One
dusty place had me seriously intrigued: it was a jewelry store with the same
lineup of old rings in the grimy windows every day, a mysterious array of trinkets that had never
been moved, as could be seen by their healthy layer of dust and the delicate cobwebs that cemented them in place. There never was
more than one light on inside, and compared to the glittering jewelry
stores all around that catered to the bustling bridal business, this slovenly
storefront definitely had little to recommend it.
 |
| Youmen chunsun |
In
the very back a light suddenly blasted out into the dark hallway. A puzzled
older man shuffled his way to the front door, staring at me menacingly the
whole time, opened it up a crack, and looked me up and down. “Whattayawant??”
he growled in a rasping Shanghainese accent, cigarette smoke swirling around his ratty sweater like a leaden fog. “I’d like to try that coral ring on, please,” I said. “It’s not for
sale,” he snarled as the door started to close.
“Wait!”
I shouted. “What?” “This is a store, right?” “Hmph.” “And you have things in
the window for sale, right?” He silently looked me up and down, then glared back in answer. “And now at long last
you have a customer. Let’s try it on, shall we?” I put on my winningest smile
and stuck a toe casually into the doorway.
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| Lovely spring bamboo shoots |
He
looked around me to see whether (I guessed) I had a gaggle of similarly
annoying Americans in tow, and finding me reassuringly flying solo, he
begrudgingly let me in, wrestled open the display case, and let me try on the
ring, which wonder of wonders fit my fat fingers like a glove, a strange and
wondrous sign in this land of the slender digits.
“Now let’s discuss the
price.” The reluctant shopkeeper rolled his eyes and made a halfhearted effort
at bargaining, but clearly his main concern was finding a way to get this irritating foreigner
out of his place toot sweet. He polished up the ring with a dirty rag, money
and jewelry exchanged hands, and I strolled down the street, giddy at finally
having my prize.
That
jewelry shop never opened again and soon had a For Lease sign stuck in the
grubby window. Friends told me that it probably had been a black market front,
and I had been lucky to get out of there with so little trouble. Ah well, I
thought, looking affectionately at the old gem on my right hand, sometimes you just never
know where particularly good things may be hiding.
And
that goes for food, too. The following famous dish from the bamboo-laced mountains of
Zhejiang has the Chinese name of “spring bamboo shoots braised in oil.” The
problem is that cooks invariably take that a bit too literally and turn out
things that are drowning in the stuff.
Actually, the oil should be there merely
to help along the cooking process and provide a bit of luxurious mouthfeel
against the stark cleanliness of the bamboo. The dish should not be seasoned
with a heavy hand, either, as is usually done, because that would overwhelm the
delicacy of the stems’ grassy flavor. For that reason I also season these
lightly, with only the minimum of soy sauce, rice wine, and sugar to stimulate
the taste buds.
You
can serve this dish hot or cold or at any point in-between. I prefer just
slightly warmer than room temperature, as this allows the oil to melt a bit and
slide off the thin needles, and it also will make the oil subside into the
background rather than coat the tongue like a glove. This is a great make-ahead
dish that can be ready for guests or a simple contemplative meal by yourself as
you congratulate yourself on your best purchases ever.
Oil braised spring bamboo shoots
Yóumèn chūnsŭn 油燜春筍
Zhejiang
Serves 4
Serves 4
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| Shoots torn in half |
1 cup filtered water
2 tablespoons Green Onion Mingyou, or
fresh peanut or vegetable oil
1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine
2½ tablespoons regular soy sauce
1½ tablespoons sugar
1.
Start this a day before you plan to serve it. If you are using fresh bamboo
shoots, place them in a saucepan, cover with water, and bring the water to a
boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook them until the bases of the shoots
are tender. (If there are lots of different sizes of bamboo shoots in there,
fish out the little ones as they are done so that they are not cooked to
death.). Rinse the shoots in cool tap water, and drain in a colander. Frozen
bamboo shoots have already been cooked, so all you need to do is defrost them
thoroughly and rinse.
2.
Now shred the bamboo shoots into thinnish strips by notching the stem end with
a paring knife (go down about a ½-inch or so if the stems are a bit hefty), and
then pull the bamboo shoot apart. Try to get them all into more or less the
same size strips, which should be around ½-inch wide. I like to leave the
strips long because they are so pretty (the interiors look like ladders, so
this could be called shoots and ladders, I suppose), but cut them crosswise in
half, if you wish.
3.
Place the bamboo shoots, water, oils, rice wine, and soy sauce (but not the
sugar) in a saucepan, cover, bring to a boil, and then lower the heat to a
simmer. Cook the shoots covered for about 30 minutes, or until they are
completely tender at the thickest bases. Add the sugar, toss again, and cook
over high heat uncovered until almost all of the sauce has evaporated. Toss the
shoots in the thickened sauce and plate. Cool, cover, refrigerate overnight,
and serve the next day either warm, cool, or hot (see headnote).
