Today is the Mid-Winter Festival, or Winter Solstice celebrations for the Chinese people. Today would be the day when we eat little round dumplings made from dough, stuffed with either sesame or crushed peanuts, and boiled together with a sweet soup. These dumplings are the size of fish balls, not the other type of rice dumplings where we eat during the Mid-Summer Festival, the one that resembles a ketupat or something like that.
I used to think this was only celebrated by people the same dialect as my mum. Since young, we had to go to my maternal grandma’s house for dinner during this time, then she would prepare lots of flour and dough, mostly white and pink, and we kids would roll and knead them into little round balls.
Sometimes we would make cubes, sometimes triangular shapes. We even became so ambitious as to make snowmen or animals, but these fell apart when my grandma put them into the soup, so she had to re-knead them into balls. In recent years, we seem to have stopped doing that, probably because my grandma is already so old and frail.
I really miss those days. It was so fun making the various shapes out of flour! When my Aussie cousins came over, they joined in the fun too. We even did that in Sydney once, two days before Christmas the year we went to spend Christmas at my uncle’s place. Which reminds me, my little cousin just told me last night that my Aussie relatives are not coming this year after all. Oh well…..
Somehow, my paternal side never seem to celebrate this Mid-Winter Festival thing. It had always been my mother’s side of the family, so I thought this idea originated from her ancestors. It was only recently that I discovered that this tradition is honoured by a lot of Chinese people across the board, and they do eat the little round dumplings with the soup.
Those days in my grandma’s place, I would ask for a whole bowl of soup with the pink balls my cousins and I helped to make. So my entire bowl would be pink, and I would eat up the dumplings but drank only a bit of the soup. My grandma would always put a bowl of dumpling soup in front of my late grandpa’s picture to “honour” and “respect” him.
But it is interesting that although Chinese people have our own cultures and traditions, the way the different dialect groups celebrate them are very different. Some dialect groups are more traditional and strict, and will insist on certain things being done before the celebrations can begin.
In my country, there are three major Chinese dialect groups – Hokkien, Cantonese and Teochew. I do not belong to any of the three. My parents are both from more minor dialect groups, thus normally when people try to guess my dialect, they will automatically start with the three main ones, and only get it right after the fourth or fifth time. My mother’s dialect group is worse; no one has ever heard of it unless that person happens to be of the same dialect.
Every dialect has a different form of speech. For someone like me who cannot speak nor understand any dialect (although I can understand both my grandmothers a little), I cannot tell which dialect it is someone is speaking. But once someone speaks my dialect, I can tell at once because it is so rare to find someone speaking that dialect when all over the streets one hears mostly Hokkien or Cantonese.
But because I belong to a minor dialect group, it is sometimes hard to understand what my friends’ grandparents say when they tried to talk to me. Luckily my best friend happens to be of the same dialect group as me, and I guess her grandma likes me so much because I can actually understand what she says.
My first ex is a Hokkien, the other two are Teochew, so I could not understand what their grandmothers say when they tried talking to me. Often my guys had to act as translators, and when they talk to my grandmothers, I had to act as a translator too.
Every dialect group has their own traits. I am not that sure about others, but for my dialect group, ie my father’s people, the trait is that the men are normally very good cooks. My late grandfather could cook very well. So is my uncle, considering he used to own a restaurant. I have another uncle who owns an eating place too. Then how come my father cannot cook at all? The pioneers who came here used to own coffeeshops, and now a lot of coffeeshots that specializes in “kaya toast” are owned by people of my dialect.
Every dialect group has their own specialty cuisine too. Cantonese people thrive on dim sum, whereas the specialty of my dialect is a certain dish that comes with rice cooked in garlic sauce, meat of a certain bird, together with vegetables cooked with oyster sauce, and eaten with red chilli and dark soy sauce. Whenever I tell people my dialect group, they will automatically mention this dish. Anybody want to make a guess?
Every dialect is unique, in speech, in practice, in food, in culture. I do not regret not knowing how to speak, although there are times I feel inadequate when I am not able to understand when people speak in a certain dialect. But at least being of a certain dialect group makes one appreciate better where one came from.
I used to think this was only celebrated by people the same dialect as my mum. Since young, we had to go to my maternal grandma’s house for dinner during this time, then she would prepare lots of flour and dough, mostly white and pink, and we kids would roll and knead them into little round balls.
Sometimes we would make cubes, sometimes triangular shapes. We even became so ambitious as to make snowmen or animals, but these fell apart when my grandma put them into the soup, so she had to re-knead them into balls. In recent years, we seem to have stopped doing that, probably because my grandma is already so old and frail.
I really miss those days. It was so fun making the various shapes out of flour! When my Aussie cousins came over, they joined in the fun too. We even did that in Sydney once, two days before Christmas the year we went to spend Christmas at my uncle’s place. Which reminds me, my little cousin just told me last night that my Aussie relatives are not coming this year after all. Oh well…..
Somehow, my paternal side never seem to celebrate this Mid-Winter Festival thing. It had always been my mother’s side of the family, so I thought this idea originated from her ancestors. It was only recently that I discovered that this tradition is honoured by a lot of Chinese people across the board, and they do eat the little round dumplings with the soup.
Those days in my grandma’s place, I would ask for a whole bowl of soup with the pink balls my cousins and I helped to make. So my entire bowl would be pink, and I would eat up the dumplings but drank only a bit of the soup. My grandma would always put a bowl of dumpling soup in front of my late grandpa’s picture to “honour” and “respect” him.
But it is interesting that although Chinese people have our own cultures and traditions, the way the different dialect groups celebrate them are very different. Some dialect groups are more traditional and strict, and will insist on certain things being done before the celebrations can begin.
In my country, there are three major Chinese dialect groups – Hokkien, Cantonese and Teochew. I do not belong to any of the three. My parents are both from more minor dialect groups, thus normally when people try to guess my dialect, they will automatically start with the three main ones, and only get it right after the fourth or fifth time. My mother’s dialect group is worse; no one has ever heard of it unless that person happens to be of the same dialect.
Every dialect has a different form of speech. For someone like me who cannot speak nor understand any dialect (although I can understand both my grandmothers a little), I cannot tell which dialect it is someone is speaking. But once someone speaks my dialect, I can tell at once because it is so rare to find someone speaking that dialect when all over the streets one hears mostly Hokkien or Cantonese.
But because I belong to a minor dialect group, it is sometimes hard to understand what my friends’ grandparents say when they tried to talk to me. Luckily my best friend happens to be of the same dialect group as me, and I guess her grandma likes me so much because I can actually understand what she says.
My first ex is a Hokkien, the other two are Teochew, so I could not understand what their grandmothers say when they tried talking to me. Often my guys had to act as translators, and when they talk to my grandmothers, I had to act as a translator too.
Every dialect group has their own traits. I am not that sure about others, but for my dialect group, ie my father’s people, the trait is that the men are normally very good cooks. My late grandfather could cook very well. So is my uncle, considering he used to own a restaurant. I have another uncle who owns an eating place too. Then how come my father cannot cook at all? The pioneers who came here used to own coffeeshops, and now a lot of coffeeshots that specializes in “kaya toast” are owned by people of my dialect.
Every dialect group has their own specialty cuisine too. Cantonese people thrive on dim sum, whereas the specialty of my dialect is a certain dish that comes with rice cooked in garlic sauce, meat of a certain bird, together with vegetables cooked with oyster sauce, and eaten with red chilli and dark soy sauce. Whenever I tell people my dialect group, they will automatically mention this dish. Anybody want to make a guess?
Every dialect is unique, in speech, in practice, in food, in culture. I do not regret not knowing how to speak, although there are times I feel inadequate when I am not able to understand when people speak in a certain dialect. But at least being of a certain dialect group makes one appreciate better where one came from.
0 comments:
Post a Comment