Zongzi

This month marks the third anniversary of our move to San Francisco. We've been living in the same place all this time, despite our best intentions to buy a house. The global economic collapse has gotten in our way just a bit.

We live in a flat above our landlords, and we love them. They're Chinese, from Guangzhou originally, and refer to us as their Caucasian children. Our landlady, Melissa, is a great cook and often knocks on our back door to deliver a couple of ripe mangoes, or Asian pears, or piping hot fried rice, or turnip cakes. By the way, if you deliver a platter of turnip cakes to my door, you'll make a friend for life. Just saying.

Over the years, I've developed a weakness for Melissa's coconut and coffee tapioca cubes. During Chinese New Year, she delivered a platter of fa gao (Prosperity Cakes), perky little rice flour cupcakes that seem to explode up out of the pan. They're fluffy, light, and not too sweet.

The Lees recently became grandparents, and a few weeks before the baby was born I noticed a couple of giant empty black vinegar jugs sitting in the garage. I asked Melissa about it, and she showed me a big earthenware pot that she had filled with the vinegar and huge chunks of ginger. She said that it's traditional for a new mother to eat pigs' feet that have been cooked in this mixture; it helps the woman regain her strength after childbirth, and makes breastfeeding easier. She offered to let me try some after the baby's arrival. A few weeks later, she handed me a big container of the feet plus a couple of dark, vinegar-steeped hard-boiled eggs, and we scarfed it all up with rice for dinner. I hope I remembered to ask about the new baby. "As long as it's not going to make ME pregnant!" I joked. So far so good.

Our latest edible gift from the Lees is zongzi, or sticky rice stuffed with lots of goodies, wrapped in a bamboo leaf and boiled. Melissa's were filled with Chinese sausage, peanuts, chestnuts, pork belly, salted egg yolk, and dried shrimp.

I loved them so much that she brought us a second batch - "made by an old lady," she said when she dropped them off. If you see any of these leaf-wrapped packages carefully bound with string, pick up a couple. They last a few weeks in the fridge, or you can freeze them for later snacking. Boil them for about 20 minutes, unwrap, and dig in. I like to drizzle a little sesame oil on top. Who knows what you'll find inside.