Uncle Zhang downstairs has recently become quite popular in the homeowners' group, not because he’s the best at leading square dance or posting photos of his grandkids, but because of his cilantro plant on the balcony, which has turned into an internet-famous green plant.
Last month, Uncle Zhang bought a small bunch of cilantro from the supermarket for three yuan. He only used a handful when making wontons, and it was gone in no time. He complained to his wife, “This herb is more expensive than meat, and it's not enough to even satisfy my appetite.” His wife casually replied, “Why don’t you grow it yourself? You’ve got an empty flower pot on the balcony.”

That simple remark sparked an idea in Uncle Zhang. The very next day, he went to the flower market and bought a packet of cilantro seeds. He also borrowed some humus soil from his neighbor and dug up the flower pot on the balcony where he had once killed a pothos plant. He watered, loosened the soil, and sprinkled the seeds—he was doing it quite seriously. The day the sprouts emerged, he even took a photo and posted it in the homeowners' group.
To his surprise, the cilantro really flourished. Within two weeks, it grew to half a bunch in height, with vibrant green leaves spreading out. It looked much tidier than the wild grass in the community garden. Every morning, after watering, Uncle Zhang would stand on the balcony and admire the plants. “Look at how tender these leaves are, fresher than what you buy at the supermarket, and no pesticides,” he’d say.
The best part? It was practical. Last week, when making dumplings, he went to the balcony, snipped a handful, washed it, chopped it up, and mixed it into the filling. Uncle Zhang ate two big plates, exclaiming, "This flavor is different, so fresh!" Later, when making noodles, cold dishes, or even soups, whenever cilantro was needed, Uncle Zhang would just go to the balcony, pick some, and not have to make a special trip to the supermarket. He could be sure of always having the freshest cilantro.
Cilantro, also known as coriander, is an annual herb from the Apiaceae family, native to the Mediterranean region and Central Asia, but now widely distributed across temperate to tropical areas. It grows to a height of 20-60 cm, with hollow stems and finely divided leaves that give off a unique fragrance. It is a commonly used herb in cooking worldwide, adding flavor to dishes like salads, soups, and hot pots, and can also be used as a garnish.
The edible parts of cilantro include the tender leaves and stems. In cooking, cilantro is often used to season cold dishes, soups, hot pots, and can also decorate dishes. Traditional Chinese medicine believes cilantro has a warm nature and spicy taste, and it helps to expel wind, relieve rashes, and improve digestion. It is commonly used to treat colds, lack of appetite, and other symptoms. However, some people may experience a "soapy" taste and find it unpleasant.
Cilantro is highly adaptable and has a short growing cycle (about 30-40 days). It can be grown in both spring and autumn, and it is a popular crop for farmers in China. Growing cilantro at home is super easy, and even beginners can do it. Start with loose, breathable soil, mixing in a small amount of organic fertilizer. Soak the seeds in warm water for 24 hours before planting, gently rubbing the seeds to remove the outer shell. Sprinkle them on the soil, then cover with 1 cm of soil.
After sowing, water thoroughly and place the pot in a spot with indirect light, keeping the soil slightly moist. The seeds should sprout in about 7-10 days. Once the seedlings appear, move them to a spot with plenty of sunlight, like a balcony, and ensure they get 3-4 hours of sun each day. Water only when the soil is dry, to avoid root rot. Once the cilantro grows to around 10 cm, you can start snipping it. Be sure to leave 2-3 leaves behind so it will continue growing, providing fresh cilantro whenever you need it.
Cilantro is a plant that really stands out. People either love it or hate it, with clear boundaries between the two, and the divide is often just a matter of a single bite. It’s a small player in the world of spices—not as bold as chili peppers or as numbing as Sichuan peppercorns. But if it’s missing, a bowl of steaming beef noodles somehow feels incomplete, lacking its soul.
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