Why This Kunming Eco-Restaurant Earned a Place in Lonely Planet?
A calligraphic sign with the restaurant’s name hangs prominently in the dining room, a piece by Yu Jian, a celebrated poet from Yunnan. At the corner of every table rests a small illustrated card explaining why pesticide use ought to be minimised, and how to apply them judiciously when unavoidable.
A few years ago, this ecological restaurant was featured in the travel guide《Lonely Planet》, and for four consecutive years it was voted Best Chinese Restaurant by readers of GoKunming, the largest English-language website in China’s south-west.
I. An Ecological Eatery, Truly Delicious
As we stood at the entrance placing our order, the proprietress, Yang Lifen, took in our two unfamiliar faces. “Nearly everyone who dines here is a regular. We use only seasonal, home-grown vegetables, cultivated without pesticides, and our kitchen does not use chicken stock powder or MSG.” Having finished her current task, she sidled over to explain.
“Is your farm based in Kunming?”
“It’s out in Qujing, over a hundred kilometres from here.” No sooner had we placed our order than she’d already tied on her apron and slipped into the kitchen.
I find it difficult to articulate just how exceptional dishes can be when prepared entirely with sustainably sourced ingredients, but they undeniably carry a profound aroma. The simpler the cooking method and the more it relies on the natural flavour of the produce, the more this quality shines through.
During this year’s wild mushroom season, a friend from Nanning made the special journey to Kunming, and we found ourselves back at Tusheng Restaurant. She is a discerning eater, and the first dish to arrive, a stir-fry of pork with pickled mustard greens, immediately drew her praise.
“Delicious. You must pickle your own greens. I can taste it. It’s a completely different experience from industrially produced ones.”
Out of habit, I questioned her certainty. “How can you possibly tell?”
“Of course! Industrially pickled vegetables have a sharp, almost harsh tang in both their acidity and aroma. With this plate, the acidity is wonderfully gentle and the flavour is mellow and well-rounded.” As she spoke, I lifted another bite to my mouth.
When the chef had finished his tasks, he heard us talking and came out. It was a quiet day, with only the owner’s younger brother in the kitchen. Encouraged by his friend’s praise, he suddenly felt inspired, located an album in the private dining room, and shared with us his 2017 trip to Zurich, where he and his sister had attended an international arts festival. On that trip, they visited local ecological farms and shared Yunnan cuisine with foreign friends.
A year before their European exchange, Lifen also hosted the self-taught American fermentation enthusiast Sandor Katz. That winter, Katz and friends came to Tusheng Restaurant drawn by its reputation. Using fermented foods and ecological ingredients, they put together a feast blending Chinese and Western traditions that served as a perfect finale to his “fermentation journey” across Yunnan, Guizhou, and Sichuan.
II.“From Farm to Table”
Lifen later joined PCD’s Yunnan office. During this time, she engaged with ecological agriculture and farming friends from various regions. Yang Lifen gradually persuaded her parents, who farmed in their hometown of Qujing, to adopt ecological methods for growing vegetables.
After she became pregnant, her parents set aside extra time to grow ecological vegetables for her, sending a regular delivery to Kunming each week. Any surplus was shared with friends. Gradually, the circle of friends keen on sustainably grown produce expanded. In response, Lifen Yang’s parents dedicated a separate plot to cultivation and began sourcing free-range chickens and eggs from remote villages.
Initially, the couple had no plans to open a restaurant; they simply sold homegrown, ecologically farmed produce to friends via group orders. Following a few successful batches, the demand clearly took off. In 2011, to cater to a wider audience seeking wholesome ingredients, Tusheng Shiguan was formally launched, funded by a collective contribution from friends.
Once the restaurant opened, to guarantee that every vegetable was grown without chemical fertilisers or pesticides, Lifen Yang’s family took on virtually the entire produce supply. By swapping plots with neighbours, they secured nearly 10 *mu* (about 1.5 hectares) of land.
Roughly three to four *mu* of this area is dedicated to the vegetable garden, which follows traditional planting methods passed down through generations whilst preserving a degree of biodiversity. “For instance, we don’t plant a single crop across the board. We always intersperse the greens with garlic shoots or spring onions, and plant fruit trees in the remaining open spaces.”
Lao Cui says that at his most frequent, he made the trip back once a week. Having grown up in the countryside, this native of Shandong feels a profound connection to the soil. “The farm’s ecology is steadily improving; even the bees are eager to build their nests there,” Lifen adds.
In addition, they maintain a half-*mu* fish pond and a little under half a *mu* dedicated to composting. Situated on the perimeter of the vegetable garden, this plot was swapped from a neighbour by the Yang family a few years ago. It was formerly used for rice paddies, but after taking it over, they raised the ground by over a metre to prevent waterlogging. Through years of continuous cultivation and soil amendment, the land has become exceptionally fertile.
The farm delivers produce to the city once or twice a week. Each batch travels on the bus service from Qujing to central Kunming. Restaurant staff meet the delivery at a petrol station next to the bus terminal. “It’s very cheap, just twenty or thirty yuan a trip,” recalls Lao Cui. In the years before they bought a car, he had to ride an electric scooter to collect the vegetables.
3. Amid a Changing Landscape, the Evolution of a Small Shop
The vibrant community NGO scene in Kunming laid the fertile consumer groundwork for Tusheng Shiguan’s early growth.
Since the early 1980s, Yunnan has been one of the first regions in mainland China where international NGOs took root. As the provincial capital, Kunming evolved into a hub for domestic and overseas charities to establish offices. A large community of professionals, united by a focus on public issues and shared values, flocked to the city. Their presence helped draw early attention to Tusheng Shiguan when it first launched. To this day, the venue remains a favoured gathering spot for local organisations working in philanthropy, ecological agriculture, and related causes.
Bolstered by support from friends, the restaurant gradually built its reputation. By 2017, business at Tusheng Shiguan had reached its peak. Lao Cui recalls that at its busiest, even the second-floor mezzanine would be packed. The team grew to over ten staff members, mostly young people from his hometown of Qujing.
The regulars soon expanded beyond acquaintances to include passers-by and office workers from nearby business parks. “You can’t run a business relying solely on friends; they won’t be dining here every day,” Lao Cui reflects. He believes that the majority of their loyal patrons today have been won over gradually, through word of mouth.
In recent years, the restaurant has grown noticeably quieter, with customer numbers dwindling year on year, and this year has been particularly slow. The team has shrunk from a peak of twelve down to just three. The kitchen is now managed by Yang Lifen and her brother. When his wife is away, Lao Cui steps in to work alongside his brother-in-law, leaving the front of house to a single waitress from Jiangsu.
The staff reductions actually began back in 2020. Operations in the kitchen have changed, too: they introduced a dishwasher to replace manual labour, moving away from an eco-friendly but highly labour-intensive tea seed powder cleaning routine. “I believe we should make use of modern technology,” Lao Cui remarked.
Lao Cui himself shifted from front-of-house duties to the kitchen, starting with prep work and gradually teaching himself to cook. Four years of kitchen experience later, he has come to reflect—albeit somewhat belatedly—on the various operational missteps they encountered along the way. “None of us had any prior experience in the hospitality industry. We took plenty of wrong turns.”
The first issue was a reckless increase in headcount. Mr Cui reckoned that even during their busiest years, they never truly needed ten staff members.
Young workers brought in from his hometown in Qujing had high turnover rates, and the hired chefs proved difficult to manage. Ironically, those peak years also saw the most complaints, with food quality lacking consistency. Improper handling by the kitchen staff also led to waste and unnecessary loss. The organic peanut oil used for cooking was a prime example.
This kind of oil carries a premium price, costing close to 200 yuan per drum to buy in. Whenever staff ran low and found the last drops difficult to pour, they would simply bin the container. “If you just pour it out carefully, you can still salvage a fair amount,” he noted. “I’ve told them this time and again, but they still can’t get it right.”
The restaurant’s somewhat remote location also took its toll on business to some extent.
In the early days, the couple scoured various neighbourhoods but passed on every option for one reason or another. Later, they learned a Western restaurant was up for lease at a sensible price, so they secured it. “We were full of ambition back then. We believed that if the food is good, customers will find you, and never worried that the location would hurt our trade.” Now, amid broader economic headwinds, that locational drawback is slowly coming to the fore.
Looking ahead, Tusheng faces greater uncertainties, yet it presses on.
In April this year, Mr Cui met a regular customer who had been dining with them since her secondary school days. She now attends university away from home, but still makes a special trip to visit whenever she returns for the holidays. “I have faith in people’s palates. When you grow up eating clean, wholesome ingredients at home, you’ll inevitably miss that natural flavour when you’re out in the world. I’ve spoken to many diners, and they all place a huge emphasis on this.”
Fourteen years into its journey, the ecological restaurant has undergone many changes, but one thing remains steadfast: their slow food philosophy—“Savour your meals and take your time. At home, we raise and grow everything slowly, letting all things follow nature’s own rhythm.”
These are the words of Yang Lifen’s father, displayed at the restaurant’s entrance ever since.
About Tusheng Restaurant
Unless otherwise stated, all images in this article are provided by the author and
Tusheng Restaurant
Editor: Ze En