Bahtzang Monster

The building of bahtzang is time consuming. It involves soaking bamboo leaves; cooking the ingredients to just the right amount of uncookedness; folding the bamboo leaves in such a way to hold the rice and other ingredients; tying them with twine; and steaming the uncooked bahtzang. All this must be done before consumption. A month or two ago, my aunt came to visit from Taiwan. Because she's an expert bahtzang maker and had some extra time on her hands, she made us some bahtzang. The story of those bahtzang goes like this: Eagerly gobbled up by myself Eaten by my parents Driven a hundred or so miles to my sister's college dorm Shipped the 300 miles to friends in Chicago. After they were thoroughly digested and gone... we decided to make more! This time, my aunt came over to our house to make them. We made several bundles of bahtzang, steamed them up, and ate bahtzang that night for dinner. Building bahtzang is a tricky scientific art. It involves mathematical brainpower to decide on the perfect ratio of rice to meat to mushrooms to onions, with a variable factor on who is going to be consuming the bahtzang in question. This time around, a basic recipe we used was two pieces of pork to two pieces of mushroom to rice to bottom and top it off. There was also a pot of onion stuff, which was too squishy for my taste and that was made into a different bundle of bahtzang. The basic recipe can be altered according to taste, size of bamboo leaves, and size of pertinent ingredients. In the following mornings, I would snatch a bahtzang out of the refrigerator as I dashed helter-skelter out of the house around 7:30. On occasion I would have to hurriedly grab a pair of scissors and hastily saw through the twine holding the bahtzangs together. Throwing the bahtzang in my bag, I would hurry to my classes, breaking at 10:51 for lunch. In the commons, I would pop the still bamboo leaf wrapped bahtzang in the microwave, heat it up, and grab a fork. Joining my friends, I would unwrap the bahtzang either partially and eat directly out of the bamboo leaves, or if I wanted unwrap it into a paper soup bowl taken from the soup line in the cafeteria or a bowl I brought from home. The first time I brought one, my friends asked questions such as "what is that?” and “is that a corn husk?" I not so patiently answered - I just want to eat the delicious hot tasty semi-pyramidal lump of sticky rice with meat and mushrooms cleverly concealed in the middle! Because they were so convenient to grab for lunch, and so tasty, and we had so many, it became a habit to grab one and go and I ate them regularly for lunch. Friends would ask, how many do you have of those? did you make them? do you make them? and I would answer one or two questions a day. At the microwave, people would ask too. One classmate, a girl who recently spent a year in Argentina, said "Oh, I've had one of those before! They’re so good!" out of the blue as she walked by. I smiled to myself, as I held the still bamboo wrapped bahtzang in my hand, thinking she was probably mixing up cultures. Jessica loves bahtzang but isn’t very good at wrapping bahtzang into the elegant shapes achievable by her aunt, mother, and cousin. Carbohydrates and fruit are favorites, especially as she trains for a half marathon in April.

Stinky tofu t-shirts

They're causing quite the stir at my school. I encourage everyone to purchase one, especially for the opportunity to wink and say "Taiwanese American.org" when people ask you where they can get one. Connie goes to high school in San Francisco and is a proud owner of a Raspberry Women's cut Stinky Tofu T-shirt.