One
of the hallmarks of China’s many cuisines is the combination of dried and
fermented ingredients with fresh foods. In fact, most of this country’s dishes
feature this contrast to varying degrees.
Soy sauce—or any other fermented bean
or grain or seafood paste—is the usual suspect on the savory side of the
equation, as they provide a luxurious sense of depth and xianwei (aka umami).
This in turn balances out the vibrant fresh flavors of whatever vegetable or
protein is being used.
In
addition to sauces, though, many dried and salted ingredients season China’s dishes.
Particularly in the southeastern quadrant—including Chaozhou, Southern Fujian,
Taiwan, and the Hakka areas—things like dried shrimp and scallops, tiny
sundried anchovies and large flattened squid, salted and fermented mustard, and
cured radishes—give the region many of its distinctive aromas. And then to the
north and south of this area, the Yangtze River Delta and the province of
Guangdong lovingly sandwich the southeast and offer a plethora of their own
unique takes on xianwei.
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| Cut the soaked fish shards |
As
you might expect in the Yangtze River Delta, where foods tend to be much more
subtle than just about any other part of China, pungency is rarely treasured.
In fact, the further you travel toward the Pacific Ocean, the milder foods become.
And so, when dried fish shows up on the menu around here, it is there usually
as a suggestive seasoning rather than an overt one, as well as a textual counterpart
to whatever happens to be juicy in that dish.
That
is exactly what happens here, one of our favorites from the days when we ate
regularly at the restaurant called Fuxingyuan in downtown Taipei. Bits of dried
fish were soaked until soft and then quickly tossed with chunks of chicken. It
was that wondrous contrast of fresh/dry, tender/chewy, and land/sea that drew
us back time and again.
I
have never been able to locate a good recipe for xiangkao ji, and so I have re-created it from memory with some
adjustments to fit the reality of living on the wrong side of the Pacific. My
main problem is that dried whole fish tends to be offered in uneven states of
quality and freshness on these shores.
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| Korean bonito strips |
The
happy resolution is that I’ve come to rely on something that is a nice
substitute: dried bonito. This is not the shaved bonito that is used in
Japanese cooking, but rather the large strips that are sold in Korean stores.
Clean and for the most part boneless, this dried fish is easily plumped up and
turns into something bouncy, rather than chewy, which I find quite
pleasant and a nice addition to this Shanghai classic.
Serve
this to people who understand that there might be tiny bones to look out for,
which means not feeding the fish, at least, to diners such as little children.
Chicken with dried fish
Xiǎngkǎo
jī 鯗烤雞
Shanghai
Serves 4 to 6
2
ounces shredded dried bonito (see headnotes)
Tap
water to cover
1½
pounds (or so) boneless, skinless chicken thighs (around 6 thighs)
5
or 6 green onions, trimmed
½
cup fresh peanut or vegetable oil
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| A Shanghai favorite of mine |
¼
cup finely chopped peeled fresh ginger
6
tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine
2
tablespoons light soy sauce (see Tips)
4
teaspoons toasted sesame oil
1.
Start this recipe at least 4 hours before serving. First, place the dried fish
in a medium work bowl and cover it with cool tap water. Poke the fish down
every once in a while so that all of it gets a chance to sponge up the water.
After it has soaked for around 3 hours and is light and springy, drain the fish
well. Run your fingers down each strip and pull out any tiny bones with kitchen
tweezers, and then use kitchen shears to cut each strip into pieces about 1
inch long.
2.
Rinse the chicken and pat dry with paper towels. Cut the chicken into pieces
around 1 inch square. Cut the green onions crosswise in half so that you have half
white onions and half green leaves. Slice the whites and greens into 1-inch
lengths, but leave them in separate piles (see Tips).
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| Fry the chicken in ginger oil |
3.
Heat the oil in a wok over medium heat, and when it starts to get warm, add the
ginger. Swirl the ginger around in the oil until it is bubbly but not browned.
Turn up the heat to high and immediately add all of the chicken. Toss the
chicken in the hot oil, and when it has completely lost its pink color, add the
whites of the onions, the rice wine, and the soy sauce, as well as the drained
fish. Continue tossing these all together over high heat, and when the sauce
has reduced to the consistency of maple syrup, taste and adjust the seasoning.
Then, at the last minute, toss in the onion greens and sesame oil. Serve
immediately.
Tips
Light
soy sauce is used here because it is pale and has a milder flavor than regular
soy sauce. A good alternative, I’ve found, is Bragg’s Liquid Aminos. It has a
nice taste and, while not precisely the same thing as soy sauce, ends up
tasting pretty authentic in dishes like this. You can find it in most health
food stores.
Store the extra dried fish in a clean, covered jar; it will keep well for months. For longer storage, freeze to keep it from possibly going buggy.
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| Separate piles for the onions |
Like
spinach and Swiss chard, a green onion is composed of two distinct parts that
can be treated differently, if you like. The white part that grows under the
soil has a pronounced onion flavor that mellows with heat; it can overpower
certain dishes if served raw, so here you see it tempered with the quick
stir-fry. The greens, on the other hand, are more delicate and dissolve if
allowed to cook too long, so in many of the dishes on this blog you will see
that they are added at the last minute. They can then be cooked briefly, as
here, to play down their onion nature a bit while preserving their brilliant
emerald hue, or left raw to add more bite.
Green
onions can be cut straight across into 1-inch lengths or at an angle, whichever
you prefer.
Notice
how all of the main solids end up approximately the same size. This is an
important principle in most of China’s cuisines and gives you a dish that is
not only visually pleasing—the shapes harmonizing with each other while the
subtle color differences providing contrast—but also beautifully tasty, as each
bite will easily include a shard of fish and onion with a chunk of chicken.
