Jingchuan Guangu Steamed Bread

Jingchuan Guangu Steamed Bread

　　Guangu steamed bread is unique to Jingchuan—nowhere else in the world can it be found. Within Jingchuan County, only a few ancestral families in villages on the outskirts of the county town—such as Shuiquansi, Yangpo, Lanjiashan, Hougou, and Tianjiagoumen—are capable of making it. Once steamed, the bread takes the shape of a small jar, thanks to the well water from four or five villages on the edge of town. No matter how hard they try, using water from elsewhere simply won’t work. If outsiders wish to replicate this “patent,” they would have to bring along Jingchuan’s water, soil, temperature, and humidity. There’s no need for Guangu steamed bread to apply for a patent on snack food innovation—Jingchuan is its one and only undisputed home. Nor does it require legal protection; it can’t be stolen or easily learned. Even if made following the exact method, the result will always fall short—the dough, once fermented, can only be steamed into a flat bowl-like shape, never rising into the distinctive jar form.

　　Over two hundred years ago, this food was created, but the name of its inventor has been lost to time. Women would rise at the crow of the rooster, harness the donkey to the millstone, and sift the flour through fine or even silver-mesh sieves—the holes in those sieves are so tiny they’re barely visible to the naked eye. The wheat, commonly known as “Qi wheat,” is red in color. It is washed, pounded, soaked in water, and left to rest for a day, by which time it becomes slightly damp. Once ground in a stone mill, the resulting flour becomes sticky. The sifted flour, with its incomparably fine texture, is as white as snow. The starter is made from yellow wine lees, and during fermentation, dry flour is added to create a firm, large dough block—so stiff that it cannot be kneaded by hand alone. With both arms bearing the full force of the body and legs adding power, the dough is kneaded over and over again. Then it is divided into pieces and kneaded for another ten minutes or more—truly a process of countless kneads and rolls. Afterward, it is shaped and spun into a dome-like steamed bun, smaller at the bottom and larger at the top, about four inches high. At this stage, hard firewood must be used to build the fire, and the steamer must be completely dry.

　　When the bread goes into the pot, the heat must be even fiercer, and the steam must be more uniform. Only then will it take on the perfect jar-like shape. This is the most labor-intensive part of the craft—those who are lazy, careless, weak-willed, or leading aimless lives simply cannot make such food. Making it requires deep emotion, filled with love for life and people, in order to create a steamed bun that excels in color, shape, and taste. No matter the season, one must master heat and cold—prevent the dough from freezing in winter, and guard against spoilage in summer. Windows and skylights are all put to use. They rise before dawn to catch the morning market and get up at midnight to prepare the dough. For every hundred pounds of flour, twenty pounds of water are added. Each household has its own homemade starter. The dough, which was prepared the day before, is kneaded and pulled into fine strands, divided into portions, and kneaded again. When placing it in the steamer, sulfur the size of a soybean is lit at the bottom for steaming—not only does this give the bread a bright color, but it also helps preserve and prevent moisture. From the time the dough is set on the board until it comes out of the steamer takes four to five hours. The resulting steamed buns are also called “thousand-layer buns,” as they can be peeled apart and eaten layer by layer.

　　When Emperor Kangxi visited Ningxia, he passed through Jingchuan and once tasted the Guangu steamed bread offered as a local tribute. After eating it, he praised, “The best wheat under heaven grows in Jingchuan!” Jingchuan is a land rich in wheat production, yielding two main types: red and white wheat. Red wheat flour is best for making long noodles, while white wheat flour is ideal for steamed buns. No matter when or where, Guangu steamed bread retains its richly aromatic flavor, and it can be stored for a long time without turning sour, molding, or losing taste. Dried steamed buns, when soaked in hot water, expand like cotton buds unfurling or white lotuses blooming. With the addition of sugar, they taste even better than tofu. Aside from being eaten, these dried buns can also be softened and used to treat minor burns or scalds. Whether travelers or merchants from the Central Plains or the northwest, all regard Guangu steamed bread as an essential provision for long journeys or as a fine gift for visiting relatives and friends. Decades ago, the American missionary George E. Glynn at the Jingchuan Gospel Church would always serve Guangu steamed bread as a special treat or gift when hosting gatherings or returning to the United States. This is a traditional flour-based food left by ancestors—a taste they had fully come to appreciate. Tasting this traditional snack with modern palates brings an indescribable sense of nostalgia. After Emperor Kangxi tried it, he gave it high praise. Nowadays, there are many so-called “tribute” wines, rices, and goods on the market, all enjoying elevated status and timeless appeal simply because they were once enjoyed by an emperor. But the people of Jingchuan do not package their specialty in this way, nor do they call it “Tribute Guangu Steamed Bread.”