A Violent Reaction at the Pipa Pavilion

The 38th chapter of Water Margin presents a curious scene at Jiangzhou’s Pipa Pavilion where Song Jiang, Dai Zong, and the fierce Li Kui stop for drinks. When Li Kui appears hungry, Song Jiang generously orders two pounds of meat for his companion. The waiter’s response – “We only serve mutton here, no beef, but we have plenty of fat sheep” – triggers an explosive reaction from Li Kui, who throws fish sauce in the waiter’s face. This seemingly disproportionate response reveals a deep social divide in medieval Chinese dining culture that modern readers might easily overlook.

Li Kui’s outburst stems from more than simple hunger – it reflects the complex social hierarchy encoded in Song dynasty meat consumption. His violent reaction exposes the unspoken rules of what meats were appropriate for which social classes, and how these culinary preferences reflected broader economic and political realities of imperial China.

The Social Hierarchy of Meat in Imperial China

Historical records reveal a consistent pattern across dynasties: beef occupied the lowest rung on the meat prestige ladder. While mutton graced imperial banquets and aristocratic tables, beef became the protein of necessity for commoners. This hierarchy persisted from the Song through Ming dynasties, with beef consistently priced significantly lower than other meats.

During the Southern Song, mutton could cost 900 wen per pound – nearly a month’s salary for a county police chief (approximately 7,700 wen). By contrast, Ming dynasty records from Beijing show beef priced at 1 qian of silver per pound, compared to 1.5 qian for mutton and 2 qian for pork. Even as late as the 1960s in Taiwan, beef maintained its price advantage, often selling for half the cost of pork.

Several factors contributed to beef’s low status:

1. Agricultural Priorities: Confucian values emphasized protecting draft animals essential for farming. Dynasties from Song to Qing implemented strict laws against slaughtering cattle, with punishments including exile and hard labor.

2. Cultural Perceptions: The scholar-official class viewed beef consumption as morally questionable. Yuan dynasty official Kong Qi recorded his mother’s lifelong avoidance of beef and her deathbed admonition against it, reflecting elite attitudes.

3. Practical Considerations: With lower fat content than pork, beef provided less energy for laborers, making it less desirable in calorie-deficient pre-modern societies.

The Political Economy of Mutton

The mutton-beef divide wasn’t merely about taste – it reflected Song China’s geopolitical constraints. Unlike the pastoral northern regimes of Liao, Jin, and later Yuan, the Song lacked extensive grazing lands. Compounding this shortage, the government prioritized horse breeding for military needs over sheep husbandry, leaving limited pasture for mutton production.

Southern Song official Zhou Hui’s account of a diplomatic mission to Jin territory reveals the stark contrast: while Song markets offered only meager, expensive cuts of mutton, Jin markets overflowed with whole, fat sheep at bargain prices. Yet Zhou found the Jin preparation methods crude compared to sophisticated Song cuisine like “soft mutton” – a delicacy slowly braised until meltingly tender.

Legal Prohibitions vs. Culinary Reality

Despite over fifty imperial edicts against cattle slaughter between 960-1279, beef remained widely available in Song China. The gap between law and practice grew so wide that Southern Song official Hu Ying complained of beef being sold openly in urban markets. This disconnect between Confucian ideals and popular practice mirrors modern debates about dog meat consumption, where legal restrictions often conflict with culinary traditions.

The case of butcher Liu Tang, punished by magistrate Liu Kezhuang for operating a beef workshop, exemplifies the tension. While authorities occasionally made examples of violators, beef continued flowing to commoners’ tables, especially in commercial hubs like those frequented by the Water Margin outlaws.

Culinary Identity and Social Rebellion

Li Kui’s outburst at the Pipa Pavilion takes on deeper meaning when viewed through this historical lens. The “Black Whirlwind’s” insistence on beef becomes a culinary declaration of his common roots, just as his companions’ willingness to provide mutton represents occasional social mobility. The Water Margin heroes’ dietary preferences map neatly to their backgrounds – from poor fishermen like the Ruan brothers favoring beef to wealthy patrons like Chai Jin serving mutton.

This culinary class consciousness appears throughout the novel. When Li Kui eventually eats mutton (paid for by Song Jiang), it represents a temporary elevation of status, but his return to beef underscores his fundamental identity. The outlaws’ beef consumption thus serves as both practical necessity and subtle rebellion against Confucian orthodoxy.

From Medieval Markets to Modern Tables

The historical meat hierarchy has completely reversed in modern times. Today, beef commands premium prices globally, while mutton has become relatively affordable. This transformation resulted from:

1. Industrialization: Mechanized farming reduced reliance on draft animals, removing cultural taboos against beef.

2. Nutritional Science: Modern understanding of protein quality elevated lean beef’s status.

3. Globalization: Western dining preferences influenced East Asian markets, particularly after WWII.

Yet echoes of the old divide persist. Regional cuisines still reflect historical availability – lamb dominates northern Chinese cooking where pastoral traditions were strong, while beef features more prominently in southern dishes developed during its “outlaw” era.

Conclusion: More Than a Menu Choice

The Pipa Pavilion incident encapsulates how food choices encoded deep social meanings in imperial China. What appears as a simple tavern dispute actually reveals centuries of agricultural policy, class distinction, and cultural values. Water Margin, while fictional, preserves these historical realities with remarkable accuracy, showing how even heroic outlaws couldn’t escape the social messages on their plates.

The journey of beef from low-status staple to premium protein mirrors China’s own transformation from agrarian society to modern economy. Just as Li Kui’s anger made perfect sense in his world, our own culinary preferences carry social histories we rarely pause to consider. The next time we choose between a lamb chop and ribeye steak, we participate in a conversation that began centuries ago in places like the Pipa Pavilion – where a bowl of fish sauce thrown in anger taught us that food is never just food.