Showing posts with label DuanWu Jie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DuanWu Jie. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Tell-A-Tale (Part 39): The Season Of Love (For Bak Zhang)

Without fail, a colleague would place a bak zhang or rice dumpling on my desk come a few days before the Duan Wu Festival. For those of us who feed on the Gregorian calendar, her bak zhangs serve as a reminder of yet another approaching Chinese celebration.

This year, there was none. I guess the weather must have taken a toll on her health. And for obvious reasons, I didn’t approach her on this matter. Therefore, the arrival of my favourite Chinese festival came almost unnoticed. At the time of realization, I was already ten bak zhangs late, according to my calendar of gluttony.

So, what did I do to make it up to myself? I rushed to get a foie gras rice dumpling from Pine Court, Meritus Mandarin Hotel. Alas, despite my willingness to splurge and clog my arteries with fat, they were sold out for the day. At the counter, the apologetic staff recommended their new creation, the Dong Po Pork Rice Dumpling instead. Okay, that sounded pretty good too. Nothing can go wrong with a slab of pork belly. Not even ice cream! Just kidding, folks.

The exterior itself was pretty interesting. The layers of lotus and bamboo leaves wrap provided both protection and extra fragrance.

The look of love.

Whether it’s served with white rice or steamed buns or glutinous rice, the keyword to good dong po pork is a flavourful marinate. Personally, I like mine salty, with a dash of Chinese rice wine. This one was on the sweet side, but tasty still. The pretty slab of belly gave good feeling with every bite of the fatty layer. Chestnuts added extra sweetness while mushroom cuts gave some complementing woodsy aroma. I’ve not had such smooth glutinous rice in a long time. Rather substantial and I would equate this to perhaps a plate of chicken rice (with an extra bowl of rice). Satisfied but could have been better had the dumpling been saltier and loaded with more ingredients.

On a lighter note, ever wondered why no love ballad was written about rice dumplings or the Duan Wu Festival? I guess it’s just not as romantic as the cool, mid-autumn nights or the bright, full moon lah.

Homemade dumplings rule. The ingredients used are personalised to suit the tastebuds of one. Scout around and you might just find one that can satisfy your specific needs of a rice dumpling. I found mine (okay, mum did, actually). Though not a perfect match, it was sufficiently good. Literally homemade and more importantly, salty! The meat was on the lean side (hence the slight imperfection) but the hours of steaming had melted the lard, making the pyramidal construction rather aromatic and oily smooth. Extra salt came from the fried, dried shrimps and salted egg while pasty mung beans gave it a slight sweetness.

I had this for breakfast last Saturday. With a bowl of homemade, sweet red bean soup; cooked with ginkgo nuts and lotus seeds. A fantastic combination that made the humid heat slightly more bearable.

And I haven’t talked about those dainty alkaline dumplings dipped in kaya yet!

A season of love indeed.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Tell-A-Tale (Part 11): DuanWu Jie

I failed miserably in an attempt to resist one of the guiltiest of pleasures. This year. Again. DuanWu Jie (DragonBoat Festival) is my Hungry Ghost Festival. And I’m the Ghost, of course. Unlike the noble Qu Yuan, this is a sinner who fell in love with the sinful zong (rice dumpling). Soft, savoury glutinous rice, large pieces of five-spiced pork belly, pasty mung beans, sweet chestnuts and salted egg yolk. Did I leave out shitake mushrooms?

Gluttony triumphed over lust as I gobbled my last, best piece of zong this year. It was dressed in a dark, fragrant soya sauce marinate. Oil wetted my spastic lips, goatee and fingers. Most of it went into my bloodstream. In a blood-clotting moment, I had a thought. A thought that surprised even the then climaxing me.

What is a zong anymore?

On the night of DuanWu Jie, among others, a 6 months-old cherubic face was sleeping on the sofa, under the cool, humming air-conditioning system while an 85 years-old man repeated his tales, as familiar as the nostalgic scent of bamboo leaves for zong wrapping.

America’s Got Talent was on. So does everywhere else.

The table was set. The aroma of chili paste with dried shrimps filled the air and of course, attracted the desperate flies. Malaysians, the naturally gifted badminton players had no problem with zapping them flies with the e-racquets.

Stainless steel multi-tier steamers aside, modern times certainly do not change our definition of a Chinese dinner. The juicy steamed chicken, herbal roasted duck, stir-fried rice cake (which goes extremely well with white rice), steamed pomfret with fermented soya bean paste, greens like kale (with prawns for some laughters), braised pork ribs with mushrooms & chicken feet, simple steamed red snapper with soya sauce & fried shallots and the o’faithful soya sauce/sesame oil/shallots dipping. And the therapeutic cabbage soup with dried oysters the elders insisted. Respect the taste.

Adults and children at the table. The limboistic ones were free to roam about. With a plate full of goodness in hand, the obvious choice was under the air-conditioning system. Meanwhile, cherub was still dreaming, oblivious to the sounds of the prawns and America’s Got Talent.

And I had two helpings of rice.

“Construction is very important in making a good zong. The ties should neither be too tight nor too loose’. The elders said.

And it’s making more sense to me, as the years go by. With each DuanWu Jie.