Sesame balls hold a special place in my heart. These perfectly plump little balls, crispy, golden and studded with white sesame seeds make a delightful snack or dessert. Beneath the crispy shell is a layer of warm and chewy glutinous rice dough, enclosing a pocket of sweet, velvety paste, perhaps made of stewed adzuki beans, lotus seeds or a delectable blend of ground black sesame and butter or lard. Their size and roundness make them particularly attractive, perhaps due to an evolutionary-developed affinity to ripe, sugar-filled fruit. But this particular fruit is a man-made one, a craft of the palms and hands and a product of the alchemy of sugars and hot oil, imbued with aromatic compounds that photosynthesis alone could not achieve, and that make it all the more irresistible.
I say dessert, but as chef and cookbook author Eileen Yin-Fei Lo points out, there is historically no such thing as Chinese desserts. The dichotomy between {dinner / savoury / before} and {dessert / sweet / after} is wholly Western in origin. Sugar and honey may have been commonly used in Chinese cooking since at least the 2nd century B.C., but they were not used to sweeten the palate at the end of a meal. Like the Japanese practice of wagashi (which developed with considerable influence from Chinese cuisine), sweet cakes and sweetened foods were the province of teahouses, festive observances and temple offerings. Sweet soups and puddings were sometimes consumed at mealtimes, but never at the end.
Although a popular snack throughout China, I will always associate these deep-fried dumplings with the Southern Chinese cultural practice of dim sum, which I encountered guilelessly a handful of years ago in the company of a family of first and second generation Chinese-Canadians, in the dim sum establishments of the West Coast. Yes, part of me felt like I had a flashing sign stapled on my head that read “CLUELESS CAUCASIAN”, but amidst the chatter and debates conducted in a seamless stream of Cantonese and English, I was happy to be a meek observer, and to experience cultural food practices in a way that would have been impossible on my own.
Like sweet cakes and confections, the history of dim sum is also intricately tied to the practice of drinking tea. In fact, yum cha (飲茶), the term used to designate the activity of going out for dim sum, can be translated as “drink tea”.
A depiction of Chinese tea paraphernalia from 煎茶图式 (1865). Source
The Rise of Yum Cha
The catalyst for the development of yum cha and dim sum may have been the invasion of the Mongols in the 13th century, which forced the emperor and his court to move southward toward Guangdong, before they were finally defeated in the battle of Yamen (1279), in the waters near present day Hong Kong, putting an end to the Song Dynasty. Along with this migration came the custom of drinking tea and of eating wheat, both of which were embraced by the people of Guangdong and integrated into the local foodways.
The first teahouses of Guangzhou, the political and commercial centre of the Pearl River Delta, were frequented by merchants and traders in their leisure time. Far more than a simple oasis of relaxation, these teahouses became nexus of information exchanges and business negotiations for merchants, albeit more informally than in their primary places of business.
“Boats on the Pearl River, Canton” from the University of Bristol Library, shows the maritime bustle in the commercial city of Guangzhou (Canton) at the end of the 19th century. Licensed under CC BY 2.0. © 2010 University of Bristol
From this practice of yum cha grew two related concepts. The first, yat chung feung kin (一盅兩件), literally “one cup, two pieces,” referred to the custom of serving teahouse customers two pieces of delicately made food items, savoury or sweet, to complement their tea. The second, more familiar to us today, was dim sum (點心), literally “touch heart,” the term used to designate these small food items that accompanied the drinking of tea. According to Siumi Maria Tam, Professor of Anthropology at the Chinese University of Hong Kong:
The purpose of eating dimsum was not to fill the stomach. The eating complemented the drinking. It allowed a balance of taste and substance, in accordance with the conventional philosophy of the human body system based on a Taoist worldview. To provide variety in tea drinking, dimsum were made in bite-sizes, that were appealing to the senses, and were judged accordingly in three aspects: look, smell, and taste (sik, heung, mei).
At first, teahouses had only a few choices of dim sum on offer, but as teahouses proliferated and competition increased, menus diversified and expanded. Eventually, dim sum became more central to the experience of yum cha — the food took precedence over the tea.
A depiction of Chinese tea paraphernalia from 煎茶图式 (1865). Source
Of Carts and Bamboo Steamers
Fast-forward to the modern era, and dim sum retains many of its historical characteristics. Eileen Yin-Fei Lo explains, recalling childhood memories of the dim house in her hometown in Guangdong:
In the Cantonese strongholds of Guangzhou and Hong Kong, dim sum restaurants have remained much the same through the centuries, though now, of course, everyone—men, women, families of every social standing—frequents them. And wherever the Cantonese have migrated, they have taken dim sum and tea with them. Many dim sum restaurants continue the custom of wheeling carts carrying small bamboo steamers lined with dumplings and small dishes holding countless other items around the room, with the waitpeople announcing in a singsong refrain the Cantonese names of the foods: “Har gau, siu mai. Har gau, siu mai. Char siu bau, pai guat, siu mai. Char siu bau, pai guat, siu mai.” I first heard these chants in the dim sum house of my village of Siu Lo Chun, near Guangzhou, when I was a little girl and my brother Ching Moh took me there on his shoulders. I remember them still.
Although my current food choices make it hard to eat out at dim sum restaurants, I still have fond memories of my brief brush with this incredible food tradition, and the flavours that come with it, and as I expand my repertoire of culinary skills, I thought it might be time to try my hand at recreating some of my favourite dim sum dishes. After reintroducing white rice (occasionally) into my diet, and learning how to deep-fry with healthy fats, sesame balls seemed like a delicious place to start!
Tips
Elaine from China Sichuan Food recommends cooking part of the rice dough prior to deep-frying to reduce the chance of ruptures and explosions during the frying oil. Since I don’t like the idea of hot oil splashing all over my kitchen, I decided to give her suggestion a try.
Variations
Instead of black sesame paste, you can fill sesame balls with red bean paste, like the one I made for my Japanese daifuku, or lotus seed paste (recipe coming soon!)
l
Joëlle
Yields 9 sesame balls
Serves 9
Crispy and golden on the outside and soft and chewy on the inside, with a pocket of sweet, buttery black sesame paste.
Save Recipe
Ingredients
- 1/2 cup white sesame seeds
- Refined coconut oil, for frying
- 65g black sesame seeds, toasted
- 2 tbsp butter or lard
- 1 tbsp honey
- 1 tbsp shio koji
- 3/4 cup glutinous rice flour (plus more for dusting)
- 40ml cold water (10ml + 30ml)
- 30ml warm water
- 1-2 tbsp honey
- 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
Instructions
- Toast sesame seeds in a frying pan over medium heat until fragrant and starting to smoke. Transfer immediately to a bowl or plate to cool down.
- Grind sesame seeds in a food processor or coffee grinder until finely ground . The sesame seeds will start to release oil and stick to the sides of the food processor.
- Melt butter or lard in a small saucepan over low heat. Once melted, add ground sesame seeds and mix to combine.
- Remove from heat and stir in honey and shio koji.
- Transfer mixture to a glass container and let cool to room temperature.
- To make shaping the sesame balls easier and less messy, scoop out teaspoons of the paste, shape them into balls, and place them, covered, in the freezer until they harden.
- place your jar of coconut oil in a bowl of warm water to melt the oil. Once it is liquid, pour the oil into a large pot, and heat it to 250 F (120 C).
- While the oil is melting, knead together roughly 2 tablespoons of your glutinous rice flour with 10ml of the cold water until you have a smooth ball.
- Heat water to a boil in a small saucepan and prepare a bowl of cold water on the side. Boil the small ball of dough for a few minutes and transfer it to the bowl of cold water to cool down.
- In a measuring cup, dilute the honey into the warm water. Mix in the rest of the water.
- Mix together the baking powder and the rest of the glutinous rice flour in a medium-sized bowl. Add the cooled ball of cooked dough, breaking it up with your hands.
- Pour the honey water into the bowl little by little, kneading as you go, until you have smooth dough.
- Shape the dough into a long log and separate it into 8 pieces of roughly equal size. Roll each piece into a round ball.
- Using your thumbs, shape each ball into a bowl, fill the bowl with about a teaspoon of black sesame paste and carefully wrap the dough around the sesame paste to seal it in. Carefully roll the dough between your hands to make it nice and round.
- Fill one small bowl with cold water, and the other with sesame seeds. Dip each ball into the water, and then roll it in the second bowl until it is covered in sesame (use one hand for each process, to avoid getting sesame everywhere).
- Once the oil has reached the correct temperature, start frying the balls 3 or 4 at a times, dropping them gently into the oil.
- Cook them, stirring to turn them over in the oil, until they have reached a golden brown colour.
- Place the cooked balls on some paper towels to drain the excess oil and cool down.
- Sesame balls are best served fresh, while they are still warm.
Notes
Shio koji (塩麹) is a lacto-fermented mixture of rice koji (rice inoculated with aspergillus oryzae spore -- the basis for many well-know Japanese ferments such as miso, sake and soy sauce). It provides enzymes and probiotics while imparting the dish with a unique umami flavour. You can substitute sea salt, himalayan salt or fish sauce. To learn more about shio koji, how to make it at home, and how to use it in the kitchen, click here.
Calories
Fat
Carbs
Protein
References
Lo, E. Y., Cushner, S., & Wong, S. Y. (2012). Mastering the art of Chinese cooking. United States: Chronicle Books LLC.
Tam, S. M. (1997). Eating Metropolitaneity: Hong Kong Identity in yumcha. The Australian Journal of Anthropology, 8(1), 291-306. doi:10.1111/j.1835-9310.1997.tb00342.x
Guidance and Inspiration
China Sichuan Food — Sesame Balls – Jian Dui
Hot Thai Kitchen — Black Sesame Balls
❤ Thank you Elaine and Pailin!
