Chocolate for breakfast

Chocolate for breakfast is my idea of a great way to start a Monday morning. The French certainly have this right in spades, as there chocolate gets stuffed into croissants or spread on slices of bread. How nice it would have been to grow up in Paris…

But that’s not to say that they’ve cornered the market on the perfect combination of bread and chocolate. My personal take on a wonderful Hong Kong-style recipe shows that breakfast can be both beautiful and delicious. Making a luscious loaf like this it will certainly put you in the running for Favorite Adult of the Year if you happen to serve it to kids. And if you are having adults over for brunch, this and a pot of coffee will all but guarantee serious adulation.

Next week I’m going to talk more about this inspired use of a simple roux known locally as “hot dough,” or tāngzhŏng 湯種, to make the bread especially moist and light. I’ll also talk more about making Pullman loaves—something you’ve probably never heard of if you are under a *certain* age—but which means the loaf is baked with a flat cover that turns it into the classic Wonder bread loaf shape. Squarish breads like this are usually called tusi in Chinese, which just means “toast,” since they are designed to be sliced and browned. When you have chocolate and other soft fillings meandering around in the dough, as in here, be sure to toast the slices for only a short time to prevent the fillings from making a getaway.

Klee, Child and Aunt, 1937

By the way, I think this bread looks like something one of my favorite artists, Paul Klee, would have adored.

Hot dough chocolate swirl pullman loaf

Tāngzhŏng qiăokèlì dàlĭshí tùsī  湯種巧克力大理石吐司

Hong Kong-ish

Makes 1 (9 x 4 inch | 22 x 10 cm) loaf

  

Roux:

½ cup | 120 ml cool water

3 tablespoons | 25 g Chinese flour

Dough:

1 teaspoon active yeast

6 tablespoons | 90 ml warm water

3 tablespoons | 35 g sugar

¼ cup | 30 g powdered milk

Jimmies!

1 large egg, lightly beaten

2 cups | 300 g Chinese flour, plus about 1 cup | 150 g for kneading

½ teaspoon sea salt

¼ cup | 60 g | ½ stick unsalted butter, softened

½ cup | 100 g chocolate sprinkles (aka jimmies)

Spray oil

Water for sprinkling

1. Start the roux at least 1 hour before you prepare the rest of the dough, as it will need time to cool off a bit. Add the water to a heatproof measuring cup and stir in the flour. Smash any major lumps that rise to the surface, and then microwave this liquid on high for 1 minute until you have a thick roux that is very elastic. Sample the roux, and if you can detect the taste of flour, microwave it for another 30 seconds or so. Stir the roux then let it come to room temperature before you proceed to the next step.

A fat, chocolate-filled snake

2. Sprinkle the yeast on the warm water and sugar in a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook. (Theoretically, you can make this bread by hand, but the dough ends up being so soft and sticky that it’s definitely easier to have the mixer do all the work.) Let the yeast bloom for about 20 minutes, and then add the cool roux, powdered milk, egg, flour, and salt. Mix these together and then knead on medium-low speed for about 10 minutes, until the dough is elastic and silky. Add the butter and continue to knead the dough for another 5 minutes or so to really build up the gluten. Remove the bowl from the mixer, cover the bowl with plastic wrap, and let it rise in a warm area until the dough is at least double in size, around 1 to 2 hours. Dump the puffy dough out on to a board covered with flour and knead it by hand until it is not very sticky. Cover it again and let the dough rise until it is again at least double in size.

3. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured board and knead it for a minute or so to wake it up. Divide the dough into 2 pieces, shaped these into balls, cover with the plastic wrap, and let them rest for about 20 minutes to fully relax the dough and make it easier to shape.

4. Working on one piece at a time, roll a ball of dough out into a 30 x 6 inch | 75 x 15 cm rectangle. Dust the chocolate sprinkles down the middle of the strip. Fold each of the long edges toward the center, pinch the open edge into the roll to close it, and then roll the rope gently to smooth it out a bit. Repeat with the other ball of dough.

And the snake coiled

5. Spray your Pullman loaf pan and lid with oil. Coil the ropes into the pan so that they are more or less evenly filling the bottom, and so that the top of the dough is more or less even—you don’t have to be terribly accurate, but this step will help the loaf rise more evenly. Sprinkle the dough with water and then cover the pan with plastic wrap and let the dough rise until it almost reaches the top of the pan. (Remember that you must be able to slide the lid on top, so don’t let the dough overproof.)

6. Set a rack just below the middle of your oven and set it for 350°F | 175°C. When the oven is ready, sprinkle water over the dough to create steam inside the pan. Slide the lid onto the pan, set the pan in the oven, and bake for around 30 minutes. When you open the pan, the loaf should be a lovely golden brown and sound hollow when you tap it in the center. Remove the pan from the oven, turn the loaf out onto a cake rack, and let it cool before cutting it into slices.

My memoir, plus Suzhou's drunken biscuits

This is an updated recipe from a few years ago, as I've been working on my memoir for W. W. Norton and will include some of my favorite recipes in it. 

Tentatively titled The Jade Labyrinth: My Chinese Life, with Recipes, I'm getting close to wrapping it up, and so at last free enough to announce what it is I've been up to ever since All Under Heaven was published.

I became addicted to these drunken biscuits back in Taipei, when I worked for the museum and library as an interpreter. Cold, blustery evenings would often find me standing at a downtown bus stop feeling very sorry for myself. But one evening my nose detected the aroma of something toasty and decidedly alcoholic emanating from a woman's pushcart. 

One bite and I was hooked.

Golden bottoms

It took me forever to figure out the recipe because every version I tried tasted like bread yeast, not wine. These, though, are right on the money. Drunken biscuits (my pet name for them, as the Chinese term for them literally is fermented rice biscuits) are a specialty of Suzhou and other culinarily enlightened places along the Yangtze River, and each area seems to have its own take on what should be hidden inside. 

I’ve enjoyed these with the usual red bean paste, plain sugar, and sweetened ground black sesame. However, I’ve found that a combination of sugar, nuts, and osmanthus syrup take this sweet to extreme levels of hedonistic pleasure, at least as far as I’m concerned.

The filling

That being said, don’t overdo it in the filling department. Drunken biscuits are easily overpowered by anything that is too sweet or too whatever. Anything you put in the biscuits should simply serve to amplify and complement the aromas of the wine and bread.

The flavor of this really depends upon the fermented rice. It must be full-flavored for the biscuits to shine. What this means is that you should let your rice ferment for a couple of weeks so that it has a strongly alcoholic aroma and zero taste of fresh rice. Then, use only the thick rice solids for the first ingredient and the clear wine as the liquid, which pack a double punch of flavor.

Be sure and cover the pan, as that way the center cooks through thoroughly—there are few things as sad as an otherwise delicious biscuit with a raw, doughy center.

Drunken biscuits

Jĭuniáng bĭng  酒釀餅

Bubbling from the addition of the powder & soda

Jiangsu cuisine

Makes 6 biscuits

First rising:

½ cup | 125 g fermented rice solids (see Tips)

⅓ cup | 75 ml fermented rice liquid

2 to 6 tablespoons sugar

1½ cups | 260 g Chinese flour (or two parts all-purpose and one part pastry or cake flour)

Second rising:

1½ teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

Spread on the filling

Around 1½ cups | 260 g Chinese flour (or two parts all-purpose and one part pastry or cake flour)

Filling:

3 tablespoons | 45 g turbinado or light brown sugar (see Tips)

3 tablespoons | 60 g toasted pine nuts or 6 chopped raw Brazilian nuts, optional

1 tablespoon homemade osmanthus syrup, optional

Neutral oil like canola for oiling the frying pan

1. Start this recipe at least a day before you plan to serve it. Mix the rice, water, and sugar together in a medium work bowl, and then stir in the flour to form a sticky dough. Taste the dough, and if it is sour, add more sugar—up to 6 tablespoons—to give it a slightly sweet edge, which will also encourage the yeast to grow rapidly. Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and keep it in a warm place 8 hours or even a day or two, which will give the wine yeast time to multiply and turn the dough light and fragrant. Take a nibble of the dough—it should taste strongly of the wine when it’s ready.

Your standard baozi shape

2. Mix in the baking powder and baking soda. Place about 1 cup | TK g of the flour onto a smooth surface and scrape the dough on top of that. Knead the dough until it feels smooth and no longer sticks to your hands or your counter. What you want is it to feel like an earlobe, not a sweaty palm. Roll it into a ball, cover, and let the dough rest, as this will give the gluten time to relax and the dough to double in size. It is ready when you can poke two holes in the top with your fingertips and the holes don't immediately close up.

3. Cut the dough into 6 even pieces. On a very lightly floured board, roll each one out into 5-inch | 13-cm circles as if you were going to make baozi, which means that there will be a little bump in the center of the disc and thinnish edges—this will keep the top from becoming too thick. Divide the sugar, optional nuts, and optional osmanthus syrup among the discs and then gather the tops up, again as if you were making baozi. Roll the filled balls between your palms to smooth out the seams. Lightly press down on each one and roll out to form a patty about 3 inches | 8 cm wide. (You may freeze these at this point and then cook them as needed later on.)

Discs ready for the pan

4. Set a wide, flat-bottomed pan on medium heat. When the edges feel hot, use a paper towel to lightly film the bottom with oil. Reduce the heat to low. Arrange as many of the discs as you wish to serve in the pan, leaving at least an inch between them so that they can rise as they cook without sticking together. Cover the pan tightly so that steam will form, since this will help cook the insides quickly without burning the outsides. When the bottoms are a deep golden brown (about 5 to 7 minutes) and the biscuits have risen, turn the discs over and cover the pan again. Cook until the other side is a rich brown, too, which should take around 5 minutes. Serve hot. (To reheat these, never ever use a microwave, but rather gently grill them again or even heat them in a low oven, as this will keep the bread from turning tough.)

Cucumbers with eggs

Once in a while you get a combination of ingredients in a Chinese dish that sounds completely odd. This is definitely one of them. 

The main reason Westerners find even the idea of mixing cucumbers with eggs strange is that we almost invariably eat our cucumbers either raw or pickled. But in China, cucumbers quite as often as not are cooked to a certain degree, for these are indeed members of the squash family. Refreshing squashes, yes, but squashes nevertheless.

My first run-in with cooked cucumbers was in Taipei where they were served in a soup. I hadn’t a clue what was floating around in there among the tiny pork meatballs until a friend informed me that they were in fact peeled, fat cukes. They were veggies that had gone a bit to seed on the vine, but were then rescued for the soup course. 

Anyone who has ever grown cucumbers will attest that you almost invariably end up with a couple hiding long enough to turn into monsters. Until I had traveled to Taiwan, I usually tossed these onto the compost heap. But the Chinese are a practical people who tend to find a way to make just about anything not only edible, but delicious. 

And they are right on the money with overly mature cucumbers: when peeled and seeded, their flesh turns out to be firm and just barely fibrous enough to withstand a hot bath. So next time you are faced with a yellowing cucumber, julienne some ginger, fry up some little meatballs, and make a soup with that cubed up squash. It’s actually extraordinarily good that way.

But back to cukes when they are at their absolute prime. Chinese-style cucumbers are called xiăohuángguā 小黃瓜, or "little cucumbers," because they are around 5 to 6 inches / 12 to 15 cm long. They are usually sold as Persian or Japanese cucumbers in Bay Area grocery stores. These are sometimes called "seedless" because the seeds are so undeveloped as to be negligible, at least when they are harvested correctly. The skins are also tender, dark green, and only slightly spiny.

My friend Chiaying was gathering the last of her homegrown "little" cucumbers the other day, and I happened to stop by just as she was wondering what to do with all of them. That counts as exceptional good luck in my book. Some were eaten raw right on the spot, as little can improve a cuke fresh off the vine. But I also took a big bag home and started fantasizing about what I could do with this lovely bounty.

The cukes, salted and squeezed

And then I remembered that I had noticed this particular dish on a menu in San Francisco a couple days earlier. I didn't order it at the time because few people make it well, for the eggs and cucumbers need to mesh juuuust right. I’ve had it with the cucumbers appearing as wide slices or fat batons, but in those cases the eggs just slithered off to one side because there was nothing there for them to grab onto. Also, restaurant egg dishes are usually tasteless, for they are generally neither of the greatest quality nor cooked with care. And so I like to make this dish myself. 

In China, eggs are considered a rich ingredient because of their butteriness, their depth of flavor, and their silky texture. That whole Chinese concept of yin and yang gets a bit of a workout here in this dish because cucumbers are considered bland, and so their nature gets emphasized when they are paired with eggs. Also, with a combination like this, there is soft against crunch, yellow against green, cooked against fresh. 

Wonderful aromatics also can be found wandering around in here to perk things up and turn this into something really lovely. I like garlic and green onions to bounce against my senses, and you can add some chopped fresh chilies in there, if you are so inclined.

The next thing that has to be addressed here is the proper way to prep the cucumbers. Like I noted earlier, the eggs will happily slide off of the cucumbers if given half a chance, so you have to get creative here. 

Cut them into slivers

My contribution to this homestyle classic is to cut them into relatively small julienne – not shreds, mind you, which would just dissolve into mush when heated, but large enough to handle a quick turn in the wok – and then lightly salting them. I've never heard of anyone else doing this, but that last step releases most of the juices and also roughs up the surfaces just enough to give the eggs a bit of a grip. Another benefit is that the cucumbers are then seasoned all the way through and so offer punchy little sparks with each bite.

And now we get back to the eggs and how to prepare them. Simply put: don’t overcook them. 

The best way to achieve this is to first quickly toss the cucumbers with the aromatics over high heat and then immediately empty them into a bowl. Only then should you cook the eggs over much lower heat. This will give you fat, yellow curds that are pleasant to look at and even more pleasant to eat, as they will be soft and tender – the perfect contrast to the slightly crisp and still very fresh cucumbers. Magic.

This is great over rice, wrapped in a flour tortilla, served with congee, or made as an accompaniment to toast.

Cucumbers and eggs

Xiăohuángguā chăo dàn 小黃瓜炒蛋

Northern China

Serves 4

4 seedless cucumbers (like Japanese or Persian)

1 teaspoon sea salt

6 tablespoons / 90 ml peanut or vegetable oil, divided in half

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

Your main ingredients

1 green onion, green parts only, finely chopped

1 fresh red chile, seeded and finely chopped, optional

3 large or medium eggs, lightly beaten (free range, organic ones are highly recommended)
Freshly ground black pepper

1. Rinse the cucumbers, pat them dry, and remove the stems and blossom ends. Cut the unpeeled cucumbers into 2-inch / 5 cm lengths (more or less), and then into strips about ¼ inch / 5 mm wide on the skin side. Place them in a colander set in the sink, toss well with the salt, rub them a bit with the salt to rough them up (pretend like you are washing your hands with them), and then let the strands soften slightly for around 30 minutes. Squeeze small handfuls of the cucumbers to release as much of the moisture as possible and then place them in a work bowl.

2. Set a wok over medium-high heat, and add half of the oil to the wok when it is hot. Swirl the oil around and add the garlic, onions, and optional chiles. As soon as they smell delicious, toss in the cucumbers, sprinkling them in so that they don’t clump up. Raise the heat to high. Toss these together just until the cucumbers are barely heated through but the garlic isn't browned, and then return everything to the work bowl.

Fluffy, soft eggs

3. Lower the heat to medium-low and set the wok back on the stove. Swirl the remaining oil into the wok, and then add the eggs and pepper. Cook the eggs slowly, adjusting the heat as necessary, so that they congeal rather than fry. Stir them gently to encourage the eggs to form fluffy clouds, and as soon as just a slick of raw egg remains, gently toss in the cucumbers to combine. Taste and adjust seasoning - you probably won't need more salt, but use your own judgment. Serve immediately.

Something Chinese for the Easter Bunny, part 2

(Here is a recipe modified from my upcoming cookbook, All Under Heaven. We just sent the 514-page book off to the printer! Yay!

Red date steamed buns are especially beloved around the Lunar New Year. Oftentimes it appears as one or two large steamed breads with large red dates secured in a ring around the top. But making them as individual buns polka-dotted with baby dates gives you something weird and wonderful for the holidays. And not just for the New year.

Now that it’s already spring, I’m thinking that Easter could use a little excitement, too, so I've come to think of these as bizarre hot cross buns that look like a cross between alien spaceships, deep sea mines, and Christmas ornaments.

Yum

Remove the date pits (see the Tips below) if you are serving these to children or people who have problems with things like olive pits and crabshells. I like to make the buns in this recipe with all white flour so that there’s a dramatic contrast between the red and the white.

Note too that I’ve upped the flavor here with the addition of ground ginger, the same stuff you use for your cookies and cakes. It adds a wonderfully tasty undercurrent to the buns and also is considered warming and healthful. Combined with the red dates, this is great for anyone who is on the mend, pregnant, or just in need of some TLC.

Small red Chinese dates

My Chinese friends add all sorts of things to their own versions of steamed bread, and so should you. Health food fiends who share their bounty with me make theirs almost into a steamed granola with all sorts of whole grains, seeds, nuts, wolfberries, and raisins. Others make a chocolate layer for those flower rolls from last week. Yet others knead in dark brown sugar and toasted walnuts so that they end up with tastes a bit like a maple bar. I love my friends.

All this goes to show you that Chinese steamed breads are incredibly versatile. We will be making more in the months ahead, so stay tuned.

By the way, this decoration uses 9 dates per bun, which is a lucky number especially around the New Year, since it conveys wishes that you get everything you want (jĭurú 九如).

Risen dough, ready to go

Red date steamed buns

Hóngzǎo mántóu 紅棗饅頭

Makes 16 buns

1¼ cups/295 ml warm water

2 teaspoons yeast

¼ cup/50g sugar

½ teaspoon sea salt

1 teaspoon ground ginger

2½ cups/320g white Chinese flour, plus extra for kneading (see Tip)

2 teaspoons peanut or vegetable oil

2 teaspoons baking powder

144 small red dates, with or without pits (see Tips)

1. Make the dough as directed for the flower rolls, using the additional ingredients of ginger and salt. When the dough has risen and rested, lightly dust your work surface and pat it out into an even rope 16 inches long. Then, cut the dough into 16 equal pieces. Roll each piece into a ball and cover with a towel to let them rest while you prepare the dates and the steamer.

2. Rinse the dates and pat them dry. Remove any small stems you find, as well as any odd looking dates; be sure you have 144 dates when you’re through, though.

Pinch a seam over the top

3. Now comes the fun part: shaping the buns. Form one of the balls into a half-dome shape by sitting it squarely on a lightly floured work surface. Then, pinch a ½ inch/1cm wide band from the left all the way over the top to the right. Use a paring knife to cut an incision through the band at the very top and slip a date through so that it is held by the tiny band of dough. Then make a cut near the left and right sides of the band and slip dates into those, as well. Halfway up the side of the dome on either side cut two more holes and add 2 more dates.

Stick the dates in the holes

4. Now turn the bun 45 degrees and pinch a band up both sides almost to the top; make incisions near the bottom and halfway up the sides so that you can add 4 more dates to the bun, giving you a total of 9 dates per bun. Cover the finished bun with a towel to let it rise a bit. Repeat this step with the rest of the balls of dough and dates.

5. Prepare the steamer baskets as directed in the flower rolls recipe and steam the buns for the same amount of time. They can be frozen and reheated as directed in those recipes, too.

Tips

Halfway done

You may use all-purpose flour here instead of Chinese flour. The crumb will not be as light, but these will still end up rocking your world.

The best Chinese dates for this recipe are small ones. Look at the selection at your Chinese grocery store, where they will be in the dry goods aisle.

At the time of this writing, two smaller varieties are commonly available: "chicken heart dates" (jīxīn zǎo 雞心棗) and the even tinier "golden thread dates" (jīnsī zǎo 金絲棗). There probably won't be an English translation on there, other than "Chinese jujubes" or something, so refer to the Chinese.

Ready to get steamed

Lots of times you can even get the dates already pitted (called wúhé 無核), which makes eating these buns a whole lot easier. This is especially recommended for people like kids and the elderly. 

If you can't have pits in your dates but can't find them already pitted, soak the larger ones in water overnight, drain, and then cut them in half to remove the seed inside, which looks like an olive pit. In that case, you'll only need half (72) of the dates called for in the recipe.