glutinous rice ball

glutinous rice ball

　　　The "Four Heavenly Kings" actually refer to an early Shanghai term for four classic local breakfast items. They are: Chinese flatbread (shaobing), deep-fried dough sticks (youtiao), glutinous rice ball, and soybean milk. To this day, locals still love these breakfast staples. When visiting Shanghai, why not go local and try these iconic snacks—experience the famous Four Heavenly Kings for yourself.

　　　　The glutinous rice ball is one of the most common and popular breakfast items in the Jiangnan region. It is made by wrapping a hot youtiao (deep-fried dough stick) inside steamed glutinous rice and pressing it tightly, and can also include other ingredients such as pickled mustard tuber. It’s delicious when eaten hot and very affordable. The dish is made by steaming glutinous rice, then wrapping and pressing it around a youtiao. It has a soft, chewy, and crispy texture, and is especially enjoyable to eat while shaping it with your hands.

　　Also known as ci (zi) fan, the glutinous rice ball is one of the most common and popular breakfast items in the Jiangnan region. It is made by wrapping a hot youtiao (deep-fried dough stick) inside steamed glutinous rice and pressing it tightly, and can also include other ingredients such as pickled mustard tuber. It’s delicious when eaten hot and very affordable. The dish is made by steaming glutinous rice and then wrapping it around a youtiao.

　　Glutinous rice ball

　　It is made by wrapping and pressing the ingredients together. It has a soft, chewy, and crispy texture, and is especially enjoyable to eat while shaping it with your hands.

　　Introduction Back to top

　　　　Glutinous rice cake (cī, fàn, gāo) is one of the favorite breakfast items for Shanghainese people. The combination of Chinese flatbread, youtiao, soybean milk, and glutinous rice ball is known as the “Four Heavenly Kings” of Shanghai breakfast, which shows just how much locals love it.

　　Glutinous rice ball

　　To make it, mix glutinous rice and non-glutinous rice (in a 3:1 ratio), rinse them clean, and soak them in cold water until the grains absorb the water and swell. Drain the water, then place the rice in a steaming basket lined with steaming grass (or cloth), set the basket over a pot with about half a pot of water (the bottom of the basket should be slightly above the water level), and steam over high heat until steam rises and the surface grains are cooked. Pour a large bowl of hot water over the surface, cover immediately, and steam for another 5 minutes. To serve, place a clean damp cloth on the left palm, scoop a portion of the glutinous rice onto the cloth, flatten it out, wrap a hot youtiao inside, add some sugar, and shape and press it tightly with both hands.

　　Ingredients Back to top

　　　　Non-glutinous rice 1000g, peanut oil 500g (about 200g used), salt 20g

　　Preparation Method Back to top

　　1. First, rinse the rice clean.

　　　　2. Place the rice in a pot, add water to cover it by about 5 cm, then add the salt. Bring the pot to a boil over high heat, then reduce to low heat, uncover, and cook for about 10 minutes until the rice grains have fully expanded and only a small amount of moisture (thick rice porridge) remains on the surface. Cover the pot and continue cooking over low heat for another 10 minutes until the rice is fully cooked. Then remove from heat.

　　3. Take a suitable-sized enamel or aluminum square tray, lightly grease the areas that will touch the rice, then transfer all the cooked rice into the tray. Cover the rice with a clean damp cloth, press it down evenly, then remove the cloth. Invert the tray onto a clean surface and carefully turn out the cake batter. Let it cool.

　　4. Use a knife to cut the cooled cake batter into appropriately sized rectangular pieces.

　　5. Heat the oil in a wok until boiling. Carefully place several pieces of the rice cake batter along the edge of the pan, one at a time, gently flipping them with a spatula. Once the pieces turn golden brown, remove them. Repeat the process for the remaining batter.

　　Tips:

　　　　1. Grease the sides of the container to make it easier to remove the cake later.

　　2. Fry the glutinous rice cakes one at a time, otherwise they may stick together.

　　3. Allow the fried glutinous rice cakes to cool slightly before eating, as they will be very hot.

　　Product Features Back to top

　　　　Best served fresh and hot, fragrant and slightly salty, it is one of the more economical breakfast options.

　　Historical Background Back to top

　　　　In the past, small eateries would set up an iron wok in front of their shops, pour in most of the wok with oil, and drop the glutinous rice cakes in. The oil would immediately bubble vigorously. Before long, golden edges would start to show, and the chef would use tongs to flip them a few times before lifting them out and arranging them on a wire rack hanging over the edge of the wok to let the oil drip off.

　　The glutinous rice cake is rectangular, about three or four millimeters thick. It’s crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Take a bite, and you’ll taste a savory flavor along with a hint of scallion aroma. The four corners usually brown and crisp first, offering a satisfying crunch. They cost just five fen each. In the morning, people would buy several pieces in a big bowl to enjoy with soybean milk—a small treat. They were also sold in the afternoon, purely as a snack.

　　Back then, cooking oil was rationed—each person was allotted only half a kilogram per month. The monthly oil coupons were divided into 200-gram and 100-gram portions, with the 100-gram ones usable for sesame oil. This was a unique feature of Shanghai’s rationing system during the planned economy era; other regions didn’t have 100-gram oil coupons. I don’t know how people elsewhere bought sesame oil. Shanghai folks, even in hard times, sought to add a hint of fragrance using sesame oil. Some elderly folks, seeing so much oil used to fry the glutinous rice cakes, feared it was watered down. But oil and water don’t mix—how could that be possible?

　　When frying the glutinous rice cakes, many crumbs fall into the pan. The chef has to scoop them up from time to time with a strainer, or they’ll burn and turn ashy like coal dust. The longer the crumbs sit at the bottom of the pan, the crispier and more delicious they become. I loved eating those crumbs the most. They were actually sold too—big bowls for five fen, but you had to get lucky. The chef wouldn’t wait for you; once a bowl was full, he’d just sell it to whichever customer came along. There was a food stall near my alley that used to sell glutinous rice cakes, and I managed to get on the chef’s good side. Eventually, I bought a few bowls of crumbs—big, heaping ones. But when my brother found out, he scolded me for being greedy. “If you’re this much of a foodie,” he said, “you’ll never amount to anything great.” He even went on seriously: “Great people possess a special kind of willpower and self-control—they can restrain their desires.” Hearing that made me realize things were getting a bit serious, and I never dared buy the glutinous rice cake crumbs again. Back in third grade, I worked really hard to suppress my own desires. At that time, I was already reading books like *The Song of Ouyang Hai*, *How the Steel Was Tempered*, and *The Story of Zoya and Shura*.

　　　　I didn’t buy the glutinous rice cake crumbs, but I didn’t mind watching the chef make them either. Making the cakes was quite fun. Glutinous rice and long-grain rice were cooked in a certain proportion, then transferred to another pot where salt and chopped green onions were added. The mixture was stirred with a copper spatula until it developed some chew. Then, on a cleaned workbench, a wooden frame about the size of a full newspaper page was set up. The rice was poured into the frame, packed tightly, and smoothed flat on top. By the afternoon, the chef would dismantle the frame, and the rice would have solidified into one big block of cake. He would then use a very long, thin knife to cut the cake into four long strips, each slightly wider than a cigarette box, and transfer them onto a narrow wooden board. Next came the slicing. Many people think glutinous rice cakes are sliced with a knife—that’s wrong. Watch as he takes down a bow from the wall. It’s a compact bow, bent from thin bamboo strips with green lacquer left on, and the bowstring is made of nylon. Slicing the rice cake with such a bow requires skill—you have to ensure the slices are all equally thick, or customers will pick through them, choosing only the bigger or smaller ones. As the chef slices the cake, the bow seems to dance in his hand, moving up and down effortlessly. If a knife were used, the cake would stick to the blade. The sliced pieces may look stuck together at first, but by the next day, they’ll come apart easily with a single tap.