'Paddy cake, paddy cake ...' Rice becomes a sweet treat
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack. A goods train rumbles through a rice field in the Qingpu District town of Liantang in outlying Shanghai.
The field, shimmering with green, belongs to a farm called Mile, a two-syllable word literally translated as "rice happiness."
Happiness is more than just eating rice as a staple food. The grain is also turned into a delicious local dessert specialty.
The traditional snack is called zhuanggao, which translates as "hitting the cake." The name refers to the wooden hammer used in making the delicacy, which comprises a glutinous rice cake filled with sweet fillings of red or broad beans. The cake is soft with a sticky texture.
"The history of zhuangao can be traced back at least to the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644)," says Yang Qinfeng, 40, owner of the farm. "The words were found in a dictionary written by Mei Yingzuo in that era."
Yang Qinfeng, a former architect, is the fourth-generation rice cake maker in his family.
The cake has long played a significant role in local rituals. It's a must-have treat on occasions like weddings, Chinese New Year's Eve reunion dinners, birthdays, funerals and even the ceremonies celebrating the building of a new house.
"The days before the Chinese New Year's Eve, my family members gather together to make zhuanggao, while chitchatting," says Yang who is a native of Liantang. "My grandparents took zhuanggao seriously. They said the rice cakes must be well prepared. We children were too noisy and had to be kicked out of the kitchen. They were afraid that we would disturb the Stove God."
The Chinese word for "cake" is gao, which has an auspicious meaning because it's a homonym for "tall." It has been a tradition in Liantang to send zhuanggao to friends and neighbors during the Chinese New Year to wish them well in the coming year.
Rice cakes also serve as an important medium of social intercourse.
In rural areas of China, where people often build their own houses, when the last wooden beam is secured, the homeowner invites friends and neighbors to the house, according to Yang. The homeowner climbs onto the beam and throws rice cakes into the gathering. Those who catch them are said to be blessed by good fortune.
"Making zhuanggao is, in fact, pretty much like making other types of rice cakes, such as fanggao (square cakes) and Yexie steamed rice cakes," says Yang. "They differ primarily in the proportions of polished round-grained rice and glutinous rice."
A traditional zhuanggao has a ratio of rice to glutinous rice of 3:7, or 4:6, depending on the season," he explains.
Most people may think of cooks who make traditional treats as white-haired grannies, wearing aprons and sitting on wooden stools. But, Yang, who is in his prime, dresses in a white T-shirt, black jeans and clog-style shoes when making zhuanggao for a big reception at his farm.
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Steps of making zhuanggao
Jiang Xiaowei / SHINE -
Jiang Xiaowei / SHINE -
Jiang Xiaowei / SHINE -
Jiang Xiaowei / SHINE -
Jiang Xiaowei / SHINE -
Jiang Xiaowei / SHINE -
Jiang Xiaowei / SHINE -
Jiang Xiaowei / SHINE
He takes out a sack of flour, which has been mixed with lumps of sugar crystals, white sugar and lard, and sifts it. Then he rubs the flour, places it into a nine-cavity mold and evens it with a wooden stick. He uses a plastic egg to create a hole in the cake and fills it with homemade red bean paste. Then he evens the flour over the filling.
He lays a sheet of silicone-coated paper and a baking tray over the mold and then inverts it. And then comes "hitting the cake." Yang uses a wooden hammer to knock the bottom of the mold several times to loosen the raw rice cake. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The cakes are then steamed for 30 minutes in an oven and adorned with flowers and Chinese characters when they are pulled out.
The scent of sweet rice instantly permeates the air. The rice used in the cakes is from the local harvest. With its fertile land and excellent water quality, Liantang is considered one of the best venues in Shanghai for rice growing.
Yang, a former architect, is the fourth generation of rice-cake makers in his family. He tells me that he didn't really get engaged with the traditional dessert until he returned to the farm in 2012.
"Like many other people who grew up in the countryside, I wanted to leave the land and work in the city," says Yang. "Changing hukou (permanent residence permit) status from rural to urban was considered something to be very proud of."
However, after years of hard, long work in the city, Yang says he was exhausted physically and mentally. He returned to his hometown and devoted all of his time to the farm.
"To be honest, farming is much harder than I imagined," says Yang.
There is a vineyard on the farm left by a previous owner. Knowing next to nothing about agriculture at that time, Yang consulted the previous owner about how to grow grapes. He was surprised that so many pesticides and fertilizers were used.
"I insist on 'natural farming,' which is an ecological farming approach established by the Japanese," says Yang. "I find that the resistance of the grape plants actually has increased over the years without chemical additives."
With the grape season nearing its end, Yang turns his focus back to making zhuanggao. The traditional cake, whose topping patterns can be customized, is sold online. In this, the Year of the Ox, one of the best-selling zhuanggao designs is one decorated with a papercut-style ox and the Chinese characters for "good luck" in modified oracle script.
"I want zhuanggao to become a calling card of Liantang," says Yang. "It is an emblem of the rice heritage of the region and highlights the wisdom and spirit of hard-working local people."
