Daokou poached chicken

Although Henan cuisine is traditionally considered by Chinese gourmets to be part the great northern swath of cooking styles called Shandong cuisine, my personal belief is that the cooking styles of Henan are actually much more like that of its neighbor to the east, Anhui province, as they share much of the same climate and terrain.

These two provinces also share a favorite poultry dish, for Anhui's is none other than Fuliji Poached Chicken (Fujili shao ji), which is pretty much the identical twin of this Daokou hometown favorite. And if that were not enough, both of these are direct descendants of one of Shandong's greatest poultry dishes, Five Fragrance Fall-Off-The-Bone-Tender Braised Chicken (Wuxiang tuogu paji). Culinary lineages are often more complicated than ethnic heritage of the average American, it seems.

In many ways this is an extravagant dish because it is fried in toasted sesame oil, and the blast of its mouthwatering fragrance will wake up your appetite with a roar. The skin caramelizes as it fries thanks to the thick sugary goo called maltose, although honey will do in a pinch.

This deep brown chicken is finally set down into a pot of herbal goodness that will add other layers of delectable aromas to this fragrant cloud. The good news about all this prep and cost is that both the oil and the poaching broth can be used a couple of more times as long as they are properly stored, so consider them savory investments. 

The finished dish

I have modified the original recipe a bit, since it calls for 13 herbs that are often quite hard to locate; those in the directions here are generally easy to find even in the States, but whatever you cannot find, just leave it out, and the chicken will still be marvelous!

Serve this chicken as a starter at either room temperature or just slightly warmed. You will want to chill the chicken after it is done because it is so tender that it cannot be cut up without falling apart. So, let it come to room temperature, cover it and chill it overnight, and then cut it into pieces the next day. This is a great party food, as it can be done in steps many days ahead of time, and it freezes beautifully.

Daokou poached chicken 
Fuliji shaoji  符離集燒雞  
Henan, Anhui

Serves 6 to 8 as an entrée 

Poaching broth:

4 cups filtered water or stock
½ cup Shaoxing rice wine
¼ cup fish sauce (if no stock is used), or salt to taste
¼ cup light soy sauce
1 tablespoon rock sugar or granulated sugar
A large handful of dried tangerine or orange peel
1 tablespoon shajiang (sand ginger)
1 tablespoon whole peppercorns
1 tablespoon whole Sichuan peppercorns
1 tablespoon fennel
4 star anise
½ a luohanguo, or increase sugar to taste
½ stick cinnamon 
1 teaspoon whole cloves
3 caoguo

Shellac the chicken before frying

Chicken:

One fryer (3 to 4 pounds), trimmed, rinsed, and patted very dry
½ cup maltose
4 cups roasted sesame oil

1. Toss all of the poaching broth ingredients together in a large, narrow pot like a pasta pot; it should be just wide enough to hold the chicken. Bring the ingredients to a boil and then allow them to simmer while you prepare the chicken.

2. Pat the chicken all over again with a paper towel to ensure that the skin is dry and tacky, since the maltose will glide off of any wet areas. Fold the wings underneath themselves so that they lie flat against the body, and tie the legs together along with the tail so that you have a nice, tight, football-shaped chicken; this will help keep any pieces from burning and allow all of the chicken to brown evenly.

3. Melt the maltose or honey until it is runny, place the chicken on a clean plate, and then use a pastry brush to complete coat the chicken with the syrup. If the maltose starts to harden because of the cold chicken, just reheat it as needed. 

The correct temperature

4. Heat the oil in a wok until a wooden or bamboo chopstick inserted in the oil immediately bubbles all over. Do not drop any moisture into the oil after this point, as it will explode and possibly burn you.

5. Gently lower the chicken into the oil and carefully turn it over and around in the hot oil so that all of the surfaces are a deep, mahogany brown. 

6.  I like to use two bamboo tongs to do this, as they can be shoved into the top and bottom cavities, be used to prop up the chicken as it browns on a wobbly side, and even flip it up on its end. Try not to use metal spatulas, which will tear the skin. If the skin does tear in places, or if it sticks to the wok, don't worry, as the chicken will be chopped up before serving and no one will be the wiser.

Fry until deliciously brown

7. When the chicken is completely browned, gently lower it into the poaching broth and add water, if needed, to cover the chicken. Bring the broth to a boil and then lower the heat to the lowest setting, which should give you a very, very slow simmer. Cover the pot and allow the chicken to gently poach for about 2 hours, then turn off the heat and let the chicken rest in the covered pot until the broth is warm, at least 2 hours. Use a wide strainer or spatula to help you carefully lift the chicken out of the broth and onto a plate - use extreme care, as it will fall apart easily. Drain any liquids back into the pot, let the chicken come to room temperature, and then chill it for at least 4 hours or overnight. Chop into pieces and serve at room temperature or slightly warm; no sauces or accompaniments are needed.

Note: The frying oil may be strained, refrigerated, and used again, and the poaching liquid can be strained and frozen. 

China's greatest unknown cuisine: Anhui

Today I'm moving west from the incredibly wonderful dishes of Jiangsu and Zhejiang to another of the Eight Great Cuisines of China, Anhui. 

Of all the eight cuisines, Anhui's has remain the most elusive and mysterious, and just about no one I've met outside of Anhui has an inkling of what this cuisine is like. 

However, some of my best friends over the years have hailed from Anhui - or at least their parents did - and even if they don't have a clue about how to make even a single Anhui-style dish, they are such great people that I was excited about exploring the culture and the foods that had nourished their families throughout the centuries. 

Generous to a fault, invariably happy to be alive, and dedicated to eating well, these friends over the years have made my life richer that I could have ever believed possible, and I think it has a lot to do with the fantastic food of Anhui!

With my new goal firmly in mind, I snapped up every Chinese-language Anhui cookbook I could find. Now, after having made a number of Anhui's dishes, I am nothing less than flabbergasted that not a single Anhui-style restaurant existed in Taipei when I lived there in the seventies and eighties.  And that is saying something, because in that metropolis of dedicated foodies just about every other cuisine, major and minor, had at least a handful of restaurants or storefronts there and a loyal coterie of customers. Let me just note for the record that people have really, really, really missed out on something special, and I am going to do my best to change that.

Huangshan

Smoked poultry, game, and fish are beloved here, as well as domestic and wild beasts cooked with a rich wine lees sauce or a delightful handful of fruits and sugar. Combining meats with fruits and nuts and herbs and spices has resulted in some dishes that cause deep pangs of hunger from their aroma alone.  

Right now I'm enjoying the aroma of Anhui's most famous poultry dish, Fuliji Poached Chicken, gently simmering away on the stove downstairs.  This is an organic whole fryer coated in maltose, fried to a mahogany brown, and then braised for hours in a rich stock flavored with a shelf full of exotic herbs and spices. 

The whole house smells edible at this point. The result is a chicken that is incredibly moist and flavorful, the skin deliciously soft and lean, and the meat so tender that it falls off the bone if you look at it too hard. The recipe for that will follow shortly, as will ones for Braised Chicken Legs in a Spiced Caramel Sauce, Walnut Pork, Fluffy Shrimp "Noodles," Maofeng Tea Smoked Fish, and Cilantro Beef, and many more, in addition to a my normal off-topic sidetracks where I talk about some of the other dishes I'm currently cooking.

Fuliji Poached Chicken (see next blog entry)

So why does Anhui have such a great cuisine? Everyone I've asked has said the same thing: Anhui was the home of some of China's great traders and merchants, and all that wealth allowed them to eat quite well.  Anhui is actually two very different areas: the north is part of China's great plains, so its foods tend to be more that of the nomads, with their pastas and breads, a reliance on beef and mutton, and the dishes that a cold climate fosters. 

Southern Anhui hugs the Yangtze River with its more temperate climate, rich fields, and bountiful resources, and so the dishes here are very much like the eastern cuisines of its neighbors, Jiangsu and Zhejiang. When people lump China's cuisines into four regions, Anhui's is invariably considered an eastern cuisine, which in a way is fair, since its greatest dishes do come from the south, and in a final note the mountainous regions of southern Anhui are also home to gorgeous  Huangshan, one of China's five great mountains.

Please join me in this culinary excursion to China's last great unknown cuisine, one that has opened my eyes and taste buds to some truly remarkable dishes.
 
Map courtesy Wikipedia Commons.
Huangshan photo courtesy china.org.cn