3 Chinese Foods That Put Me in a Holiday Mood

What do the holidays taste like to you? Growing up, I would have said things like cranberry, gingerbread and all of the chocolates in my Advent calendar. But ever since I married a Chinese man, I’ve come to also associate many of his foods with the most wonderful time of the year.

Here are three Chinese foods guaranteed to put me in a holiday mood:

By 我乃野云鹤 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=58911328

#1: Dumplings (Jiaozi)

For years, when my husband and I spent Christmas together in the US, it just wasn’t the holidays without having a dumpling-making party. Whether it was with several friends or just the two of us, we would spend a long evening, sometimes even Christmas Eve, folding up mountains of handmade dumplings, also known as jiaozi. My favorite filling is still tofu and pickled vegetables (including kimchi — yum!).

So if you put a stack of jiaozi dumpling wrappers before me, along with a heaping bowl of filling, it immediately puts me in a holiday mood. Especially when you’re able to share the experience with friends.

Why not try it yourself? A dumpling-making party could become one of your favorite holiday traditions. To get started, here’s one recipe for vegetarian jiaozi dumplings (http://thewoksoflife.com/2015/09/vegetable-dumplings/) and one for meat jiaozi dumplings (http://rasamalaysia.com/recipe-chinese-jiaozi-leeks-and-pork/)

sesame balls#2: Sesame balls (Maqiu)

On the winter solstice, my husband’s family always has a huge family dinner, along with a huge helping of homemade sesame balls or maqiu. It was years before I actually tried one. But once I did, I found these treats, made of sticky rice dough coated in fragrant roasted black sesame seeds and sugar, a delicious and simple holiday treat.

They’re one of the easiest things to make — you just need glutinous rice flour, sesame seeds and sugar. If you’re intrigued, check out this recipe I have for sesame balls, along with the story about how I used to confuse them with tangyuan for years! (https://www.speakingofchina.com/china-articles/mistaken-winter-solstice-family-recipe-tangyuan/)

laba porridge

#3: Laba porridge

During last month of the lunar year, it’s tradition in many parts of China (including where my husband’s family lives) to have a bowl of this colorful porridge. I first tried it in early 2014 and immediately fell in love with the sweet, rich flavors of all the “treasures” within the porridge — which could include everything from dates and goji berries to peanuts and lotus seeds. With all the eye-catching fruits and nuts hidden within this porridge, it kind of reminds me of fruitcake, another holiday food back in the West. Except, unlike fruitcake, you don’t have all of that dread or the associated jokes.

If you’re tired of fruitcake and looking for a festive new dish to serve during the holidays, consider laba porridge. Here’s one recipe: http://www.healthy-chinese-recipe.com/laba-porridge-recipe.html

What are your favorite holiday foods?

How I had mistaken a Winter Solstice family recipe for tangyuan

11496262656_7f543f100c_nAll these years, I had it wrong.

Whenever my husband mentioned the sesame balls they ate for Winter Solstice, I imagined a version of tangyuan, those delicious glutinous rice balls stuffed with sweet sesame or red bean paste traditionally served in parts of Southern China. Except John called them sesame balls or máqiú (麻球), not tangyuan. Maybe máqiú was just another name for tangyuan in the local dialect?

But then Saturday night I watched my mother-in-law prepare máqiú in her kitchen and had a double take. She dropped balls of glutinous rice dough straight into the boiling water without even filling them. Had she lost her mind? Where was the muss and fuss of filling the dough with sesame paste that I had to slog through all these years in the US?

When she fished them out of the boiling water and then rolled them in the black sesame seeds and sugar until every inch of the dough was covered in that sweet, black coating, that’s when I realized it. It was my mistake, not hers.

Sesame balls just fresh from the wok, coated in sesame seeds and sugar.

“Here, eat them while they’re hot,” my mother-in-law said as she pressed a steaming bowl of them into my hands.

“But that’s it?” I said, my face almost flushed with embarrassment. Could she tell that I had mistaken tangyuan for máqiú all along?

“Eh, it’s simpler! You don’t need to worry about all that trouble of filling them.”

Oh, I knew all about the trouble of filling them. All those years in the US, I had slaved hours upon hours to make so-called máqiú — never realizing the actual recipe was so easy and fast.

Sometimes, family traditions get lost in translation when you’ve never experienced them. I only learned about máqiú through long-distance phone conversations with John’s family over the years and through John himself (who definitely missed a few important details in his descriptions!).

Happy holidays from me and the family!

But aren’t you bound to misunderstand when you learn something secondhand? Today during our huge Solstice dinner, I tried explaining some of the foods we used to eat for Christmas — cranberry sauce, turkey and mashed sweet potatoes. How do you explain “cranberry sauce” to them when they’ve never even seen the actual berries at the heart of this sweet-and-tart holiday delight? How you can you describe the aroma of a turkey fresh from the oven when they’ve never eaten turkey and don’t have an oven? Even though sweet potatoes are native to this region, chances are they’ve never tried anything like my creamy, buttery sweet potato and parsnip mash. I wonder what went through their minds when I described Christmas dinners of the past?

Well, you live and learn — especially when you’re living with family. And actually, I’m kind of relieved about what I just learned. Never again will I have to mess around with filling rice dough in the name of tradition. Woo-hoo!

Happy holidays!

Winter Solstice Máqiú Recipe

I think of máqiú as “inside-out tangyuan” or even “tangyuan without the filling fuss”. They’re easy, delicious and a wonderful way to celebrate the holidays. They’re best eaten hot or steaming.

This comes straight from my mother-in-law, who approaches the whole process intuitively — hence, the lack of exact amounts.


For the sesame coating:
Black sesame seeds

For the rice balls:
Glutinous rice flour
Cold water
Oil (to protect your hands)

Toast your sesame seeds, then place them in a bowl. Toss them with sugar of your choice until sweet, and adjust according to your taste preference. Put the bowl of sugar/sesame seeds aside. (Note: this step can be done a day or two in advance).

Mix the glutinous rice flour with just enough cold water so the flour begins to stick together, but not more than that. You don’t want your flour to be too watery, so err on the side of less and then add small amounts of water as needed to clump the dough together.

Rub oil of choice on your hands. Pick up a small amount of dough — just enough to put in the palm of your hand — and squeeze it back and forth between your hands until the dough sticks together. Then, with as little pressure as possible (too much pressure will cause the dough to fall apart), roll the dough between your hands until it becomes a nice ball. Shoot for balls around 1 inch in size, give or take. Repeat until you’ve used up all the dough.

Boil water in a large pot or wok over the oven. Add the glutinous rice balls to the boiling water, and boil them until they float to the top.

Once you’re ready to fish them out, bring over the sesame seed/sugar mixture. After you remove the glutinous rice balls from the water, immediately roll them in the sesame seed/sugar mixture until fully coated. (Note: if you’re not sure that you’ve added enough sugar, sample your first one to determine whether it’s too sweet or not sweet enough). Repeat until you’ve coated every ball. Serve immediately.