Some ingredients shout; this one whispers. Dried tangerine peel (陈皮, chén pí) is one of those quiet building blocks that a lot of Chinese home cooking leans on without ever announcing itself — a fragrant, slightly bitter, citrusy note that adds depth and cuts through richness. You may have tasted it in a bowl of red bean soup or a slow braise and never known what it was. Here's what it is, and how to put it to use.

What it actually is

Dried tangerine peel is exactly what it sounds like: the peel of tangerines (or mandarin oranges), dried and aged. Fresh peel is sharp and raw; drying and aging it mellows that into something rounder — fragrant and citrusy up front, with a gentle, pleasant bitterness underneath. The longer it's aged, the more prized (and pricier) it becomes, with well-aged peel developing a deep, almost sweet complexity.

For everyday cooking you don't need the rare aged stuff — ordinary dried tangerine peel from any Chinese grocery does the job beautifully.

The ways it's actually used at home

1. In sweet soups. A small piece of tangerine peel dropped into a pot of red bean soup or sweet mung bean soup adds a fragrant, slightly citrusy lift that cuts the richness and keeps the sweetness from feeling flat. It's a classic, subtle addition — most people can't name it, but they notice the soup tastes more interesting.

2. In savory braises and soups. This is where tangerine peel really earns its keep. A piece simmered into a red-braised dish, a pot of slow-cooked broth, or a steamed dish adds a warm, aromatic backbone that balances fatty, rich, or heavy flavors. It's one of those ingredients that makes a braise taste layered and "restaurant-like" without you being able to say quite why.

3. Steeped into tea. A small piece steeped in hot water, sometimes with other dried fruits, makes a fragrant, gently bitter-sweet brew.

How to use it

• Soak it first. Dried peel is hard and brittle. Soak it in warm water for 10–20 minutes until it softens and becomes pliable before adding it to a dish.
• Scrape the white pith (optional). The white inner layer can be a little more bitter. If you want a cleaner flavor, gently scrape some of it away after soaking — though for most home cooking it's not essential.
• Use a little. The flavor is concentrated. A small piece — a few square centimeters — is plenty for a pot; too much can turn things bitter.
• Fish it out or leave it in. Some people remove the peel before serving; others leave it in. Your call.

How to buy and store it

• Look for dry, fragrant, curled pieces. Good dried tangerine peel is dry, hard, and still noticeably fragrant when you sniff it. Darker, older peel is often more valued for its deeper flavor.
• It keeps for years. In fact, age improves it. Store it sealed and completely dry, away from moisture, and it only gets better with time — some households keep and age their own for years.

Put it to use

The easiest place to try tangerine peel is in a sweet soup where it plays a supporting role — a piece in red bean soup is a lovely introduction. It's on the Pantry page alongside the other staples, and part of the wider world of Chinese sweet soups — though, as you'll have gathered, this is one dried good that reaches well beyond the sweet-soup pot.

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Open almost any recipe on this site and you'll see the same sweetener: rock sugar, not white sugar. It's one of the quiet defining choices of Chinese sweet soups — and once you understand why, you'll reach for it too. Rock sugar (冰糖, bīng táng) gives a cleaner, mellower, less sharp sweetness than granulated white sugar, and it's the traditional choice for tong sui, teas, and even savory braises.

Here's what it actually is, how it differs from the white sugar in your cupboard, and how to use it.

What it actually is

Rock sugar is crystallized sugar — sugar that's been dissolved and allowed to recrystallize slowly into hard, chunky, translucent lumps, somewhere between a large crystal and a small rock. It comes in two colors: clear/white and a pale amber-yellow. The yellow kind is slightly less refined and has a faint, gentle molasses note; the clear kind is cleaner and more neutral. For most sweet soups, either works — it's a matter of preference.

The key difference you'll taste: rock sugar dissolves into a rounder, mellower, less aggressive sweetness than granulated white sugar. White sugar can taste sharp and one-dimensional; rock sugar's sweetness is smoother and lets the other flavors — the caramel of red dates, the honey of longan, the nuttiness of sesame — come through instead of covering them up.

Rock sugar vs white sugar: does it really matter?

For everyday baking, no — white sugar is fine. But for the gentle, lightly-sweet world of tong sui, rock sugar genuinely makes a difference:

• Cleaner sweetness. It rounds out a soup without making it cloying, which is the whole point of tong sui — you want lightly sweet, refreshing, not dessert-sweet.
• It's traditional. Generations of Chinese home cooks have used it for sweet soups and braises, and recipes are written with its milder sweetness in mind.
• It dissolves slowly. This is actually handy — you add it and let it melt into a simmering pot, tasting as you go, rather than dumping in a measured amount all at once.

Can you substitute white sugar? Yes, in a pinch — but use a little less, since white sugar tastes sharper, and add it gradually to taste. The result will be slightly less mellow, but perfectly good.

How to use it

• Add it near the end. In most sweet soups, you sweeten after the main ingredients have softened — sugar added too early can keep beans and seeds from getting tender. Stir in the rock sugar toward the end and let it dissolve.
• Taste as you go. Because it dissolves slowly, it's easy to add a little at a time and stop when it's right. Tong sui should be gently sweet, not syrupy — start with less than you think.
• Break up large lumps. Big chunks take longer to dissolve; if yours come as large rocks, give them a gentle smash so they melt faster.
• It works in savory dishes too. A small piece of rock sugar is classic in red-braised dishes, balancing salty soy with a subtle rounded sweetness.

How to buy and store it

• Clear or yellow — your call. Both are widely sold. Yellow has a touch more character; clear is more neutral. Start with whichever you find.
• It keeps almost forever. Rock sugar is shelf-stable and doesn't really spoil — just keep it sealed and dry so the lumps don't absorb moisture and clump.
• A bag lasts ages. You use fairly little at a time, so even a small bag goes a long way.

Put it to use

Rock sugar is the sweetener in nearly every recipe here — the silky chilled snow fungus soup with pear, the cozy black sesame soup, the summery red bean soup, and more. It's one of the cornerstones of Chinese sweet soups, and it's on the Pantry page if you need to stock up.

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If you've had the fresh longan fruit — those small, translucent, lychee-like orbs — you know they're delicate and floral. Dried longan (桂圆, guì yuán) is a completely different creature: shriveled, dark, and chewy, with a deep, honeyed, almost smoky sweetness that's far more interesting than a raisin. It's one of the most useful things you can keep in a Chinese sweet-soup pantry, and one of the most overlooked by newcomers.

Here's what it actually is, the everyday ways it gets used at home, and how to buy and store it.

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What it actually is

Dried longan is simply fresh longan fruit that's been dried until the flesh turns dark brown, chewy, and concentrated. Drying transforms it the way it transforms a grape into a raisin — but the result is richer and more complex, with a warm, molasses-like sweetness and a faint smokiness.

You'll usually find it sold two ways: still in the shell (round, tan, brittle shells you crack off), or already shelled and pitted — soft dark nuggets often labeled "longan meat" (桂圆肉). For cooking, the shelled kind saves you a fiddly step and is what most people reach for.

The 3 ways it's actually used at home

1. Simmered into sweet soups. This is the heart of it. Dried longan adds a deep, honeyed sweetness to tong sui that rock sugar alone can't give — it's less "sugary" and more "warm and rounded." It pairs especially well with red dates, the two of them forming the backbone of countless bowls.

2. Steeped into tea. Dried longan and red dates steeped in hot water make a naturally sweet, honeyed brew with no sugar needed — one of the simplest daily drinks in the whole repertoire. There's a full guide to the five-minute red date and longan tea if you want to try it.

3. Added to congee and rice. A small handful stirred into rice porridge, or steamed with glutinous rice, adds little pockets of caramel-honey sweetness and a chewy texture.

Its natural partner is the red date — if you keep the two together, you're a long way toward most of the sweet soups and teas in the Chinese repertoire.

How to choose and store it

• Look for soft, dark, plump pieces. Good shelled longan is a deep glossy brown and still slightly soft and chewy. Avoid pieces that are rock-hard, dusty, or overly shriveled — they're old and won't give up much flavor.
• Shelled saves you the work. Buying "longan meat" (already shelled and pitted) skips the fiddly cracking step. Whole in-shell longan is often cheaper and keeps a little longer, if you don't mind the prep.
• Store it sealed and cool. Keep it airtight, away from light and moisture. It keeps for many months; in a humid kitchen, the fridge is the safe bet.
• A little goes a long way. A small handful is plenty for a pot of soup or a pot of tea, so a bag lasts a good while.

Where to get it

Any Chinese or pan-Asian grocery carries it, usually in the dried-goods aisle — look for both the in-shell and the "longan meat" versions. If you'd rather order online, it's on my Pantry page along with the other sweet-soup staples.

Want to put it to use right away? It's the honeyed half of the simple red date and longan tea, and a lovely addition to many Chinese sweet soups.

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Dried lotus seeds (莲子) are a lovely addition to sweet soups and congee — soft, starchy, and mild, somewhere between a chickpea and a chestnut. But two things go wrong for first-timers again and again: the seeds turn out unpleasantly bitter, or they stay stubbornly hard no matter how long they cook. Both are easy to fix once you know what's causing them.

Here's the whole thing: why it happens, and the couple of small steps that give you soft, sweet, tender lotus seeds every time.

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Where the bitterness comes from: the green core

The single most common reason lotus seeds taste bitter is a tiny part most people don't know to look for: the green germ (莲芯) running through the center of the seed. It's a small, thread-like green sprout, and it is genuinely bitter — one left in a whole pot can throw off the flavor of the whole thing.

So the fix is simple: remove it.

• Check whether yours are already de-cored. Many dried lotus seeds sold for cooking are already split and have the core removed — look closely, and if you see the seeds are halved with a small hollow channel down the middle, the work is done for you.
• If they're whole, soak them briefly to soften, then either split each seed with your fingers or a small knife and pull out the green thread, or push it out with a toothpick from one end. It's a little fiddly, but it's a one-time job and it's the difference between sweet and bitter.

If you're buying lotus seeds specifically for sweet soups, look for ones labeled as de-cored or "core removed" — it saves you the whole step.

Where the hardness comes from: not soaking

The other complaint — seeds that stay chalky and firm even after a long simmer — almost always comes down to skipping the soak. Dried lotus seeds are dense, and cooked straight from dry they take a very long time and often cook unevenly.

The fix: soak them in cool water for 1–2 hours (or longer — even overnight is fine) before cooking. This rehydrates them so they cook through evenly and turn properly soft and creamy in a reasonable time. A quick rinse first, then let them sit in plenty of water.

How to cook them soft

Once de-cored and soaked, lotus seeds are easy:

1. Drain the soaked seeds and add them to your pot with fresh water or your soup base.
2. Bring to a boil, then lower to a gentle simmer.
3. Simmer for about 30–40 minutes, until they're soft enough to crush easily between your fingers. Older, drier seeds may want a little longer.
4. If you're adding them to a sweet soup, add any rock sugar after they've softened — sugar added too early can keep them firm.

That's it: soft, tender, faintly sweet lotus seeds, no bitterness.

Quick troubleshooting

• Still bitter after cooking. The green core was still in. Check every seed next time, or buy the de-cored kind.
• Still hard after 40 minutes. They probably weren't soaked long enough, or they're old stock — give them a longer soak and a longer simmer.
• How many do I use? A small handful goes a long way in a pot of soup; they roughly double in size once soaked and cooked.

Put them to use

Lotus seeds are a classic partner to snow fungus in sweet soups — try them in a chilled snow fungus soup with pear, where they add a soft, starchy contrast. They're one of the staples of Chinese sweet soups, and they're on the Pantry page if you need to stock up.

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Dried snow fungus (银耳) comes as a hard, pale, crinkled disc that looks a little like a dried sponge or a piece of coral — and if you drop it straight into a pot, you'll be disappointed. The secret to that silky, gently gelatinous texture everyone loves in snow fungus soup isn't in the cooking at all. It's in the soaking, trimming, and tearing you do first.

It's genuinely easy once you know the steps, but almost every part of it trips up first-timers. Here's how to do it properly, and why each step matters.

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Step 1: Soak it until it blooms

Put the whole dried snow fungus in a large bowl and cover it generously with cool or room-temperature water. It expands a lot as it rehydrates — often to several times its dry size — so give it plenty of room and plenty of water.

Let it soak for 20–30 minutes, until it opens up ("blooms") into a soft, ruffled, flower-like shape and there are no hard or crunchy bits left in the thick parts. If your kitchen is cold, or the fungus is on the larger side, it may want the full 30 minutes or a touch longer.

Cool water, not hot. It's tempting to rush it with boiling water, but hot water makes the outside go slippery while the inside stays firm, and it can dull the texture. A slower soak in cool water gives you a more even, silkier result. If you're short on time, lukewarm water is a reasonable middle ground — but don't use boiling.

Step 2: Cut off the hard yellow base (don't skip this)

This is the step most people miss, and it's the one that leaves you chewing on rubbery bits later. At the center of the bloomed fungus, where all the ruffles meet, there's a firm, compact, often yellowish core or "foot." This part never softens, no matter how long you cook it.

Once the fungus has bloomed, flip it over, find that dense center, and cut it away with kitchen scissors or a small knife. Discard it. You're keeping only the soft, ruffled petals.

Step 3: Tear it into small pieces

Don't cook it whole. Tear the softened fungus into small, bite-sized pieces with your fingers — roughly the size of a large coin or smaller.

Two reasons this matters: smaller pieces release their silky, slightly gelatinous quality into the soup much more readily (that's what thickens and enriches the liquid), and they're far nicer to eat than trying to spoon and bite through a whole cooked cluster. The smaller you tear it, the silkier and more cohesive your finished soup will be.

Step 4: Rinse and it's ready

Give the torn pieces a quick rinse under cool water to wash off any grit, and they're ready for the pot. From here, they'll want a slow simmer — around 40–60 minutes — to fully release that signature texture, but that's the cooking, and it's a different story.

Quick troubleshooting

• It's still crunchy after cooking. You almost certainly left the hard base in, or didn't soak long enough. Soak fully, and always remove that center core.
• It never got silky/gelatinous. Two usual causes: the pieces were too big (tear them smaller), or it simply needed a longer, gentler simmer. Snow fungus rewards patience.
• It turned slimy and slippery on the outside but stayed hard inside. Classic sign of soaking in water that was too hot. Use cool water and give it time.
• How much dry fungus do I need? A little goes a long way — one whole dried piece (about 15–20g) is plenty for a pot serving about four.

Put it to use

Now that you know how to prep it, the classic place to start is a chilled snow fungus soup with pear — silky, lightly sweet, and served cold. Snow fungus is one of the cornerstones of Chinese sweet soups, and it's on the Pantry page if you need to stock up.

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If you've simmered any of the sweet soups on this site, you've almost certainly used red dates — those wrinkled, deep-red dried fruits that quietly sweeten the pot from the background. They're one of the most-used dried goods in a Chinese kitchen, and one of the most misunderstood by newcomers, who often aren't sure what they are, what they taste like, or what to actually do with them.

Here's the plain-English introduction: what red dates are, the everyday ways they're used at home, and how to choose and prep them so you get the most out of them.

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What they actually are

Red dates (红枣, hóng zǎo) — also called jujubes — are small dried fruits with a chewy texture and a deep, caramel-like sweetness. They're not related to the large, sticky Medjool dates you might know; jujubes are smaller, firmer, and less sugary, with a flavor closer to a cross between a date and a dried apple, rounded out with a faint molasses note.

Dried, they keep for months. They're almost never eaten raw by the handful — instead they go into a pot, where heat and time draw out that caramel sweetness into whatever they're cooking.

The 4 ways they're actually used at home

1. Simmered into sweet soups. This is the classic role. Red dates are the quiet base note in a huge share of tong sui — they add a natural caramel sweetness that means you need less rock sugar. You'll find them in snow fungus soup, peach gum soup, and many more.

2. Steeped into tea. Red dates and dried longan steeped in hot water make a naturally sweet, honeyed tea with no sugar needed — one of the simplest daily drinks in the repertoire. There's a whole guide to the five-minute red date and longan tea if you want to try it.

3. Added to savory soups and braises. A few red dates dropped into a long-simmered savory soup or braise add a subtle, rounding sweetness that balances salty and rich flavors. They melt quietly into the background rather than making the dish taste "sweet."

4. Cooked into congee and rice. Torn red dates stirred into a pot of rice porridge, or steamed with glutinous rice, add little pockets of caramel sweetness and colour to an otherwise plain bowl.

The one prep trick worth knowing: tear them open

Here's the single most useful thing to know about cooking with red dates: tear them open before they go in the pot. A whole dried date has tough skin that holds most of its flavor inside — steeped or simmered whole, it releases surprisingly little. Torn open (or halved and pitted), it gives up far more of that caramel sweetness into the liquid.

It takes a few seconds with your fingers, and it's the difference between a faintly sweet pot and a properly flavored one.

How to choose and store them

• Look for plump, glossy dates. Good red dates are a deep, rich red with a slightly wrinkled but full, plump body. Avoid ones that look shriveled, dull, or dry and hard — they're past their best and won't give up much flavor.
• Whole or pitted, your choice. Pitted dates save you the step of removing pits; whole ones are often cheaper and keep a little better. Either works.
• Store them airtight and cool. Sealed away from light and moisture, they keep for many months. If your kitchen is humid, the fridge is a safe bet.

Where to get them

Any Chinese or pan-Asian grocery carries them, usually in the dried-goods aisle, sold whole or pitted. If you'd rather order online, they're on my Pantry page along with the other sweet-soup staples.

Want to put them to use? They're the backbone of the chilled snow fungus soup with pear, and the star of the simple red date and longan tea.

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If you've ever stood in the aisle of a Chinese grocery store holding your phone, squinting at a recipe and trying to figure out which of the forty soy sauces you actually need, this guide is for you.

Here's the good news: you don't need forty bottles. A genuinely useful Chinese pantry comes down to a small core of ingredients that quietly do most of the work. Get these twelve, and you'll be able to cook a weeknight stir-fry and simmer a pot of silky sweet soup without a second trip to the store.

I've split the list into two halves. The first six are the savory foundations — the bottles and dried goods behind everyday cooking. The last six are the nourishing dried goods, the pantry treasures behind the slow-simmered sweet soups and gentle teas that give this kitchen its name. For each one, you'll get what it is, two or three easy ways to use it, and one buying tip.

Part 1 — The Savory Foundations

These are the workhorses. If you cook anything savory, these six earn their shelf space first.

1. Light Soy Sauce (生抽, shēng chōu)

The everyday workhorse — salty, thin, and lighter in color than you might expect. When a recipe just says "soy sauce," this is almost always what it means. It seasons, it dips, it forms the backbone of countless sauces.

Use it for: stir-fries, marinades, dressing blanched greens, dumpling dipping sauces.

Buying tip: Look for "light" or "thin" on the label. Pearl River Bridge and Lee Kum Kee are reliable brands you'll find almost anywhere.

2. Dark Soy Sauce (老抽, lǎo chōu)

Thicker, darker, and a touch sweet. You use it in small amounts, mostly for color rather than salt — it's what gives a braise that deep, glossy mahogany look. It is not a one-for-one swap for light soy.

Use it for: red-braised dishes, fried rice color, glazing.

Buying tip: A little goes a long way, so one bottle lasts months. Keep it separate in your mind from light soy — they do different jobs.

3. Shaoxing Wine (绍兴酒, shào xīng jiǔ)

A fermented rice wine and the single most "where did that flavor come from?" ingredient on this list. It rounds out savory dishes and takes the raw edge off meat and seafood.

Use it for: a splash into almost any stir-fry, braise, or marinade.

Buying tip: Find the cooking version in the Asian-foods aisle. Dry sherry is a passable substitute in a pinch, but the real thing is cheap and worth it.

4. Toasted Sesame Oil (香油, xiāng yóu)

Deep amber and intensely fragrant. This is a finishing oil, not a cooking oil — you add it off the heat, at the end, for aroma. Cook with it and you'll lose the very thing you bought it for.

Use it for: a few drops over soups, noodles, and dressings right before serving.

Buying tip: Buy "toasted" (the dark kind), not plain sesame oil. Store it somewhere cool so it stays fragrant.

5. Dried Shiitake Mushrooms (香菇, xiāng gū)

Dried mushrooms carry a savory depth that fresh ones simply can't match. As a bonus, the water you soak them in becomes an instant, flavorful broth — never throw it away.

Use it for: soups, braises, and fillings; save the soaking liquid as stock.

Buying tip: Soak in warm water for 30 minutes or more until soft. Sealed in a jar, they keep for a year.

6. Rock Sugar (冰糖, bīng táng)

Crystallized sugar that melts into a clean, mellow sweetness — rounder and less sharp than granulated. It's the traditional choice for sweet soups and for balancing savory braises.

Use it for: sweet dessert soups, red-braised dishes, herbal teas.

Buying tip: Sold as yellow or white lumps; either works. Start with a small bag.

Part 2 — The Nourishing Dried Goods

This is where a Chinese pantry starts to feel different from a Western one. These six dried goods are the building blocks of tong sui — the slow-simmered sweet soups and gentle teas that have been everyday comfort food in Chinese homes for generations. They keep for months, so a small stock goes a long way.

7. Goji Berries (枸杞, gǒu qǐ)

Small, soft, red-orange dried berries with a mild sweet-tart flavor. In the West they get tossed into smoothies, but in a Chinese kitchen they belong in something warm — added in the last few minutes of a soup or tea so they plump up without turning to mush.

Use it for: soups, teas, congee, and steamed dishes; a quick rinse is all the prep they need. There's a whole guide to how Chinese home cooks actually use them if you want to go deeper.

Buying tip: Look for plump, bright berries rather than dull brown ones. Keep them in the fridge once opened.

8. Red Dates / Jujube (红枣, hóng zǎo)

Dried jujubes with a chewy, caramel-like sweetness. They're the quiet base note in countless home-style sweet soups, and they pair beautifully with goji berries.

Use it for: simmering into soups and teas — the simplest being a five-minute red date and longan tea.

Buying tip: Sold whole or pitted — pitted saves you a step. Tear them open before cooking to release more flavor.

9. Dried Snow Fungus (银耳, yín ěr)

A pale, ruffled mushroom — also called tremella — that looks like a piece of dried coral and transforms into something silky and gently gelatinous when cooked. It's the star of the most classic Chinese sweet soup.

Use it for: slow-simmered sweet soups with rock sugar, red dates, and goji, like this chilled snow fungus soup with pear.

Buying tip: Soak for 20–30 minutes until it blooms open, then snip off the firm yellow base before cooking.

10. Dried Longan (桂圆, guì yuán)

Shelled, dried longan fruit — dark, chewy, with a honeyed, almost smoky sweetness that's far more interesting than a raisin.

Use it for: sweet soups and teas, especially alongside red dates.

Buying tip: Buy it already shelled and pitted (often labeled "longan meat"). Store sealed and cool.

11. Black Sesame (黑芝麻, hēi zhī ma)

Tiny black seeds with a rich, nutty, slightly bitter depth. Toasting them in a dry pan for a minute wakes up the aroma dramatically — don't skip it.

Use it for: grinding into a warm black sesame soup, sprinkling over rice and greens, or folding into fillings.

Buying tip: Buy them raw and toast them yourself for the best fragrance.

12. Lotus Seeds (莲子, lián zǐ)

Pale dried seeds that cook up soft and starchy — somewhere between a chickpea and a chestnut. A classic partner to snow fungus in sweet soups.

Use it for: sweet soups and congee.

Buying tip: If you spot a tiny green sprout in the center, remove it — it's bitter. Many are sold already de-cored, which saves the trouble.

What to buy first

Twelve sounds like a lot, so don't feel you need it all in one trip. If you want a simple starting order:

• Cooking savory food this week? Start with light soy, Shaoxing wine, and toasted sesame oil. Those three unlock most everyday dishes.
• Want to try your first sweet soup? Grab rock sugar, dried snow fungus, red dates, and goji berries — that's a classic combination in one pot.

Everything else you can add as recipes call for it.

A note on storage

The bottles (soy sauces, sesame oil) are happiest in a cool cupboard, with sesame oil and opened soy keeping best in the fridge over the long run. The dried goods all store the same way: sealed containers, away from light and heat. Goji berries are the one exception worth refrigerating once opened, since they're softer and more prone to clumping.

Where to buy

Your local Chinese or pan-Asian grocery is the cheapest and most fun place to shop for all of this. If you don't have one nearby, every item on this list is available online — the specific brands and types I'd reach for are all on the Pantry page, along with the few tools worth owning.

Stock even half of this list and you've got the foundation for dozens of dishes. The natural next step is to put those dried goods to use — and the gentlest place to start is a bowl of tong sui, the Chinese sweet soup tradition these ingredients were practically made for.

→ Read next: What Is Tong Sui? A Beginner's Guide to Chinese Sweet Soups

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You've probably seen goji berries scattered over a smoothie bowl or blended into a "superfood" shake. That's fine — but it isn't really how they're used where they come from. In a Chinese kitchen, goji berries almost never end up in a blender. They go into something warm: a pot of soup near the end, a simple tea, a bowl of congee. Understanding that shift is the difference between a novelty topping and an ingredient you actually reach for.

If you've made any of the sweet soups on this site, you've already used them — that bright red scattering added in the last few minutes. Here's a proper introduction to what they are, how to choose them, and the everyday ways they're used at home.

What they actually are

Goji berries (枸杞, gǒu qǐ) are small, soft, red-orange dried berries with a mild, sweet-tart flavor — think of a raisin crossed with a dried cranberry, but gentler and less sugary. They come dried, and they need almost no preparation: a quick rinse is usually all it takes. They plump up and soften when they meet heat or liquid, which is why they're almost always added to something rather than eaten by the handful.

The 5 ways they're actually used at home

1. Tossed into soups at the end. This is the classic move. Goji berries go into sweet soups and savory broths alike in the last 5 minutes of cooking — long enough to plump up, not so long that they turn to mush. You've seen this in snow fungus soup and red bean soup.

2. Steeped in tea. A small handful in a cup or pot, often with red dates, makes a gentle, naturally sweet tea. Just add hot water and let it sit a few minutes. One of the simplest daily uses there is.

3. Stirred into congee. Added near the end of a pot of rice porridge, they bring little bursts of sweetness and color to an otherwise plain, savory bowl.

4. Scattered over steamed dishes. A few goji berries on top of steamed egg custard, steamed chicken, or fish add a pop of color and a subtle sweetness that plays nicely against savory flavors.

5. Simmered in broths and braises. In slow-cooked savory soups and braises, they melt into the background, adding a faint sweetness and richness to the liquid.

Notice what's not on this list: raw, by the handful, or blitzed into a smoothie. You can do those things — but the warm, gentle uses are where goji berries really belong.

How to choose and store them

• Look for plump, bright berries. Good goji berries are a vivid red-orange and slightly soft. Avoid ones that look dull, brown, or hard — they're past their best.
• Check they're loose, not clumped. A little clumping is normal, but a solid brick usually means they've absorbed moisture.
• Store them airtight. Keep them sealed and away from light. Once opened, the fridge is the safest place — they're soft and can clump or spoil in a humid pantry.
• A little goes a long way. You rarely need more than a tablespoon or two at a time, so a bag lasts a good while.

Where to get them

Any Chinese or pan-Asian grocery will have them, usually near the dried goods. If you'd rather order online, they're on my Pantry page along with the other sweet-soup staples.

Want to put them to use right away? They're the finishing touch in the chilled snow fungus soup with pear, and lovely simmered into red bean soup.

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After a run of chilled summer soups, here's one to reach for when you want something warm — soft chunks of sweet potato in a light, fragrant ginger syrup. Sweet potato and ginger soup (姜汁番薯糖水) is one of the simplest sweet soups in the whole repertoire: three main ingredients, one pot, and about half an hour. It's the kind of humble, comforting bowl that turns up on cooler evenings, and it's a lovely, gentle introduction to cooking tong sui.

The magic here is the pairing — the mellow, honeyed softness of sweet potato against the warm bite of ginger, tied together with just enough rock sugar. Nothing fancy, and all the better for it.

Just three things to get right

This soup is almost impossible to mess up, but a few small choices make it better:

• Pick a good sweet potato. The orange-fleshed kind gives a sweeter, creamier soup; yellow-fleshed ones are firmer and less sweet. Either works — just know what you're getting.
• Use plenty of ginger, sliced. Fresh ginger is the whole character of this soup. Slice it thin (peeling optional) so it releases its flavor into the syrup as it simmers. More ginger, more warmth.
• Don't overcook the sweet potato. You want the chunks soft but still holding their shape, not collapsed into mush. Add them once the ginger syrup is going, and check with a chopstick.

Ingredients

Makes about 4 servings

• 2 medium sweet potatoes (番薯), about 500g
• A generous thumb of fresh ginger (姜), about 30–40g, thinly sliced
• 50–70g rock sugar (冰糖), to taste (brown sugar or 片糖 also works, for a deeper flavor)
• About 1.2–1.5 liters (5–6 cups) water

How to make it

1. Prep. Peel the sweet potatoes and cut them into bite-sized chunks. Slice the ginger thinly.

2. Start the ginger syrup. Add the ginger, rock sugar, and water to a pot. Bring to a boil, then simmer for about 10 minutes to let the ginger infuse the water.

3. Add the sweet potato. Add the sweet potato chunks and simmer gently for about 15–20 minutes, until they're soft enough to pierce easily with a chopstick but still holding their shape.

4. Taste and serve. Adjust the sugar to taste. Serve warm, with a few slices of ginger in each bowl. It's a warming soup at heart — best enjoyed hot.

Tips

• Try it with brown sugar or 片糖 (slab sugar). For a deeper, more caramel-like syrup, swap some or all of the rock sugar. It's a common variation and very good.
• Adjust the ginger to taste. Start with less if you're ginger-shy, more if you love the warmth. You can always simmer a bit longer for a stronger kick.
• Add a few small tang yuan. For a heartier bowl, drop in some small glutinous rice balls in the last few minutes — a classic addition, especially in winter.
• Keeps well. It reheats beautifully, and the ginger flavor deepens overnight.

Building your sweet soup pantry

Rock sugar and fresh ginger are worth keeping on hand for sweet soups year-round. The dried staples for the rest of the recipes here are on the Pantry page.

If you liked this warm, simple bowl, you might enjoy the cozy black sesame soup next. For something lighter, there's the red date and longan tea.

New sweet soup recipes land here every week — subscribe below to cook along.

Most of the sweet soups on this site ask for a slow simmer and a bit of patience. This one asks for almost nothing. Drop a few dried red dates and a handful of dried longan into hot water, wait a few minutes, and you have a cup that tastes like warm caramel and honey — naturally sweet, with no sugar added at all.

It's the humblest thing in the whole tong sui family, and probably the one that gets made most often. In plenty of Chinese homes there's a jar of red dates and longan sitting next to the tea, and a cup of this is simply what you reach for in the afternoon, the way someone else might reach for a coffee.

If you've been curious about these ingredients but haven't wanted to commit to a whole pot of soup, start here.

Why it works with no added sugar

Dried red dates (红枣) have a deep, chewy, caramel-like sweetness, and dried longan (桂圆) is honeyed and faintly smoky. Steep them together and both release that sweetness into the water — the result is genuinely sweet without a grain of sugar. Adding rock sugar is optional, and most people don't bother.

Tearing the dates open before steeping makes a real difference: it lets much more flavor out. It's the one small move worth remembering.

Ingredients

Makes 1 large cup, or 2 small

• 4–5 dried red dates (红枣), torn open or pitted and halved
• A small handful of dried longan (桂圆), about 8–10 pieces
• 300–400ml (about 1½ cups) hot water
• Optional: a few goji berries (枸杞), added at the end
• Optional: a thin slice or two of fresh ginger, for a warming version
• Optional: a small piece of rock sugar, if you want it sweeter

How to make it

The quick way (steeping):

1. Prep the dates. Rinse the red dates and tear each one open with your fingers, or halve and remove the pits. This is what lets the flavor out.

2. Steep. Put the torn dates and longan into a mug, teapot, or heatproof jar. Pour over hot (just-boiled) water.

3. Wait. Let it steep for 5–10 minutes. The water will turn a warm amber-brown and taste sweet. Longer steeping means deeper flavor.

4. Finish. Add a few goji berries in the last minute or two if using — they only need to plump up. Sip, and top up the same dates with more hot water for a second cup.

The slower way (simmering):

For a richer, deeper brew, put the dates and longan into a small pot with the water, bring to a boil, then simmer gently for 10–15 minutes. This pulls out much more flavor, and the drink turns noticeably darker and sweeter. Add goji berries at the very end.

Tips

• Tear the dates. Whole dried dates release very little; torn open, they release a lot.
• Refill and re-steep. One batch of dates and longan is good for two or even three cups of hot water.
• Add ginger when it's cold out. A slice or two of fresh ginger turns it into a warming winter drink.
• Eat the fruit. The softened dates and longan at the bottom of the cup are lovely to eat once you've finished the tea.
• Make a jar of it. Steep a big batch in a thermos in the morning and sip it through the day.

Building your sweet soup pantry

Red dates and longan are two of the most useful things to keep in a Chinese pantry — they turn up in almost every sweet soup on this site. Both are on the Pantry page, along with the other staples I use.

Ready for something more substantial? Try the silky chilled snow fungus soup with pear, which uses red dates too, or the glossy peach gum dessert soup.

New sweet soup recipes land here every week — subscribe below to cook along.

If you've scrolled past a bowl of glistening, amber, jelly-like cubes floating in a clear sweet soup and wondered what on earth it was — this is it. Peach gum (桃胶, táo jiāo) has become a bit of a social-media darling, and for good reason: once soaked and simmered, it turns into soft, wobbly, translucent nuggets with a lovely gentle bounce, suspended in a light, barely-sweet soup. It looks like something far fussier than it is.

Peach gum is exactly what it sounds like — the dried resin that seeps from peach tree bark, collected and sold in hard amber crystals. On its own it has almost no flavor; its whole appeal is texture. That makes it a perfect canvas for a simple sweet soup, usually alongside snow fungus and red dates.

There's really only one thing you need to get right, and it happens the night before you cook.

The key step: soaking (start the night before)

Dried peach gum is rock-hard, and it needs a long soak to bloom into those soft, jelly-like pieces. This is the step that makes or breaks the dessert:

1. Soak it long and cold. Rinse the peach gum, then soak it in plenty of cool water for at least 8–12 hours, or overnight. It expands a lot — often several times its dry size — so use a big bowl and plenty of water.
2. Pick out the impurities. This is the part most first-timers miss. As peach gum soaks and softens, you'll see little dark bits, specks of bark, or hard cloudy cores. Pull these out and discard them — they don't soften and they're not pleasant to eat. Good, cleaned peach gum should look clear and amber.
3. Rinse well before cooking.

Skip or rush the soak and you'll get hard, gritty pieces. Do it properly and they turn silky and bouncy. Plan ahead — this isn't a same-hour dessert.

Ingredients

Makes about 4 servings

• 15–20g dried peach gum (桃胶), soaked overnight (see above)
• ½ a dried snow fungus (银耳), soaked and torn (optional but classic)
• 5–6 dried red dates (红枣)
• 40–50g rock sugar (冰糖), to taste
• 1–2 tablespoons goji berries (枸杞)
• About 1.2–1.5 liters (5–6 cups) water

How to make it

1. Prep the day before. Soak the peach gum overnight and clean it as described above. If using snow fungus, soak it too (20–30 min), trim the firm base, and tear into small pieces.

2. Simmer the base. Add the snow fungus, red dates, and water to a pot. Bring to a boil, then lower to a gentle simmer for about 30 minutes, until the snow fungus starts to soften and turn silky.

3. Add the peach gum. Add the cleaned, soaked peach gum and simmer another 20–30 minutes, until everything is soft, translucent, and the soup has thickened slightly.

4. Sweeten and finish. Stir in the rock sugar until dissolved. Add the rinsed goji berries in the last 5 minutes. Taste and adjust the sweetness.

5. Serve warm or chilled. Lovely hot, but especially pretty served cold in summer, where the amber pieces really show off in a glass.

Tips

• Don't skip cleaning the peach gum. The dark bits and hard cores won't soften — take a few minutes to pick them out after soaking.
• It expands a lot. A little dried peach gum goes a long way; 15–20g dry becomes a generous amount once soaked.
• Pair it up. Snow fungus, red dates, and goji are the classic companions, but peach gum is happy in most sweet soups where you want extra silky texture.
• Serve it cold to show it off. In a clear glass over ice, the translucent amber pieces are what make this dessert so photogenic.

Building your sweet soup pantry

Peach gum is a fun one to keep in the cupboard once you've tried it. If you're stocking a Chinese sweet-soup pantry, the Pantry page has the ingredients and tools I use and recommend.

It pairs beautifully with snow fungus, so if you liked this, try the chilled snow fungus soup with pear next. For more chilled options, there's mango sago and red bean soup over ice.

New sweet soup recipes land here every week — subscribe below to cook along.

Of all the chilled sweet soups of summer, this is the crowd-pleaser — the one that disappears fastest at a gathering. Little chewy tapioca pearls suspended in sweet, creamy coconut, studded with ripe mango, served ice-cold. Mango sago (西米露, xī mǐ lù) hits every note at once: cool, fruity, creamy, and just chewy enough to keep every spoonful interesting.

It looks impressive in a glass, but it's genuinely easy — a fruit-and-coconut assembly job, really. There's only one step that trips people up, and once you know the trick, it's foolproof.

The one thing to get right: cooking the sago

Sago (small tapioca pearls) is the whole texture of this dessert, and it's where most first attempts go wrong — the pearls come out either hard in the middle or dissolved into glue. Here's the reliable method:

1. Bring a generous pot of water to a rolling boil — far more water than pearls, since they need room to move.
2. Add the sago, stir right away so they don't stick, and boil for about 10–15 minutes, stirring now and then.
3. When the pearls are almost clear but still have a tiny white dot in the center, turn off the heat, cover, and let them sit for about 10 minutes. The residual heat finishes them through to fully translucent.
4. Drain and rinse under cold water. This stops the cooking and washes off excess starch so they stay separate and springy rather than gluey.

That's it — clear, bouncy pearls, no gumminess. Cook them just before assembling; they're best fresh.

Ingredients

Makes about 4 servings

• 80g (about ½ cup) small sago / tapioca pearls (西米)
• 2 ripe mangoes
• 200ml (about ¾ cup) coconut milk
• 150ml (about ⅔ cup) milk, or more coconut milk for dairy-free
• 30–40g rock sugar or regular sugar, to taste (adjust to your mangoes' sweetness)
• Optional: a splash of evaporated milk for extra richness

How to make it

1. Cook the sago using the method above. Drain, rinse cold, and set aside.

2. Make the mango base. Peel the mangoes. Blend about two-thirds of the flesh with the coconut milk, milk, and sugar until smooth. Cut the remaining third into small cubes to fold in later for texture.

3. Sweeten to taste. Taste the blended base — ripe mangoes vary a lot in sweetness, so adjust the sugar now while you can still dissolve it (warm a little of the liquid if needed).

4. Combine. Stir the cooked sago and the mango cubes into the mango-coconut base.

5. Chill and serve. Refrigerate for at least an hour and serve cold, in bowls or glasses. It's meant to be eaten cold — the colder the better on a hot day.

Tips

• Use ripe, fragrant mangoes. This dessert lives and dies by the fruit. Champagne/Ataulfo mangoes are especially sweet and smooth if you can find them.
• Cook sago fresh. It firms up and clumps in the fridge, so cook it the same day you serve. If it stiffens, a quick rinse loosens it.
• Adjust thickness. Too thick? Loosen with a little more milk or coconut milk. Too thin? Blend in more mango.
• Make it dairy-free. Use all coconut milk (and a splash of coconut cream for richness) instead of dairy milk.

More chilled sweet soups for summer

If mango sago is your kind of thing, you'll like the other cooling bowls on the site: the classic sweet mung bean soup, the silky chilled snow fungus soup with pear, and red bean soup over ice.

New sweet soup recipes land here every week — subscribe below to cook along.

If mung bean soup is the light, cooling side of summer, red bean soup is its cozier cousin — thicker, rounder, a little more comforting. Made from small adzuki beans simmered down with a little rock sugar, hóng dòu tāng is one of the most beloved sweet soups in Chinese homes, and one of the most versatile: warm and soothing in winter, or chilled and refreshing in summer. It even freezes into excellent popsicles.

It's a forgiving, hands-off recipe — mostly a matter of letting the beans simmer until they soften and turn creamy. There's just one thing worth knowing up front, because it's where most people go wrong: getting the beans tender.

The one trick: getting the beans soft

Adzuki beans are stubborn. Cooked straight from dry, they can take well over an hour and still come out chalky. Two easy fixes:

• Soak them first. A few hours (or overnight) in cool water shortens the cooking time a lot and helps them cook evenly.
• Or use the rest-and-return method. Bring them to a boil, simmer 30 minutes, turn off the heat, cover, and let them sit for 30 minutes. The residual heat softens them from the inside, then you return to a simmer. Many home cooks swear this gives the creamiest result.

Either way, only add the sugar after the beans are soft — adding it too early can keep the beans firm.

Ingredients

Makes about 4–6 servings

• 200g (about 1 cup) dried adzuki / red beans (红豆)
• 60–80g rock sugar (冰糖), to taste
• About 1.5–2 liters (6–8 cups) water
• Optional: a small piece of dried tangerine peel (陈皮) for a subtle fragrant lift

How to make it

1. Soak. Rinse the beans and soak them in cool water for at least a few hours, ideally overnight. Drain.

2. Simmer. Add the beans to a pot with the water (and the tangerine peel, if using). Bring to a boil, then lower to a steady simmer.

3. Cook until soft. Let it simmer, partly covered, for about 45–60 minutes, until the beans are fully tender and beginning to break apart. Stir now and then, and top up with a little water if it gets too low. For a thicker, creamier soup, mash some of the beans against the side of the pot or simmer a little longer.

4. Sweeten. Once the beans are soft, stir in the rock sugar until dissolved. Taste and adjust — it should be gently sweet, letting the nutty bean flavor come through.

5. Serve warm, or chill. Enjoy it warm as a cozy bowl, or let it cool and refrigerate for at least 2–3 hours to serve cold in summer.

Tips

• Warm or chilled — your call. This soup genuinely shines both ways. Cozy and hot when it's cool out; cold from the fridge when it's hot.
• Make popsicles. Pour the sweetened soup (slightly on the thinner side) into molds and freeze for a simple, satisfying frozen treat.
• Add tangerine peel. A small piece of dried tangerine peel (陈皮) adds a lovely fragrant, slightly citrusy note that cuts the richness — a classic pairing worth trying.
• Keeps well. Stored in the fridge it holds for 3–4 days and thickens as it sits; loosen with a splash of water when reheating.

Building your sweet soup pantry

Adzuki beans are a cheap, shelf-stable staple worth keeping all summer. If you're stocking a Chinese sweet-soup pantry from scratch, the Pantry page lists the ingredients and tools I use and recommend.

Looking for more? Try its lighter cousin, the classic sweet mung bean soup, the cooling snow fungus soup with pear, or the cozy black sesame soup.

New sweet soup recipes land here every week — subscribe below to cook along.

If the chilled sweet soups of summer are about cooling down, this one is the opposite — a warm, glossy, deeply nutty bowl you wrap your hands around. Black sesame soup, hēi zhī ma hú, is one of the coziest desserts in the whole Chinese repertoire: smooth as velvet, toasty, and just sweet enough.

You may already know black sesame from the lattes and ice creams it's been turning up in lately. This is the original — and once you've had it freshly made, the instant packets never quite measure up. The good news is it's genuinely simple to make at home, and the smell of sesame toasting in the pan is half the pleasure.

The one step that makes all the difference

Black sesame's whole personality lives in its aroma, and that aroma comes from toasting. Raw black sesame tastes flat and a little bitter; toasted, it turns warm, nutty, and fragrant. So whatever else you do, toast the seeds first — it takes a few minutes and completely transforms the result.

You also have a choice in how you build the soup:

• From scratch (my preference): toast and grind whole black sesame yourself. Best flavor, a little more effort.
• From black sesame powder: a fine shortcut — but toast the powder briefly in a dry pan anyway to wake it up.

Either way, a small amount of rice (or glutinous rice) is the secret to that signature silky, slightly thick texture — it's what turns ground sesame and water into a smooth, spoonable soup rather than a gritty drink.

Ingredients

Makes about 4 servings

• 100g (about ¾ cup) black sesame seeds (黑芝麻)
• 40g (about 3 tbsp) raw white rice or glutinous rice (生米 / 糯米)
• 40–60g rock sugar (冰糖) or to taste
• About 1 liter (4 cups) water
• Optional: a splash of milk or coconut milk for a richer, creamier bowl

How to make it

1. Soak the rice. Rinse the rice and soak it in water for at least 1–2 hours (or overnight). This helps it blend smooth later.

2. Toast the sesame. In a dry pan over medium-low heat, toast the black sesame seeds, stirring constantly, for 3–5 minutes until they're fragrant and start to crackle. Don't let them burn — they go from toasty to bitter quickly. Let them cool slightly.

3. Blend. Add the toasted sesame, the soaked-and-drained rice, and about half the water to a blender. Blend until as smooth as you can get it — a minute or two. The smoother here, the silkier the soup.

4. Cook. Pour the blended mixture into a pot, add the remaining water, and bring to a gentle simmer over medium-low heat, stirring constantly so it doesn't catch on the bottom. It will thicken as it cooks, in about 8–12 minutes. Add a little more water if it gets thicker than you'd like.

5. Sweeten and finish. Stir in the rock sugar until dissolved. Taste and adjust. For a creamier bowl, stir in a splash of milk or coconut milk at the end.

6. Serve warm. Ladle into bowls and serve hot — this is a cozy, warming soup at heart.

Tips

• Strain for extra-smooth. If you like it ultra-silky, pass the blended mixture through a fine sieve before cooking.
• Toast a big batch. Toast extra sesame and keep it in a jar — it's a head start on your next bowl, and lovely sprinkled over rice or yogurt too.
• Adjust the thickness to taste. Some like it pourable like a warm drink, others thick enough to stand a spoon in. More water or less rice thins it; less water or more rice thickens it.
• Keeps a few days. Store in the fridge and gently reheat with a splash of water, stirring to bring it back together.

Building your sweet soup pantry

Black sesame is one of those dried staples worth keeping around — it's the base of this bowl and lovely far beyond it. If you're stocking a Chinese sweet-soup pantry from scratch, the Pantry page lists the ingredients and tools I use and recommend.

For lighter, chilled options now that it's warm out, try the chilled snow fungus soup with pear or the classic sweet mung bean soup.

When the heat becomes too much, a huge pot of this is what appears on stoves across southern China. Sweet mung bean soup — lǜ dòu tāng — is the original summer cooler: tiny green beans simmered until soft, lightly sweetened, and served ice-cold from the fridge. It's the bowl people grew up reaching for on the hottest afternoons, and once you've had it cold on a sweltering day, you'll understand exactly why.

It couldn't be simpler to make — really just beans, water, and a little rock sugar — but there's one fork in the road worth knowing about before you start, because it changes the whole character of the bowl. More on that in a second.

Two ways to make it — pick your texture

This is the part most recipes skip, and it's the difference between a good bowl and a disappointing one. Mung bean soup goes two directions, depending on how you cook it:

• Clear and refreshing (清绿汤). A thinner, greenish, brothy soup where the beans stay mostly whole. This is the lighter, more cooling version — the one most associated with beating the summer heat. The trick is a shorter cook so the beans don't fully burst.
• Thick and creamy (起沙). A cloudier, heartier soup where the beans break down and "bloom" into a soft, almost porridge-like texture. Richer and more filling. The trick is a longer cook, and stirring to help the beans break apart.

Neither is more correct — it's purely preference. I'll give you the method for both below.

Ingredients

Makes about 4–6 servings

• 200g (about 1 cup) dried mung beans (绿豆)
• 60–80g rock sugar (冰糖), to taste
• About 1.5–2 liters (6–8 cups) water
• Optional: a small piece of dried tangerine peel (陈皮) for a subtle fragrant note

How to make it

1. Rinse and (optionally) soak. Rinse the mung beans under cool water and discard any that float. Soaking them for an hour or two shortens the cooking time, but it isn't essential — you can cook them straight from dry.

2. Bring to a boil. Add the beans and water to a pot and bring to a boil, then lower to a steady simmer. Skim off any foam that rises in the first few minutes.

3a. For the CLEAR version: Simmer gently for about 20–25 minutes, until the beans are just tender but still mostly holding their shape and the liquid is greenish. Don't overcook. Some people pour off and chill this lighter "broth" separately for the most cooling drink.

3b. For the THICK version: Keep simmering for 40–60 minutes total, stirring now and then, until the beans burst open and the soup turns cloudy and soft. Add a splash more water if it gets too thick.

4. Sweeten. Once the beans have reached the texture you want, stir in the rock sugar until dissolved. Taste and adjust — it should be lightly sweet, not syrupy.

5. Chill and serve. Let it cool, then refrigerate for at least 2–3 hours. Serve cold. In high summer, a few ice cubes in the bowl are very welcome.

Tips

• Serve it cold. This is a chilled soup at heart. It's fine warm, but cold from the fridge on a hot day is the whole point.
• Freeze it into popsicles. Pour the sweetened soup into popsicle molds for an easy frozen treat — kids love these, and it's a great use for a big batch.
• Don't over-sweeten. Start with less sugar than you think; you can always add more, and the beans' own flavor should still come through.
• It keeps well. Stored in the fridge, it's good for 3–4 days — make a big pot and have it on hand all week.