In Beijing’s vast culinary landscape, no snack pairing is quite as legendary-or as controversial-as douzhi (豆汁, fermented mung bean drink) and jiaoquan (焦圈, crispy fried rings or coke rings). To the uninitiated, douzhi can smell like sour dishwater; to Beijing natives, it is the very soul of their city. This iconic duo is the ultimate test of whether you have a “true Beijing stomach” – a rite of passage for anyone seeking to understand the capital’s food culture.
A Drink Born from Thrift, Embraced by Emperors
Douzhi has a history stretching back over a thousand years, with roots in the Liao and Song dynasties (10th–13th centuries). It began as humble leftovers – the waste liquid left over from making mung bean starch or noodles. Thrifty commoners, unwilling to waste anything, discovered that this byproduct, when left to ferment, developed a uniquely tangy flavour. Boiling it transformed the sour liquid into a surprisingly comforting drink.
The snack’s big break came in 1753, during the reign of the Qianlong Emperor. According to an imperial edict issued to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the emperor had heard of this “newly emerging” Beijing drink and ordered an official to inspect it for cleanliness. Finding it safe, he promptly recruited two or three douzhi makers to join the imperial kitchen – and a humble street snack became a palace delicacy.
The accompanying jiaoquan (coke rings) – golden, bracelet-shaped fried rings – also traces its roots to the Qing imperial kitchen. Its predecessor can be found in the “ring pastry” (huan bing) of the Song dynasty, and the Ming dynasty pharmacologist Li Shizhen recorded in his Compendium of Materia Medica a recipe for twisting dough into ring shapes and frying them in oil.
How They’re Made
Douzhi starts with mung beans, which are soaked until the skins can be rubbed off, then ground into a fine slurry. The slurry is left to ferment in large vats; the starch settles at the bottom (used for noodles and vermicelli), while the liquid that floats to the top becomes raw douzhi. This raw liquid is then boiled in a large earthenware pot and kept warm over a low flame, ready to be served piping hot.
Jiaoquan (coke rings) is equally labour-intensive. The dough – made from flour, salt, alkali, and a touch of alum – must be kneaded repeatedly and left to rest for three hours. It is then rolled, cut into strips, shaped into rings, and deep-fried until it turns a rich, date-red colour. The result is a ring that is crisp, fragrant, and stays crunchy for days.
The Perfect Pairing
To drink douzhi without jiaoquan (coke rings) is to miss the point entirely. The sour, fermented tang of the drink is perfectly balanced by the savoury, oily crunch of the fried ring. Add a small dish of finely shredded pickled mustard greens (shui gedai), tossed with chilli oil, and you have the complete “douzhi trio.” As a Qing-era poem in the Miscellany of Beijing Snacks observed: “Dregs turned into porridge, the flavour of aged broth, thick or thin – men and women alike sit together, each with their bowl of sour and salty delight.“
Connoisseurs say this trio covers four of the five fundamental tastes – sour, spicy, sweet, and salty – leaving out only bitter. It is said to embody the wish for a life free from hardship.
A Taste Loved by Celebrities and Commoners Alike
Douzhi and jiaoquan have won over everyone from street vendors to cultural icons. The great writer Lao She famously declared: “If you can’t drink douzhi, you’re not a real Beijinger.” The Peking opera master Mei Lanfang was such a devoted fan that he reportedly had a bowl every single day. And the essayist Liang Shiqiu, after leaving Beijing, wrote longingly: “Since leaving Peiping, I cannot stop thinking about douzhi.” He described its magic in three parts: “First, the sourness – sour with a strange fermented tang. Second, the heat – you must sip it slowly, not gulp it down. Third, the chilli in the pickles – spicy enough to make your tongue tingle.“
There is even a classic joke that perfectly captures this pairing’s cultural weight: “If you knock a man down, pour a bowl of douzhi down his throat, and he jumps up cursing – he’s definitely not from Beijing. If he jumps up and asks, ‘Got any jiaoquan?’ – that’s a true Beijinger.”
A Healthy Choice, Too
Beyond its cultural significance, douzhi is genuinely good for you. As a fermented food, it is rich in protein – over 4 grams per 100 millilitres, more than most milk. It contains vitamins, minerals, and dietary fibre, and is traditionally believed to nourish the stomach, clear heat, and aid digestion. The fermentation process, driven by lactic acid bacteria, also makes it highly digestible.
Where to Find It Today
In 2007, “Beijing Douzhi Food Customs” was inscribed on the Beijing Municipal Intangible Cultural Heritage list. Today, you can find authentic douzhi and jiaoquan at time-honoured establishments like Yin San Douzhi (尹三豆汁- 天坛店 near the Temple of Heaven, which has received Michelin recognition for four consecutive years), Jin Xin Douzhi （锦馨豆汁店 – 天坛店）, and Lao Ci Qi Kou Douzhi (老磁器口豆汁儿店 -天坛店), as well as at Huguosi Snacks （护国寺小吃）, a beloved chain with nearly 50 locations across the city.
For the adventurous eater, sampling douzhi and jiaoquan is more than just a meal – it’s an immersion into Beijing’s history, a taste of imperial intrigue, and a window into the soul of a city that has cherished this humble, quirky pairing for over a millennium. As the writer Wang Zengqi put it: “If you haven’t drunk douzhi, you haven’t really been to Beijing.“
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