China’s sticky rice cakes offer taste of home, vivid memories and childhood nostalgia
Chinese New Year celebrations are rife with symbolism, from the 12 animals of the zodiac to the prosperity inducing shades of deep red.
For many Chinese people celebrating the Lunar New Year, sticky rice cakes, or nian gao, hold symbolic importance.
“It’s a delicacy that takes me back to beautiful memories of my grandmother’s kitchen,” says Chinese citizens Ziying Zhou, who divides her time between Dubai and London.
“I can vividly recall the sight of her meticulously making nian gao from scratch – from gathering the ingredients to preparing the stove for steaming.”
The most common type of nian gao is made using glutinous rice flour, which gives it a sticky consistency, similar to the popular Japanese delicacy mochi. Sometimes made with sorghum or broomcorn, nian gao comes in varying flavours.
The earliest examples can be traced back 1,700 years.
In Zhou’s home town of Shandong, China’s secondmost populous province in the east, the cake is made from a type of yellow millet, she says.
“People use giant stoves to steam large amounts of nian gao at once over firewood. They use pineapple leaves to add flavour,” explains Zhou.
“There’s nothing quite like the taste of freshly made nian gao, served with a simple and tasty brown sugar dip.”
Her family often fry the leftovers the next day. She says that although desserts are “not as prominent in Chinese culture”, nian gao is an enjoyable exception and many families have kept the tradition alive, especially when marking the Lunar New Year.
Nian gao translates to “year cake” and its pronunciation in Mandarin sounds similar to another phrase that means “a more prosperous year”. The food is associated with good luck and financial success, making it a popular gift.
“I grew up in a strict household and my mother never allowed chocolate at home,” says Zhou. “Nian gao is one of the only sweet foods we were allowed and that too only during New Year celebrations.”
People have different interpretations of nian gao’s symbolism. For example, being round and sticky refers to strong familial bonds. The use of yellow millet in Zhou’s home town symbolises the opulence of gold.
Others inscribe lucky symbols on to the cakes, such as a pair of carps for success or the Chinese alphabet character for prosperity.
As a gift, nian gaos are usually placed in red packaging printed with beautiful designs. Their effect stretches far beyond China’s borders, mostly because of its diaspora.
Many of the country’s neighbours have adopted the tradition of serving these cakes during Lunar New Year, including Indonesia, where the dish is called kue keranjang or Chinese dodol. They are also eaten in the Philippines, where they are referred to as tikoy.
Many cities and towns in the South-East Asian country have bustling Chinatowns and people, even those with no Chinese connection, flock to stores selling boxes of tikoy every February. “I grew up eating tikoy, although we are
Some inscribe symbols on to the cakes such as the Chinese alphabet character for prosperity
not Chinese,” says Hermi De Ramos, a Dubai resident from the Philippines.
“My family has a barong [traditional Filipino attire] business, which often took us to Chinatown. We always buy boxes of tikoy, especially during Chinese New Year when peddlers swell in numbers.”
De Ramos says he and his family eat tikoy mainly “because it tastes good”, rather than for any cultural or superstitious reasons.
Although tikoy is made from commonly found rice flour, most Filipinos buy it readymade. The cake is typically cut into thin rectangles, coated in beaten egg and fried to achieve a slightly crispy crust without overcooking the dough.
De Ramos moved to Dubai two years ago and often craves the Chinese delicacy. Thankfully, he says, many Asian supermarkets in the city stock them, including WeMart in Deira and several Westzone branches. However, Zhou, who studied in the UK, says she still struggles to find the “authentic taste of home, especially with my grandmother’s signature flavour”, having lived abroad for almost two decades. She adds: “It’s like tracking down a flavour that is out of reach.”