Cover The mooncake is no longer just a gesture of thanks, but a symbol of reunion

The full moon of August hangs round, its silver light spreading across old tiled roofs, slipping through verandas. For generations, the Mid-Autumn Festival has been the moment when children from afar return home, when families gather around the feast, and when mooncakes tell the age-old story of reunion.

Autumn arrives with cool air drifting down narrow alleys, golden daisies brightening street corners, and the fragrance of new rice rising from vendors’ baskets. Each Mid-Autumn night, Vietnamese families have another reason to gather and sit around the moonlit tray. At its centre rests the indispensable mooncake, a gift at once humble and sacred, embodying the spirit of a serene autumn.

Though the Mid-Autumn Festival is not counted among Vietnam’s grandest holidays, it holds a place of honour, with everyone reserving time to mark it. Known as Tet Trung Thu, it traces its roots to the rice civilisation, when farmers offered gratitude to the land for a plentiful harvest. It was also the season for families to gather under the full moon. Over time, that meaning has grown. The mooncake has moved beyond a token of thanks to stand as a symbol of reunion, a small cake that carries with it memory, culture and the passage of change through countless generations.

Memories wrapped in an old cake

Mooncakes are known in two classic forms: baked and sticky rice. The latter, a traditional Vietnamese gift, holds the distinctive fragrance of sticky rice flour and sugar syrup. Baked mooncakes, meanwhile, reflect the influence of Vietnam’s Chinese community. Once called cao lau, these had a chestnut-coloured crisp crust with the aroma of caramelised sugar and lard, rich ham, sweet pumpkin jam, and the delicate nuttiness of peanuts or almonds.

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Above Banh nuong bears the mark of the Chinese community in Vietnam. The crust is made from flour, sugar syrup, cooking oil and a hint of peanut butter or honey. Once baked, it turns golden brown, soft and pliant, with a distinctive aroma (photo: Unsplash)
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Above Banh deo is made from roasted sticky rice flour, sugar syrup and grapefruit essence. Its ivory-white crust is chewy with a delicate scent (photo: Unsplash)

Back then, no mooncake filling was complete without generous slices of pork fat, candied fruit and other ingredients. Elders always added dried tangerine peel, believing it eased heaviness from such rich food, offering balance and comfort. Their thoughtful wisdom, refined in each detail, continues to earn the admiration of later generations.

The cakes themselves were shaped in wooden moulds, often bearing the characters “Tho” and “Phuc” or motifs of lotus and carp. Baked cakes were usually square, with a deep brown crust enclosing a modest yet complex filling, at once salty, sweet, rich and nutty. The sticky rice cakes were ivory-smooth, encasing mung bean paste or Chinese sausage lard, sometimes with a salted egg yolk glowing like the harvest moon.

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Above The sweetness of the cake and the faint astringency of tea merge into a complete autumn flavour, unforgettable once tasted (photo: Unsplash)

For children of the past, the Mid-Autumn Festival meant the simple joy of a paper lantern lit by candlelight. Happiness was found in biting into a slice of cool mooncake, washed down with hot green tea. The gentle sweetness of the cake meeting the slight bitterness of tea created a flavour that lingered long after. Thus, the old mooncake was more than a seasonal treat; it was a memory of childhood, carrying the taste of autumn that endured for life.

From childhood memories to contemporary taste

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Above From a warm, handmade gift in family-owned shops, mooncakes today have moved beyond the familiar, appearing in an array of inventive, modern flavours (photo: Unsplash)

Nowadays, the hustle and bustle of life has changed the face of the mooncake. Once a warm, handmade gift from family-run shops, it has grown into a large-scale industry. Each season, shops, supermarkets and hotels race to unveil ever more diverse offerings. Cakes are no longer confined to traditional flavours such as mixed, mung bean or salted egg, but now come with modern fillings of matcha, chocolate, tiramisu and macadamia. More unusual creations have also appeared: chilled mooncakes, molten lava cakes with runny yolk, Japanese-inspired confections and even jelly cakes. Their boxes, too, are conceived as works of art, with elaborate designs no less refined than luxury gift packaging.

This abundance reflects a globalised lifestyle, one that embraces the fusion of Eastern and Western tastes to transform a humble treat into a fashionable gift. As a result, the Mid-Autumn Festival has taken on the appearance of a commercial season, with cake boxes carefully chosen for partners, relatives and friends.

Yet amid all this colour, there are moments when people sense the absence of the simplicity of the past. Today’s mooncakes can be so exquisite in form that they feel unfamiliar, their inventive flavours often straying far from the Mid-Autumn taste remembered in childhood.

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Sweet taste of reunion

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Above Although time passes, the magic of mooncakes remains unchanged — their true value lies in connecting people (photo: Mooncakes)

Although the years pass, the charm of mooncakes endures, found in their power to bring people together. A shared slice at the tea table beside parents, grandparents or friends has become a symbol in itself. Whether it is a traditional mixed filling or a chestnut-laced luxury version, the act of cutting the cake and pouring tea beneath the full moon is enough to warm hearts (perhaps that is why the Mid-Autumn Festival has never lost its vitality. The look and taste may evolve, yet each person who savours a piece recalls the moon seasons of childhood, the fragrance of baked cakes, the beat of lion dance drums and the joy of a festive banquet.

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Above Mooncakes of the past and present each carry their own style, yet both remind us that family reunions and the sharing of simple joys endure (photo: Pinterest)

Mooncakes of old and new each have their own beauty. One is rustic, steeped in memory. The other is vibrant, varied and in step with the times. Yet both, in their own way, remind us that whatever changes life may bring, there will always be moments of family reunion and the sharing of happiness.

Perhaps on a full moon night, while biting into a pure white sticky rice cake or a golden baked one, and sipping hot tea, we come to see that the cake itself is but an excuse. What truly matters is that people sit together in the fragrance of autumn, beneath the quiet moonlight, allowing the word “reunion” to be felt more deeply.