Sunflower seeds are the holy grail of Chinese munchies. Locals tow bags of roasted sunflower seeds with them wherever they go. Whether bored, gossiping about who got accepted to what university, playing mahjong, drinking tea, drinking, or especially when taking the train, I assure you that they will be cracking these things.

 

 

The Ultimate Chinese Snack

I once had a friend who’d say that that hurly noise of hacking mucus from the back of the throat was the Soundtrack to China. I’d argue that the crack-cracking of sunflower seeds is a viable contender for stealing the title.

If one snack could have the power of unifying 22 provinces and five autonomous regions, it would be this snack.

One hand, two bites, done. In one fluid motion, the seed has been separated from the shell. Shells are bound to pile up in front of the consumer until the mound reaches an astonishing size.

The first bite cracks open the shell using the molars. Using the front teeth, the second bite slips the seed into the mouth while the teeth have a tight grip on the pieces of the shell, which is then discarded. Having indents on the front teeth from over-indulgence is not so uncommon in China, especially among the ladies, who appear to be more addiction-prone.

Chinese sunflower seeds are often flavored during the roasting process. Cult favorites include caramel and five spice. Consequently, the sweet coating on these sunflower seeds is an acquired taste that is poorly received by Westerners traveling in China.

Any convenience store will offer this national snack in a variety of sizes, flavors, and packaging. Street vendors sell seeds in bulk, usually 20 RMB ($3) per kilo. Some produce stalls offer the seeds still their flower, all raw and fuzzy.

 

 

Spin-offs from this adored snack include pumpkin seeds and watermelon seeds. These are also sold sweetened and still in the shell. All seeds are eaten with the same purpose: to pass time.

As my travels took me to rural areas in North China, I would pass by sunflower fields where each plant drooped from the weight of the seeds. Come September and the ripened plants had been chopped at the stalk. The sunflower itself beheaded and then stabbed back onto the remaining, stubbier stalk. This was done so that the seeds would continue to dry in the sun. The resulting scenes somehow held an odd resemblance to my imagination of the French Revolution.

I call it sunflower steaks on sunflower stakes.