It Depends On Whether You Are A Romantic Or A Realist…

…as to which Mid-Autumn Festival legend you are more likely to believe or even enjoy.

There is of course the romantic, if somewhat tragic, legend of Chang Er, the immortal beauty who lives on the moon. There is also the story of stoic patriots who overthrew the evil occupiers that ruled their land.

Some will say that the ancient tale of Gods and Goddesses is the “true” legend ; others will insist that the festival is but a commemoration of brave men of history. I will say that the modern (as we know it today) Mid-Autumn Festival, or by its more commonly known name, Mooncake Festival, is an amalgamated tribute to both legends.

Let’s start at the beginning…

Once upon a moon…

(Now, remember, these events happened eons ago, and so memories are a little hazy in spots; there are several versions, so you’ll have to decide for yourself which one you like. Okay, on with the stories…)

As I was saying : once upon a moon… the Earth had ten suns circling around it. Usually, each sun took its turn to illuminate the planet, but one day, all ten suns appeared together, scorching the Earth with their heat. Rivers dried up, the land became barren, and scores of people died. Seeing the death and destruction on Earth, the divine archer Hou Yi, who was renowned as much for his deep compassionate nature as for his sharp shooting skills, shot down nine of the suns. And so, peace and prosperity were once again restored on Earth.

Hou Yi became a hero and was made the Emperor by the people. Unfortunately, with power and fame, also came the downfall. Hou Yi, heady with absolute power, became a tyrannical ruler who was obsessed with obtaining immortality so that he could forever remain the Emperor of the land. Instead of governing the people, he spent his days cultivating the Elixir of Life (a practice we call in Chinese “nian dan”).

Hou Yi's wife, the very beautiful (reputedly the most beautiful woman that ever lived) Chang Er, was afraid that an immortal Hou Yi would bring endless suffering to the people. So she sought out the vial containing the Elixir potion, and drank it, thus preventing her husband from getting hold of it. Immediately after she drank the Elixir, she became immortal, and flew up to the moon, where she remains to this day, accompanied by the jade rabbit.

And so it is that on the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month - the day when the moon is at its roundest, fullest and brightest for the whole year - we mortals here on Earth can, if we look carefully enough, see Chang Er, our Moon Goddess, who saved us from an eternity of tyranny, dancing on the moon with her rabbit. On that day, we make offerings of food to the Goddess of the Moon.

This was the folklore that I heard and loved, as a little girl cuddled next to my mother as she told me the story. As I grew up, I heard many different versions. Here’s another one that I like…

The divine archer Hou Yi took compassion on the people on Earth and decided to save them from the severe drought and heat that plagued the land, by shooting down the nine extra suns that had suddenly appeared in the sky one day. It turned out that the suns were actually the Jade Emperor's own sons. The furious Jade Emperor banished both Hou Yi and his wife, the very beautiful divine fairy Chang Er, to a lifetime on Earth as mortals.

The Goddess Xi Wang Mu (Mother of the West Kingdom) took pity on them and gave Hou Yi the Elixir of Immortality. But Chang Er stole the pill and swallowed it. She rose to the moon, where she became the immortal Moon Goddess.

Hou Yi's love for Chang-Er outweighed his anger at her deed, and he built her a magnificent Moon Palace out of fragrant cinnamon wood to shelter her from the cold. Touched by his love, Chang-Er pleaded with the Goddess Xi Wang Mu to make her husband immortal as well. The Goddess agreed, but punished her for her selfish act of swallowing the Elixir of Immortality by separating the two, sending Hou Yi to the sun.

And so, Chang-Er now rules over the lunar kingdom, while Hou Yi rules over the solar kingdom, and they can only meet once a year on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month - a day when a celestial bridge appears linking both moon and sun, allowing the lovers to meet. As for the mortals on Earth, we commemorate the lovers, and Hou Yi’s merciful act of shooting down the nine suns, by lighting lanterns on the 15th night, that they may shine out a path for the lovers to meet.

This was how the original Mid-Autumn Festival celebrations came about. The legend also coincided with the completion of harvest, and thus both events melded together to become a time for joyous and festive celebration of love, family and the year’s harvest blessings. Certain foods came to be associated with the Mid-Autumn Festival, such as the pomelo, baby yams and lin jiao. (More on these later.)

However, the mooncake - the best known symbol of the modern festival - was not originally a part of the Mid-Autumn Festival. It did not make an appearance in Chinese social culture until seven centuries ago. And this is where the “pragmatic” folklore of the Festival comes in…

It all started with the 14th century revolt by the Chinese against their Mongol rulers, who had invaded and occupied the land.

In 1376, the Chinese overthrew the Yuan (Mongol) dynasty (1280-1376) in an uprising brilliantly hatched by the former leaders of the preceding Sung dynasty (960-1280). Unhappy at having to submit to foreign rule, these former leaders set out to co-ordinate a rebellion. They knew that the key to success was the element of surprise; they had to make sure their plans were not discovered. As the Mid-Autumn Festival was drawing near, the rebellion leaders ordered the making of special cakes to be distributed to the population as festive gifts. Into each round cake was stuffed messages and instructions urging the common folk to rise up and rebel against the Mongol rulers on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival.

And so, on that fateful night of the full moon, the rebels, led by Liu Bowen, successfully launched a midnight assault and overthrew the government. What followed was the establishment of the Ming dynasty (1368-1644).

Thus, to this day, mooncakes continue to be eaten on the Mid-Autumn Festival, to commemorate that historic return of China to Chinese rule.

Subsequent to the rebellion, lanterns became even further entrenched as an integral symbol of the Mid-Autumn celebrations - so much so that the festival is also often called the Lantern Festival - for it was lantern-bearing messengers who delivered the round cakes containing the revolutionary messages to the people. So lanterns are lit each year, on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, to remember the courageous patriots, as well as to light the way for Chang Er and Hou Yi.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Apart from the mooncake, there are many foods, albeit less well-known, that are associated with the Mid-Autumn Festival. Most of them are simply seasonal produce that are found only during this time of the year, and need not necessarily carry much significance or symbolism.

One of my family’s favorites is the baby yams (taro) from China. Their yearly appearance is fleeting - usually only available for a week or two before and after the Festival; so when they are in season, we usually take full advantage of the chance to enjoy these soft, fluffy delights.

We sometimes simply steam them and eat them as is, but our favorite way of enjoying them is to slow-braise them with pork in dark soy sauce. The yams soak up all the intense and rich flavors of the pork and become absolutely, incredibly delicious! This is homey, rustic, down-to-earth food at its best! We’ve made this dish a couple of times already in the past week alone, and each time, it has been sublime! (Sorry, not a very pretty picture I know - dark soy sauce dishes are notoriously unphotogenic, unfortunately.)

These yams are smaller in size than regular yams/taro.

And are usually around the size of a head of garlic.

Inside, the raw flesh is an off-white color - rather different from the purplish hue of the regular taro.

When cooked, they take on a slightly grey cast with a tinge of lilac. But don’t let their nondescript, perhaps even rather unappealing, looks fool you. These yams, when fresh (lush-looking, round and full-bodied without deep indentations) and of good quality, have a gorgeous soft, tender, slightly powdery, very fluffy texture. Eaten on their own, they have a very subtle and delicate natural sweetness; when cooked with meat and boldly flavored with dark soy sauce, they take on layers upon layers of tastes and aromas. Spectacular!

(The above photo is of yams that have been quickly flash-fried before being slow-braised with the pork. Another way to prepare the yams would be to make them into fries or wedges, which are eaten simply with just a light sprinkling of salt.)

Another seasonal food is the lin jiao…

This is a starchy nut that is somewhat reminiscent of the Chinese chestnut.

Personally, I’m rather unsettled by the looks of this thing; and I’m not one that’s easily put off by “weird” food - - I mean, I’ve eaten deep fried scorpions, deep fried ants and grasshoppers, and even the sperm sac of a whale (I don’t think in reality it was really a whale; just a very large fish - the Japanese restaurant serving it was probably just trying to dramatize things a little). But this nut, I do not like the appearance of; it always, without fail, gives me the goosebumps. I think it looks terribly evil. Don’t you? What with that devilish horn shape… and those hair-like things growing out of the top. *Shiver*

When uncooked, it is extremely hard. Well, when cooked*, the shell is still very hard. To open it up, you either have to use a nut cracker, or like me, use a cleaver to cut it into half, and then pop the flesh out of the shell.

[* To cook the nuts, simply boil in salted water for about 2½ to 3 hours.]

The texture of the flesh is rather similar to the Chinese chestnut - maybe slightly crunchier. But it has a “cow smell” which I’m not fond of at all. And no, it’s not because of its looks that I’m saying it has a “cow smell”. It really does have a gamey taste and aroma, which I find decidedly unappealing - especially in a food of plant origin. Give me a roasted Chinese chestnut anytime.

Just of interest, the ones with the purplish-tinged flesh have slight bitter overtones, whereas the yellow-fleshed ones have a sweeter note and a stronger crunch to them.

Actually, the whole family doesn’t really like eating this nut, but my mum would buy some every other year or so, simply because, I suspect, it reminds her of her childhood memories of playing with them as toys. She has told me stories of how, even as young children, she and her siblings never ate these lin jiao. Instead, each Mid-Autumn Festival, when my grandmother bought these nuts, they would thread them onto thin wooden skewer sticks and make them into spinning toys! I am inclined to agree that this was probably a more fun way to use these nuts, but I think I would still not want to play with just evil looking things!

I’m just glad lin jiao only makes its appearance around Mid-Autumn Festival, and that just as quickly as it appears, it also disappears. The reasons why such an unappealing-looking food would be made a part of a highly auspicious occasion eludes me, but there you have it. I suppose it could be simply because this is the only time of the year that this nut is available.

Anyway, on to more appealing, and decidedly tastier, foods…

There are of course some foods that do carry much auspicious symbolism.

From the earliest times of the Festival, a tradition of offering and eating round fruits developed; these symbolize the fullness of the moon and the fullness of family harmony and fulfillment (yuan man).

One such fruit is the pomelo. This bi-annual fruit is in season during both Chinese New Year (Spring Festival) and the Mid-Autumn Festival, and so plays a highly symbolic role in both festivals. It is considered an auspicious fruit because its Chinese name sounds like the word "blessing" and its Cantonese name sounds like "to have", thus symbolizing abundance.

Pomelos are now available almost year-round, but the off-season, forcibly ripened fruits are a ghostly (and ghastly) shadow of the sweet, juicy in-season offerings.

I tell you, nothing quite beats eating wedges of well-chilled, succulent pomelos on a hot, humid, muggy day - that indescribable pleasure of the little sacs of sweet, juicy nectar exploding in your mouth with each bite! Exquisite!

Of course, the best known symbol of the Festival is the mooncake. As I have mentioned in my previous posts, the mooncakes of old were nothing like the ones we know today. The original mooncakes - sent out on that history-changing night of the rebellion - were but simple and plain round cakes of dough. Nowadays, mooncakes are sweet - and rather expensive - indulgences that come in all sorts of shapes, sizes and flavors.

What hasn’t changed though is their symbolism and significance. They still symbolize unity - of family and country - and they continue to signify harmony and fulfillment (yuan man). Each year, on Mid-Autumn’s night, as the entire family gathers together for a reunion dinner, the mooncake reminds us of the blessings of the love of family that we have received in the past year.

Before we bring the curtain down on mooncakes for another year, here’s one final look at one that’s a mix of old and new - one that is highly traditional in looks and feel, but with an interesting modern twist.

This is an offering from Yang Hua Cake House (which I have already mentioned previously). It is a traditional Teochew la bing, but with an interesting he ping (union) filling.

The filling is a combination of red bean paste and winter melon paste. It’s a surprising pairing, but one that works - at least for me; I like the interesting blend of textures and flavors. The texture of the red bean paste is more akin to that which is usually found in tau sar pau (red bean paste steamed buns), rather than that which is normally used in mooncakes. The winter melon paste (dong gua rong) is nicely smooth, with a subtle sprinkling of finely diced candied winter melon adding an intriguing sweet, crunchy bite to it.

The more robust flavors of the red bean paste melds well with the more subtle tastes of the winter melon paste; while the slightly crunchy bite of the latter provides a nice counterpoint to the smooth silkiness of the bean paste. Plus, the color contrast makes for a nice change from the usual monochromatic theme; and is a rather appropriate symbolism of yin and yang, of the moon (Chang Er) and the sun (Hou Yi), and of the union of family and loved ones.

I also really appreciate the well-made traditional Teochew flaky pastry crust in Yang Hua’s version. As you can see, the layers of the pastry are well defined and separated; not clumped together into a dense mass. The crumb is beautifully light and crisp. And most importantly, it is crisp throughout - there isn’t a rim of dense, doughy, undercooked pastry where the filling meets the crust.

This is another nice mooncake find for the year.

[Oh, and in case you are wondering how you can tell, just by looking at the uncut mooncake, whether the filling is a combined or singular paste filling… you look at the sesame seeds decoration on the top of the mooncake. If there are four spots of white sesame seeds, the filling is pure winter melon paste; if there are both white and black sesame seeds imprinted onto the surface of the mooncake, then it is a red bean-winter melon pastes combination.]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Mid-Autumn Festival, as it is celebrated in the 21st Century, has a mix of traditions taken from both ancient folklore and Chinese history.

Some still pray to the Moon Goddess for family unity and harmony, or, in the case of single women, for a good husband! And it is still customary for whole families to gather and sit out under the full moon and shang yue liang (literally: to admire the moon).

And as a nod to history, mooncakes continue to be given as gifts to friends and family, and are enjoyed in each household as a symbol of unity and harmony.

Perhaps the ultimate mixing of the two different legends of the Mid-Autumn Festival can be found on many mooncake boxes, which are commonly adorned with images of the beautiful Chang Er in her luminous, flowy gown, carrying the jade rabbit. Chang Er and mooncakes - two different tales from two different times of history, coming together into one inseparable tradition of the Mid-Autumn Festival.

So to all who are celebrating the festival tonight, I wish you and your family a most joyous and peace-filled Mid-Autumn Festival. Zhong Qiu Jie Kuai Le!

Copyright © 2004 Renee Kho. All Rights Reserved.
Please contact me for permission to copy, publish, distribute or display any of the images or text contained in this article.