BEIJING: As early as the first stirrings of spring, Ye Liqin, a 38-year-old entrepreneur and co-founder of a guesthouse in Songyang county, Zhejiang province, begins her annual ritual.
In the mist-cloaked mountains of her hometown, she kneads freshly foraged wild herbs into glutinous rice dough, preparing traditional Qing Ming cakes (Qingming guo), which have become both a beloved seasonal offering and a special gift to her guests.
Both Qing Ming cakes and their rounder cousins, qingtuan, are quintessential delicacies of Qing Ming Festival — a traditional holiday and one of China's 24 solar terms, which marks the height of spring and falls on Sunday this year.
Coloured by the natural green of spring herbs, they are more than just food — they are symbols of renewal. These delicacies offer a way to preserve the fleeting beauty of the season.
Dating back to ancient times when they were used as ceremonial offerings, the cakes remain an essential part of the region's food culture.
For Ye, who returned to her hometown in 2014 to start her business, they represent a deeply nostalgic link to her childhood.
She said that, as a young girl with no toys, helping her grandmother make these cakes was never a chore, but a joyful activity that bonded her with the older generation.
"Our homemade Qing Ming cakes retain the roots and fibers of the plants, and they truly capture the essence of spring," she said. "They hold the fragrance of the earth itself."
She recalled how the wild herbs, harvested at exactly the right time, added a distinctive, untamed flavour that mass-produced, city-bought versions lacked.
While the countryside holds tight to its rustic, unpolished traditions, the world of refined gastronomy also sees the Qing Ming cake as a delicate canvas for culinary expression.
At the Yangzhouyan restaurant in Beijing, 31-year-old executive chef Luo Chenglin brings his own artistry to qingtuan, the sweeter green dumpling counterpart, blending refined Huaiyang cooking techniques with the season's freshest ingredients.
Alongside the traditional red bean paste, Luo's menu features a unique savory filling of diced luhao (Artemisia selengensis) and dried tofu.
Soft on the outside and crisp on the inside, they present a perfect harmony of spring's delicate textures.
Today, the qingtuan market is a battlefield of culinary innovation. To capture the attention of younger consumers, businesses are constantly experimenting with unconventional fillings — from salted egg yolk and pork floss, to black truffle beef, taro and even bubble tea and durian.
However, as a seasoned professional, Luo has noticed a recurring trend in customer palates: a culinary homecoming.
Despite the endless novelty, Luo noted that diners of all ages inevitably gravitate back toward the traditional red bean paste.
"What people crave, no matter how the world changes, is that familiar taste connecting them to home," he said. "It is a return to simplicity."
Whether crafted in a rural guesthouse or a professional kitchen, the green dumplings are ultimately a vessel for memory. For Luo, the most cherished flavor remains the one his grandmother made from wild mugwort.
They were rougher than today's polished versions, and the bean paste was slightly grainy, but the care folded into them made them irreplaceable. "That's the kind of sweetness that stays with you," he said.
For Ye, her family's practice of preserving the cakes carries an equally profound meaning.
In the days before refrigeration, her grandmother would shape the dough into rings, sun-dry them, and string them up under the eaves.
When the children returned home — no matter the season — she would rehydrate and pan-fry the dried cakes.
"The cakes weren't just food; they were a way for my grandmother to keep a piece of spring for us, even when we were far away," Ye recalled warmly.
As Qing Ming Festival arrives once again, this simple green bite carries the weight of generations.
It stands as a quiet reminder to slow down, to savour the fleeting beauty of the season and to honor the hands that have kept cultural heritage alive. - China Daily/ANN
