Not being from one region in par­tic­u­lar, (a rar­ity in such a cuisine-specific coun­try) the Zongzi is a tamale-like con­coc­tion that every Chi­nese per­son has eaten in his/her life. As much as turkey is a part of Thanks­giv­ing in the states, Zongzi are a huge part of the Chi­nese hol­i­day Dragon Boat Fes­ti­val, in early June. Com­mon lore tells var­ied sto­ries, all involv­ing a famous poet drown­ing him­self (some sto­ries are for love, some for polit­i­cal sac­ri­fice), and the vil­lage peo­ple throw­ing pack­ets of rice into the river to keep the fish from eat­ing his body. To cel­e­brate the hol­i­day, wrap­ping and eat­ing these Zongzi’s are com­mon tra­di­tion, and gluti­nous rice is stuffed into hearty bam­boo leaves, and filled with either savory or sweet goods. Nowa­days Zongzi can be found at all times of year, every­where from the streets, to super­mar­ket freez­ers, to dim sum restaurants.

In Yang­shuo we came across an elderly woman rolling a cart of Zongzi down the street. I’ve had plenty of Zongzi of the home­made and super­mar­ket and dim­sum vari­ety, but have yet to taste the smaller, always-steaming street vari­ety. Mild in all senses– tex­ture, fla­vor, tem­per­a­ture– it turned out to be a very sat­is­fy­ing mid­day snack. I bet if I were hun­gry I’d surely wolf a few of these down.