If you thought declaring your major as a college freshman was a lot of pressure, try deciding your career path at just one year old! The adorable ceremony that I’m referring to is called Zhuazhou (抓週 zhuā zhōu), a tradition that’s been taking place in China since the Qing Dynasty (1644 – 1911) and was mainly a tradition celebrated among noble families.

The whole family gathering around for the big reveal

The Zhuazhou ceremony is where various objects, each representing a different career path, are placed around either a large table or on the bed. Then like a turtle race, the crawling baby is set loose and close family and friends watch as the birthday boy or girl crawls toward all the various objects around him/her. Then based on what the baby selects first, it was believed that object was an indication of their future career path.

Click to watch this cutie pie’s Zhuazhou

Back in the ancient days, items like Chinese calligraphy brushes, ink, paper, sword, abacus, coins, jewelry, food, and toys were placed around the babies. For baby girls, they’d include items like spoons, scissors, and thread which represented the girl would become a good housewife in the future. It was also believed that in the olden days parents would sometimes put celery and shallots in the mix as well because these vegetables have Chinese names with positive homonyms. If the baby picks the celery (芹 qín) it meant that he or she will be hardworking and if they pick the shallots (葱 cōng) it meant that he or she will be smart.

Zhuazhou items in the olden days

Today, the tradition of Zhuazhou is still practiced around China, but it’s definitely not taken seriously anymore. This is more for entertainment at a first birthday, because, well, how else will adults stay entertained at a one year old’s birthday?

Nowadays, instead of items like abacus and gender specific items for girls, parents are replacing traditional Zhuazhou items with things like a syringe (representing a future as a doctor), calculator (entrepreneur), balls (athlete), pens (artist), ruler (lawyer), books (scholar), phones (tech guru), microphones (singers), or stamps (government official).

The tradition of Zhuazhou has lasted for generations, and even though it’s highly unlikely that new parents today are still superstitious enough to believe that their crawling baby will decide their future on their first birthday simply by choosing an item, the custom has been passed down through generations and still practiced today – but mostly just for entertainment.

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Photos: Yoyochinese.com, China Daily, douyin

My grandparents don’t show affection in the traditional way. They don’t tell us they love us and they aren’t used to hugs. Instead, they say it all through food.

My yeye (grandpa) and nainai (grandma) live about three hours away by train. But we’re all so busy with our lives  that we hardly get to see each other. Every time we visit, nainai fusses over whether or not we’ve eaten and yeye spoils us with snacks, pale pink hawthorn flakes, and mint-flavored throat candy he buys just for us. Some of its gone stale from sitting in the dark for so long, and some of its just… a little weird. We eat it anyways.

But nothing beats the dumplings, made from scratch by the entire family. We eat it to say hello, to say goodbye, and they never let us leave without packing more for the road. Every dumpling says “I love you”.

In Chinese culture, dumplings or jiaozi 饺子 signify reunion. Just like during Chinese New Year, whenever my parents bring us back to our hometown, everyone comes home to eat. We each play our part in the dumpling assembly line, and with each pair of hands the dumpling passes through, we are reminded of all the ways we’re connected.

Yeye starts off early in the day by kneading the dough. The finished dough is passed down to my dad and uncle, who tear them into chunks, smoothing them into little balls to be coated in flour and flattened with the press of the palm. Around and around goes the rolling pin, hands twisting the dough and churning out perfect circles of dumpling skin, slightly thicker in the middle and impossibly round.

Making dumplings at the speed of light

Then it’s time to add the fillings and shape the dumplings. Every family folds them in their own way. My dad’s family is from Shandong. They make it the northern way: a quick pinch to the middle and two thumbs that press the corners together like a golden nugget. My mother’s dumplings are different. She taught me to pleat them the southern way, with a ring of folds decorating the dumplings like a crown. These dumplings are slower to make and stand out from the others with their intricate folds. I learned how to fold both, northern and southern.

But the real test comes when it’s time to put them in hot water.

Will the jiaozi hold? Or will they spill precious fillings? My grandpa slides them from the chopping boards into the boiling water. In the pot, it doesn’t matter what the dumpling skin looks like as long as they don’t fall apart. Just like how we stay together as a family, despite all our differences.

We may live 500 km apart. My sister and I may struggle to understand our grandparents’ local dialect and old-fashioned ways. But when it comes to dumplings, no translation is necessary.

Even after we return to Beijing, we continue to feast on our grandparents’ love. We inherited more than family recipes and cooking skills. Making jiaozi with my family gave us a better understanding of where we came from.

With everything going on in the world, there’s no telling when we’ll be able to visit my grandparents next. But my sister and I have learned enough from them about making dumplings that the next time we see them, we’ll be ready to show our love.

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Photos: TianTian Xu, unsplash

Chinese cuisine would be incomplete if not for the array of snacks passed on from generation to generation.

Of those, one of the oldest, and perhaps tastiest, is the impeccable dish of laozao (醪糟 láo zāo). Laozao, otherwise referred to as rice wine (米酒 mǐ jiǔ) or jiuniang (酒酿 jiǔ niàng), is a cross between pudding and soup. It’s typically translated as glutinous rice wine due to its alcoholic nature, however, the alcohol is barely noticeable and children are often introduced to it very early on in life.

Laozao cooked with glutinous rice balls (汤圆 tāng yuán) is a traditional food for marking the end of Chinese New Year, but laozao can be served on it’s own, cold and thus becomes a popular option in the 30 degree heat of Beijing’s summer days. My mother and I recently attempted brewing our very own rice wine from abroad. A large portion of the ingredients were brought from Beijing, which means if you’re willing to give it a go, all the materials are accessible at your neighborhood supermarket.

Qinglan and her mom with their homemade laozao

How to make laozao

As with all fermentation recipes, cleanliness is paramount. Make sure that everything that will come into contact with the rice is clean and sterile before you begin and at every step along the way. Otherwise, mold will develop and you will have to start again.

1. Cook a bowl of glutinous rice in a rice cooker. After it’s cooled down, transfer the glutinous rice into a plastic food container. Boil a kettle of water and wait for that to cool down as well. Once both substances are at room temperature, gradually pour the water into the rice whilst using a pair of chopsticks to separate the individual rice pieces. Do not add to much water, just enough to come level with the top layer of rice.

Step 1: cook the rice

2. Take a packet of rice leaven (甜酒曲 tián jiǔ qū) and sprinkle it onto the rice. This powder will stimulate the fermentation process. Using chopsticks or other utensils, stir the mixture until the powder is fully dissolved.

3. Make a hole in the center of the rice so any alcohol produced can gather there.

Staring the fermentation process

4. Close the lid of the plastic container and place it somewhere in your house, anywhere is fine as long as it’s not directly under the sun. Leave it there to brew for the next two days. The temperature must be maintained at above 20 degrees Celsius, which is why summer is the ideal season for this process.

Lily petals

5. After two days the laozao is ready! Some people enjoy it like this, however my Mom and I like to add lily petals, goji berries, and egg to make a tasty soup. To do this, take out a packet of dried lilies and soak the pieces in a bowl of cool tap water. Let the water soften the petals for an hour or so.

6. Bring a pot of water to boil, then transfer the fermented glutinous rice into the boiling water.

Add in the goji

6. Bring the pot back up to the boil. This time while you wait, take out a package of dried goji berries (枸杞 gǒu qǐ) and rinse them in tap water. Once it’s boiled, place both the goji berries and soaked lilies inside and stir the mixture.

7. Wait for it to boil again. Meanwhile, prepare a raw egg and crack it open directly into the pot. This time, make sure to stir the mixture thoroughly and wait for it to boil one last time before bringing it to the dinner table. Depending on your preference, extra white sugar can be added after it’s served.

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Photos: Qinglan Du, lightorangebean.com

One of the few times I left a restaurant in the US without tipping was when a waitress said “Oh you’re Chinese? Did you know that kids in China wear pants that are open in the crotch and they poop on the street just like dogs?” That ignorant ‘Karen’ was totally oblivious to the fact that whether you’re Chinese or Chinese-American, those derogatory comments are equally offensive. But… she wasn’t 100% wrong either. Split-crotch pants, know here as 开裆裤 kāidāngkù were once a very common sight in China. They were especially popular during the hot summer months and kids wearing them would run around with their tiny derrière all out in the open as they played carefree and oblivious to the fact that their private bits are exposed.

A practice that’s been around since the time of the Cultural Revolution, today it’s seen as a relic of the old times, and it’s a sight that’s rapidly disappearing from Beijing, and China’s other major cities. Occasionally you can still see some grannies with toddlers running around in split crotch pants around the hutongs, but walking around places like Taikoo Li, the only cheeks you’ll see are the ones hanging out of the 20-something-year-old KOL wanghong’s booty shorts.

What’s The Purpose of Split-Crotch Pants?

Basically, before disposable diapers became common in China, split-crotch pants made it easier for parents to deal with their children’s pee-pee and poos. Instead of having to hand wash reusable diapers (this was also during a time when washing machines were seen as a luxury not commonly found in everyday households), you could put your child in a pair of split pants, and whenever they needed to go, they could simply squat and do their business instead of having to change and carry around a soiled dirty diaper was a no-brainer. It just made parents’ lives easier.

But those days are long gone. Beijing’s no longer the low-rise city where streets are dominated by black bicycles and the only colors people wore on the streets were white, black, and navy blue. Since 1989 disposable diapers have been marketed aggressively in China and as the middle class’ expendable income increases, fewer and fewer new parents see the need in split crotch pants or re-useable diapers when there’s a much easier option they can now afford so readily available.

The Pros and Cons of Exposed Toddler Bums

But have we thrown the proverbial baby out with the bathwater? According to experts, there are some pros to toddlers wearing split crotch pants. Babies who were raised wearing split crotch pants are generally potty trained up to 14 months sooner than those who wear diapers. Split crotch pants make the kids actively participate in their poo time as they have to communicate to their parents when they need to go, so they are able to learn the signs of his own bodily functions sooner. It also encourages children to graduate earlier from squatting on the street to anticipating his poos and squatting over a potty. Furthermore, during the hottest months of the year, kids who wear split crotch pants are less likely to get diaper rash than those who do.

The downsides of split crotch pants are also pretty obvious, the first being sanitation. While the split crotch pants make it easy for kids to squat and poo, it also makes it extremely easy for them to sit their exposed tushies on the dirty ground. And unfortunately in this digital day and age, one can never be too careful when it comes to the internet safety of their child. Split crotch pants now draw unwanted attention from predators and their cameras.

Split crotch shorts on Taobao

As split crotch pants disappear from cities like Beijing and are replaced with disposable diapers, parents in the West have been catching on and praising the old ways. In her 2006 book Diaper Free, Ingrid Bauer actively promotes the use of split crotch pants. ”The traditional kaidangku have rapidly disappeared from the major cities in the last half-decade and are rapidly being replaced by diapers … Aggressive advertisers create an impression that consumer products are vastly superior to what mothers have practiced for eons and urge parents to buy what they can barely afford,” she wrote.

The average baby will go through 4,500 – 5,000 pairs of diapers by the time they’re two years old and split crotch pants help eliminate environmental waste. In places like the US have formed diaper-free support groups to help their babies practice elimination communication toilet training and one of the main parts of the group is that the babies wear split crotch pants, assisted by parents making whoosh sounds to help them go potty – exactly like Chinese grannies used to do it in the old days.

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Photo: savespendsplurge.com, Taobao

“Want to share a pizza? Want a bite of my cake? Want to try a sip of my cocktail?” Growing up I’ve always shared my food. It doesn’t matter whether I’m at a Chinese restaurant where everything is served family-style or a Western one where everyone orders their own plates. Everything gets shared around the table, whether they were designed that way or not. I’ve always found that it lets you try different dishes without stuffing yourself. And if you’re dining within close proximity of one another, chances are you’re probably sharing your germs with or without that extra bite from their plate anyway.

But ever since COVID-19, dining just hasn’t been the same, especially here in China. Nowadays, whenever I go anywhere in Beijing there’s always a packet of tissues, disinfectant wet wipes, and some type of liquid hand sanitizer. COVID-19 has made us all suspicious of where one another has been and what germs are still lingering on surfaces.

Showing affection without speaking a word

When my local Beijinger husband and I first started dating one of the cultural differences that would always bother me on dates was when he would put food on my plate for me. “Don’t tell me what to eat! If I wanted to eat it, I’d get it.” I’d always think to myself. But after a while I realized that it wasn’t the overly controlling chauvinistic male tendency that I thought it was, it was a gesture of love and respect, a common way people here show affection at dinner tables. It’s something that’s done for elders at the table, spouses, children, and when it’s a business meal occasions, for your boss.

Before COVID-19 I didn’t think much of it anymore when someone puts food on my plate. But again, since February, the idea that a pair of chopsticks that’s been in someone else’s mouth touches food that’ll later go in my mouth is just plain gross.

Since the SARs outbreak back in the early 2000s the Chinese government encouraged the use of serving spoons, or two sets of chopsticks (one for serving, one for eating) but they were only offered at the more high-end restaurants. Smaller restaurants and mom and pop shops tried to keep their cost low, and the fewer utensils they had to use, means the fewer hours they had to spend cleaning them afterward. However, that may finally change as Chinese restaurants are now actually required to always provide service spoons and chopsticks (though there are still places that won’t do it unless you request it).

A typical Chinese table setting, before the pandemic

During the beginning of the social distancing restrictions, restaurants also faced more complaints from diners who were asked to separate their large groups into different tables, as It wasn’t something we were used to yet. But amidst this new wave of outbreaks and the return of social distancing dining restrictions, Beijing restaurant-goers are holding back their complaints. By now, we just want to do our part and get this whole COVID-19 nightmare over with.

It seems highly unlikely that Chinese dining culture is going to change so much that family-style sharing becomes a thing of the past completely, but we do have to keep adapting to smaller changes. The latest wave of COVID-19 infections now means that Beijing’s dining scene is back to restricting the number of diners per table and the distance between tables. This past week restaurants in Shine Hills in Shunyi along with restaurants in Taikoo Li closed to test their staff. So until further notice, before you make weekend plans or dinner plans with friends and family, call ahead and see what the restrictions at your favorite restaurants are and whether they’re even still open.

KEEP READING:  Sanlitun Bars and Restaurants Close for Mass COVID-19 Testing of Staff

Photos: unsplash, behance.net, jd.com