Don't Learn Li Bai's Wild Revelry — Food's Calm Equanimity li-bai-calm-food-simplicity-eating-mindfulness-en

 Li Bai is known as a wild, wine-drinking poet — "spending a thousand gold pieces as if they were nothing." But if you read his poems carefully, you'll discover he deeply understood the power of "calm equanimity" — especially when writing about food.

Don't learn Li Bai's wild revelry — learn his calm equanimity. The highest state of food isn't gorging — it's eating with a quiet mind (read the original).

A documentary about Li Bai's later years describes his life as remarkably simple. "Golden goblets filled with fine wine" was the extravagance of youth. By the time he wrote "raising my cup to invite the moon," he no longer needed wine and meat's embellishment — alone, one cup, one moon — that was enough. Isn't this the same as the way of food? True connoisseurs don't need a grand feast. A bowl of plain congee with a small dish of pickles — if the state of mind is right, can be more satisfying than a banquet.

In 2026, the culinary world is undergoing a "subtraction movement" — less oil, less salt, less sugar, minimalist plating, minimalist menus. It sounds like a regression, but it's actually a return. The simpler the dish, the harder it is to do well — a good bowl of rice, a steamed fresh fish, blanched greens — these test true skill. No need for heavy sauces, no need for visual tricks — everything returns to the food itself.

The most luxurious state of eating isn't consuming many good things — it's eating quietly: no rush, no phone, no worry about tomorrow. Li Bai's most moving quality wasn't how much he drank — it was how fully immersed he was in the moment when drinking. The same goes for a meal. The best meal is rarely the most abundant — it's the one you eat with the most calm.

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