Goji berries, also known as wolfberries, were always in the house when I was growing up. Chewy, raisin-sized, and sweet with a hint of sour, they felt like a special treat. My mother would drop a few into soups, telling me they were good for my health. Sometimes, she’d steep them in hot water with jujubes, and I’d happily smash the softened fruit against the side of a mug with my spoon to get every bit of flavour out of its vessel and into the liquid. In Hong Kong, ingredients like these were never treated as supplements or trends; they were just part of daily life, folded into meals and habits without ceremony.
Years later, when I left Hong Kong at eighteen to study in London, a bag of goji berries came with me, tucked into my suitcase. I kept up the ritual my mother had taught me, steeping goji berries and jujubes in a thermos: just a handful of each, left to infuse overnight. In traditional Chinese medicine, the drink was meant to revitalise the blood and beautify the skin. I made it without fail once a month. It was simple to assemble, comforting to sip, and quietly tethered me to home.
That connection between food and function is at the heart of how goji berries have long been revered in Chinese culture. In traditional Chinese medicine, they’re valued for their relationship to women’s health. Said to nourish the liver and kidneys, replenish yin, and support longevity, they often feature in formulas for fertility, eyesight, or menstrual regulation.
From a nutritional therapy perspective, their reputation holds up. Goji berries are rich in beta carotene and vitamin A, which support skin health and immune function. They also contain iron, vitamin C, and fibre, as well as antioxidants like zeaxanthin, which plays a key role in maintaining eye health and protecting against oxidative stress. Plus, they’re thought to contribute to fertility and immune resilience. That’s a lot of nourishment in such a small fruit.
I still keep a jar of them in my kitchen. These days, I might toss a few into a smoothie for a little sweetness, but I still turn to the hot infusion when I need grounding. In a world full of quick fixes, there is something reassuring about an ingredient that asks for time and intention.
Their appeal has grown, reaching far beyond the soups and teas I grew up with. Today, you’ll find goji berries in everything from granola bars to adaptogenic powders, marketed as a superfood. I love that they feel more accessible now. But their cultural history often gets left out, and it’s this history, the quiet rituals, the inherited wisdom, that matters most to me. Goji berries serve as a reminder that healing is often quiet, rarely instant, and sometimes it starts by steeping something familiar overnight in a thermos.
