Capuzzelle is one of the most unique and memorable dishes at Enoteca Maria, the Staten Island restaurant featured in the American comedy Nonna.

I’m now in Yan’an, a city of about 2 million people in northwest China. Fourteen years later, I found the Chinese version of capuzzelle.

Yan’an is not a city known for refined cuisine. It sits on the Loess Plateau—dry, wind-swept land where grain yields were historically volatile, but sheep and goats thrived. This dish was born out of necessity and survival logic: high fat content, multiple textures from a single cut, and long simmering that aligns with fuel-efficient cooking methods.

What I had was stewed sheep head.

Even within Shaanxi, this dish is rare. You don’t often see it in Xi’an, the ancient capital just a two-hour drive away. It is certainly grotesque at first glance, enough to kill many people’s appetite. But from a culinary perspective, it is deeply intriguing—and genuinely delicious.

Each part offers a distinct texture.

The skin is collagen-rich and chewy; the fat underneath is creamy rather than greasy.

The tongue is firm but tender once soaked in the broth.

The brain is the richest part—soft, clean, and melting.

Yan’an locals figured out how to enjoy ingredients many people discard, not realizing that this might be the most complete way to appreciate a sheep.

It reminds me of deep value investing: finding unpolished gems in places others dismiss as rubbish.

The best opportunities are often not in big cities, well-lit markets, or fashionable sectors. Sometimes they sit quietly in barren land, or on the edge of the map.

You have to travel—and look closely—to find them.