Marbled tea eggs

I have to say, I was truly flabbergasted this week to read these lines on Tastebook: 

"Carolyn Phillips’s exhaustive study of Chinese food culture is a thing of legend" and "Each of the 300 recipes [in All Under Heaven] features a detailed headnote, and the author’s... illustrations tell the story visually — in a sort of Wall Street Journal meets Lucky Peach way." 

Writer Matt Robard did a wonderful job of understanding and explaining both All Under Heaven and The Dim Sum Field Guide in his article, "How To Do Dim Sum Right in 5 Dishes," and I thank him and Tastebook for this from the bottom of my heart. 

And my gratitude to all of you who stopped by to see me at the LDEI Literary Feast yesterday. What a wonderful day and what a lovely way to catch up with old friends... and new ones, too!

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Marbled tea eggs are some of the most beautiful things you can set on a plate, bar none. They look like exquisite porcelain orbs, with the crazing on the glaze ranging from the palest beige to deep mahogany. And, when done right, the flavors seep down into the eggs (see the last picture below), permeating the whites with savory whiffs of soy sauce and aromatics, so that each bite is pure pleasure.

I first had tea eggs long ago in Taiwan, where they are incredibly popular. Some even think that they are part of Taiwan’s delectable cuisine, but these were introduced to the island back in 1949, when the Nationalists arrived with all their great chefs and fine home cooks in tow.

Almost too beautiful to eat

Shanghainese hallmarks like good soy sauce, flavorful tea leaves, Shaoxing rice wine, punchy spices, lots of green onions and ginger, a touch of sugar, and some tangerine peel make this East China source unmistakable. You can vary the seasonings to suit your heart’s content (and the balance of your meal), of course, as shown below, to create your own personal masterpieces.

One thing I’ve discovered after eons of making tea eggs is that the wine and the tangerine peel are vital components. It must be the acid in them that allows all of those flavors to work their way down through the cracks in the shells, for without them, I’ve found that the seasonings stay stubbornly near the surface. You can use either home-dried tangerine peel or Cantonese aged peel for this – both are tasty and both work well, so use whatever is easiest. (See the tip below for directions on making your own dried tangerine peel.)

Ready to chill

Cantonese aged tangerine peel, I must admit, has an almost heady fragrance, very perfume-y and lush, so if you find it in a good herbalist’s store, do snap it up for this and other dishes that I’ve talked about here and in All Under Heaven. These peels are very dark and – when the food gods are smiling on you – will be tied up in little stacks with bright red string. They should not be hard, but rather leathery. Store them in a tightly closed container in the pantry, where they will stay tasty for a long time because – after all they are aged.

If you are a sucker for pork, soak one of the petals (they usually come as whole peels that are split into thirds, and one of those thirds is what I call a “petal”) in warm water, then use a spoon to scrape off the whitish pith, which can be bitter. Chop the peel finely and use it and a good bit of finely chopped fresh ginger to season a pork patty, as in the recipe for Steamed Minced Pork with Salted Fish on page 205 of AUH (eliminate the fish, of course, as otherwise you won’t taste the tangerine.)

Anyway, back to those eggs. Use older eggs, if you can, as they will peel better. Set refrigerated eggs in a pan of warm water to get rid of the chill, as you don’t want to surprise the eggs into bursting. I have a whole bunch of tips on making the perfect boiled egg here, so check that out if you’re interested.

These tea eggs really are an indelible part of the Taiwanese culinary landscape now, though, and lady street hawkers will often sit with a bucket full of these and tiny braised land snails at the side of the road, working their metal spoons down into the snails so that they crunch against each other to let you know what they are selling.

Prick the shells to release the air

My favorite story about these egg sellers came from one guy I knew who was deep in Taiwan’s tropical jungles on a practice mission with the army. His company had clambered up and down hills for what had seemed forever. Deep in a green grove, they paused before working their way forward on their bellies toward their target. 

All was quiet, not a bird was heard. Then, suddenly they heard a woman right behind them say loudly, “Elder Brother Soldiers, you want some tea eggs?” He swears they all leaped a foot into the air, and lucky for that lady the safeties on their rifles were on. But how she snuck up on them while lugging a big bucket of eggs forever remained a mystery to him.

Tea eggs

Cháyè dàn 茶葉蛋

Shanghai & Taiwan
Makes 18 eggs

18 medium eggs, the smaller the better, at least a week or two old, and preferably organic and free range

Water, as needed

½ cup / 120 cc regular soy sauce

½ cup / 120 cc Shaoxing rice wine

2 tablespoons agave syrup, or 1 piece of rock sugar about the size of 2 cherries

Stir the eggs to center the yolks

¼ cup loose tea leaves (I like oolong, but just about any green or black tea works well here, too)

6 slices fresh ginger

3 whole green onions

3 star anise

1 (2-inch / 5-cm) piece of aged tangerine peel, or one strip of home-dried peel

1 tablespoon whole Sichuan peppercorns

(Other spices you can use instead of or in addition to these are fennel, dried licorice root, stick cinnamon, whole black peppers... whatever you like)

1. Start this at least 3 days before you plan to eat them, as they need time to slowly cook and then soak in the sauce. Prick the rounded end of each egg with a tack or pin, as this will allow the air in that cushion to escape, rather than crack the shell. If the eggs are chilled, cover them in a pan of warm water for an hour or two to remove the chill. Then, bring the pan slowly to a boil, stirring occasionally to center the yolks. When the water has come to a boil, the whites will be set, so you can stop stirring. Simmer them for around 5 to 6 minutes – they will cook longer in Step 4, so don’t worry about them being done at this point. Drain the eggs and cover with cool water.  

Make a luscious braising liquid

2. When the eggs are cool enough to handle easily, use the bottom of a tablespoon to evenly smack them all over, about 6 times per egg is right. You want to keep the shells intact, so don’t hit them hard, but just enough to dent them up a bit and create that marbling.

3. Add the rest of the ingredients to the pan – in fact, a crockpot is really good for this dish, since it will take care of business for the rest of the recipe, but a saucepan will also work just fine. Place the eggs in there, and then cover them with water. Bring the pan or crockpot to a boil and then lower to a bare simmer. Cook the eggs with the lid off for a couple of hours in a saucepan, or overnight in the crockpot. Adjust the seasoning after this time with whatever you think is needed. Don’t add more water to the pan unless absolutely necessary, because you want the flavors to concentrate, which means that you want no more than 1 cup / 240 cc of liquid remaining in the pan.

The flavors will permeate the whites

4. Let the eggs and sauce cool to room temperature, and then chill them in a covered container for at least 2 days and up to about 5. Just before serving, peel the eggs. I like to rinse them in the sauce to remove any tiny bits of shell, but don’t soak them in the sauce, as this will erase the lovely patterns. These eggs can then be sliced in half or in wedges, or even served whole for things like picnics. Some people like to heat the eggs up before they peel them, while others like them chilled, and still others prefer room temperature. They’re all good.

Tip

To dry your own tangerine peel, scrub the tangerine thoroughly, wipe it off, and then peel off the skin in a continuous strip. Hang it up in a dry area, and it’s ready when the peel is hard. Store in a closed container.

Breakfast tortillas & eggs

Whenever we visit Taipei, I have three main food beelines on my list: the local farmers markets for fresh vegetables and fruits, the myriad night markets that begin at sundown and snake down city streets and alleys for my after-hours intake of snacks and munchies, and the breakfast stands that open up just before dawn and offer freshly-made soybean milk along with a host of generally northern style treats.

After a long night of eating and catching up with friends, a hot breakfast really hits the spot. We usually head for a place that serves soybean milk alongside things like today's breakfast flour tortillas and other goodies from China's far north, like steamed breads (mantou) and filled steamed breads (mantou). 

These were transplanted to Taiwan's shores by the soldiers who came with Chiang Kai-shek at the end of the Chinese Civil War in 1949, and these delicious foods took root -- as so many other cuisines from all over China did -- in Taiwan's fertile soil.

Chinese flour tortilla

Back in the late seventies and early eighties, one district to the south of Taipei, just over the river, called Yonghe gradually became synonymous with rich soybean milk and good breakfast fare. And, like intrepid businesspeople everywhere, the name was expanded upon as a name for breakfast spots, and very soon we had the Yonghe brand plastered up all over Taipei and then pretty much all over Taiwan. 

What I hadn't realized was that in a few years this had even traveled to Beijing. When we went there in 2001 and asked around for a good doujiang dian (soybean milk shop), we were invariably shoved in the direction of a Yonghe franchise! The food had come full circle, and had acquired a certain trendiness through its stay in Taipei. 

One dish that I seem to order without fail is this simple flour tortilla that is rolled around a scrambled egg and chopped green onions. Simple and apparently foolproof, this is how I usually start my vacation day in Taipei, along with a hot bowl of sweet soybean milk. 

Boiling water added to flour

Once in a while I might mix it up a bit with a fried cruller (youtiao) rolled up in the middle for some crunch and an extra dose of holiday extravagance, but all in all this is a pretty levelheaded way to head out into Taiwan's busy streets, on the lookout for more food and fun, two things that are never in short supply around there.

These tortillas are a snap to make, and I implore you to try them. You can, of course, use store-bought Mexican flour tortillas, and the results will be passable, but don't blame me if you are not transported by the results.

No, you really have to make them fresh. And once you master them, you will find that making a stack of tortillas and freezing them before you cook them is a great way to prepare a shortcut to many a great Chinese and, dare I say it, Mexican meal.

Smooth ball of dough

These are what you want to use as wrappers for Mu Shu Pork and things of that ilk. They are strong enough to withstand all sorts of abuse, yet their freshness assures you that they will melt in your mouth. (You can also use the thinner Spring Wraps that we looked at a few months ago.)

What makes these tortillas so perfect? Two things that we've discussed before: Korean bread flour and boiling water.

The Korean bread flour has less gluten than American bread flour, but more than our all-purpose. Plus, it is better quality than Mainland Chinese, so it's something that I continue to recommend.

Boiling water added to flour makes what the Chinese call tangmian, or hot dough. This cooks the flour and makes the resulting pastry lighter. You never end up with a powdery texture when boiling water is used; rather, it will be silky and soft. And when you shape it into the initial ball before letting it rest, the dough will feel smooth and supple in a way that the Chinese compare to an earlobe.

Divide the rested dough

Once the dough has rested for an hour or so, cut it into six equal pieces and roll them into balls. Coat the balls in oil and then roll the balls out into very thin rounds that are about 9 inches wide; the oil will make this easy. All that is left is to quickly toast them on an ungreased pan; they will bubble up on top while their undersides become a speckled brown. Flip them over for another quick go in the pan and they are done.

Turning them into breakfast is simply a matter of beating some eggs and patting a cooked tortilla on top of the eggs as they quickly cook. I like adding some chopped greenery in there -- green onions and/or cilantro are always welcome -- plus sesame oil adds another grace note of flavor.

Cheap, easy, and delicious. Hard to improve on that.

Flour tortillas 
Danbing 單餅 
Northern China

Roll out the dough

Makes 6 tortillas

2 cups Korean bread flour
½ teaspoon sea salt
1 cup (or so) boiling filtered water
Fresh peanut or vegetable oil, as needed

1. Mix the flour and salt together in a medium work bowl, and then stir in enough boiling water to form a soft dough. Knead the dough for about 10 minutes until it is smooth. Coat the dough lightly with some oil and place it back in the (clean) bowl; cover and let it rest for an hour.

2. If you are going to freeze some or all of the tortillas, prepare a baking sheet and some parchment paper or plastic wrap. Then, place the uncooked tortillas on the paper or wrap and freeze them separately; when solid, seal them in a freezer bag. If you are going to immediately cook all or some of the tortillas, have a 9-inch smooth, seasoned, ungreased skillet on the stove; heat it on medium for about 3 minutes before you cook the tortillas. 

3. Cut the dough into 6 equal pieces. Roll each piece into a ball and coat with more oil. Use a small rolling pin to roll each piece out into a 9-inch circle. As you finish each tortilla, either lay it on the paper or plastic, or cook it on the skillet.

4. Cook the unfrozen tortillas over medium heat until the tops bubble and the bottoms are covered with brown spots. Lift one edge with your fingers (or use a spatula) and flip it over. Lightly brown the other side as well. Remove to a plate and cover with a clean cloth so that it can steam and stay warm. Repeat with the rest of the tortillas.

5. To cook the frozen tortillas, cover the pan to create steam and cook the tortillas more evenly, but otherwise cook the same as unfrozen; there is no need to defrost them first.


Breakfast tortillas 
Danbing 蛋餅 
Northern China

Bubbles on the top of the tortilla

Makes 6 and serves 3 to 4

1 recipe Flour Tortillas
4 large free-range eggs
1 tablespoon filtered water
4 green onions, optional
Sea salt and pepper to taste
Small handful cilantro, optional
Roasted sesame oil

1. Cook the Flour Tortillas as directed above and keep warm by covering them with a clean tea towel.

2. Lightly beat the eggs with the water. Trim the onions and/or cilantro, if you are using them, and chop them finely. Add salt and pepper to taste to the eggs.

3. Make the breakfast tortillas one at a time: Heat a tablespoon or so of the sesame oil in a 9-inch smooth, seasoned skillet over medium and roll the oil around the pan. Add a sixth of the eggs to the pan, quickly swirl the pan and add a sixth of the greens. Immediately press a tortilla on top of the eggs and press down lightly on the tortilla with the palm of your hand to squish the eggs out toward the edge of the pan, which will allow the eggs to cook evenly. Shake the pan, and as soon as the eggs are lightly brown, flip the breakfast tortilla over. Lightly cook the other side for a few seconds to ensure that the center of the eggs is cooked, and then remove to a plate. Keep the breakfast tortilla warm while you prepare the rest of the breakfast tortillas.

Let the eggs squish out the edges

4. Roll each breakfast tortilla up and cut crosswise into six pieces. Serve hot.


Tips

You can serve these as is, or eliminate the salt and pepper and serve with either a sweet chili sauce or thick sweetened soy (jiangyougao) or ground roasted Sichuan pepper and salt.

Instead of soybean milk, these also are terrific with a bowl of millet porridge or congee.

Nanjing's drunken eggs with molten centers

New York chef David Chang of Momofuku and the fine folks at McSweeney's recently came out with a hip new culinary magazine called Lucky Peach, and this first issue centered mainly on eggs and chicken.  This grabbed my attention because I am eternally in search of the perfect egg.  

And beautiful as these different approaches are -- in particular the whipped cream and maple syrup topped wonder known as the Arpege Egg -- in all good conscience I have to mention Nanjing's version as my own contestant for the most divine version ever.

First of all, the whites of the egg are deliciously flavored when done this way.  A good dousing of Shaoxing rice wine lends a heady sherry and mushroom aroma to the eggs.  This is tastefully and tastily countered with an infusion of dried salted plums, ginger, lemon peel, and whole peppercorns that turns this from a one-note wonder into a dish worthy of the most finicky eater.  Rarely do egg whites taste of much of anything, but here they serve as the perfectly flavored foil for a yolk that is molten.

Yes, you read that right: the center here is soft and runs like liquid gold, but it's also cooked to just the absolute perfect degree so that while the yolk remains just this side of solid, you won't taste any rawness.  Instead, the yolk serves as a delicate sauce for the white that cradles it.

But this dish is not just about flavors and aromas - it's primarily all about texture.

It doesn't get better than this

In most boiled egg recipes, the white is rendered into a relatively reasonable facsimile of a ping pong ball.  Those that aren't tend to look soggy and runny and anything but appetizing.  However, the folks in the Jiangsu capital of Nanjing have turned the practice of cooking an egg into the highest art, for the whites are cooked for a mere 30 seconds, made to sit in the hot water for another three minutes, and then quickly cooled down.  What this does is to give the whites the texture of the tenderest custard, and the yolks are sent just barely over that fine line between raw and cooked.

I've experimented with a bunch of different versions, happy to indulge my passion, and after tossing in this and taking out that, this has come to be my favorite way to prepare eggs, period.  It isn't too sweet, but also has enough pizazz from the rice wine and dried sour plums and all those seasonings to make me sit up and take notice.  You too can play around with the flavorings to your heart's content; just be sure and not use anything with, say, chicken fat or sesame oil, as the eggs should come across as clean and greaseless.

Traditionally this dish is made with fresh duck eggs, but because they are relatively difficult to find in the States, I've substituted large hen eggs; feel free to use whatever type of eggs you like, but do know that you'll have to experiment a bit in order to get the texture the way you want it, since the size of the egg will greatly affect the cooking time.  The only caveat I want to make is that the eggs should be organic and free range; the better quality egg you use, the better the result, since this is after all just about one ingredient.   

The eggs are best when they are about a week old in order to make them easier to peel.  Bring them to room temperature before cooking in order to a) have the perfect cooking time and b) keep them from bursting.  I like to prick the round ends of the eggs with a large tack, since there's a little air pocket in there, and if you give the air an escape route, the whites will be able to swell without breaking the shells.

Dried salted plums

The only unusual ingredients here are the dried salted plums, called huamei.  You can find these in just about any Chinese grocery store in the candy aisle.  They are very tart and sweet and salty all at the same time, and usually used as a tea snack.  However, I like pouring boiling water over a couple to make a tasty beverage for summer; just chill the infusion, add fresh lemon juice to cut the sweetness, and dribble it over a glass full of ice.  Instant refreshment!

Drunken eggs with molten centers -
Tangxin huadiao zuidan  溏心花雕醉蛋   
Jiangsu

Makes 6 eggs

6 organic, free-range eggs about a week old and at room temperature
1 cup filtered water
7 dried salted plums
1-inch piece of fresh ginger, smashed with the side of a cleaver
1 tablespoon sea salt
1 teaspoon whole white or black peppercorns
zest from half a lemon
1 cup Shaoxing rice wine, plus more as needed

1. Use a sharp tack or pin to poke a hole in the round end of the egg; just barely break through the shell without puncturing the inside of the egg.

Marinating eggs

2. Place the eggs in a small saucepan and cover with cool tap water by about 1 inch. Place the pan uncovered on the stove and bring to a boil.  As soon as the water comes to a full boil, where big bubbles are bursting over the surface, start counting down 30 seconds.  At the end of 30 seconds, remove the pan from the heat, cover, and wait exactly 3 minutes.  Then, immediately drain the eggs and cover them with cool tap water. Change the water a few times until the water remains cool. Drain the eggs and lightly crack them all over with the back of a spoon, but don't remove the shell.

3. Clean the saucepan and bring the filtered water, dried salted plums, ginger, salt, peppercorns, and lemon zest to a boil; lower the heat to a bare simmer and cook the marinade for around 5 minutes.  Allow the marinade to cool to room temperature and add the rice wine.

Gentle marbling under the shell

4. Place the eggs in a tall, narrow container. (This allows the eggs to soak in as little marinade as possible.) Pour the marinade over the eggs, cover, and refrigerate the eggs for a few hours; add more rice wine if needed for the marinade to completely cover the eggs. When the eggs are cold, shell them and return the eggs to the marinade for 24 to 36 hours. (If you are not eating them within 36 hours, remove the eggs from the marinade so that they don't get too salty.)

5. Serve the eggs as a simple appetizer by slicing them in half and serving on any light and refreshing vegetable, like microgreens or radish shoots or finely shredded leeks.  Or, serve them as a summer breakfast on hot toast, with noodles or Congee, or as a midnight snack. It's hard to go wrong with this, the perfect egg.