Four women crowd the tight space behind the counter at Nuo Mochi, a shop that opened on Atlantic Boulevard in the heart of Monterey Park late last year. A throng of customers cranes their necks to peak inside the glass while a line of about 50 people encroaches on the store, waiting to place their orders at the two computer kiosks stationed at the entrance.
The scene borders on chaotic, but the women are oblivious to the commotion around them. Their heads are bowed, their fingers nimbly working gargantuan pale orbs of mochi.
Green grape and matcha mochi from Nuo Mochi in Monterey Park.
(Jenn Harris / Los Angeles Times)
Three of the women flatten each steamed, pounded and mashed rice cake until it reaches the tips of their fingers and across to the top of their wrists. In the center, they place heaps of fresh fruit and cream cheese; ground black sesame seeds and peanuts; or clumps of salted egg and pork floss the color of sunshine. They carefully stretch and fold the mochi over the filling, creating a soft-ball sized sphere that’s just shy of bursting and nearly translucent. Once prepared, the mochi are handed to the fourth woman, who tucks the balls into paper cups, then sends them off to waiting customers.
“I never expected that this concept would blow up like this,” says owner Yongfang Liu. She’s sitting at the lone bench in the store on a recent Monday, her only day off that week. During the course of our interview, nearly a dozen people approach the door, only to find that the shop is closed.
“I just started making mochi because I liked eating it,” she says.
Liu’s love of mochi blossomed from frequent trips to street vendors in Hunan, a province in south-central China.
“It was everywhere, and not anything fancy,” she says. “Like something that a grandma would sell on a cart.”
When she immigrated to the United States in 2022, she set her sights on a career in food. She used the experience she gleaned working as an apprentice at a pastry shop in China and started taking online orders for her fresh mochi. She started with two flavors, covering the balls in black sesame powder or golden soybean powder.
Matcha mochi and dip from Nuo Mochi in Monterey Park.
(Jenn Harris / Los Angeles Times )
A few months into her business, she added larger balls of stuffed mochi to her repertoire.
“When I was in China, I loved eating stuffed mochi, but when I came here, I saw that no one was really doing it, so I did it myself,” she says. “I also really love making combinations of different ingredients and flavors, and you can only really do that with the big stuffed mochi balls.”
Liu sold her mochi at various night markets around the San Gabriel Valley and eventually leased a food truck, but she could barely keep up with the demand. She had almost given up on finding a permanent space, when her agent told her about a small storefront in Monterey Park that had been vacant for more than a year.
From the moment she opened Nuo Mochi in late November, it was an immediate sensation.
Purple rice with salted egg yolk and meat floss mochi from Nuo Mochi in Monterey Park.
(Jenn Harris / Los Angeles Times )
Her mochi skins are bouncy and soft, with a chewy texture so majestic that the stretchability rivals the most dramatic of cheese pulls. It’s that specific supple finish that Liu works so hard to attain, and the reason she stuffs every mochi ball to order. It’s that insistence on freshness that keeps the lines long but the mochi peerless.
“It’s definitely a predicament because I really want people to appreciate the art of making it now and eating it now, but people say they waited a long time or that they bring it home and eat it the next day when it’s not as fresh,” she says. “I want people to eat it right away and to appreciate the texture.”
Tucked inside the mochi are sweet, taut-skinned green grapes, enveloped in a grassy matcha cream cheese. Chunks of pineapple burrow into sharp passion fruit cream cheese in another. A mixture of ground sesame seeds, peanuts and sugar spills from a mochi center like sparkling black sand.
Sesame and peanut mochi from Nuo Mochi. The new Monterey Park shop specialized in giant stuffed mochi.
(Jenn Harris / Los Angeles Times )
Some of the mochi resemble beautiful geodes. A vibrant layer of sticky purple rice sinks into a core of meat floss and salty egg yolk.
Diners can customize their mochi with various powders. The matcha powder is so intensely green, it evokes the heart of an old, lush forest. And even the smallest nibble wallops with a potent vegetal bitterness.
Liu says her favorite flavor is the dark chocolate mochi, coated in enough cocoa powder to stain your fingers and likely your shirt. A velvety, bittersweet ganache hides within the deep brown globe. It’s an homage to a popular Chinese pastry known as the “dirty bun.” The dessert involves a croissant or danish filled with chocolate custard or cream, glazed in ganache then blanketed in cocoa powder.
“It’s incredibly chocolatey and I thought, ‘OK, I want to make that into a mochi,’ ” Liu says.
There are 18 varieties of signature mochi and 13 of what Liu refers to as “special flavors.” Some are void of filling, coated in the matcha or soybean powders or accompanied by dip. A handful of seasonal flavors reflect whatever fruit Liu finds at the markets.
Dark chocolate mochi from Nuo Mochi in Monterey Park.
(Jenn Harris / Los Angeles Times )
“I’m really proud of this because a lot of people come and ask where this originates from,” she says. “I’m super proud to bring more Chinese food culture here.”
Though there will likely be a line when you visit, things are moving more swiftly now that Liu is no longer the only one stuffing the mochi. Just be prepared to wait, and eat your mochi soon after your bag is handed over.
Where to go for giant, stuffed mochi
Nuo Mochi, 141 N. Atlantic Blvd. #102, Monterey Park, (626) 565-7007.