Jian Ping's column
Mid-Autumn Festival:
An equivalent of Thanksgiving
Mid-Autumn Festival:
An equivalent of Thanksgiving
By Jian Ping
As Thanksgiving approaches in the U.S., I keep thinking of the Mid-Autumn Festival in China. It is also
called the Moon Festival. Several other countries, such as Singapore and Vietnam, also celebrate the
festival. The Moon Festival is an occasion for the celebration of harvest. It is a time when families and
friends get together over large meals, similar to the celebration of Thanksgiving in the U.S.
The Moon Festival is the 15th day of the eighth month in the Chinese lunar calendar, which falls in late
September or early October in the Gregorian calendar. This year, it took place on October 3. In addition to
the large family meals of a variety of foods, there is one item that is distinguishably marked for this Festival:
the Moon Cake. It is a round shaped, sweet cake made of flour and a variety of stuffing — an item that
everyone shares at this time.
When I was a child, the Moon Festival was always an occasion that I looked forward to. A moon cake
was a big treat, and Mother usually cut one into six small pieces for my siblings and I to share. If we were
lucky, there would be a box of four moon cakes with different contents: red bean paste, lotus seed paste,
mixed nuts, or one of the above with an egg yolk embedded - a full moon inside the cake. My favorite was
always the red bean. Moon cakes are usually very rich and sweet. We picked a small piece and nibbled on
it, relishing every bite. Sometimes, my older sisters and brother made paper lanterns. When night fell, we
fixed small candles inside the lanterns and lit them up. We ran around the Government Compound where
we lived. The flickering of the candle light brightened our excited faces.
Then the Cultural Revolution came. It smashed everything that was considered “traditional” and “old.”
As Thanksgiving approaches in the U.S., I keep thinking of the Mid-Autumn Festival in China. It is also
called the Moon Festival. Several other countries, such as Singapore and Vietnam, also celebrate the
festival. The Moon Festival is an occasion for the celebration of harvest. It is a time when families and
friends get together over large meals, similar to the celebration of Thanksgiving in the U.S.
The Moon Festival is the 15th day of the eighth month in the Chinese lunar calendar, which falls in late
September or early October in the Gregorian calendar. This year, it took place on October 3. In addition to
the large family meals of a variety of foods, there is one item that is distinguishably marked for this Festival:
the Moon Cake. It is a round shaped, sweet cake made of flour and a variety of stuffing — an item that
everyone shares at this time.
When I was a child, the Moon Festival was always an occasion that I looked forward to. A moon cake
was a big treat, and Mother usually cut one into six small pieces for my siblings and I to share. If we were
lucky, there would be a box of four moon cakes with different contents: red bean paste, lotus seed paste,
mixed nuts, or one of the above with an egg yolk embedded - a full moon inside the cake. My favorite was
always the red bean. Moon cakes are usually very rich and sweet. We picked a small piece and nibbled on
it, relishing every bite. Sometimes, my older sisters and brother made paper lanterns. When night fell, we
fixed small candles inside the lanterns and lit them up. We ran around the Government Compound where
we lived. The flickering of the candle light brightened our excited faces.
Then the Cultural Revolution came. It smashed everything that was considered “traditional” and “old.”
For years, there were no more celebrations, moon cakes, or lanterns.
I do not know when the celebration of Moon Festival made its way back. I remember I was on a business trip in China with two American
colleagues in 1999. It was Moon Festival. As we flew from Beijing to Qingdao, I noticed we each had a nicely wrapped moon cake on our
lunch tray. I told them what it was, plugging in my “sales pitch” for this festival cake. They did not touch their lunch, but finished their moon
cakes. One of them liked it so much that he asked for another one.
But what I missed most about the Moon Festival was not the moon cake. Even here in the U.S., one can easily buy them from Asian-owned
grocery stores — large displays of a variety of moon cakes are set up each year, long before the arrival of the Moon Festival. What is not there
is the festive atmosphere. Most of the time, the Moon Festival came and went without my paying any special attention. With such a small
percent of the population celebrating it, at best, some families gather together and go out for a large meal. In most cases, especially if the Moon
Festival falls on a weekday, it passed without much fanfare.
So on Saturday, October 3, the day of the Moon Festival this year, I was pleased to receive my friend Jill’s invitation to go to her place for
dinner.
“We will share some moon cakes,” she said.
After a simple but delicious dinner, Jill placed a box of different moon cakes on the table. I picked my favorite, red bean, and my husband
Francis, the coconut. But Jill’s husband Dave, who is an American, refrained. He went after a large crumb apple pie instead, finishing three
pieces at one go. If Jill did not take it away, he might have eaten half of the pie.
“I like the apple pie much better,” Dave said, laughing.
I called my mother upon returning home, wishing her a happy Moon Festival.
“What did you do today?” she immediately asked me. “Did you have a moon cake?”
I was glad to tell her that I did share a moon cake with some friends. I have to admit that for more than 20 years since I had been in the U.
S., there were not that many times I could make such a claim.
But the large family gathering was not to be duplicated in the U.S.
As if to read my mind, Mother told me about the gathering at home.
“Your sister Wen invited everyone to lunch today,” Mother said. “And your sister Ping and her husband Zhicheng came all the way from
Shenyang. Plus your sister Yan and her son’s family, we have a house full of people,” Mother said with enthusiasm. “We are playing mahjong
now.”
The image of them sitting around the breakfast table, shuffling the tiles with one or another, excitedly declaring victory, emerged in my mind.
My heart went to them.
“How is Yieyie?” Mother asked, referring to my daughter Lisa by her Chinese name. “Is she home for the Festival?”
“She was very busy at work last week,” I mumbled. “She may come home tomorrow.” My voice trailed off. The occasion of Moon Festival
probably did not even cross her mind.
I know I cannot blame Lisa for not coming home, or for that matter, not having the concept of a family visit at this time. I am the one who did
not make any effort to observe the tradition and pass the tradition on to her — even if just for a family gathering and the sharing of a moon cake
or two.
As I cut my phone conversation short with Mother so she could go back to her mahjong table, I felt a sense of regret and loss.
“I’ll have a family dinner for Thanksgiving,” I thought. “And I’ll invite a few friends to join us — to have our large gathering and celebration.”
I know that when the Moon Festival arrives next year, I will have moon cakes to share and a family get-together to celebrate.
Jian Ping is the author of “Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China” (www.mulberrychild.com) . Also visit her blog at www.smearedtype.com
for more or her writings.
I do not know when the celebration of Moon Festival made its way back. I remember I was on a business trip in China with two American
colleagues in 1999. It was Moon Festival. As we flew from Beijing to Qingdao, I noticed we each had a nicely wrapped moon cake on our
lunch tray. I told them what it was, plugging in my “sales pitch” for this festival cake. They did not touch their lunch, but finished their moon
cakes. One of them liked it so much that he asked for another one.
But what I missed most about the Moon Festival was not the moon cake. Even here in the U.S., one can easily buy them from Asian-owned
grocery stores — large displays of a variety of moon cakes are set up each year, long before the arrival of the Moon Festival. What is not there
is the festive atmosphere. Most of the time, the Moon Festival came and went without my paying any special attention. With such a small
percent of the population celebrating it, at best, some families gather together and go out for a large meal. In most cases, especially if the Moon
Festival falls on a weekday, it passed without much fanfare.
So on Saturday, October 3, the day of the Moon Festival this year, I was pleased to receive my friend Jill’s invitation to go to her place for
dinner.
“We will share some moon cakes,” she said.
After a simple but delicious dinner, Jill placed a box of different moon cakes on the table. I picked my favorite, red bean, and my husband
Francis, the coconut. But Jill’s husband Dave, who is an American, refrained. He went after a large crumb apple pie instead, finishing three
pieces at one go. If Jill did not take it away, he might have eaten half of the pie.
“I like the apple pie much better,” Dave said, laughing.
I called my mother upon returning home, wishing her a happy Moon Festival.
“What did you do today?” she immediately asked me. “Did you have a moon cake?”
I was glad to tell her that I did share a moon cake with some friends. I have to admit that for more than 20 years since I had been in the U.
S., there were not that many times I could make such a claim.
But the large family gathering was not to be duplicated in the U.S.
As if to read my mind, Mother told me about the gathering at home.
“Your sister Wen invited everyone to lunch today,” Mother said. “And your sister Ping and her husband Zhicheng came all the way from
Shenyang. Plus your sister Yan and her son’s family, we have a house full of people,” Mother said with enthusiasm. “We are playing mahjong
now.”
The image of them sitting around the breakfast table, shuffling the tiles with one or another, excitedly declaring victory, emerged in my mind.
My heart went to them.
“How is Yieyie?” Mother asked, referring to my daughter Lisa by her Chinese name. “Is she home for the Festival?”
“She was very busy at work last week,” I mumbled. “She may come home tomorrow.” My voice trailed off. The occasion of Moon Festival
probably did not even cross her mind.
I know I cannot blame Lisa for not coming home, or for that matter, not having the concept of a family visit at this time. I am the one who did
not make any effort to observe the tradition and pass the tradition on to her — even if just for a family gathering and the sharing of a moon cake
or two.
As I cut my phone conversation short with Mother so she could go back to her mahjong table, I felt a sense of regret and loss.
“I’ll have a family dinner for Thanksgiving,” I thought. “And I’ll invite a few friends to join us — to have our large gathering and celebration.”
I know that when the Moon Festival arrives next year, I will have moon cakes to share and a family get-together to celebrate.
Jian Ping is the author of “Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China” (www.mulberrychild.com) . Also visit her blog at www.smearedtype.com
for more or her writings.