Ordinary Gweilo

It’s the time of year for mooncakes in Hong Kong. Mid-Autumn Festival is next week, and now everyone is exchanging mooncakes.

When I first came to Hong Kong, I was puzzled to see posters advertising what looked like pork pies. They couldn’t be, could they? No, they couldn’t. As I found out when I was offered one to try, and (as with many delicacies in Hong Kong) I got a bit of a surprise when I tasted it. The outside is pastry (just like a pork pie), but the inside is lotus seed paste, or red bean paste or something else equally delicious (or ho mei dou, as we say), and there’s usually egg yolk in the middle (funnily enough, pork pies sometimes have hard-boiled eggs in them as well) . More details here:

One traditional mooncake is filled with lotus seed paste and quite distinctive in appearance (see top photo). Roughly the size of a human palm, these mooncakes are quite filling, meant to be cut diagonally in quarters and passed around. A word of caution: the salty yolk in the middle, representing the full moon, is an acquired taste.

More elaborate versions of mooncakes contain four egg yolks (representing the four phases of the moon). Besides lotus seed paste, other traditional fillings include red bean paste and black bean paste. Unfortunately for dieters, mooncakes are rather high in calories.

Yes, “acquired taste” is one way of putting it, and “rather high in calories” is possibly something of an understatement. They normally make the pastry from lard, which certains helps hurry the coronary along. That first year I duly some back for my family in the UK, and I think they felt rather the same way that I do – too heavy and not especially delicious. It’s not a taste I’m in any hurry to acquire.

I’m obviously in a minority, though, and almost everyone else seems to eat them (though usually only a quarter or half at a time). With the tradition of offering mooncakes to friends, relatives and customers, it’s a lucrative business. In the weeks before Mid-Autumn festival you will likely be acosted by the staff in your local DimSum restaurant, imploring you to buy their particular brand of mooncake.

There are also all manner of new and innovative versions, some significantly less rich and heavy than the original – though whether they are really mooncakes is another matter. I remember a few years ago being given a sample of (I think) a ‘green tea’ mooncake that excited much interest in the office where I was working at the time. Apparently the previous day the shop had very long queues of people trying to get the samples, but I had just walked in unknowingly to buy some lunch.

Enjoy your mooncakes!