Tsagaan Sar is always an interesting experience. One part awkwardness, one part frustration, but still somehow worth it all: you get to see how your friends and colleagues live, meet their families (with both adorable grandmothers and adorable children), sing songs and play games. It also gives me the excuse to don my deel—which I never really have an excuse to wear any other time of year (the lack of pockets makes it impractical for daily use).
Tsagaan Sar occurs at a different time each year, aligning to the lunar calendar, and despite the ‘official’ dates—a vain attempt to limit the celebration to a few days each year—it undoubtedly lasts for a week or more. The whole holiday, which celebrates the new year and, simultaneously, the end or ending of winter, is steeped in traditions—some perhaps newer than others.
Tavgiin Edee: a round comestible object made of fried bread (havse) and covered on top with 'white' foods, usually hardened yogurt (aral), candies, and sugar cubes. |
Regardless of age, all these traditions are followed with great alacrity, from the customary ‘greeting’ (laying arms atop each other and sniffing the cheek) to the exchange of snuff bottles by the men (and some women!), to the stacks of fried bread (havse) covered by hardened yogurt (aral) and the convivial calls of “Saihan Shineleerei” (“Please have a good new year”… or something like it).
Most people wear deels, and the site of Mongolians going about in an array of brightly-colored fabrics is, for me, enough to make the world seem a little more magical: crisp crimson, iridescent amaranthine, shimmering chartreuse, popping pink, bright blues ranging from sky-hues to ultramarine… all in different styles with different accessories. It’s a lovely display.
Gifts are given at each home visited—usually by the host or hostess. I’ve received a bottle, two pairs of socks, a shirt, a pen, sweets enough to kill a diabetic, and enough tugrik to cover my taxi costs for the next month. Usually the younger people visit their elders, and so are the recipients of such gifts. However, since my last birthday, I’ve decided I’m a grown-up now (not to mention a victim of American cultural brainwashing) and so the thought of going without bringing SOMETHING is a difficult one for me.
So what do you give the Mongolian who has everything (including, apparently, numerous pairs of socks)? I generally opt for baked goods.
Baked goods for Tsagaan Sar! |
This year, I baked up a variety of gifts for the various homes I visited. My oven has been getting a lot of use lately! So here’s what I made for Tsagaan Sar:
Peach Raisin Muffins |
Pear Raisin Muffins. Muffins are kind of nice because they don’t require any cutting (yay individual servings!) and they’re kind of novel as far as a baked good goes in Mongolia. To make a batch, I used about two cups of pears and maybe about half a cup of raisins (soaked in the milk that muffin recipes generally call for in order to make the raisins a little plumper). I’ve been looking for more creative ways to make use of all the canned and jarred fruits available here. (Pears courtesy of a gift I got during the last pizza party I hosted.)
Oatmeal Raisin Cookies |
Oatmeal Raisin Cookies. I made these a while ago and threw them into my freezer for whenever I might need them. I decided it was time to finally cook them (and make room in my freezer, already filled with cooked beans and pie crusts!). I’ve always admired how easily cookies can be made cute. After baking and cooling, I wrapped them in stacks of four and tied them with strips of cloth left over from my current quilting project (shout out to Bianca!). Adorable, right?
Wrapped Apple Cinnamon Raisin Bread |
Apple Cinnamon Bread. I sort of consider this my signature baked good at this point. I adapted it from a recipe for zucchini bread and it’s been a big hit whenever I’ve made it. I’ve gotten SO many requests for the recipe (even to the point of my hashaa brother invading my house so he and I could make it together!). So of course I chose to make it for Tsagaan Sar. I usually make two loafs in one batch (which is super useful, because here in Uliastai, there’s always someone who helped me with something and who I want to thank).
It takes time to make, though, (no food processor, so chopping takes me about an hour and a half; about the length of a movie, which I almost always watch simultaneously) and I have had so many homes to visit, so I’ve been making mini-loafs. In one batch, I can make six of these little guys, and they’re super cute. Making time is usually about 20% shorter, too.
Apple Cinnamon Bread Mini-Loaf |
All the baked goods have been well-received, and I expect a fair turnout for a baking series I’m planning on launching (hopefully) in the next few weeks (along with an exercise class… hopefully to negate some of weight-gain baking tends to precipitate!). When I leave, I hope people will still be able to enjoy the breads and muffins I made for them when I was here—and maybe take some joy both from the process of baking and the memory of a Peace Corps volunteer who was also a friend.
I don’t usually dedicate blogs, but this one is dedicated to Bianca, who instilled in me a love for baking—not for myself, but for others. Thanks, Bianca!
Cheers,
Karen