianshouqing (*Boletus lutosus*) is toxic, there are currently no recorded fatalities. When cooked thoroughly, the risk of poisoning is almost non-existent. However, even with extensive experience in preparing them, locals can still ‘get it wrong’—meaning that eating at a restaurant is often safer. This is because market regulations compel restaurants selling *Jianshouqing* to be exceptionally cautious, keeping the risk of poisoning very low.

In truth, even within Yunnan, many people aren’t entirely sure how *Jianshouqing* actually causes poisoning, nor the difference in the severity of the symptoms. In our local dialect, poisoning is collectively referred to as *’naozhe’*, and we often jokingly talk about ‘seeing little people’; it is as if using such light-hearted expressions in our everyday speech dilutes the fear of wild mushroom poisoning.

However, a rather unusual phenomenon emerged this year. Searching for ‘Jianshouqing’ on major social platforms revealed a flood of accounts from outside Yunnan posting their newly bought red onion mushrooms. Many bloggers shared cooking guides and tasting notes, but this was accompanied by a sharp spike in poisoning cases outside the province.

In previous years, when curious out-of-town tourists came to buy Jianshouqing, sellers would emphasize that they were ‘mildly toxic’ and should be ‘eaten in moderation’. **This year, with the ‘Jianshou-gold’ rush, the inherent risk of poisoning has been masked by immense profit**, and even nationwide fresh food e-commerce platforms have rushed to list them. Thanks to cold-chain logistics and e-commerce platforms, diners with zero experience can now buy these highly regional wild mushrooms with no barrier to entry. Yet, while a single click can deliver the mushrooms, it cannot deliver the local experience, the regional mindset, or the hospital treatment expertise that accompanies them.

What is this ‘local mindset’? While conducting fieldwork, I heard someone say: ‘If you eat too much, you’ll get the runs; if you take the wrong medicine, you’ll get dizzy. If you feel unwell, you just tough it out for a bit…’ To put it bluntly, people in Yunnan are unfazed by wild mushroom poisoning. Even my friends who have been poisoned tell me about their experiences with gusto, including how they were treated with induced vomiting in the hospital. Conversely, those lacking this experience and mindset may panic upon feeling ill, triggered by a fear of the unknown and death, and rush to the hospital in a frenzy. The problem is, hospitals outside the province also lack the necessary experience and expertise.

The toxicity of Jianshouqing remains vague to the general public, although scientific understanding of the fungus is becoming clearer year by year. In the absence of instruments to detect toxicity, whether a mushroom is poisonous can only be revealed after it has been consumed. Therefore, for foragers and diners who lack scientific methods for identification, **personal experience and cultural learning are the most effective ways to identify poisonous fungi.**

Before experts systematised fungi into “toxic” and “non-toxic”, the general public tended to categorise mushrooms simply as edible or inedible. As scientific classification systems gradually entered daily life, they merged with fragments of folk custom to create a new form of authority and discourse. People absorbed fragmented knowledge about wild mushrooms through toxic fungi guides, poisoning prevention posters, and educational folk songs, leading to a diverse array of individual experiences and perceptions. *Jianshouqing* thus became a cognitive and cultural dietary prejudice—propagated, amplified, and reconstructed.

Many find it hard to grasp that a “toxic mushroom” is not necessarily inedible, nor is an inedible mushroom necessarily “toxic”. This is because “toxicity” relates to the mushroom’s materiality, while “edibility” relates to its culturality—essentially, “one man’s meat is another man’s poison”.

*Jianshouqing* was originally an eating habit of a small group based on local knowledge. It shaped the locals’ perception and tolerance of “toxicity”, led to the creation of various detoxification methods, and formed a body of ethno-mycological knowledge covering the searching, identifying, sharing, and applying of these fungi. As wild mushrooms continue to intertwine with the world, *Jianshouqing* and its accompanying local knowledge have gradually entered the public eye, shifting the perception of outsiders from “is it toxic?” to “can it be eaten?”.

Finally, regarding the “little people”: it’s true! But it doesn’t happen every time you eat them. Please do not gamble with your physical and mental health just to “see little people”. Friends from elsewhere, if you want to try *Jianshouqing*, come to Yunnan! Question the Yunnanese, understand the Yunnanese, and become the Yunnanese!