The one place we always
could count on for the best version was a wonderful mid-priced restaurant in
downtown Taipei right near book store alley. Fuxingyuan was an unpretentious yet
perfect beacon for East Chinese food. We became such regular customers that as soon as we walked in the
door, the cook would prepare this dish just the way I liked it – with an extra
egg – and it would be set on our table within seconds after we’d been poured
hot tea.
Of supreme importance are the bean curd, which has to be the soft, custardy type (nen doufu, or tender tofu), and the eggs, which in the most perfect of all worlds are the kind called songhua, or pine flower, because of the crystalline patterns that form under the shell and tell you that this is one perfect egg, as the whites will be perfectly tender and the yolks just the right balance of solid and smoosh. (There's no guarantee whether you'll end up with pine flowers... it's sort of the luck of the draw, but celebrate if you do.)
This egg has a bad rap
because of its appearance and its touristy names: “thousand-year-old,” “century”
or even “millennium” egg.
I mean, really. They’re not at all old and in fact should be enjoyed while they are relatively fresh, as the eggs dry out if left to their own devices. I call them preserved eggs because of how they are made: fresh duck eggs are coated with a combination of quicklime, ash, clay, salt, and rice hulls, allowed to rest for a couple of weeks or months while the chemicals work their magic, and when opened, the whites will have turned a crystal-clear dark amber, while the yolks are a runny grayish-green.
I mean, really. They’re not at all old and in fact should be enjoyed while they are relatively fresh, as the eggs dry out if left to their own devices. I call them preserved eggs because of how they are made: fresh duck eggs are coated with a combination of quicklime, ash, clay, salt, and rice hulls, allowed to rest for a couple of weeks or months while the chemicals work their magic, and when opened, the whites will have turned a crystal-clear dark amber, while the yolks are a runny grayish-green.
I do realize that
encountering an egg with this sort of coloration the first time around may be
startling. But you’ll find that the
whites are actually very much like a gentle aspic, while the creamy centers
have a gently yolk flavor with a rich, buttery undercurrent.
A lot of times, eating strange things requires a leap of faith and logic. For example, one time I was having lunch in Taipei with an American friend, Janet, and her young daughter. The little girl was at that very finicky stage, and she immediately was very grossed out by our serving of pidan doufu. So I suggested to little Katie that this was egg jello; to my surprise, she bought it and then just dove in like she ate it every day.
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| Light refracting through the "white" |
A lot of times, eating strange things requires a leap of faith and logic. For example, one time I was having lunch in Taipei with an American friend, Janet, and her young daughter. The little girl was at that very finicky stage, and she immediately was very grossed out by our serving of pidan doufu. So I suggested to little Katie that this was egg jello; to my surprise, she bought it and then just dove in like she ate it every day.
When we lived in Taiwan, old-fashioned
grocers would have at least one big brown urn near the door with yellow dragons running
around it, and inside would be these eggs. They were sold still encased in
those hard little coffins of nubby clay, and I would wash them off under running
water before peeling off the bluish speckled shells, hoping that I’d be rewarded
with pine blossoms for my effort. And when I was, there would be three eggs that night.
Bean curd with pine flower preserved eggs
Sōnghuā pídàn dòufŭ 松花皮蛋豆腐
Sōnghuā pídàn dòufŭ 松花皮蛋豆腐
Hubei
Serves 4 to 6 as an appetizer
Serves 4 to 6 as an appetizer
2 or 3 preserved eggs (see Tips)
1 box soft bean curd (see Tips)
Boiling water
1 to 2 tablespoons Sichuan pickled tuber (zhacai)
1 green onion, green leaves only
2 tablespoons coarsely chopped cilantro
½ teaspoon sea salt
1½ teaspoons sugar
1½ teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon rice or apple vinegar
1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
1. Peel the eggs, rinse
them gently to remove any tiny bits of shell, and slice them into thin wedges.
2. Bring a small saucepan
half full of water to a boil and slip in the soft bean curd; bring the water to
a boil again, then discard the water and carefully rinse the hot bean curd
under cool tap water. Drain it and place the square on a cutting board. Cut the
square lengthwise in half, and then cut it crosswise into thin pieces (about an
eighth to a quarter of an inch wide). Use your cleaver to gently lift up the
fragile slice and fan them out on a rimmed serving plate. Arrange the sliced
eggs on top.
3. Rinse the pickled
tuber and chop it very finely. Thinly slice the green onion leaves. Scatter the
pickles, green onion, and cilantro over the top of the eggs. Put the salt, sugar, vinegar, and sesame oil in a wok over high until they bubble furiously; taste
the sauce and adjust seasoning, if necessary, and then drizzle this over the greens to wilt them. Serve slightly warm.
Tips
Avoid pidan from Mainland China, as I have
always found them hard and tasteless. They definitely would work better on a
ping pong table than on a dining table.
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| Some Taiwanese eggs |
I store these eggs in the
refrigerator and try to use them within a couple of weeks. Of course, always
use common sense when you're dealing with preserved or any other kind of eggs:
smell them when you crack them open and look the eggs over carefully. Preserved
eggs should not smell like much of anything before you cut them open, since the
whites are very bland.
Pidan should also look solid and not have any questionable liquid
running around in them, as that's a sign of spoilage. Do keep in mind that if
these eggs hang around too long, even with refrigeration, they can dry
out.
So, keep them chilled, and if you
haven't dealt with them for a while, open one up the day before you plan to
serve them. And if you are a lover of Congee like I am, serve them
sliced into wedges in your rice porridge with some crunchy Fried Peanuts –
the perfect breakfast or late night snack whenever it's cold outside.
Buy non-GMO,
organic bean curd whenever you can. You can use either “soft” or “extra soft”
tofu here, but while the extra soft kind will taste very good, it might look a
mess, since it tends to fall apart at the merest suggestion of pressure.
That's why the bean
curd is quickly blanched in this recipe: to both gently firm it up a bit on the
outside, which makes it easier to slice, and also to remove any scent of the
packaging.
If you don't have or can't find zhacai in your area, anything crunchy and tart will do, like the Pickled Long Beans we looked at recently.
If you don't have or can't find zhacai in your area, anything crunchy and tart will do, like the Pickled Long Beans we looked at recently.
Different
areas of China make their own versions of this classic. In Taiwan, for example,
the egg is often served whole on top of a square of tender bean curd, and then
either pork floss (rousong) or shaved
dried bonito (katsuobushi, which suggests lingering Japanese influence there) are cascaded on top,
often with a healthy drizzle of oyster sauce all around instead of the vinegar
and hot oil.





