A sticky situation that jeopardised my mooncake cred

A failed attempt to make snow skin mooncakes leads to a moment of reflection for comedian and food enthusiast Jennifer Wong.

Made with glutinous rice flour, these mooncakes look much better in photographs than they did in real life. Source: Supplied

Recently, I decided to make snow skin mooncakes for the first time.

I wondered what it would be like to start a new tradition, one that adds to the mooncake stories of my family. For example, my dad tells me that when he was little, people saved up for mooncakes over the whole year, so that come Mid-Autumn, they would have cakes to share. My mum says she when she first arrived in Australia, she used tuna cans as mooncake moulds.  

Until now, my mooncake story has been gifting store-bought ones to friends during the pandemic lockdowns as a way to create a sense of togetherness during a time when we couldn't gather in person.  

I didn't grow up eating snow skin mooncakes. My family ate the sweet lotus paste ones with an egg yolk in the centre. But the thought of using glutinous rice flour to make these delicacies makes me feel connected to my extended family.

The skin is so thin that you can see the mooncake's red bean filling. Source: Yasmin Newman

Many of my relatives are talented when it comes to working with glutinous rice flour. On my mum's side of the family, I have an aunt who makes her own tang yuan (glutinous rice dumplings) filled with sesame. On my dad's side of the family, I have an aunt who makes mochis by the hundreds every Lunar New Year. And one of my cousins on dad's side runs a Hong Kong diner in Sydney and sells her own mochi.

The thought of using glutinous rice flour to make sweet delicacies makes me feel connected to my extended family.

On the day I planned to make mooncakes for the first time, I bought some of my cousin's mochis to share with friends who I had asked over. I admired the mochis' soft, delicate skin dusted lightly with flour, and looked forward to my mooncakes being as pleasing as these plump, squishy balls, only firmer and topped with a floral pattern befitting the Mid-Autumn season. 

Ah, such unwarranted optimism on my part.

The saying goes, "shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll still land among the stars". Well, I shot for the mooncake and ended up with bulging and sticky, dense clumps, like something you'd think to throw if you were under attack. This was partly because the recipe was for 50g mooncakes and I'd accidentally ordered 100g moulds online. 

But another problem was that I'd never worked with glutinous rice before. I mixed this with white rice flour, wheat starch, sugar, soy milk, and vegetable oil, and then steamed the mixture for 25 minutes. Glutinous rice flour is partly what's kept the Great Wall of China together for thousands of years. Having recently experienced this flour's stickiness, I can understand how this substance can be used to keep bricks together for dynasties.

The beauty of snow skin mooncakes. Source: EyeEm/Getty Images

As I was kneading the dough, it didn't feel quite right. The consistency felt like what I imagined it would be like to squeeze The Hulk's arm - very firm. It felt very oily and stiff, like play dough that had toughened with age. 

I wrapped some red-bean filling with the dough, and popped it into the mould. Out it came, misshapen around the edges and without a definite seashell edge. The top of the mooncake bore the impression of the flower design, but the skin was too thin in places and tore to expose the red-bean filling.

I made five mooncakes in total - each worse than the one before. As I popped them out of their moulds, I thought about how many times my aunts and cousin have made tang yuan and mochi perfectly over the years. Then I thought about a time when they first began cooking, and how maybe they, too, cursed the stickiness of this Great Wall-binding agent.

But in the spirit of Mid-Autumn Festival, which includes a longing to see those you love, I thought about how lucky it is that over the years, I've been there to experience my relatives' mastery of glutinous rice flour in person.  

This year, I'm giving my friends and family the ultimate gift at Mid-Autumn Festival: not having to eat my snowskin mooncakes. Maybe with practice, things will work out in time for next year.

 

Love the story? Follow the author here: Twitter @wojennifer, Facebook @jenniferwongcomedian, Instagram @jenniferwongcomedian. You can also check out Jennifer's fortnightly SBS Food column, 'The Mostest' right here.