Travel has always awakened two of my greatest curiosities — the stories of people and the stories of food. This inaugural journey to Wuxi did far more than introduce me to another remarkable Chinese city. It reminded me that history is not confined to museums, monuments or textbooks. Sometimes, history is best understood through the palate.
The author Dr Daniel CF Ng, second from right. [Photo provided to en.wuxi.gov.cn]
Every dish tells a story.
Every flavor preserves a memory.
Every meal becomes a conversation between generations.
By wonderful coincidence, our visit coincided with Xiaoshu on July 7, one of the 24 traditional solar terms that have guided Chinese life for centuries. Literally meaning "Minor Heat", Xiaoshu signals the beginning of summer's intensifying warmth. Yet in Wuxi, I discovered that it also carries its own culinary traditions. One of them is eating fried eel, which many locals believe provides nourishment and strength during the hottest season of the year.
I have eaten eel in many forms throughout Asia, from Japanese unagi to Southeast Asian delicacies, but this was something entirely different. Crispy on the outside, tender within, infused with fragrant sauces that reflected Jiangnan's culinary elegance, it was a dish rooted not merely in taste but in tradition. Every bite reminded me that Chinese cuisine has never been just about satisfying hunger. It has always been about harmony — with nature, with the seasons and with life itself.
Liangxi crispy fried eel, a famous Wuxi dish. [Photo provided to en.wuxi.gov.cn]
Then came another unforgettable reunion.
The famous Wuxi pork ribs.
The very first bite transported me instantly back to Hong Kong in 1991. I vividly remember tasting Wuxi-style pork ribs for the first time during one of my many business trips there. Even after more than three decades, I could still recall that distinctive balance of sweetness, fragrance and tenderness that made the dish so memorable.
Wuxi sauced spare ribs. [Photo provided to en.wuxi.gov.cn]
Returning to its birthplace felt almost nostalgic.
The familiar caramelized glaze, the melt-in-your-mouth texture and the delicate sweetness characteristic of Wuxi cuisine brought back memories I did not even realize were waiting to be rediscovered. Amazing how a single taste can unlock decades of forgotten experiences more vividly than a photograph ever could.
That may be food's greatest gift.
It preserves our memories long after time has quietly moved on.
Yet Wuxi was not content with reminding me of the past. It delighted me with discoveries that challenged my expectations.
One dish in particular completely surprised me.
Fried plum slices with salted pork.
At first glance, it sounded like an unlikely marriage of flavors. Sweet fruit paired with savory cured meat? My instinct hesitated.
My palate did not.
The result was extraordinary.
The gentle sweetness and refreshing acidity of the plums danced effortlessly alongside the rich, savory depth of the salted pork. Each ingredient elevated the other instead of competing for attention. It was a perfect reminder that culinary innovation often comes not from complexity but from bold imagination.
I found myself wondering who first conceived such a combination centuries ago.
Who was the creative soul who looked at plums and salted pork and imagined they belonged together?
Whoever it was deserved far more recognition than history has given.
That single dish captured something I came to admire deeply about Wuxi itself.
Innovation here respects tradition rather than replacing it.
The city's technology ecosystem mirrors its cuisine. Just as artificial intelligence and robotics are transforming industries while preserving centuries of cultural heritage, chefs continue to refine ancient recipes without losing their original soul. Progress and preservation coexist beautifully.
Between these memorable dishes were countless traditional delicacies, each carrying centuries of history.
Every bowl of soup.
Every handcrafted dumpling.
Every freshwater fish is delicately prepared from nearby Taihu Lake.
Every seasonal vegetable is harvested from fertile Jiangnan fields.
Stir-fried shredded celtuce. [Photo provided to en.wuxi.gov.cn]
None felt hurried. None chased culinary trends. Instead, they reflected generations of accumulated wisdom, perfected patiently over hundreds of years.
Dining in Wuxi felt remarkably similar to standing beside the magnificent Grand Canal.
The Grand Canal has connected cities, cultures, commerce and people for more than a millennium. Dynasties have risen and fallen along its banks. Merchants, scholars, poets and travelers have all left their footprints beside its waters.
The cuisine of Wuxi flows much the same way.
Recipes are passed from grandparents to parents, from parents to children, each generation adding tiny refinements without disrupting the current that began centuries earlier. Like the canal itself, the flow never stops. History continues moving quietly forward, nourishing every generation that follows.
That may explain why every meal here felt so meaningful.
I was not simply eating lunch or dinner.
I was participating in a living civilization.
There is something profoundly moving about tasting dishes that emperors may have enjoyed, that scholars may have discussed over poetry, that merchants may have shared after successful journeys, and that families have lovingly prepared for countless reunions across generations.
Food becomes history made edible.
Steamed Taihu Lake white fish. [Photo provided to en.wuxi.gov.cn]
As someone who has spent over four decades in technology, I often speak about innovation, AI and digital transformation. Yet Wuxi reminded me that the most enduring innovations are not always technological. Sometimes they are cultural. Sometimes they are culinary. Sometimes they are recipes that have survived for hundreds of years because they continue to bring joy to every new generation.
As I prepare to return in November with my family, I already know that the famous hairy crabs will be waiting.
But so too will the fried eel.
The unforgettable Wuxi pork ribs that first captured my heart in Hong Kong 35 years ago.
The ingenious fried plum slices with salted pork completely surprised me.
And countless other dishes whose stories I have yet to discover.
This journey has taught me that the quickest way to understand a civilization is often not through its monuments, but through its dining table.
Because when history flows through food as the Grand Canal flows through Jiangnan, every meal becomes a journey through time and every bite becomes a celebration of a civilization that continues to nourish both the body and the soul.
The author is the managing partner of Omni Integra. He came to Wuxi with a Singapore delegation this July and plans to return here with his family again in November.
If you would like to share your Wuxi stories, then send us your writings at wuxiexpatstories@163.com.
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