Celebrate the Year of the Dragon with Dragon’s Beard Candy — If You Can Find It

Even as a child with little patience, I recognized that the dragon’s beard candy from Jimmy Pan’s cart was worth the wait. For nearly thirty years, Pan carefully filled orders for the airy, white candy from his stall in Toronto’s bustling Pacific Mall. The candy’s delicate sugar strands, encasing a crunchy mix of peanuts, coconut, and sesame, create a delightful array of textures on the palate: some strands melt into a soft mass while others break into crisp flakes, ultimately transforming into a chewy, crunchy mix of nougat. Pan’s shop attracted long lines of locals and visitors alike, who traveled from New York, Milwaukee, Detroit, and even Los Angeles. In those moments, I held my mom's hand, eagerly inching closer to my treat.

According to the most popular legend, dragon’s beard candy (often abbreviated to DBC) was served to imperial families as early as the Han Dynasty, named after an emperor who noted that the candy's sticky, hair-like strands resembled the whiskers of the mythical dragon. This candy is a nostalgic symbol during many Chinese New Year celebrations (also known as Lunar New Year, which falls on February 10 this year) in countries like China, Malaysia, Singapore, Taiwan, South Korea, Thailand, Vietnam, and among immigrant communities worldwide. A few spots produce the candy in New York, San Francisco, Buena Park, California (near Anaheim), Montreal, and Richmond, British Columbia (just outside Vancouver).

Raised by immigrant parents from Hong Kong who preferred desserts that were “not too sweet,” dragon’s beard candy was a delightful exception, a sugary indulgence I savored without restraint. But the spectacle at Pan’s stall was as captivating as the candy itself. While my mom searched through her wallet, I was entranced by the master candymaker in action. Pan skillfully stretched ropes of sugar as if he were playing the accordion, deftly slapping them onto a rice flour bed to separate the strands, sending a cloud of flour dust into the air like festive confetti.

“Many people love the ‘thMytour’ aspect and enjoy watching me pull and stretch the candy,” Pan shares. “Each piece is handmade, and customers understand that waiting is part of the experience. I can only go as fast as my hands allow.” Though he never tracked his customers, Pan estimates he crafted up to 500 pieces on an average weekend at Pacific Mall, where he no longer runs his stall regularly. Even during busy holiday seasons, he never felt pressured to rush, knowing it would compromise the quality of the candy.

While Pan exudes a confident demeanor, the holiday season places immense pressure on all DBC vendors. Derek Tam, a fifth-generation DBC maker at Dragon Papa Dessert in San Francisco, has been crafting this candy since he was 10, yet he still faces anxiety during Chinese New Year and the Mid-Autumn Festival—two peak times for DBC—since these holidays account for 80 percent of his annual revenue.

“I estimate that I sell around 5,000 pieces during these two major Chinese holidays, but the rest of the year tends to be quite slow,” Tam shares. Despite the busy seasons, he operates solo. “I’ve attempted to hire more staff, but it’s challenging to find skilled help.”

DBC is notoriously labor-intensive to produce, and the techniques required are tough to master. Tam explains that it usually takes nearly two years of mentorship before he can assess whether a newcomer is skilled enough to be hired permanently. “Regrettably, I’ve had to go through many people. I keep only one out of every ten hires, not by choice, but because mastering this craft is incredibly difficult. If it’s not done correctly, the difference in quality is immediately noticeable.”

Classic recipes demand that chefs meticulously heat granulated sugar and maltose, forming them into a molten puck before shaping that puck into a lasso. With skillful fingers (and a bit of rice flour), they stretch, pull, and fold the sugar into a figure eight until delicate, vermicelli-like strands emerge, which are then wrapped around the filling.

“Achieving the perfect technique requires extensive practice,” says Chris Cheung, owner of East Wind Snack Shop in New York, who has honed his methods through much trial and error. “There were moments when I cooked the sugar too hot, resulting in pucks that were excessively tough. I’ve found that pulling the candy rope to 1.5 feet is preferable to 2 feet, and pulling at chest height instead of waist level enhances the final product. You pay attention to these details.” Cheung has also adapted skills from his noodle-pulling training. “The techniques are comparable, but understanding the properties of sugar takes time. Now, I can transform one candy rope into about 12,000 strands in just 10 to 12 pulls,” he proudly shares.

Pan emphasizes the importance of external factors that can disrupt the delicate process. “It’s crucial to master the technique and understand the climate of your environment before starting,” he explains. “For instance, a rainy day can make it nearly impossible to create the candy to my standards because the humidity affects how the sugar crystals set. Daily conditions like dryness, dampness, warmth, wind, and humidity are vital to consider.”

Moreover, once the fragile threads are wrapped around the filling, the fresh candies must be consumed right away. If left for even a day, the delicate strands harden into rock-like textures. (Nevertheless, devoted fans still cheerfully tackle solidified DBC. In my childhood home, any candy that lasted a few days — if it ever did — was never wasted.)

The difficulties of producing DBC, along with the seasonal fluctuations of demand, have burdened some vendors. Tam closed Dragon Papa during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, shifting to online sales and food festivals. Similarly, Pan is adapting, preparing DBC for a limited number of private events as the new year approaches.

Without the DBC master steering the ship, Pan’s shop lacks a clear future. “I anticipate retiring in the next five years, and when I do, the business will cease to exist,” he states. To manage his workload, Pan has never opted to franchise, expand, or hire additional staff. While his dedication to quality is commendable, it has left him without a successor in sight.

“I attempted to teach my nephew how to create DBC, but after nine months, he gave up and returned to Hong Kong to pursue a different job,” he shares. Pan’s son Brian assists with daily operations but has shown no interest in taking over once his father steps back completely. “No one in the family is eager to take on this role because it’s challenging, demanding, and hard to manage,” Pan notes. “I believe younger people shy away from this work due to a lack of patience.”

However, this doesn’t apply to all younger individuals. With the availability of dragon’s beard candy dwindling in the U.S., some creative home cooks on TikTok and Instagram are taking matters into their own hands, adding unique spins to the traditional candy. A handful of influencers and social media-savvy chefs have modified the recipe by omitting the filling, experimenting with techniques like melting Starburst candy, incorporating corn syrup and vinegar, and adding food coloring to make DBC more appealing and accessible to their followers.

Some social media creators risk turning DBC into just another trend, much to the chagrin of purists like Jimmy and Brian Pan, who are irritated by descriptions that label DBC as “Chinese cotton candy.” However, others recognize the genuine value in the online proliferation of dragon’s beard candy. Patrick Li, whose family hails from Hong Kong and who is known as Feed My Phone on Instagram, expresses his passion for classic DBC while also supporting the creativity of home cooks.

“Social media opens up avenues for people to discover foods and unique dishes they might not have known about,” Li states. “In my view, TikTok and Instagram expand everyone’s awareness of global cuisine. The various videos showcasing different colors, ingredients, and flavors inject novelty into the candy, making it go viral as newcomers perceive it as something ‘new.’” He believes that home chefs who strive to recreate the original recipe will develop a richer understanding and appreciation for the candy.

It’s not only novices who experiment with the candy’s recipe. As the first in his family to sell DBC in the United States, Tam honors the traditional methods and recipe passed down from his father and grandfather, but he is also open to innovation.

“I actually incorporate molasses into my recipe because it makes the candy easier to work with and allows me to produce more pieces quickly,” Tam explains. “While the classic version remains our top seller, especially during major festivals and celebrations, I also offer DBC flavored with ingredients like mango, matcha, and cotton candy, which our customers adore for their taste and creativity.”

The internet has sparked interest in the traditional dragon’s beard recipe as well, as Cheung has noticed. “I wasn’t aware it was trending, but I posted a video of myself making the [classic version of the] candy that garnered over 25,000 views, which was quite enjoyable,” he shares. “I’m sure the online videos are very entertaining, capturing everything from first-time successes to hilarious fails.”

Despite the recent online buzz, dragon’s beard candy encounters challenges in the U.S. “Honestly, I don’t think it has gained much popularity in the West,” Cheung remarks. “I recall when the candy first arrived in New York’s Chinatown about 20 years ago; it was a trend, and everyone wanted it. However, its popularity eventually faded.”

Yet, he remains optimistic. “Interest and awareness surge around Chinese New Year because this candy evokes nostalgic childhood memories for many in our Chinese community,” he explains. “I believe it still holds significance. Many customers come to my shop eager to try it because their parents and grandparents rave about how much they loved it as kids. Isn’t that what tradition is all about?”

Older candymakers may need to allow younger fans to shape their own interactions with the treat if dragon’s beard candy is to survive for future generations. Many enthusiasts, like Tam, harbor a quiet hope that his 4-year-old daughter will one day take an interest in the family business, though he is happy with whatever path she chooses.

“For now, I’m just delighted that she loves the candy. And she always jokes to her friends that she has a ‘sugar daddy!’” Tam chuckles.

As a mother considering how to introduce dragon’s beard candy to my 2-year-old daughter, I’m excited that a few shops and online creators are fostering a conversation about the relevance of this ancient treat today. Until we see a revival of dragon’s beard candy stalls across North America, I’ll be ordering express, same-day deliveries to enjoy my DBC at its finest.

Tiffany Leigh is a BIPOC freelance journalist with a background in culinary arts, holding degrees in communications and business. She has been awarded the Clay Triplette James Beard Foundation scholarship and has written on topics such as travel, food and drink, beauty, wellness, and fashion for various publications, including VinePair, Wine Enthusiast, Business Insider, Dwell, Fashion Magazine, Elle, Departures, Travel + Leisure, Vogue, Food & Wine, Bon Appetit, Shape Magazine, USA TODAY, among others.