You Silly Dumpling: Bizarre Zongzi for Dragon Boat Festival

June 6 is Dragon Boat Festival, the Chinese holiday where everybody eats zongzi, the pyramid-shaped dumplings made from glutinous rice and assorted fillings. Every year around this time, the Chinese media churns out articles about “luxury zongzi,” bemoaning the fact that the traditional holiday food has become a mere vehicle for abalone, bird’s nest, truffles, Wagyu beef and obnoxious nouveau riche wealth-display.

We agree. If you must tinker with this classic rice dumpling, there are better ways to do it than simply throwing expensive ingredients at it.

For example, there’s Din Tai Fung’s “Double Purple zongzi” (RMB 24 each). Purple yam paste enveloped in purple rice. An elegant pairing – we hear it's quite toothsome. Available until June 6.

This year, Beijing's time-honored restaurants are putting their laozihao spin on the traditional rice dumpling. The Global Times recently ran an article about novel zongzi that fill sticky rice with dollops of beloved savory dishes: gongbao jiding and yuxiang rousi (Emei Restaurant), Peking duck (Bianyifang), braised pork shoulder (Tianfuhao) and stewed beef (Kaorou Ji).

And then there’s Starbucks, which has turned the traditional holiday food into a sweet dessert. These Star Ice Dumplings, as they’re known, enfold ice cream centers in a transparent hull (apparently made from wheat starch). The frozen dessert zongzi were introduced in 2009. This year, they come in four flavors: mocha chocolate, coffee, green tea red bean and mango.

We were keen to try it, especially the mocha chocolate version. Who could resist this description from the company press release: “The unmistakable elegance of mocha, smooth and lingering, pairs with chocolate produced from handpicked cocoa beans. Warmed by the heat of the mouth, the rich and thick mouthfeel spreads out on the tongue, the mellow bitterness giving way to moist sweetness. It is like being encircled by dancers. Chocolate chips and aromatic coffee spill from the mouth. Tasting the two flavors simultaneously is like sinking into a space where time stands still, out of which arises a joyful emotion very much like love.”

We showed up at Starbucks, eager to fork out RMB 98 for a bag of 12 Ice Star Rice Dumplings. Alas, it was not to be.

“You need to have bought a voucher,” they told us.
“Alright, we’ll buy a voucher.”
“We ran out of them yesterday.”
“You ran out of zongzi already?”
“No, we have the zongzi.” They showed us the bag of frozen zongzi. Even handed it to us so we could examine it. “But there’s no more vouchers.”
“We’ll happily pay you RMB 98 for this bag we’re holding right now,” we told them.
“Sorry. You need a voucher.”

Sharp distress gave way to dull disappointment. It was like being encircled by red tape. We had sunk into a space where logic stood still, out of which arose an emotion very much like despair. We exited the Starbucks.

“Fine, we didn’t want them anyway,” we pouted, kicking the curb. “Stupid, cold, deformed mochi.”

Oh, who are we kidding. We’ll probably be first in line for those vouchers next May.

All this got us thinking about the possibilities of the dumpling form. So we took an office poll, asking our co-workers to describe their dream zongzi.

Our Chinese colleagues were all traditionalists in their own way. Most preferred the sweet Northern-style classics.
Sample quotes:

“50 percent red bean paste, because that’s the way a zongzi should be.”
“Red bean paste. It’s traditional. Even if it’s not tasty, it won’t be ridiculously bad.”
“I don’t like date fillings, because you have to spit out the pips.”
“I prefer zongzi with dates. It’s popular and tasty.”
“I love date fillings the best, because it is traditional and classic.”
“Chestnut. I love chestnut.”

Less popular were the meat fillings more prevalent in southern China.
Sample quotes:

“My favorite filling is pork, duck egg yolk, and chestnut. I can't stand Northern-style zongzi – because I think zongzi shouldn't be sweet. Oh and sometimes containing beans too!!”
“Meat zongzi from Daoxiangcun. Very flavorful!”
“Meaty. I’m a carnivore.”

And there were a few outlandish variations. Those crazy laowai …
Sample quotes:

“I would stuff last year’s leftover mooncake into a zongzi, and throw it into a trash barrel. Don't really like either of them. However, if I had to choose, I'd love some creative ones ... like Mexican (beans, rice, cilantro, salsa) or American BBQ (pulled pork and BBQ sauce).”
“My dream zongzi is a mint n chip ice cream with fudge filling.”
“Spanish: chorizo, sun-dried tomato, spicy prawns, paella instead of sticky rice and all wrapped in salted parma ham instead of leaves.”
“I'll say Thai red curry zongzi. I think that'd be nice. Sticky rice plus spice, coconut milk, chicken.”
“Filled with melted pesto-flavored mozzarella and mashed tomato sauce. I bet the gooey mozzarella and sticky rice would match well when heated.”
“Black sesame. Because it's so good in mochi. Why not zongzi?”
“It would be a Southeast Asian take on the zongzi. Sweet coconut sticky rice on the outside and dark chocolate and butterscotch on the inside with hazelnuts and crushed almonds. Yum.”
“Fill that sticky rice with french fries. Keep things carby.”
“Agua’s suckling pig in a zongzi.”
“English Breakfast zongzi. Black pudding, crispy bacon, a quail’s egg, mushrooms and cherry tomatoes in polenta.”

And finally, one of our colleagues took us right back to the basics.

“I hate zongzi with fillings. When I was a kid, my mom used to feed me simple homemade zongzi made from sticky rice and a few dates, wrapped in a reed leaf. When you bite into it, your mouth fills with the uniquely delicate fragrance of leaves.”

So how about you? What does your dream zongzi look like?

Photos: efair.hk.cn, Din Tai Fung, cnr.cn, hnayhrh.blog.163.com