22nd of december
Today is the 22nd of december. The day that chinese people or rather, chinese people that care, eat dumplings. Sticky white and pink little balls floating in a gingery sweet syrup.
They symbolize so much. On this day, the winter solstice and family harmony. In marriage, an everlasting marriage of happiness and togetherness. In my mind,a sentimental dessert.
I sit here ingesting a tiny bowl of these white and pink balls, made by my father as offerings for the Gods. If I were to be picky, I'd say they taste rather bland. The only flavour that one experiences is that of the sweet gingery spice of the thin syrupy broth and the chewiness of the glutenous balls. Why do I eat them, I know not.
Gastronomically they give me no pleasure. Emotionally, they remind me of my childhood. One that many could say was rather fun. I remember these pink and white balls from my grandmother. No, she's not dead. She's living with my aunt now. I remember her placing a pair of these balls at every opening of the house. The door, the windows would each be blessed with a pair on opposing sides. These were offering for the house gods to ensure prosperity and peace.
I remember eating them only because they looked so cute and pretty. Pure aesthetics. I honestly never liked the taste of them and yet as a child, I would take bowl after bowl, just so I could see the cute little pink and white balls bob up and down in my little bowl before I scooped them up and swallowed them whole. Funny how people remember people like that.
My grandmother. Now that she's catholic, I wonder if she still does it. Or even makes it. Such customs are easily discarded when one takes on a different religion and forsakes their past. My grandmother is old and hence I should not judge.
My father still makes them on this day and we still eat them, although ever since my grandmother moved out, we never placed a pair of these sticky balls at any entrance nor had we an ant infestation. Happy coincidences.
They symbolize so much. On this day, the winter solstice and family harmony. In marriage, an everlasting marriage of happiness and togetherness. In my mind,a sentimental dessert.
I sit here ingesting a tiny bowl of these white and pink balls, made by my father as offerings for the Gods. If I were to be picky, I'd say they taste rather bland. The only flavour that one experiences is that of the sweet gingery spice of the thin syrupy broth and the chewiness of the glutenous balls. Why do I eat them, I know not.
Gastronomically they give me no pleasure. Emotionally, they remind me of my childhood. One that many could say was rather fun. I remember these pink and white balls from my grandmother. No, she's not dead. She's living with my aunt now. I remember her placing a pair of these balls at every opening of the house. The door, the windows would each be blessed with a pair on opposing sides. These were offering for the house gods to ensure prosperity and peace.
I remember eating them only because they looked so cute and pretty. Pure aesthetics. I honestly never liked the taste of them and yet as a child, I would take bowl after bowl, just so I could see the cute little pink and white balls bob up and down in my little bowl before I scooped them up and swallowed them whole. Funny how people remember people like that.
My grandmother. Now that she's catholic, I wonder if she still does it. Or even makes it. Such customs are easily discarded when one takes on a different religion and forsakes their past. My grandmother is old and hence I should not judge.
My father still makes them on this day and we still eat them, although ever since my grandmother moved out, we never placed a pair of these sticky balls at any entrance nor had we an ant infestation. Happy coincidences.