Yinmi and Tangsan

Yinmi and Tangsan

　　Yinmi isn’t gloomy at all, and Tangsan doesn’t contain sugar. Both are snacks that my mother had to make every Lunar New Year and that I loved as a child—fragrant, satisfying, and filling.

　　Actually, Yinmi and Tangsan are just what people in western Hunan call them. Since yinmi is stir-fried with sand after being air-dried, some also call it fried rice. But after searching on Baidu, I found that the yinmi made in western Hunan is quite different from the fried rice shown there. In the Baidu images, fried rice is golden yellow and looks rather hard, while the yinmi made in western Hunan is white, somewhat like popcorn, and its texture combines the best of both popcorn and fried rice—crispy and delicious, never tiring to eat.

　　As for the name Tangsan, there’s no such term on Baidu, so I’m not even sure if writing it as “Tangsan” is correct. Since Tangsan contains no sugar, why is it called Tangsan? After some thought, it might be because when Tangsan is put into hot oil, it scatters apart, so some call it “Tangsan” (which sounds like “scattered in hot water”). And no matter what, “Tangsan” sounds much nicer than “scattered in hot water,” so it became the homophonic name we use now. Of course, whether it’s yinmi or Tangsan, whether they exist elsewhere or not, I’ll just consider them specialties of western Hunan.

　　Both yinmi and Tangsan are made from glutinous rice and tinted with carmine red. Because of their festive color and crispy texture, they’ve become one of the essential New Year foods in western Hunan households. As for how to make yinmi and Tangsan, I learned how to do it at a very young age through observation.

　　Around New Year’s time, my mother would weigh out dozens of pounds of high-quality glutinous rice, then sift it through a sieve to remove broken grains for other uses. She’d also pick out any stray grains or small stones from the rice, rinse it clean with water, and soak it for 10 hours. Once the glutinous rice was fully soaked, white, translucent, and plump, she’d steam it in a steamer. When steaming glutinous rice in a steamer, you must wait until steam rises before adding the rice, and it must be added in two batches to ensure it cooks evenly.

　　After the glutinous rice is steamed, it’s poured out to cool, then spread out and air-dried in a clean place to become the long, thin, and hard yinmi. Sprinkling a bit of carmine red on the steamed glutinous rice makes for a beautiful contrast of red and white. To make Tangsan, you first need a round aluminum mold, like a bracelet. Then, you press the carmine-dyed glutinous rice into the mold to form round rice cakes, which are then air-dried. Both yinmi and Tangsan can be stored for years without spoiling once air-dried.

　　When yinmi is stir-fried in a pot with specially prepared sand, the originally long, dry, and hard grains expand when heated and turn into plump, white fried rice. Grab a handful and put it in your mouth, and it instantly becomes moist and delicious. You can also pour hot water over it and drink it like congee; adding brown sugar makes it even tastier.

　　Since Tangsan is in disc shape, it can’t be stir-fried with sand. Instead, when you’re ready to eat it, you just fry it in hot oil. The small disc-shaped rice cake quickly puffs up to the size of a plate, and its deep red color turns pink, making it incredibly appetizing. Pick up a Tangsan and take a bite, and you’ll see it really does “scatter”—you quickly cup it with your hand to preserve its round shape, while your teeth go crunch-crunch, chewing and swallowing that bite of Tangsan.

　　Actually, people in western Hunan like making yinmi and Tangsan also because they’re convenient to carry. Whether you’re out doing farm work or hiking in the mountains, when you get hungry, just grab a handful of yinmi or chew a piece of Tangsan, wash it down with a pot of cold water, and you’re instantly full. Though people’s material lives are much richer now, and my mother no longer makes yinmi and Tangsan herself, around New Year’s, I still go to the market to buy some to keep at home—for the festive feel, and to remember these folk delicacies that once enriched our lives.

　　Author: Yang Tao Source: Kaifeng Hunan