田野笔记 / Fieldnote
盘菜的显与隐 / The Manifested and the Hidden in “Bŭ-cēi”
八月：盘菜遁隐
August: Bŭ-cēi Hidden in Shape
第一次到访，水土不服，身体的消化系统比大脑更诚实。
我的提案主角是盘菜，但八月还难见上市。本地的料理书店“盘菜生”于是成了一个可以泊驻的资料港，在那里读到了一些有关烹饪和饮食的哲学书籍。店长小月热情地介绍了本地人对盘菜的观感，并拿来一本《中国的蔬菜小百科》，其中有关芜菁类植物的部分篇幅不少。店里还有粉丝制作的毛毡盘菜，甚是可爱。
双井的菜市场就在旁边，在一家小铺里看到被切得整整齐齐的盘菜生。问卖菜的小贩，得到答复：
“盘菜还没上市。”
当初我对“盘菜”的兴趣点在于，它可以被想像成为一种“元植物”。在驻地申请我陈述道，盘菜所代表的块茎类型（tuber）可以有趣地回应与补足当代艺术话语中广泛使用的植物隐喻，比如“根茎”（rhizome）——以这种食用植物的“日常性”反思当代艺术的阐释话语。德勒兹的“根茎”理论强调去中心化、多向连接与动态生成，但植物学中“块茎”的固着性与储存功能，可能更符合温州人在迁徙聚居模式中所体现的聚居习惯和文化韧性。
欧亚大陆的东端什么时候会不会也冒出来一门“块茎学”？想想还挺有趣。
It was my first time visiting, and my body reacted more honestly than my mind—digestive discomfort soon set in.
The focus of my proposal was Bŭ-cēi, the local turnip in Wenzhou, though it was still hard to find in markets in August. The local culinary bookstore, "Bŭ-cēi Sheng," became a temporary harbor for research. There, I read several philosophical books on cooking and eating. The store manager, Xiaoyue, warmly shared local perspectives on Bŭ-cēi and handed me a copy of A Little Encyclopedia of Chinese Vegetables, which devoted considerable space to brassica roots like Bŭ-cēi. The store also displayed felt Bŭ-cēi crafts made by store fans, which were quite charming.
Next door was the Shuangjing Vegetable Market, where I spotted neatly sliced raw Bŭ-cēi at a small stall. When I asked the vendor for Bŭ-cēi vegetable, he replied:
"It isn’t in season yet."
What initially drew me to Bŭ-cēi was its potential to be imagined as a kind of "meta-plant." In my residency application, I noted that the tuber represented by Bŭ-cēi could interestingly respond to the widely used plant metaphors in contemporary art discourse, such as that of rhizome. Bŭ-cēi stresses the "everydayness" in its edible feature to reflect on the interpretive language of contemporary art. Deleuze's rhizome theory emphasizes decentralization, multidirectional connections, and dynamic becoming, while the storage function of the botanical "tuber" might better reflect the communal habits and cultural resilience of Wenzhou people in their migratory-settlement pattern.
Would there one day emerge a "tuber studies" at the eastern end of Eurasia? The thought intrigued me.
图绘作品 Digital Drawing
尺寸可变 Adjustable Dimensions
2020
打车和司机聊盘菜时，总是听到这样的开头，“噢，你说盘菜啊……”言语间活像一个老熟人。问及对盘菜的印象，不少人提到会拿它来形容女孩子脸大。
“不算是容貌歧视吗？”我有点意外。
“没事的，一般都是很熟的朋友才会这么叫。”
“哦，好的…”
看来从很早的时候开始，女性“小脸”就已经刻在一些人的审美意识之中了。
When I brought up Bŭ-cēi in conversations with taxi drivers, I often heard them start with, "Oh, you mean Bŭ-cēi…" as if speaking of an old acquaintance. When asked about their impressions of Bŭ-cēi, many mentioned using it to describe a girl with a round or broad face.
"Isn’t that a kind of appearance-based bias?" I asked, somewhat surprised.
"Not really—usually only close friends would say that."
"Oh, I see…"
It seems that, from an early time, a "small face" has been ingrained in some people’s aesthetic consciousness as an ideal for female.
温州大学的植物学研究者陶月良老师对我讲述了温州过渡性的地理位置。他提到一系列的本地特色植物，其中菜头肾（Strobilanthes sarcorrhiza）与盘菜形成了有趣的对照。菜头肾的根部是可以入药的，简单的做法是晒干切片泡水喝。顾名思义，“菜头肾”在中医里有养阴清热和养肾的效果。但在城市里规模稍大的中药店里，许多店员并不知晓菜头肾这个品种。对于“肾气”的看重，可能也是一种温州传统的文化特色。
TAO Yueliang, a botanist from Wenzhou University, explained to me the transitional geographical location of Wenzhou. He mentioned a series of local specialty plants, among which Strobilanthes sarcorrhiza (known as "Cai-tou-shen" in Chinese) formed an interesting contrast with the Bŭ-cēi. The root of Strobilanthes sarcorrhiza is used in traditional medicine—simply dried, sliced, and steeped in water for consumption. As its name suggests, in traditional Chinese medicine, it is believed to nourish yin, clear heat, and support “sheng-qi” (kidney health*). However, in larger urban herbal medicine shops, many staff members were unfamiliar with this particular variety. The emphasis on "sheng-qi" (肾气) might also reflect a traditional cultural trait of Wenzhou.
* It should be noted that, although “kidney” and “sheng” share the same Chinese character of 肾 , the latter “sheng” does not refer exactly to the organ of kidney in traditional Chinese medicine.
有趣的是，据说现在瑞安地区的一些种植大户在宁夏的农场种盘菜。不禁想起前几天游历的西湾风景区，逼到海边的山头和咸湿的滩涂。背后的山要一直绵延出江南丘陵地区到胡焕庸线，再穿过毛乌素沙地和一条黄河，才能到宁夏。
Interestingly, it is said that some large-scale growers in the Rui’an area now cultivate Bŭ-cēi on farms in Ningxia. This brought to mind the Xiwan Scenic Area I had visited a few days earlier—the mountains pressing close to the sea and the salty, damp tidal flats. Beyond those hills, the landscape stretches continuously from the Jiangnan Hills to the Hu Line*, crosses the Mu Us Desert and the Yellow River, before finally reaching Ningxia.
* Proposed by Chinese geographer Hu Huanyong in 1935, the Hu Line marks a dramatic east-west population split in China: over 90% of people live in the wetter, fertile east, while the arid, mountainous west remains sparsely populated.
“这边已经不种了，因为培育盘菜要比玉米等口粮作物难得多，几年前还是有的。”
看来这回是到了一片盘菜曾经待过的地方，却又扑了空。套用《吃的哲学》中的一句话，当我穿行在“温州的世界”中食入一片盘菜，食物也携带着地理方位上的某种不确定性（“东南”或“西北”），穿过我的身体。八月的探寻在月末接近尾声的时候结束。“盘菜”一如幽灵，似在本地，又不在本地。
此时此刻，恰如彼时彼刻。
十一月再探究竟。
In the middle of the road, I saw an older man loading and unloading goods. When I asked about Bŭ-cēi again, he finally understood and explained:
“We don’t grow it here anymore. It’s much harder to cultivate than staple crops like corn. We used to have it a few years back.”
This time, I had arrived at a place where Bŭ-cēi once thrived, only to find it absent once more. To borrow a line from The Philosophy of Eating, as I moved through the “world of Wenzhou” and ate a slice of Bŭ-cēi, the food itself carried a kind of geographical uncertainty—whether “southeast” or “northwest”—passing through my body. The search that began in August drew to a close as the month neared its end. Bŭ-cēi remained like a ghost, present yet absent in this land.
This moment felt just like those past moments. I’ll return in November to delve deeper into its story.
十一月：盘菜显型
November: Bŭ-cēi Manifested in Pattern
但在温州驾车是一件让人烦躁的事。道路弯弯曲曲，都是被城市河道塑造的结果，起起伏伏处是桥。不仅如此，温州人开车经常寸步不让，在没有监控的地方尤其不守规矩。我也逐渐从一开始下意识的愤怒，转变为观察，并打量其中显出的燥热感。
这种燥热不仅发生在车道上，它的微缩现场也存在于本地的批发交易市场中。在一片巨大的钢架顶棚的笼罩下，市场内各类主要蔬菜分区铺陈开，负责长途运输的重型货车构成了地面上的批发单元。如果是电动三轮车前来进货，往往有比较明确的待运对象。如果是厢体式的中型卡车，里面暂存的蔬菜种类就会更多元些。市场的主体是围绕批发老板、磅秤监督员和大小进货商展开的。每辆大车前总有一个交易的不锈钢台子，上面总有一台脏脏的计算器和记账的本子。
However, driving in Wenzhou is an irritating experience. The roads twist and turn, shaped by the city's waterways, with bridges spanning the rises and dips. What’s more, drivers here often refuse to yield an inch—especially where there are no surveillance cameras—and rules are frequently ignored. Gradually, my initial instinctive frustration turned into observation, as I began to notice a kind of restless intensity reflected in their behavior.
This restless energy isn’t confined to the roads—it also manifests on a smaller scale in the local wholesale markets. Under vast steel-framed canopies, various staple vegetables are laid out in sections. Heavy trucks responsible for long-distance transport form the wholesale units on the ground. If an electric tricycle arrives to pick up goods, it usually has a clear goal to collect. If it’s a medium-sized enclosed truck, the vegetables temporarily stored inside tend to be more varied. The heart of the market revolves around wholesale vendors, scale supervisors, and buyers large and small. In front of every large truck, there’s always a stainless steel transaction table, atop which sits a grimy calculator and a notebook for keeping accounts.
不要挡道。
倘若真遇到挡道的，它也灵巧，怒目一视后，又快速意识到最耽误不起的是时间。我在里面来来回回地走，快要跳起舞来。另一方面我很好奇，那些重型货车是如何进出的，它们是有专门的出入场时间吗？
多虑了。
当一辆大货车真要离场时，市场地面上看似狭小的空间瞬间开始默契地挪动起来。此时我才意识到一个原本就摆在那里的事实：市场里除了高高的钢架和雨棚，没有一处地方是固定的，其空间完全是由在场的人和物彼此构造出来的，因此它们之间的移动和重构也是极其灵活的。当一辆货车开始倒车、转向、调整方位时，整个空间也就被激活了。人连着物都在适应一个新的变动，重新组织一个新的临时空间。
Don’t block the path.
If someone truly gets in the way, the rider’s response is nimble—a sharp glare, then a quick realization that time is the one thing they can’t afford to waste. I wandered back and forth inside, almost dancing with the rhythm. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but wonder how the heavy-duty trucks managed to navigate this place. Did they have designated entry and exit times?
I was overthinking it.
When a large truck really needed to leave, the seemingly cramped space on the market ground began shifting seamlessly, as if guided by an unspoken harmony. It was then that I realized a fact that had been there all along: in the market, aside from the tall steel frames and rain shelters, nothing was fixed. The entire space was conjured into existence by the people and things present, making their movements and reconfigurations extraordinarily flexible. As a truck began reversing, turning, and adjusting its position, the entire space came alive. People and objects alike adapted to a new shift, reorganizing into another temporary arrangement.
和货车司机闲聊几句，得知秋天已是宁夏盘菜入瓯的尾声，这一趟货卖完就结束，要轮到本地盘菜陆续上市了。从宁夏的农场运到温州不眠不休需要大约一天半的辰光，也就是36个小时。
After chatting briefly with the truck drivers, I learned that autumn marks the tail end of the season for Bŭ-cēis from Ningxia to be shipped to Wenzhou. Once this batch is sold, the season will be over, and local Bŭ-cēis will gradually hit the market. Transporting the produce from farms in Ningxia to Wenzhou non-stop takes about a day and a half—roughly 36 hours.
“这是在切啥？”
“别瞎打听。”
坐在一旁的一个中年男人冷冷说道。其他人没听见，嗑着瓜子，互相说说笑笑。其间有几个骑车电动车来问价的菜贩，哪怕价格没聊妥也会敬一根烟。不久后，一位穿着黑色大衣的中年女人前来询价。她先是有说有笑地和一众男性熟络地聊天，一看就是固定的买家，穿着打扮又不像菜市场里的，可能开了餐馆。到讲价环节双方谈不拢了，女老板脸色渐渐冷了下去，换到别家问价。此时，其中主事的男司机正从我旁边走过，嘴里嘟囔着：“一根XX毛都不让!”
听得我心里一惊。
“What are you cutting that for?”
“None of your business.”
A middle-aged man sitting nearby replied coldly. The others didn’t seem to hear, cracking melon seeds and chatting among themselves with occasional laughter. Every now and then, a few vegetable vendors riding electric bikes would come over to ask about prices, and even if they didn’t settle on a deal, they would offer a cigarette as a gesture of respect. Before long, a middle-aged woman in a black coat came to inquire. At first, she chatted and laughed with the men—clearly a regular buyer. Her attire didn’t look like that of someone from the market; she might have run a restaurant. But when it came to negotiating the price, neither side could agree. The woman’s expression gradually cooled, and she moved on to other vendors. Just then, the lead male driver walked past me, muttering under his breath: “Not a single dime of d*ck hair!”
His words startled me.
确实太压抑了。
Utterly suffocating.
还有在批发市场里推车卖饼给这些运菜人的大哥，主要是馒头和油饼等大热量食物。我也买了十块钱的，问他为什么卖这些，答道：“这些跑车的人需要快速抵饱。”就像货车加的都是柴油，这里所售的食物必须是便宜且能高效转化为能量的“快碳”。而在市场外面，看到一家烧烤摊，推车上打出的食材，“牛鞭”“羊鞭”是首推。
Then there was the man pushing a cart through the wholesale market selling flatbreads to the vegetable transporters—mainly steamed buns and oily pancakes, high-calorie foods. I bought ten yuan’s worth and asked why he sold these. He replied, “People on the road need something that fills them up quickly.” Just as trucks run on diesel, the food sold here had to be cheap and efficiently converted into energy—fast carbs. Outside the market, I spotted a barbecue stall with a cart that prominently advertised its ingredients—"bull whip" and "lamb whip" were the top recommendations.
走访的最后，我又把范围扩大到旁边的城中村，围绕批发市场已经形成了一整套“生态系统”。考察的时候已是晚上，LED广告牌各自亮着，一路所见包括电动三轮车修理店、油条铺子、小饭馆、小旅馆、打吊瓶的医馆、足疗店、东鹏特饮专门批发点等等。油条摊晚上7点不到就开始炸货，可以推想司机第二天很早就要边吃边赶路。
Toward the end of my visit, I expanded my scope to the neighboring urban village, which had formed a complete “ecosystem” around the wholesale market. By then, it was already evening. LED signs glowed along the street, illuminating a range of services: electric tricycle repair garage, fried dough stick stalls, small eateries, budget lodgings, clinics offering IV drips, foot massage parlors, and wholesale outlets for energy drinks like Dongpeng. The fried dough stick vendor started frying well before 7 p.m., a sign that drivers would be up early the next day, eating on the go as they hit the road.
这“娇嫩”的性格让我想起已经不种盘菜的顺泰乡。盘菜就这样在土里吸收着天地的养分，缓缓固化着外界的能量，徐徐呼吸，慢慢成熟。盘菜收获和烹饪后，再把自己许久积累的能量完全奉献给人，与其他蔬菜相比，盘菜本身敦实的造型与温润的色泽似乎尤其符合这条抒情链路。
This "delicate" nature reminded me of Shuntai Township, where Bŭ-cēis are no longer grown by the locals. In this way, the Bŭ-cēis absorb nutrients from the earth, slowly solidifying the energy from their surroundings, breathing gently, and maturing gradually. Once harvested and cooked, they fully dedicate the energy they’ve accumulated over time to human body. Compared to other vegetables, the solid, compact shape and warm, gentle color of Bŭ-cēis seem to especially align with this lyrical chain.
在一个生产商的账号里，看到一行行的盘菜在地里排得整整齐齐，茎叶似乎比温州的更高一些。有的视频里盘菜已经装箱，整整齐齐地码成好几层，箱子又在田埂上排成一排。有镜头拍到地里干活的人，不能谓之“农民”，应该叫作“工人”，都戴着头巾，女性居多。
On one producer’s account, I saw rows of Bŭ-cēis lined up neatly in the fields, their stems and leaves seemingly taller than those in Wenzhou. In some clips, the Bŭ-cēis were already packed into boxes, stacked layer upon layer in orderly fashion, with the boxes arranged in rows along the field ridges. There were shots of people working in the fields—they couldn’t quite be called "farmers" but rather "workers," mostly women, many wearing headscarves.
在十一月的考察中，算是看到了盘菜不同状态下的“形”。种种迹象却又不止于此，而是指向某种更为隐蔽的“型”。当“温州人外出打拼”已固化为一种刻板印象时，似乎那个去中心化的根茎在隐隐地起着作用。但那更多指向过程，而在每个远方的落脚点和归家的须臾间，又呈现出另一种关于“固着”的类别。这里也间接地提出了一个值得深思的问题：在聚散的人生中，什么才是温州人的“家”？
也许这正是盘菜显型的时刻。
During my November fieldwork, I managed to glimpse the "form" of Bŭ-cēis in different states. But all the signs pointed beyond that, hinting at a more hidden "pattern." While "Wenzhou people venturing out to make their living" has solidified into a stereotype, it seems that decentralized, rhizome-like networks are quietly at work beneath the surface. Yet that speaks more to the process. In every distant foothold and every fleeting moment of returning home, another kind of "rootedness" takes shape. This also indirectly raises a question worth pondering: in lives marked by gathering and dispersal, what truly constitutes "home" for Wenzhou people?
Perhaps this is precisely the moment when the Bŭ-cēi reveals its pattern.
回家？吃！
Going Home? Eat!
在温州开车时渐渐注意到一个现象，哪怕是快速路能在20分钟以内到达的地方，对自己家来说也是“外地”了。更遑论从北到南，从瓯江到飞云江再到鳌江，穿过其间丘陵里的隧道和农田变成的高楼，便捷的道路设施也无法缩减长期形成的距离感。这片土地上山体和流水穿插交错，早就明确地标示出何处是“自己家”，哪边是“别人家”。
回想当初对应“根茎”理论而提出的“块茎学”，在写完一场大学活动的演讲稿后，又发现了新状况。德勒兹的“根茎”本来是针对“树状结构”（arborescent system）而提出的，但在温州的文化语境里这几种意象并不相悖。如果说游牧的根茎和聚集的块茎完整地勾勒出了温州人迁徙过程，背后主导这种社群行为的，恰恰是树状结构以及鲜明的宗族文化。
While driving in Wenzhou, I gradually noticed a phenomenon: even places reachable within 20 minutes via expressways are considered "elsewhere" when it comes to one’s own home. This is even more pronounced when traveling from north to south—crossing from the Oujiang River to the Feiyun River and then to the Aojiang River, passing through tunnels in the hills and former farmlands now turned into high-rises. Convenient road infrastructure cannot shorten the sense of distance shaped over time. The interwoven mountains and rivers of this land have long clearly marked where "one’s own home" is and where "others’ homes" begin.
Reflecting on the "rhizome theory" I previously referenced and the "tuber studies" I proposed in response, I realized something new after finishing my speech draft for a university event. Deleuze’s "rhizome" was originally put forward in contrast to the "arborescent system," but in the cultural context of Wenzhou, these images are not contradictory. If the nomadic rhizome and the gathering tuber together outline the migration process of Wenzhou people, what ultimately drives such community behavior is precisely the arborescent structure and the distinct culture of clan kinship.
尾 声
Coda
见到此景，我突然理解了温州开车人的激进。在交通工具的层面上，温州的现代性体现在从划船到开车的转变。从开放空间的低速行进到高速中的半透明封闭空间，人与人之间的隔阂也由此加剧。也许是原来的那种粘稠度和密度无法得到“面对面”的释放，从而形成了隔离并产生张力？书中说盘菜性寒清热，也许通过“食补”可以缓解其中的燥热。
--
在肯恩大学的演讲的前一晚，我嫌之前在“男士理发馆”做的发型过于“碎”了，想回归一种利落的感觉，于是新找了一家理发店，跟一位年轻师傅提了要求：
“之前的头发剪得不够干净，能不能帮我修修齐？”
“没问题的。这种基础的发型其实很吃基本功的。”
理发师笑答。
Seeing this scene, I suddenly understood the aggressive driving style of Wenzhou locals. On the level of transportation, Wenzhou’s modernity is reflected in the shift from rowing boats to driving cars. Moving from slow travel in open spaces to semi-transparent and enclosed, high-speed environments has deepened the sense of separation between people. Perhaps the former closeness and density could no longer find release through face-to-face interaction, leading to isolation and generating tension. The book of Chinese medicine says Bŭ-cēis are cooling and heat-clearing—maybe through dietary nourishment, one could ease this underlying restlessness.
--
The night before my speech at Kean University, I felt my previous haircut from the "barbershop for men" was too "choppy" and wanted to return to a cleaner, sharper look. So I found a new barbershop and explained my request to a young barber:
"My previous haircut wasn’t neat enough. Could you tidy it up and make it more even?"
"No problem. Simple, classic styles like this really EAT fundamental skills."
The barber replied with a smile.