When I was a student in Taipei back in the late
70’s, I became somewhat of a connoisseur of street foods and snacks. As I got to know the city better, I discovered that tiny restaurants had been carved out of little spaces between shops in the downtown area’s side streets and alleys, and, in my humble opinion, this was where most of the best eating was to be found. These foods were always simple, just a few specialties of the house, and so they were usually things that had been made day-in day-out for decades by the same folks. They had their recipes down pat, and it showed.
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| Shandong delight |
I figured that they were little more than baozi that had been pan-fried, but, as I tried over the years to re-create them, I discovered that a secret was involved. A sweet old gentleman from Shandong's capital city of Jinan (if I remember correctly) made my favorites. He ran his own little hole in the wall as a one man operation, wrapping the baozi, steam-frying them, selling them, bussing the tables, and doing the washing up all by himself. He sold nothing but shuijian bao, and he must have amassed a mint over the years, because his were the best and he had a steady stream of happy customers. Goodness knows what he did with the money because the greasy spots on his walls never changed, but no one cared - we were just there for the food.
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| Crunchy, toasty bottoms |
His freshly-wrapped baozi were placed on a round, oil-slicked iron griddle that had
probably been around since the day he started the business, so big and black
and shiny that nothing ever stuck to it. He’d pour boiling water from an
aluminum tea kettle over the buns, slap a tall lid over them, and let them
steam until a steady crackling sound informed him that it was time to remove
the cover. The bottoms of the baozi would
then fry to an aromatic crust, and I would be standing there with all his other
fans, cash in hand, ready to snag them the moment they left the griddle.
It took me many years to figure out the secret, because every recipe I’ve tried called for regular steamed bread dough, and this always left a sticky, undercooked pocket at the top. I tried adjusting the heat, reducing the size of the shuijian bao, increasing the steaming time and water, and so forth, but nothing worked.
And then enlightenment happened: I made hot-water
dough — just like for steamed jiaozi — and
added a yeast mixture to that. Perfection first time around. What happens is that the
flour becomes partially cooked, and so the steam just needs to puff it up a bit. That, my friends, is the secret.
Make extra and freeze them. They go very fast.
Steamed-fried buns
Shuǐjiān bāo 水煎包
Shandong, Beijing, and Shanghai
Makes 24 baozi
Wrappers:
3 cups Chinese flour (or 2 cups all-purpose and 1 cup pastry)
2 cups boiling water
2 teaspoons yeast
2 tablespoons sugar
⅓ cup warm water
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 cup (or so) Chinese flour for kneading and
shaping
Filling:
2 small bundles cellophane noodles (fensi)
Warm water, as needed
1½ pounds ground pork (15% fat) or dark turkey meat,
chilled
1½ cups chopped green onions
6 tablespoons finely minced ginger
1 large egg, lightly beaten
¼ cup fresh peanut or
vegetable oil
3 tablespoons regular soy sauce
¼ cup mild rice wine
1½ teaspoons sugar
Freshly ground black pepper
1½ tablespoons cornstarch
Spray oil
Oil for frying
Boiling water, as needed
1. Dissolve the yeast and sugar in the warm water. Use a stand mixer equipped with a dough hook to stir the boiling water into the flour. Knead the dough with the mixer until it is smooth and shiny, adding more flour as needed. Lightly dust a flat surface with some flour and turn the dough out on the board. Knead the dough for about 5 minutes. When it is as soft and supple as an earlobe, clean and dry the mixing bowl and rub a bit of sesame oil around the inside. Place the dough in the bowl and toss it around a couple times to coat it completely. Cover and let rise until it is about double in size. Punch it down and let it rise once again until double in size. Divide the dough into 24 even pieces, roll these into
balls, and flatten them. Make 4-inch baozi wrappers by flattening the balls and then rolling the discs out from the center toward the edge, which will leave a little bump in the center. Cover the wrappers with a damp towel or plastic
wrap.
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| Fensi with meat |
3. In a medium work
bowl, mix the chopped cellophane noodles with the rest of the filling
ingredients. Stir the filling in one direction until the meat is light, fluffy,
and a bit sticky. The filling can be covered and chilled if you are not using
it right away. Divide the filling into 24 even pieces and roll these into
balls.
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| Make baozi |
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| Steam-fry the buns |
5. Place a large,
well-seasoned, flat frying pan over medium heat. When it is hot, film the bottom of
the pan with enough oil that it runs around freely. Return the pan to the heat
and arrange the baozi in the pan so
that they around ½ inch apart, as they will rise some more as they cook. (The buns will have to be cooked in a couple of batches.) Pour in enough boiling water so
that there is around ¾ inch in the bottom of the pan. Immediately cover the pan
closely and cook the baozi until the
steam no longer emerges from under the lid and you can hear the sound of the
oil popping.
6. Remove the cover carefully and pointed away from you, as water might drip down, hit the hot
fat, and explode. Gently shake the skillet and use a flat spatula as necessary
to carefully loosen the buns, and then continue to fry them until their bottoms
are a golden brown. Jerk the pan as they crisp up to loosen the buns, and then turn them out so that the crispy bottoms are on top. Serve immediately.
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| Delectable |
