Finally Tasted It: Nepal’s Chewy Glutinous Treats

As soon as the third slide popped up in English class, my eyes locked onto those plump, round pastries 🍘. "These are traditional Nepali snacks," our teacher 👩🏫 said, pointing at the screen. "See the little knots on top? One knot means it’s a ‘boy,’ two knots mean a ‘girl.’ Every family makes them during festivals." I swallowed hard looking at those white, lantern-like treats—for a die-hard fan of chewy, glutinous foods, this was basically tailor-made for me. "And the rice aroma mixed with milk? It bounces in your mouth when you bite," the teacher added with a laugh. That line stuck in my head for three whole days. So when I walked out of Kathmandu’s Durbar Square, phone in hand with Google Maps 🗺️ open, heading toward Indrachowk, there was only one thought in my mind: I had to taste these today. 🔍 "Gender Codes" Hidden in Indrachowk’s Alleys The golden spires of Durbar Square’s temples still glinted behind me as the smooth stone pavement turned into a yellowish, well-trodden path. Turning into an alley thick with the scent of butter tea and spices 🏘️, the wooden sign "Indrachowk Bara Pasal" suddenly peeked out from a mud wall. Faded red characters were flanked by chalk writing: "Chaku available today"—later, I’d learn that’s the Nepali name for these glutinous goodies. The glass case was spotless, lined with two rows of "little lanterns": white ones dusted like snow, black ones with a caramel hue, all plump and round, each topped with distinct knots. Some had one sharp little knot (boy version 👦), like a tiny topknot; others split into two prongs (girl version 👧), like pigtails. The owner, an aunt in an orange headscarf 👵, saw me staring and smiled, mixing English with Nepali: "Boy? Girl?" I pointed to one white and one black "boy" (something about the single knot felt more lively), and she quickly wrapped them in oil paper, weighing them and saying "200 NPR 💴." Taking the bag, my fingers brushed the softness inside, like holding two warm clouds ☁️. I didn’t even check the change when she handed it over—after all, the urge to taste those glutinous bites had long overshadowed counting coins. 🍘 The Gentle Assault of Rice Pulp: Not Glutinous Rice, but Chewier and More Distinctive Crouching on the alley steps, I tore open the bag—and was immediately "tricked" by the first bite: this skin wasn’t made of glutinous rice at all! It was more like the rice cakes from my southern Chinese hometown, steamed from rice pulp to a springy texture, with a slightly rough, fragrant rice flavor. Soft and squishy to the touch, bouncing back when pressed, but chewy with a "springy" toughness as I bit down, like a tiny trampoline in my mouth 💫. The more I chewed, the more the natural sweetness of the rice emerged. Later, the aunt told me the rice soaks overnight, ground into pulp with no added water—only the rice’s own moisture to form the paste. It’s steamed in bamboo baskets, "so the rice aroma doesn’t escape." The white filling was my favorite! I’d thought it might be tangy like yogurt, but biting into it, it was a rich sweetness of milk powder mixed with sugar, laced with a salty cheese aroma 🥛. What made it perfect was the restraint in sweetness; the mild bitterness of the rice skin balanced the richness of the milk, leaving a faint milky aftertaste on my tongue. No wonder the aunt slipped an extra one into my bag, gesturing "good 👍." The black filling held a surprise: similar to brown sugar but richer, sweet with a hint of burnt bitterness, like roasted cane juice 🍬 melting slowly in my mouth. The clean rice aroma and the dark filling’s deep sweetness collided, creating a "bitter-then-sweet" finish, like sipping old tea. An old man at a nearby stall, seeing me enjoy it, leaned over: "Made with black sugar from the mountains—warms you up in winter ❄️." 👦👧 Stories in the Knots: Elders Wove Blessings Into the Dough Walking back, I saw Nepali kids in school uniforms carrying the same paper bags, some holding "boy" pastries with one knot, others "girl" ones with two, running and laughing 👦👧💨. It hit me then—our teacher was right about the "gender meaning": back in the day, when a family had a baby boy, they’d make single-knot treats to share with neighbors, hoping the child would "grow bold and outstanding like the knot." For a baby girl, double-knots symbolized wishes for lifelong companionship and harmony. #TraditionalNepaliFood #NepaliGlutinousSnacks #ChewyAndGlutinous