Xiantao Water Chestnuts

Xiantao Water Chestnuts

　　Wild water chestnuts are the fruit of the annual aquatic plant Trapa natans. The roots are finely branched and thread-like, while the leaves float on the water’s surface, clustered at the stem tips. The leaf stalks have spindle-shaped air sacs to aid buoyancy. The stems are purplish-red, adorned with bright yellow flowers. Wild water chestnuts hang beneath dense foliage in the water and can only be spotted when the entire plant is lifted and turned upside down. Wild water chestnuts have four spiky corners that are easy to prick. We dared not run around with them in our pockets, nor were they easy to peel.

　　 In my hometown, full of ditches and waterways, wherever there was water, water chestnuts were cultivated. Standing by the pond, from a distance you’d see a sea of green with water chestnuts floating on the surface. The emerald-green leaves crowded together, covering the water tightly. These are known as cultivated water chestnuts, which grow two horn-like projections resembling a bull’s head. Cultivated water chestnuts are high in starch and are usually steamed or boiled before eating. They’re also easy to bite into and break apart.

　　 Elderly vendors selling water chestnuts often set up a small wooden stump and a peculiar cleaver in front of their stalls. They chop off the horns and peel the shells, specializing in selling shelled water chestnut kernels. Old water chestnuts are starchy and fluffy, while young ones are sweet.

　　 The lakes back home were covered with water chestnuts and lotus roots. When midsummer passed and the lotus petals gradually fell, they would turn into emerald-green lotus pods. After the Beginning of Autumn, it was the perfect time to harvest water chestnuts and lotus pods. As kids, we’d gather three or five friends, make hats out of lotus leaves to wear on our heads, and head to the lake to pick water chestnuts and gather lotus seeds. We’d carry the water chestnut leaves back home to feed the pigs. The spiky water chestnuts pricked our little feet, making my mother pick the thorns out from under the kerosene lamp at night and even suck the bleeding wounds with her mouth.

　　 There were boats everywhere on the lake, and the local kids all knew how to row and paddle. Aside from using wooden boats to pick water chestnuts, some would also use a large, basin-like “pig-slaughtering tub” (waist tub) to go harvesting. Sitting in the tub, paddling left and right, we’d move forward. When stopping, we’d pull up the water chestnut vines and pluck the nuts one by one. We’d also pick old lotus pods—there was technique to that too. You had to pinch the dried lotus stem with your fingers and snap it gently. Yanking hard could easily get your hands scratched by the lotus stems or even uproot the whole pod.

　　 The harvested water chestnuts were washed clean, then poured into a pot of water. We stirred them evenly, boiling them thoroughly without overcooking. Once cooked, the water chestnuts were scooped out and drained. The hot, fragrant water chestnuts could then be cracked open to enjoy the kernels inside. Old water chestnuts are starchy and sweet, flavorful and filling.

　　 Whenever we ate water chestnuts, our mouths would always get coated with a black layer of their thin skin, leaving behind piles of shells. The whole family would sit around peeling water chestnuts while chatting about daily life—it was endlessly delightful. Water chestnuts can also be eaten raw, with a texture like lotus root—crisp, tender, sweet, and refreshing. The shelled kernels can also be used in cooking, such as in stir-fried water chestnuts with meat or water chestnut soup, all of which are delicious and uniquely flavored. During the era of communal farming, some production teams would distribute water chestnuts, lotus roots, fish, and meat to each household so members could celebrate a lively Mid-Autumn Festival.

　　 I once heard elders say that once water chestnuts mature and slowly age, they naturally detach from the vine (locally called a “wu” stem), relying on their own weight to sink into the mud. Their spiky corners help anchor them to the bottom. By the following year, they’ll take root and sprout again, turning the pond into a sea of emerald once more. Ah, the water chestnuts of my hometown—they love the land beneath their roots so much.

　　 “Young women gathering water chestnuts in new attire, small melon boats floating in the water’s midst”—ancient poetry offers such vivid metaphors for water chestnut boats. Young maidens rowing boats to gather water chestnuts, singing folk songs, became a captivating scene in the verses of ancient poets. Recalling the days of my childhood water chestnut picking: the blue waves and autumn waters, eyes filled with green, boats rocking on the lake, fragrances wafting through the air, the sun setting in the west, returning from the harvest, the melodious chants of the chestnut gatherers blending with the night mist… What moving scenes of water chestnut gathering they were.

　　 It’s fair to say I grew up eating water chestnuts from my hometown, and I hold a particularly deep affection for them. Another autumn has arrived, and those vivid childhood memories of my hometown feel both distant and heartwarmingly familiar.

　　 August 2012, Zhang Caifu, Beijing