The Rebellious History of Mooncakes, the Note-Passing Dessert That Liberated China

Some may argue that Chinese desserts are not the most delicious out there. It could be hard to convince the non-adventurous eater to choose a chewy sesame ball of dough floating in water over an ice cream sundae, or a red-bean dumpling over a decadent chocolate cake. However, as someone with Taiwanese roots who grew up in Australia eating these Asian desserts, I personally would fight for the last bite of tang yuan, zongzi or a mooncake if given a chance.

During the Mid-Autumn Festival, or Moon Festival, celebrated by Chinese around the world on the 15th day of the eighth lunar month each year (September 17 this year), mooncakes are eaten in gluttonous quantities. By mid-August, supermarkets, grocery stores, bakeries and even luxury hotels stockpile the desserts to cater to mooncake madness—an industry valued at more than $2.3 billion in recent years. Families gather together over a meal and light lanterns, look at the moon and eat yue bing, otherwise known as mooncakes, wishing each other wealth and happiness. The miniature cakes, which fit in the palm of a hand, are most commonly made with a thin pastry layer encasing a dense filling of sweetened red beans, melon purée or mixed nuts, depending on where in Asia you purchase them.

With roots in China, mooncakes are not just confined to the mainland. In South Korea, mooncakes are called songpyeon, and they are eaten in celebration of Chuseok, a mid-autumn festival. Similarly, in Vietnam, banh trung thu are enjoyed at Tet Trung Thu, and in Japan, sticky, chewy dango are consumed at Tsukimi, a fall festival which loosely translates to “looking at the moon.”

While the name of the mooncake varies across Asia, the importance of eating them is universal, says Yuki Kugota, a Japan native and chef at Megu restaurant in Gstaad, Switzerland. “It is a chance for families to gather together, admire the moon and enjoy mooncakes,” she says. “The moon is at its fullest, and people can pray to the moon gods for a good autumn harvest.”

According to Xiaohuan Zhao, a scholar of Chinese literature and theater at the University of Sydney in Australia, the mooncake is a symbol of togetherness. “Mooncakes symbolize unity, union and harmony,” he says. “During the Mid-Autumn Festival, family members gather together to taste mooncakes as a symbol of family reunion. Its round shape represents a full life, perfection and good luck.”

The history of Mid-Autumn Festival and mooncakes

The festival, which dates back more than 3,000 years, coincides with the end of the autumn harvest. Initially, it was seen as a time for farmers to pray and thank the gods for their bountiful and prosperous year. Today, people across the Sinosphere take part in various festivities.

“These activities include making sacrificial offerings to ancestors, the Lord of the Soil and the Ground and the Moon Goddess or Moon Lady,” says Zhao. “Families also come together for a reunion dinner, indulge in mooncakes and often engage in barbecuing, especially in Taiwan. It’s common to enjoy round-shaped fruits such as peach, pomelo and persimmon. Festivities may also feature traditional performances like the lion dance and dragon dance, with Hong Kong known for its fire-dragon dance.”

While many stories support the history and relevance of the Mid-Autumn Festival, the one that I remember my mother, a Chinese schoolteacher of more than 30 years, telling me centered around a noble lady of the Chinese court, Chang’e, and her selfless act to save her country.

The myth begins in the Tang dynasty (618-907 C.E.), when China was suffering from extreme heat and unsavory conditions that saw crops dry up and villagers perish under the sun. Hou Yi, a highly skilled archer, was called up by the Imperial Court to shoot down nine of the ten scorchingly hot suns circling Earth. Yi was successful and saved humanity, and to thank the hero, the moon gods gave the archer two elixirs granting him everlasting life. Unfortunately, fame got to Yi’s head, and he became a tyrant. Chang’e, Yi’s wife, saw the change in her husband’s personality and feared that if he consumed the elixirs he would be uncontrollable. As a sacrifice, Chang’e swallowed the two elixirs, and the moon gods floated her to the moon as a reward for her selflessness. It is Chang’e who the Chinese look up to during the Moon Festival.

“The myth of Chang’e fleeing to the moon can be traced back to the Huainanzi, known historically as writings of the Prince of Huainan, a philosophical book from the Western Han dynasty,” says Zhao.

Three other tales surrounding the origins of mooncakes are considered anecdotal accounts, rather than myths, he adds. The first two events happened in the Tang dynasty and involve emperors gifting mooncakes to people on the 15th day of the eighth lunar month. In the first version, Emperor Taizong, who reigned from 626 to 649, gave mooncakes to court ministers in celebration of a victorious battle against the Turks, whereas in the second version, Emperor Xizong, who ruled from 873 to 888, offered round-shaped cakes to successful candidates in the imperial service examinations for their hard work.

The third and best-known story suggests that mooncakes played a role in China’s liberation from the Mongols in the 14th century. With prohibitions in place against large gatherings, the Han people baked secret messages about rebelling against the Mongols into the desserts. “Mooncakes were used to conceal strips of paper, which read, ‘Uprising on the 15th night of the eighth month,’” says Zhao. The mass selling and consumption of mooncakes fueled the rebellion, headed by rebel leader Zhu Yuanzhang, which led to the collapse of the Mongols and Yuan dynasty and allowed the Ming dynasty to take over in 1368.

“The myths and legends associated with the Mid-Autumn Festival and the mooncake play a crucial role in preserving our cultural heritage,” says Zhao. “These stories continue to bring people together by connecting them to shared history and traditions, thereby fostering a sense of community and belonging.”

The types of mooncakes available today

To this day, mooncakes still carry messages. However, rather than a missive telling the eater to revolt against the government, more positive words like “harmony,” “prosperity” and “peace” are often stamped on the round sweets, thought to bring longevity to those that eat them.

China, with its more than 30 province-level regions and hundreds of sub-regions, has many types of mooncakes. While the shape is always round to resemble the moon, the fillings and pastries are starkly different. Shanghai mooncakes have a crispy crust that wraps around a date filling. Teochew mooncakes, found in southern China and all around Malaysia, are usually filled with red-bean or sesame paste, whereas Hokkien mooncakes are filled with candied winter melon, tangerine peel and sugar. It’s not unheard of to find savory mooncakes, too. Yunnan mooncakes are filled with ham and honey, and Suzhou mooncakes are stuffed with ground pork and shrimp. But the most common version, sometimes referred to as Cantonese-style mooncakes because Hong Kong began exporting them aggressively in the 1960s following its financial boom, consists of a thin, lard-based outer pastry encasing a thick slab of sweetened red-bean or pureed lotus melon filling.

Mastering a mooncake recipe demands time and patience

I make many Asian sweets from scratch, but mooncakes are not the easiest for home cooks to execute. In fact, they are tricky even for professional chefs.

Chong Huan Ling, a chef at Le Meridien Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia, only started making mooncakes four years ago, when the hotel started offering its own collection of the desserts. “While I wouldn’t say it is difficult, making a mooncake does require a lot of effort and can be quite a tedious process,” she says. “To achieve the perfect pastry for a modern snow-skin dough, you need to cook the flour with rose water, oil and sugar until it forms a dough, then steam it in a steamer to get that chewy consistency. And the filling—that’s a whole different level of hard work, which involves cleaning the beans, boiling them until tender and transforming them into a smooth paste. [It] takes a long time.”

Goh Chin Yan, a 27-year veteran in the culinary industry and chef at JW Marriott in Jakarta, Indonesia, says that while it is incredibly easy to buy mooncakes nowadays, making the small cakes can be a “rewarding yet moderately challenging endeavor, particularly for beginners.”

Goh remembers joining his grandma in the kitchen with the sweet scent of lotus seed paste filling the air as the family gathered to make mooncakes in the 1970s. “The process involves several key steps: preparing the dough, crafting the filling, shaping the mooncakes and, finally, baking them,” he says.

Goh recommends using high-quality ingredients, and he shares that the hydration of both the pastry and filling is critical to a great-tasting mooncake.

“If we talk about the most traditional filling—lotus seeds—you have to take care to focus on making a smooth and creamy filling,” he says. “The texture matters. The moisture content directly impacts the dough’s elasticity and how well it holds together during shaping and baking. If the dough is too dry, it may crack; if too wet, it may struggle to maintain its shape, affecting the overall texture and flavor balance.”

Chef Kent Ooi Hooi Chuan from Renaissance Johor Bahru Hotel in Malaysia makes more than 20,000 mooncakes each year. He agrees that attention and care in making the filling matters. “Your fillings need to be well cooked and thickened properly, that way you set the foundation for a successful baking process that results in visually stunning and delectable mooncakes,” he says. “Do not overlook the importance of texture. Blending the fillings with a blender can elevate the mooncake experience to new heights.”

All chefs agree that while moisture and texture matters, so does a balance of sweetness, which can be heightened with a savory element—such as a salted egg yolk stuffed in the middle of the cake. The yolk symbolizes fertility and prosperity, but, Chuan says, “from a chef’s perspective, it adds a special contrast in flavor, bringing the mooncake to a whole new level.”

Executive chef Lam Yuk Ming of Spring Moon at the Peninsula Hong Kong started making mooncakes at 14 years old. The Michelin-starred chef, who makes more than 70,000 each year during the Mid-Autumn Festival, says that practice makes perfect. “A key tip for success is to practice patience and precision in the dough preparation,” says Lam. “There are shortcuts to making mooncakes, but be sure to perfect the dough by carefully mixing and resting it—this ensures it is pliable yet retains firmness during baking. It is also important to have the filling nicely chilled before baking or else it will crack in the baking process.”

Whether to use lard, butter or vegetable shortening for the dough is a divisive debate, with chefs having strong opinions about which fats make for lighter, flakier pastries. Mooncakes are traditionally shaped in a wooden mold, but they can also be made by hand or formed using cookie cutters or muffin tins.

Even with all the different means to an end, chefs have a mutual respect for the time-honored practice of making mooncakes.

“The tradition of crafting mooncakes is a cherished aspect of Chinese culture,” says Goh. “Making mooncakes preserves our culinary and cultural heritage, and it’s worth the time.”

Michelle Tchea’s Easy Mooncake Recipe

Pastry

• 1 1/8 cup cake flour or low-gluten flour
• 1/2 cup powdered sugar
• 2 teaspoons milk powder
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 teaspoon alkaline water (available at Asian grocers)
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 tablespoons dark corn syrup
• 4 tablespoons butter, room temperature
• A wooden mooncake paddle (or a silicone mold for canelés or mini-muffins)

Filling

32 ounces red-bean paste (found in cans or vacuum-sealed bags at Asian grocers)

Method

1. Sift flour, powdered sugar and milk powder onto a clean work bench and make a well in the center.
2. Mix in the eggs, alkaline water, salt and golden syrup until some of the flour is incorporated in.
3. Add the butter, and use your hands to bring everything together into a rough, oily dough.
4. Set aside and cover with cling wrap as you prepare the filling.
5. Divide the red-bean filling into two-ounce balls, around the size of a large golf ball, and the pastry into three-quarter-ounce balls.
6. Carefully flatten the pastry dough with the palm of your hand and place a ball of filling in the center. Using your fingers, lightly wrap the filling with the pastry—it will be very thin and may tear, so be careful and patient.
7. When the filling is completely covered, place the mooncake into the mold and lightly tap the left, then right side of the paddle before tapping the top and flipping the mooncake out.
8. Place on a lined baking tray and mold the rest of the mooncakes.
9. Bake in a 425-degree Fahrenheit oven for about 15 minutes, until the mooncakes are golden brown. You can add a light egg wash if you want a more intense color to your mooncakes. Let the mooncakes cool completely before enjoying.

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Michelle Tchea is the owner of Chefs Collective and the author of five bestselling books on food, wine and global cuisines. Her work has been published by Time, Conde Nast Traveler and Travel + Leisure.