In honor of Duan Wu: Silver River.
May. 28th, 2009 09:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
My mother insisted I learn how to wrap rice dumplings and so I did, starting from a very young age, when I observed her nimble fingers deftly folding the fronds into a cone and then into a pyramidal shape. When I was a teenager, I ended up joining the women in the kitchen, breathing in the steam, the fragrance of fronds soaked in hot water and listening to the chatter.
That was long ago, back on Terra, before I made the decision to join the Explorers. Now onboard a ship, heading for the new colony on Mars, I found myself thinking about the old traditions that kept my mother and her grandmother going. The festival for the rice dumplings, Duan Wu, was approaching. Most of my childhood memories were lunar-based. Fifth day of the fifth lunar month. Right in the middle of summer, when it was hot and dry.
The legend spoke about a patriot who threw himself into a river as a protest. The people, in order to save his body, threw rice parcels into the water so that the fish would not eat his flesh. I used to think that the legend was a little gruesome and a little tragic. Of course, food was featured in many of the myths and legends. Rice dumplings. Tang yuan. Mooncakes. Sweetmeats.
Well, the only river I knew now was Yin He, the Milky Way. Yin He. Silver River. The old language was so evocative, rich in texture. I did not think throwing rice dumplings into space would work.
Before Duan Wu itself, I made sure I had all the ingredients ready in the main mess hall kitchen. Even the dried leaves, bundled and stored in one of the cabinets. A couple of my colleagues came and watched me as I poured hot water into a large tub and soaked the leaves in. As the leaves became more supple, fresh, I prepared the rice and the savory filling. I loved the chestnuts the most - sweet nuggets.
I made thirty rice dumplings, little pyramids of rice and filling. Enough for the ship's crew and the scientists. Rice dumplings were also gifts and my mother would give away clusters to close relatives and friends. I sat in the kitchen, immersed in the aromatic steam. I was home.
Later, as I stood next to the viewing window, watching the stars streaming past in the Milky Way, I thought of silver rivers and the gentle conversations in a kitchen, fading away as if in sepia.
That was long ago, back on Terra, before I made the decision to join the Explorers. Now onboard a ship, heading for the new colony on Mars, I found myself thinking about the old traditions that kept my mother and her grandmother going. The festival for the rice dumplings, Duan Wu, was approaching. Most of my childhood memories were lunar-based. Fifth day of the fifth lunar month. Right in the middle of summer, when it was hot and dry.
The legend spoke about a patriot who threw himself into a river as a protest. The people, in order to save his body, threw rice parcels into the water so that the fish would not eat his flesh. I used to think that the legend was a little gruesome and a little tragic. Of course, food was featured in many of the myths and legends. Rice dumplings. Tang yuan. Mooncakes. Sweetmeats.
Well, the only river I knew now was Yin He, the Milky Way. Yin He. Silver River. The old language was so evocative, rich in texture. I did not think throwing rice dumplings into space would work.
Before Duan Wu itself, I made sure I had all the ingredients ready in the main mess hall kitchen. Even the dried leaves, bundled and stored in one of the cabinets. A couple of my colleagues came and watched me as I poured hot water into a large tub and soaked the leaves in. As the leaves became more supple, fresh, I prepared the rice and the savory filling. I loved the chestnuts the most - sweet nuggets.
I made thirty rice dumplings, little pyramids of rice and filling. Enough for the ship's crew and the scientists. Rice dumplings were also gifts and my mother would give away clusters to close relatives and friends. I sat in the kitchen, immersed in the aromatic steam. I was home.
Later, as I stood next to the viewing window, watching the stars streaming past in the Milky Way, I thought of silver rivers and the gentle conversations in a kitchen, fading away as if in sepia.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 03:54 am (UTC)Senses play an important part in my writing. I realize that I am most governed by sight, touch and smell. I love smelling the food cooked during all the lunar festivals. And seeing them made too. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 04:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 05:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 05:06 am (UTC)I quite like it, I think. Hmm. Though, maybe - hmmm... There's that thing about the narrator having to 'explain' that she follows the lunar calendar. Maybe she could do a bit more? Like, does everyone else follow the lunar calendar? Or do they follow the solar calendar? how does she follow it? >.>
I like the last sentence best. Sepia. Mmm. Age and nostalgia
no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 05:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 05:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 05:51 am (UTC):| neither my mother nor father know how to make zongzi. So we never learned to make it. -_- Though, I know how to make wonton! :D If you buy the wonton skin first....
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Date: 2009-05-28 05:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 06:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 06:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 01:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 05:29 am (UTC)I need to re-work the story one day. Once I hammer my phoenix story down. My characters all have their own stories to tell - and a novel is not enough. Maybe, a library... :P
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Date: 2009-05-28 05:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 05:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 05:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 05:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 06:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 06:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 01:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 03:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 03:22 pm (UTC)Part of the story was inspired by watching my mom making the dumplings without fail for every Duan Wu festival.
And of course, stars. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-05-28 03:26 pm (UTC)You did a really good job of capturing the feeling, even for those of us with different wheel-of-seasons food traditions. It reminded me a little of my own Christmas/Chanukah ones, still making my grandmother's cookies I can't eat, just to give them away and connect back to that piece of the past from my very different life... all from another culture entirely, a fact which is not lost in the text.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-29 03:51 am (UTC)To me, food traditions are very important. They connect, most physically (via eating), to who we are and to our cultures/histories.