Dongpo pork

A square of pork arrives with its own little landscape: dark skin above, pale fat beneath, lean meat holding everything together. The sauce gathers at the bottom of the bowl. A spoonful of rice gives it somewhere to go.

Su Shi, better known as Su Dongpo, left Hangzhou both a causeway and a place at the table. In a local telling, gifts of pork and wine were cooked and shared with the workers who had dredged West Lake. Gratitude became dinner, and dinner kept the poet’s name.

The real work happens quietly beneath a lid. Ginger, scallions, wine and a low flame soften the layers until a chopstick can part them. Outside, the city gets on with its day. In the pot, there is no hurry.