Life is like a box of mooncakes. You never know what you're going to get.
A profound mystery in Chinese life comes in a plastic case with the silica packet. The mooncake is one of the best pastries I have ever tasted, but buying it is a never-ending surprise-or disappointment. You never know what kind of stuffing you will get!
Growing up in Manila, I remember eating thin, tiny mooncakes the size of a compact makeup. We called them hopia. We knew they were Chinese delicacies produced by Chinese immigrants in the Philippines. If we wanted to have them for snacks, we needed to buy them from neighborhood convenience stores run by the Chinese. The hopia was best washed down with Coke or steaming hot coffee. Sometimes they were sold stale, the red bean filling was dry and crumbly, because the sellers would not bake new ones until everything had been sold out. I wasn't particularly fond of them, but when served on a table, I would help myself to a piece. When they're freshly baked, they're divine.
Nothing prepared me for the real deal when I came to Beijing three years ago. Mooncakes here are bigger and thicker and tastier. They are square in size and boast an assortment of fillings, a far cry from the hopia of my coming-of-age. Red bean and lotus seed are the most common, but there's more elaborate stuffing I am just discovering every year: green tea, nuts, meats, salted egg, cream cheese, birds nest, melon seed, roast pork and mushroom, and duck, among many variations. I have read about an ice cream mooncake. I've never tried it; I don't know where to find it.
My beef with the Chinese mooncake is simple: How do you know what's inside?
For one who has gotten tired of good old red bean filling, it would be nice to taste the others. I like nuts and salted egg and bird's nest in my mooncake. But when I ask the store clerk "what's inside", I'm usually met with a blank stare.
Mooncakes are packaged like expensive jewelry or fine chocolates. They come in fancy boxes you would want to keep in your bedroom. I can understand the pretty packaging as mooncakes are given away as gifts on special occasions, like Mid-Autumn Festival, usually in September. That's when mooncakes flood the market-from the cheap ones usually sold in 7-Eleven to high-end pastries you find in top hotels. In some stores, they're sold by the pound. After September, they're magically gone. You can't find them anywhere except in Taobao.
I wish there was a smarter way to sell Chinese mooncakes without having to enter a livestream? How about a chart of split-open mooncakes at every store? The buyer can always point the photos to the store clerk. An English translation of the chart would be helpful but not necessary. No need to hover your translation app over the text.
I believe I'm speaking for the legions of expats who want a gratifying mooncake buying experience. When you crave mooncakes with salted egg, you want to make sure that's what you really get when you reach home and unbox your goodies. Not another red bean cake.
