By Cinya Tung
Country of Origin: Taiwan
Glutinous rice balls in a sweet, wintermelon soup. Eaten on the Winter Solstice or the Lantern Festival. （湯圓）
For the Tangyuan:
1 cup glutinous rice flour
¼ cup water
2 drops of pink food coloring (optional)
For the soup:
1 cup hot water
1 packet wintermelon drink mix
I was zoning out while doing homework at the dining table, the savory smells of soy sauce and cumin from my mom’s cooking distracting me. My mom’s sudden announcement that today was the Lantern Festival snapped me out of my trance, as she suggested that we make some tangyuan together.
Desperate to take a break from homework, I grabbed the bag of glutinous rice flour from the cupboard and hastily poured it into a mixing bowl. Next, my mom slowly poured in water while I mixed, finally stopping when the dough’s texture felt like clay. My mom delicately pinched some dough the size of a nickel, and rolled it into a circle. I got tasked with the tangyuan rolling mission while she prepared to boil water.
The tangyuan I made sat on the pastry mat perfectly in line like soldiers, not one out of place as the sweet scent of starch filled my nose. With childlike wonder running through my head, I thought of the endless possibilities that the plain white dough could be made into instead of boring circles. Bunnies, snowmen, or use food coloring to watch the colorful world become your oyster.
I finally settled on kneading little dumplings. As I set down my proud creations amongst the rest of tangyuan, I noticed how the dumplings stuck out like a sore thumb. My mom questioned, “Why aren’t you making them round?” There was something about her odd tone that told me, “Stick to the normal shapes. It’s just the way it’s done.”
I reverted back to making the normal tangyuan, immediately becoming ashamed of my creations.
Ultimately, the finished tangyuan is boiled until they float up to the surface of the water. They are then ladled into bowls filled with syrupy, sweet wintermelon soup my mom prepared earlier.
My mom handed me a bowl of the tangyuan, it’s warm steam hugging me and creating an atmosphere of peacefulness. I noticed that my mom distributed my “funky” creations into her bowl as well. This feeling of love, similar to the steam, filled my body. “I thought you didn’t like the tangyuan I made.” I asked my mom, confused. She smiled and replied, “Sure they’re different, but you made them, so I love it.” Somehow, with that phrase, I knew that my parent’s love would support me unconditionally in anything that I try in life, whether or not they fully understand my reasoning.