Nanning Lemon Duck is one of Guangxi’s lesser-known local delicacies. One of its key components is pickled green lemons.
My husband’s stepmother, who is from Nanning and a skilled local cuisine expert, played a significant role in introducing me to various Nanning delicacies during her last visit many years ago. Just before leaving, she regretted forgetting to teach me how to pickle lemons. She explained that she couldn’t prepare an authentic Nanning Lemon Duck for us as the lemons needed at least 12 months to be ready.
The lemon pickling process is surprisingly simple: green lemons are placed in a well-sealed jar, layered with salt, and then the jar is left in the sunlight for a month or longer until the lemons are submerged in their own juices. The jar is then moved to a cool place.
As expected, after my husband’s stepmother left for a year, the pickled lemons turned into a deep olive color with clear yellow brine. Two or three years passed, and I didn’t know what to do with these lemons but kept them as a sentimental gift from my husband’s stepmother in the kitchen.
Several more years passed, I moved to a new home, and the jar of lemons was one of the last things I brought from the old house. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away, seeing the lemons still soaking in clear brine, frozen in time. I placed the lemon jar in a corner of the new kitchen as a decoration. Over the following years, I occasionally glanced at them, marveling at how well they were preserved in their own juice. I even jokingly suggested studying their natural preservative properties for use in anti-aging face creams, speculating it could be a lucrative venture.
Eight years later, a Nanning food enthusiast visited my home in the United States and noticed the jar of pickled lemons. It was as if they had discovered a treasure, as it was rare to find someone with a well-preserved eight-year-old jar of pickled lemons.
“I must make Nanning Lemon Duck for you!” she exclaimed excitedly.
After gathering ingredients from Chinese and Vietnamese stores based on the food enthusiast’s list, I began cooking. In front of everyone, I opened the jar and picked out three eight-year-old lemons, thinly slicing them. The lemons had turned paper-thin, filled with translucent brown jelly, earning the admiration of the Nanning food enthusiast. With the enthusiast’s guidance, I successfully cooked an authentic and flavorful Nanning Lemon Duck. The enthusiast praised the dish, expressing how rare it was to come across such well-preserved pickled lemons and insisted on having another serving before leaving.
The news spread to my husband’s childhood friend group, and another friend named Li, who was about to visit his son, urgently requested some old lemons. I counted and assured him that there were six remaining lemons for him.
Since then, Nanning Lemon Duck has become a signature dish in my home. I started pickling green lemons in batches to ensure a constant supply.
Following the food enthusiast’s strict guidance, I use only three lemons each time, stating, “Otherwise, it will have a bitter taste.”
This rule held until the day another Guangxi food expert broke it.
During a gathering at an enthusiastic Guangxi compatriot’s home in Napa, where I volunteered to make the rarely tasted Lemon Duck, the host and hostess, both food enthusiasts, prompted me to bring six lemons and corresponding ingredients to ensure they had enough for two meals. The dish unsurprisingly impressed everyone, especially a Guangxi food and wine connoisseur who was temporarily staying at the host’s home. He not only inquired about the details of pickling lemons but immediately instructed his wife to start pickling lemons at home. It was said that the next day, after we left, he called another friend in San Francisco to bring a freshly killed Chinese duck from Chinatown. Taking charge of the kitchen, he used up all the ingredients I had left for the host’s family to prepare two meals. Everyone reportedly enjoyed the dish immensely, and from that day on, it became one of the connoisseur’s signature dishes. His approach was to use an abundance of pickled lemons, giving his version a superior taste. Consequently, whenever I was in a situation where I had to pot luck along with the connoisseur, I never would volunteer the Lemon Duck dish any more. Reflecting on the initial rule of using only three lemons, I humorously remarked that “limited imagination was constrained by poverty.”
Another crucial aspect of Lemon Duck is that the duck must be fresh. I used to have access to a small shop run by Vietnamese immigrants near my home, where fresh poultry from nearby farms was available. This was a significant reason why I was willing to make this challenging dish. Unfortunately, a year ago, the shop was forced to close due to a fire in the adjacent store, and it has yet to reopen.
My enthusiasm for making Lemon Duck dwindled due to this setback, until recently, when the leader of a group buying fresh poultry and eggs suddenly announced the availability of the last batch of freshly killed Chinese ducks. The reason given was that the farm owner couldn’t find low-cost labor to pluck the ducks’ feathers (or the original workers had quit), and the Chinese ducks, being voracious eaters, were too expensive to raise. Hence, they decided to process all of them at once. Even so, each duck cost thirty-eight dollars, with no guarantee that the feathers were completely clean.
The group leader kindly sent a video of the ducks swimming as evidence of their freshness, which brought a smile to my face.
This video reignited my passion for preparing this challenging dish. This time, I used three lemons (the behavior of a poor person), preserved for over two years, half a dozen Thai red and yellow chili peppers pickled in 2022, and three pieces of sour mustard leaves pickled for more than a week.
As a result, almost all the key ingredients were farm-to-table, made entirely from scratch by me. The only exception was another crucial component — fermented bamboo shoots, also known as sour bamboo shoots. These were sourced from a local Vietnamese grocery store, identified after repeated trial and error in nearby Vietnamese-Chinese supermarkets.
Unsurprisingly, the dish turned out to be a delicious creation. All the ingredients harmonized perfectly, showcasing their optimal effects. The fresh duck meat was tender and fragrant, able to complement and lead the strong-flavored ingredients, creating a delightful experience on the palate.
As I savored the dish, I was suddenly reminded of the first time I visited Nanning decades ago. The mother of a friend with the surname Li made Lemon Duck for us. The taste was so exotic and unfamiliar to a young girl accustomed to Sichuan chili and Sichuan peppercorns. It was almost like encountering an alien flavor. I instantly fell in love with everything about that distant city full of exotic charm, with the Lemon Duck playing a significant role.
Postscript — Nanning Lemon Duck Recipe (Zen Writing)
Fresh duck — one, chopped into small pieces
Ingredients: (Essential components)
- Pickled lemons — at least three (wealthy individuals can add up to six or even more)
- Newly made sour mustard green — if homemade, three large leaves, cut into finger-sized pieces (if using a ready-made product, no need to provide details; you can figure it out yourself)
- Cilantro — half a bunch, roughly chopped
- Garlic — three to five cloves, crushed
- Fresh ginger slices — 5–10 pieces
- Good soy sauce
(Highly recommended optional components)
- Pickled chili peppers — 3–5 pieces, uncut, with stems
- Pickled “jiao头” (a type of scallion-like vegetable) — 10–20 pieces (this is a scallion-like bulb consumed by people from Yunnan, Guizhou, and Sichuan; occasionally available in California Vietnamese supermarkets in pickled form)
Put the duck in a wok and stir-fry. Add half of the ginger slices during the stir-frying process until the duck releases its oil. If you find the oil excessive, you can pour some of it out. Pay attention to the heat; once the duck releases about half of its water, add all the essential ingredients. Depending on personal preference, you may choose to add half of the lemon flavor first or go all in for a stronger taste.
Continue stirring continuously (do not add water!!!) until the duck meat can be easily bitten. This is the moment to determine the freshness of the duck. Freshly killed ducks often become tender even before the broth dries up. However, if the duck has been frozen at least twice (like the ones in Chinese supermarkets), its own broth may eventually dry up and yet the duck meat is not ready, and you might need to add some hot water or broth until the duck is ready to eat.
Enjoy your Nanning Lemon Duck!
