The Comforting Vegetable Shop | Auntie Yi Guo’s Little Table

I. Weather-Dependent Small Farmers and Mothers Seeking to Escape the Motherhood Penalty

Affected by climate conditions, the survival rate for seedlings planted in late summer this year was remarkably low. Consequently, Hu Xuemei’s farm on the outskirts of Chengdu could not supply any vegetables for delivery over the past few weeks. I notified our meal-sharing group that we would be relying mainly on market-bought produce for the time being. Chuchuzi asked, “But isn’t autumn the harvest season? How can there be no vegetables in the fields?”

Urban post-90s only children like Chuchuzi, who are so disconnected from agricultural reality, are by no means rare. In following their parents into urbanisation, they drifted far from the land and farming. Raised in a consumer environment constructed by the food industry, wholesale markets, and supermarket chains—an ecosystem marketed as “cheap, abundant, and convenient”—they genuinely struggle to understand why autumn can still bring a dearth of fresh produce.

Given that Chuchuzi is the most curious among our dining companions, and ever the teacher at heart, I naturally seized the chance to explain the concepts of “spring sowing” and “autumn sowing”, and broke down the relationship between temperature and crop yields. She gave me a puzzled look, signalling she would try to accept this reality, before voicing her most pressing demand: she just wanted to eat vegetables!

Wanting vegetables is exactly the right instinct. Any freelancer who has to “sell their brainpower” and consequently leads a prolonged “sedentary lifestyle” ought to eat more vegetables. Chapter 10 of The China Study makes it clear that osteoporosis, kidney disease, eye conditions, and brain disorders can all be prevented by increasing one’s intake of dark green vegetables and legumes.

At first glance, this view seems to contradict the “common sense” shaped by manufacturers, retailers, and the media in our era of industrial food. Yet a growing body of research indicates that as animal products are overproduced and become everyday staples on family tables, Alzheimer’s disease is showing a trend towards younger demographics.

I recently watched a film, Still Alice, in which the protagonist, a linguistics professor in her fifties, develops early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. Her situation reflects a concern I’ve harboured for quite some time. For over two years now, I’ve been experiencing symptoms of my own: losing my train of thought mid-sentence, or finding I cannot remember things unless I write them down.

I have a fair idea of where the problem lies. After having my child, I went on to co-found the Le Maojia Rural Nature School while simultaneously raising her. For nearly a decade, I’ve been operating in a state of depletion—physically overworked, mentally drained, and chronically sleep-deprived. I was simply too exhausted. What kept me from collapsing, alongside my love for my child and this world, was a lifelong habit of “more vegetables, less meat”, which kept my body functioning at a relatively normal level. But a life isn’t sustained by the body alone; there is also the mind and the spirit.

When I realised that no matter what I did, I couldn’t satisfy those around me, the accumulation of pent-up negative emotions began to damage my mind and body. Because of this damage, I found myself unable to navigate my relationship with myself. To rescue myself, escape the penalty of motherhood, and stop being a “wife confined by self-restriction and excessive sacrifice”, I left Mingyue Village and returned to Yulin in Chengdu to build a new life support network. Once again, I am fighting for my own personal development, health, and happiness.

II.“Vegetables” Can Clear the Mind and Relieve Worries

Recognising the weight of illness in my heart, I delved into numerous books on depression and resolved to make “eating well” the first step in this battle. I pored over *The China Study* again and again, distilling two practical dietary guidelines: First, consume a wide variety of naturally grown fruits and vegetables, and direct your spending towards ecological small-scale farmers; second, create as many opportunities as possible to share these foods with others, allowing both emotional and economic exchange to flow.

Given my focus on depression and Alzheimer’s disease, I kept a sharp eye out for related findings as I read. One report from the renowned Framingham Heart Study in the United States noted that adding three portions of fruit and vegetables to one’s daily diet could cut the risk of stroke by 22%. Reading this, I reasoned that if the arteries and blood vessels supplying the brain require a proper diet to remain healthy, and if the benefits of fruit and vegetables accumulate rapidly, then the assumption that a diet rich in them could guard against dementia stemming from vascular problems is quite plausible.

Guided by this premise, the meals I prepare for myself and my dining companions are predominantly plant-based. The vegetables and grains I order from farming friends such as Hu Xuemei and Chen Ying are cultivated using ecological methods. Grown in clean, healthy soil rich in organic matter, these crops boast exceptional flavour and are packed with trace minerals vital for good health. When simply prepared and eaten, they offer a gentle, restorative effect on the body.

Six months into running the small shared table, the wellbeing of my dining companions began to noticeably improve. Quite naturally, they developed a physiological craving for the wholesome vegetables and fruit served here, and even for the routine of “collecting meals on time”. Particularly after a weekend spent either eating carelessly at home or overindulging at gatherings, they would eagerly anticipate the medley of vegetables waiting in their meal boxes.

Yet, wholesome and delicious vegetables cannot simply be bought with a high price tag.

Small-scale farmers like Hu Xuemei, who sell directly from the field, are entirely at the mercy of the weather. If the crops fail to thrive, our pots remain empty. On those occasions, I count myself fortunate to live close to Yulin Market, and I am profoundly grateful for Longquan Green Vegetable Shop.

III. The Principles of Running a Community Vegetable Shop

The name “Longquan Green Vegetables” is self-explanatory: “Longquan” indicates the place of origin, and “green” refers to the cultivation methods. The owner also likes to stress the provenance of his stock. On a couple of occasions, I’ve overheard him fielding questions from first-time customers: “Everything’s local. It’s all grown by the neighbours right next door. Produce from elsewhere just isn’t as good as ours here in Longquan, so I don’t even bother stocking it.”

Beyond sourcing local, sustainably grown vegetables, the owner also takes great care in preparing them. That’s actually the main reason I keep coming back to this shop.

The stems on the oyster mushrooms are always neatly trimmed; cauliflowers are halved to suit customers who only need a portion; pickled mustard greens, sticky rice cakes, and mini meatballs are brought in small batches just every few days; those earthenware jars of sweet fermented rice are practically snapped up every fortnight; and as for my personal favourite, the firm tofu, it reliably arrives in a full wicker basket every single day.

 

 

● Cauliflower is cut in halves for the customers’ convenience.

Several people run this shop—yes, everyone is a co-owner, working together on equal footing. Though their roles differ, any of them can field a customer’s questions, and each knows how to navigate the flexibility between the marked price and what’s actually taken at the till. They’ll also happily swap tasks depending on how each other are getting on. Because of this, shoppers here invariably feel at ease, reassured by the team’s unspoken coordination and quick responses.

The shop’s layout makes plenty of sense, too. Corn, taro, carrots, and sweet potatoes are spread out at the front for easy picking. Turnips and winter radishes sit beside the tofu, and the fruit section is just next door. A veg shop selling fruit? How odd. Yet the oddity is entirely sensible—there are never more than two kinds of fruit on display at any given time.

From summer through autumn, I’ve managed to pick up two varieties of organic grapes and two types of pear. When loose grapes tumble out during transport, the owners box them up and sell them at half price; on my morning walks, I’ve been lucky enough to snap a few boxes up.

Tucked beside the fruit are usually the season’s finest offerings. Right now, that naturally goes to Sichuan’s “provincial vegetable” pea shoots, alongside radish tops. For those who know what they’re looking at, these timely delicacies are an instant buy. I once found myself and an older woman both eyeing the same perfectly sized bunch. Our hands met mid-air, and we exchanged a smile, silently commending each other’s sharp eye. (A few ways to cook radish tops are shared later.)

Beyond the vegetables, the owners also bring up a few chickens, ducks, and rabbits each day. These are almost certainly reserved by regulars, so popping in on a whim rarely ends in success—I’ve never held out hope of scoring a bargain here, anyway. While waiting in line for your weighed greens, you can simply stand by and watch the owners work their knives. Once they’re done, the meat is packed into small baskets, waiting for its owners to collect it. At that moment, the shop effectively becomes an outdoor worktop and kitchen extension for those lucky enough to have secured their order.

Next to the meat counter sits the shop’s main display table. The older shoppers arrive and immediately circle it, where every seasonal offering lies quietly waiting for its match. Celery, spinach, Chinese cabbage, cucumbers, bitter gourd, loofah, aubergines, tomatoes, large green peppers, long chillies, spiral chillies… You grab a handful, I take a couple, and before you know it, the scene shifts from “come and have a look” to “pack up and head home”. More than once, trailing behind a group of silver-haired regulars, I’ve felt a sudden sense of urgency.

● The shop is always bustling in the early hours.

IV. A Deeply Restorative Community Space

Broadly speaking, the shop has won the affection of locals precisely because it “shares daily life” with them and makes life easier. Naturally, it has become a neighbourhood favourite. Shopping here often brings a sense of mutual support akin to that found within a family, alongside the quiet warmth of close-knit neighbours.To use a phrase popular these days, this vegetable shop is “exceptionally restorative”.

Compared to smallholder farmers who are at the mercy of the weather, market stallholders offer greater supply stability and a wider selection for customers. Whether sourcing directly from growers or buying in bulk at wholesale markets, vendors curate and combine produce to suit demand, offering city dwellers considerable convenience.

As the vital hub of community life, the wet market is where information converges, commerce flows, and bonds are forged. It is only fitting that it should serve as the most accessible and frequently visited restorative environment for residents. This helps explain why landmark urban renewal projects across China—from Beijing and Guangzhou to Hangzhou and Chengdu—have consistently focused on radically renovating neighbourhood wet markets.

Professor Xu Leiqing’s 408 Research Group at Tongji University has long studied “community healing environments”. In their latest paper, *Community Healing Environments: A Systematic Review of Environmental Factors, Settings, and Outcomes*, the researchers note that neighbourhoods are the smallest units of a city and the places where residents spend the most time. Beyond natural elements, universality and everydayness are essential qualities of the built environment in these spaces.

The comforting, everyday atmosphere of Yulin is undoubtedly born from the intersection of these natural, universal, and daily qualities. Feelings of well-being and social connection, so often overlooked in modern life, can be easily found in a wet market or a favourite local greengrocer. Residents mingle, exchange stories, and draw on mutual support. The shopkeepers themselves may not have realised that by simply going about their fundamental trade, they were creating a highly accessible, frequently visited sanctuary for the surrounding community.

To conclude, I’ll share a light-hearted moment that once amused me, for the enjoyment of our readers:

After buying some produce, a customer attempts to pay by scanning a QR code. The network lags, and it takes a while for the payment confirmation to appear. Thrilled, he calls out across the crowd to the shopkeeper: “It’s through! It’s gone through, you can see it!”

The owner, busy weighing vegetables and collecting cash from the queue, replies with his usual knowing half-smile: “It’s gone through? Well then, you might as well stay for a while.”

V. Bonus: Several Ways to Cook Radish Tops

Radish greens are still not a staple vegetable in regular trade. You typically only come across them when farmers are thinning out radish seedlings in the fields, a circumstance I file under ‘rare finds’. Consequently, if I spot them at the market, I always snap them up straight away.

Radish greens are highly nutritious, high in fibre, packed with a range of vitamins and long used in folk medicine to treat dysentery, diarrhoea, coughs, haemorrhoids, bloating, and vomiting. Growing up in the countryside, my mother hailed from the mountains, where the diet was considerably more ‘varied’ than in the surrounding lowlands. Whenever our family served amaranth leaves and radish greens, relatives would teasingly mock us as ‘pigs’. These days, radish greens are a sought-after delicacy in the markets, fetching a higher price than pea shoots—a twist of fate those same relatives likely never saw coming.

● Chopped radish greens.

1. Stir-fried minced pork with pickled radish greens: This is a quick, seasonal dish that goes beautifully with rice. It traditionally features quick-pickled vegetables. If you’re using aged pickles from a traditional crock, rinse them briefly to cut down on the salt. I finely chop sour cowpeas and pickled radish (kindly sent over by a friend’s mother) and stir-fry them with half-fat, half-lean minced pork. Just before serving, I fold in the chopped radish greens.

▲ Minced pork stir-fried with pickled radish and sour cowpeas, with chopped radish greens scattered on top just before serving.

2. Cold-dressed radish greens: Wash the radish greens thoroughly and cut them into small, finger-length pieces. Blanch them briefly, then plunge into a bowl of cooled drinking water to halt the cooking. Once drained, toss with your favourite seasonings and serve. In Sichuan households, chilli oil is a kitchen staple. Applying the same dressing technique used for Sichuan-style chilli oil chicken slices works wonderfully for cold-dressed vegetables of all kinds.

3. Braised tofu with radish greens: To be precise, the chopped radish greens are added just before the braised tofu is taken off the heat. They impart a more vibrant flavour than celery or coriander would, and the tiny, peppery radish bits mingled with the tofu add a delightful textural contrast. More importantly, this preparation boosts your fibre intake, which can help keep things moving smoothly for those who spend long hours sitting down.

▲ Radish greens scattered on top just before serving.

Foodthink Author

Xia Lili

Born Hou Xinqu, she is a writer with a deep passion for nature and children. She enjoys cooking and is fascinated by the relationship between people and food. She previously founded Xiaji Bookstore in Dujiangyan and the Lemaojia Local Nature School in Mingyue Village, Pujiang. Currently, she conducts research and teaching practice in Yulin, Chengdu, focusing on “community building and nature education within urban regeneration”.

 

 

Photos: Unless otherwise noted, provided by the author.

Editor: Xu Youyou.