Let’s Chow!

Not Grey’s, but whose anatomy?

Similar to Latin American tamales, I grew up eating the Chinese variation of this family classic, also known as zhong (in Cantonese), or zhongzi (in Mandarin). The term zhong literally means rice dumpling. Tamales and zhong share similar characteristics in that both are wrapped in various types of leaves and take many hours, if not more, to make. I can also safely say that both are typically eaten for special occasions. Notice that I said typically - I have the luxury of enjoying them all year-round because of my awesome relatives who make them for me.

The history behind zhong came about to honor Qu Yuan, a famous Chinese poet who ended his life in a river due to political events. According to popular legend, villagers paid respect to Qu by throwing packets of rice into the river so that fish and other creatures would not consume his body. Zhong now remains as a traditional Chinese food that is enjoyed among families during the Dragon Boat Festival on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month (sometimes around June of of the Gregorian calendar). For me, I suppose I honor Qu at all times of the year

So what exactly is inside a tetrahedral-shaped, bamboo leaf wrapped zhong? There are many varieties, but I have grown up eating zhong with a combination (sometimes all at once if I’m lucky) of the following:

• Glutinous white rice
• Roasted and/or marinated pork
• Shitake mushroom
• Preserved salted egg yolk
• Peanuts
• Mung beans
• Green split peas
• Chinese sausage
• Chestnuts
• Dried shrimp

Yes, this is quite a weird hodgepodge of ingredients that a normal person would probably not put together voluntarily. When used independently, I would say these are pretty typical ingredients in southern Chinese cuisine. Where and when my relatives grew up, not many people could afford these ingredients (or they just weren’t available), so these were considered gourmet in a villager’s perspective. However, the gourmet part of it is still true; many store-bought versions have a fraction of the above ingredients, and some might only have a piece of meat inside. I consider them a wealth of goodies because they all contribute to a rich and flavorful food that truly satisfies your hunger. The bamboo leaves give the zhong an incredibly scrumptious earthy flavor that captures the essence of the leaves. The glutinous rice also brings it all together in a sticky, gooey fashion.

The zhong making process is pretty onerous, and I applaud my relatives for putting so much effort into making them for me. You may also be asking, what could be so complicated about wrapping rice and other goods in some leaves? The main ingredients that hold it together actually require the most work, which are the bamboo leaves and rice. Both ingredients require overnight soaking, and on top of that, the bamboo leaves also need to be washed and scrubbed, one by one. When purchased, the leaves come dry and brittle, so they need some attentive care. The filling ingredients are not as complicated, but the process of gathering and preparing them for zhong-making takes time. The pork typically needs to be marinated, the salted egg yolks (usually duck eggs) need to be separated from the whites, the shitake mushrooms need soaking to revive them from the dried form, and so forth. The rice is flavored with salt and sometimes a pinch of five spice powder.

Once all the ingredients are ready to go, they need to come together somehow. To me, the hardest part is packaging a zhong together to look like a tetrahedral cylinder shape as perfectly shown in the above pictures. I have tried it before alongside with my great aunt, and mine looked awful compared to her perfect ones in which she completes at 10 times the speed of me. And finally, after the wrapping part is finished, the zhong need to be cooked by being simmered in a large stockpot for several hours.

The cooked zhong can then be eaten immediately or cooled for freezer storage. As a busy traveling person, the freezer option works best for me. My freezer is stocked full of zhong, ready to eat whenever I feel like it. I simply microwave one in a bowl, submerged in water, for 5-6 minutes. It’s fabulous. Mine get shipped in my 21″ carry-on luggage bag when I travel from CA to IL - I always wonder if the TSA personnel ever think they are grenades or something from the X-ray machine.

It’s always fun to untie the kitchen twine that holds the zhong together and slowly unravel the leaves, getting one step closer to the yummy goodies inside. I think this process is somehow quicker when one is hungry, too:

I have to be careful because it’s extremely hot, and the steam can be painful. Once unwrapped, the specimen looks like such:

Now it is time to dissect and demystify a zhong, gently splitting it right down the middle (no scalpel needed here; chopsticks work fine):

See, that’s all there is to it! It’s not that foreign anymore, right?

And just as savory French crepes have a sweet counterpart, there is a sweet version of zhong, too (called gan sui zhong in Cantonese, or jianshui zhongzi in Mandarin). I may feature that varietal in a future post. Until next time, readers!