Jian Dui

The hollow golden globe of the dim sum trolley: glutinous rice dough wrapped around sweet lotus or red bean paste, rolled in a dense coat of white sesame seeds, and fried slowly so it swells into a crisp, light, chewy ball, crackling with toasted sesame on the outside and almost weightless within

Origin: China (Guangdong)

From the journey of Sesame.

Jian dui (known in Cantonese as jin deui, and as matuan in the north) are amongst the oldest of Chinese fried sweets, said to date back to the Tang dynasty, when a version was eaten in the imperial capital of Chang'an. They are a fixture of the southern dim sum table and of New Year, when their round, gold, expanding shape is read as a wish for a swelling fortune and a full house. The whole outside of the ball is pressed thickly with white sesame, which toasts in the oil to a fragrant, crackling crust, whilst the glutinous rice dough puffs into a hollow, chewy shell around a sweet filling of lotus seed or red bean paste. Sesame came to China on the Silk Road and lodged deep in the kitchen as both seed and oil; here the seed is the whole surface of the sweet, and getting it to stick evenly, and frying low and patient so the ball expands without bursting, is the test of the cook.

Ingredients

Dough

  • 200 g glutinous rice flour
  • 40 g caster sugar
  • 60 ml boiling water
  • 110 ml cold water, plus more as needed

Filling

  • 180 g sweet red bean paste or lotus seed paste, rolled into 12 small balls

Coating

  • 120 g white sesame seeds (untoasted)

Frying

  • 1 litre neutral oil, for deep-frying

Method

  1. Put the glutinous rice flour and sugar in a bowl. Stir the sugar into the boiling water to dissolve, then pour it over the flour and mix with chopsticks. Add the cold water gradually, mixing and then kneading to a smooth, soft, pliable dough; add a little more water or flour as needed.
  2. Divide the dough into 12 pieces and keep them covered. Take one, roll into a ball, then flatten and cup it in your palm. Place a ball of filling in the centre and gather the dough up over it, pinching firmly to seal, then roll smooth. Repeat.
  3. Spread the sesame seeds in a shallow bowl. Lightly dampen each ball by rolling it between wet palms, then roll it in the sesame seeds, pressing firmly all over so they adhere in a dense, even coat. Roll once more between your palms to set the seeds.
  4. Heat the oil in a deep pan to 150°C, a low frying temperature. Lower in the balls a few at a time and fry gently, keeping the heat moderate.
  5. As they cook, press each ball gently against the side of the pan with the back of a slotted spoon and release; this encourages them to expand and turn hollow. Fry for 10 to 12 minutes, turning, until pale gold and noticeably swollen.
  6. Raise the heat a little for the last minute to deepen the colour to golden brown, then lift out and drain on kitchen paper. Leave to cool for a few minutes before eating, as the filling is very hot.

Notes

Jian dui do not keep well; the shell loses its crispness within a few hours, so they are best eaten the day they are fried. They can be made with no filling at all (popular in the north as matuan), in which case the hollow is the whole point. Sweet lotus seed paste gives the most refined version, red bean the most common. The dough is unforgiving of haste in the fryer, so do not rush the low, slow stage where the ball swells.

The Gastrographer

The Gastrographer

Mapping Culinary History

To explore — select an ingredient below.

Journey Point Map Key

Ingredient originTrade or transit route
Became a culinary stapleColonial / trade control
c. 1950 CE
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1950 CE
3500 BCE350 CE1200 CE1950 CE
Sesame

Sesame

Sesamum indicum (syn. Sesamum orientale); wild progenitor Sesamum mulayanum

NutsPedalium Family (Pedaliaceae)

🌍Origin

Indian subcontinent: the Harappan civilisation of the Indus Valley and peninsular India (modern Pakistan and India) — c. 3500 BCE

🌱Domestication

Sesame (Sesamum indicum) was domesticated on the Indian subcontinent from the wild progenitor Sesamum mulayanum, a species of peninsular India to which the cultivated plant is most closely related in form and in chromosome number, and the match is close enough that some botanists treat the wild plant as no more than the uncultivated race of the crop itself. Charred sesame seeds recovered from the Harappan city of Harappa, in a stratum dated to roughly 3500 BCE, are amongst the earliest cultivated sesame found anywhere, and the seed was firmly established across the Indus Valley, and traded west by sea, before the third millennium BCE was out. The botanical puzzle is that the great majority of the genus Sesamum, some three dozen wild species, grows not in Asia but in sub-Saharan Africa, which long tempted scholars to look there for the crop's origin; it was the patient botanical and archaeological work of Dorothea Bedigian, weighing the seed evidence against the distribution of the closest wild relatives, that placed the domestication of cultivated sesame squarely in India, from which it then travelled both west into the ancient Near East and east along the Silk Road. Sesame is, by most reckonings, the world's first cultivated oilseed, a plant prized from the very beginning not for a grain to be milled or a fruit to be eaten fresh but for the rich, stable oil pressed from its tiny flat seeds. That oil keeps remarkably well in the heat, resisting the rancidity that quickly spoils animal fat, and in a hot climate before refrigeration this was a quality beyond price; it is the reason sesame became the everyday cooking fat and lamp oil of Mesopotamia and the lasting oilseed of the tropics. The plant itself is an erect annual of the dryland farm, drought-hardy and forgiving, bearing foxglove-like flowers that give way to seed capsules which split open with an audible snap when ripe, scattering the seed, a habit that demands careful timing at harvest and that folklore long tied to the magic password 'Open Sesame'. The seed coat varies in colour from the pale ivory and gold of the hulled Middle Eastern seed, through the natural brown of the unhulled grain, to the black sesame revered across East Asia, but these are colour cultivars of one species, S. indicum, not separate plants, the differences of hue carrying real differences of flavour and of culinary use rather than of botany.

Global Voyage

Few seeds have travelled so far or settled so deeply into so many distinct cuisines as sesame, which spread out of its Indian homeland in the Bronze Age and has since become a true staple on three continents. The earliest journey was westward by sea and overland into Mesopotamia, where sesame became the great oilseed of Sumer, Akkad, and Babylon, pressed for cooking, for medicine, for anointing, and for the lamps of the temples; cuneiform tablets record it under the name šamaššammu, and the Greek historian Herodotus, writing centuries later, reported that sesame was the only oil the Babylonians used. From Mesopotamia it passed into pharaonic Egypt, where it was grown along the Nile and ground into the sesame pastes ancestral to tahini, and into the classical Greek world, where the seed was pounded with honey into the cake the Greeks called sēsamis, eaten at weddings as an emblem of fertility and carried by soldiers and athletes as concentrated nourishment, a sweet that survives almost unchanged as the pasteli of modern Greece. Eastward, sesame travelled the Silk Road into Han China, where its foreign provenance was fixed forever in its old name 胡麻 (húmá, 'Hu hemp'), the Hu being the western peoples through whom it came, and tradition crediting its introduction to the envoy Zhang Qian. The Chinese made the toasted seed and its dark, intensely fragrant oil central to their cooking, drizzled at the last moment for aroma and ground into the sesame paste of the dan dan noodle, and they raised black sesame into an ingredient with a sweet culinary world of its own. From China the seed and its oil passed onward into Korea and Japan, which toasted, ground, and pressed it into the very foundations of their seasoning, in the goma-ae dressings and the sesame oil that perfume countless dishes. The African and Atlantic journey ran in the opposite direction. Carried south up the Nile into Nubia and the Sudan, and then west along the Sahel into the kingdoms of West Africa, sesame became benniseed, one of the few oil crops able to thrive in the short rains of the savanna, ground into the rich beniseed soups of the Hausa and pressed for cooking oil. From West Africa it crossed the Atlantic in the most terrible of all migrations: enslaved West Africans carried the seed they called benne, planting it for food and for the good fortune it was held to bring, and it took root in the Gullah Geechee Lowcountry of the American South as the benne wafer of Charleston and in the brittle confectionery of the Caribbean. Spanish ships carried it from the Old World to Mexico, where, under the Arabic-derived name ajonjolí, it became inseparable from mole, ground into the long-simmered sauces of Puebla and Oaxaca. And in the Arab, Persian, and Ottoman worlds the ground seed reached its highest refinement of all, as the smooth tahini at the heart of hummus and as the sugar-boiled sesame halva that travelled the Balkans and crossed, with Jewish emigrants, to America. From a single dryland crop of the Indus, sesame had reached into very nearly every kitchen on earth.

🍽Modern Culinary Role

Sesame is the great connective seed of world cooking, present across three continents not as a mere garnish but as a true staple, a seasoning, an oil, and a sweet, and it carries this weight in cuisines that have otherwise almost nothing in common. In the Middle East and the Levant it is ground into tahini, the smooth, pourable seed butter that is the soul of hummus and baba ganoush, the dressing thinned with lemon and garlic for falafel and fish, and the binder of the za'atar spread on flatbread for breakfast, whilst boiled with sugar it becomes the dense, flaky halva of every market. Across East Asia its toasted oil seasons more dishes than any other single fat, the final fragrant drizzle over noodles, soups, and stir-fries, and black sesame fills the dumplings, flavours the ices, and sweetens the pastes of China, Korea, and Japan. In India it gives the cold-pressed gingelly oil that is the defining cooking fat of the Tamil south, and the til sweets bound with jaggery that mark the winter-solstice festival of Makar Sankranti; in Persia it is the breakfast paste ardeh swirled with grape syrup; in West Africa it is the beniseed soup and porridge of the savanna; in Burma it is a primary cooking oil and the seasoning of the sticky rice and the tea-leaf salad; and in the American South it survives as the benne wafer of Charleston, a living thread back to West Africa. Above all it crowns the world's breads, from the seed-encrusted Turkish simit and the bagel to the everyday burger bun, the most familiar use of all and the one by which most people in the West know the seed at all. The modern cultivation of sesame is led by Sudan, Myanmar, India, Tanzania, and Nigeria, much of it still hand-harvested on smallholdings because the seed capsules ripen unevenly and shatter when dry, a stubborn agronomic difficulty that has resisted full mechanisation. Surging global demand for tahini, driven by the worldwide spread of Levantine and Mediterranean eating, and for toasted sesame oil has carried the seed and its products far beyond any of its historic homes, and the recognition of sesame as a major food allergen has, in turn, made it one of the few seeds whose presence the labelling laws of many countries now require to be declared.

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