'Love nang' a souvenir of affection from heart of Xinjiang

'Love nang’ a souvenir of affection from heart of Xinjiang

Moments after boarding my plane in Urumqi bound for Beijing, I was still clutching to my chest a rather unusual package, wondering if it would even fit in the overhead compartment. I worried it might not survive under the weight of someone's carry-on suitcase. After all, this was not your typical souvenir, but rather - as my colleagues had dubbed it - a stack of " love nang" .

When I first learned I would travel to Xinjiang for work, my thoughts turned to the region's signature flatbread - nang - which had captivated me at first bite, with its crispy, perforated crust and soft, buttery flavor. But my husband, Jun, is even more of a fan than I am. So naturally, when the conversation turned to what I might buy for him in Xinjiang, his eyes sparkled at the suggestion of bringing back some authentic nang.

We had both assumed it wouldn't involve much hassle - perhaps a visit to a neighborhood bakery near my hotel in Urumqi the night before my flight back to Beijing. But that plan went up in the smoke of a tandoor oven serving up nang in an artist village in Aksu prefecture.

The aromatic smell of nang drew my entire travel group to the scene, where the bakers were using a long, metal hook to pull hot, golden rounds out of the oven and toss them in a tantalizing pile that would dispel any thoughts of low-carb diets. Pieces of freshly baked nang were passed among us and the taste elevated me to a new kind of bread nir vana.

Amid my gluten high, I remarked how much Jun would adore the bread, and added it was a shame I couldn't buy it, with several days of travel still ahead. But a colleague insisted that Urumqi's nang would ultimately disappoint me, and that, thanks to the baking process, the bread in this village would keep well for many days.