Candied Buddha's hand citron

The Lunar New Year in Taiwan was when candied kumquats showed up in every single marketplace. 

My favorite candy shops were on Dihua Street, an older shopping area that was nothing but Japanese-era brick buildings and baskets filled to the brim with dried and preserved ingredients. It was, in short, heaven.

I’ve never been able to resist fresh kumquat candy, but the stuff on these shores often are leftovers from the Jurassic period, which is why I created this recipe years ago to satisfy my craving.

Candied tentacles

We’ve had a Buddha’s hand citron in our yard for years, and this winter it finally decided to give us a bumper crop. 

So, of course, I made Buddhacello (vodka + sugar + chopped up citron), as that is always at the top of my list whenever I’ve received bounty from my friends. 

But this year, I decided to make candied Buddha’s hand citron because a) both citron and kumquats are of the same family and b) I didn’t have any kumquats sitting around and c) these citron are so aromatic that I could smell them all the way up on the second floor.

These surpassed my expectations. The coating is slightly crunchy against the perfectly jelled centers. They fill your sinuses with the most exotic of perfumes. They’re easy. Plus, you end up with a syrup that tastes like a cross between butterscotch and lemons.

Bubblebath

Get yourself some Buddha’s hand citron and see what I mean.

Candied Buddha’s hand citron chez Huang

Huángjiā Fóshŏu táng  黃家佛手糖

Chaozhou or Anhui or Fuzhou cuisine, maybe

Makes around 12 ounces | 350 grams, plus about 12 ounces | 350 ml syrup

The fruit:

Something around 1 pound | 500 g Buddha’s hand citron

Water, as needed

Slice between the fingers

The candy:

2 cups | 500 ml water

21 ounces | 600 g yellow rock sugar, or 3 cups | 600 g white (caster) sugar

1 tablespoon light corn syrup

½ teaspoon sea salt

½ cup | 100 g sugar, for sanding the candy

1. Place the citron in a bowl of warm, soapy water to soak for a few minutes, and then lightly scrub it with a soft brush. Use a paring knife to remove the stem, and then slice it along the base toward the tentacles, so that you end up with longish strips. Be sure and wash out any grime hidden in the folds. Rinse the citron and pat dry. Don’t worry if you have lots of pith, as this candies up beautifully. Cut the strips into 1-inch | 2 cm batons that are more or less the same thickness, about ½ inch | 1 cm.

Prepped & ready

2. Place the citron in a 2-quart | 2-liter saucepan and cover with water by a couple of inches or centimeters. Bring the pan to a boil and then lower the heat to maintain a steady simmer. Cook the citron for about 45 minutes, topping the pan off with more boiling water as necessary, until the citron is translucent. Drain the citron.

2. In the same pan, bring the 2 cups | 500 ml water, rock or white sugar, corn syrup, and salt to a boil, cover, and then simmer over low heat until the sugar is dissolved. Add the citron to this syrup and bring the pan again to a steady simmer. Cook the citron for about 25 to 30 minutes, until the syrup reaches around 230ºF | 110 ºC on a candy thermometer. (Be sure and use this larger pan, as the syrup will froth up about halfway through the cooking time, and you don’t want this to boil over.) The citron will look like lustrous amber at this point. Let it soak in the syrup until this comes to room temperature.

Pure amber deliciousness

3. Strain out the citron and let it continue to drain, but reserve and refrigerate all of the syrup for something else. It is incredibly delicious, so don’t waste a drop. When the citron is dry, toss it in the ½ cup | 100 g sanding sugar, and then set the citron on a cake rack over a pan to dry overnight. Layer the candied citron with the leftover sanding sugar in an airtight container. You can use this like any other citron, or serve it as a New Year candy with hot tea.

Tip

The syrup will most likely crystallize as it cools, so just heat it up before you use it.

The greatest Taiwanese sandwich of all time: guabao

Taiwan is home to many great things to eat, and its street foods are some of the best around. In fact, any of my visits to Taipei seem to always center around breakfast at a soymilk joint, snacks at a street stall as I get hungry throughout the day, and evenings spent at the night market, where mainly Taiwanese delights – but also numerous Mainland favorites – can be had on the cheap.

One of my eternal loves is the perfect sammie known as the guabao. They have everything: pickled meets fresh, salty sidles nesweet, meaty matches up with vegetal, starch balances the protein, and against this all you have a combination of steamed, braised, stir-fried, raw, and toasted all in a small package. 

And even though they rarely disappoint no matter where they’re produced, I have to say, if I have a choice between eating them in a restaurant, a street stand, or at a Taiwanese grandma’s home, I always always always pick the grandma. And second choice is my house.

Mustard pickle and chiles

This is, in fact, perfect homestyle food, the kind of thing Chinese cooks seem to master as they age. 

Perhaps it’s because we have more time to slowly braise the pork, maybe it’s because the grandkids are coming over and we want to spoil them with a delicious snack, or perhaps it’s just that home cooking is almost always the best.

As Taiwanese as this dish is, though, it originally came from Fujian’s capital city of Fuzhou. You can taste the almost Dongpo Pork-style flavors of the rich, red-cooked pork shining through. 

And then there are the soft wrappers, a variation on mantou that are almost the spitting image of the Lotus Buns we made last week. Both of these point to more northern areas than the foods of the usual ancestor for most of Taiwan’s foods: Southern Fujian, and in particular the luscious city of Quanzhou.

A guabao wrapper

But ancestry aside, these are fun to make and even more fun to eat. I highly recommend preparing a batch of these for a party (multiply the recipes a couple of times if you’re expecting a crowd) because everything can be made ahead of time, and then all you have to do is simply heat up the meat and buns right before serving. 

The only relatively difficult thing required here is the making of the buns, but honestly, if you toss the dough together in a food processor as recommended, you’ll be done faster than you could possibly imagine.

Now, a word on nomenclature. The correct Taiwanese name for this sandwich is kua-pao 刈包, which in Mandarin is pronounced yìbāo, but which everybody now pronounces as guàbao as an approximation of that Taiwanese name. That’s why you’ll sometimes see this written in Chinese as guàbāo 掛包or gēbāo 割包. 

The funny thing is that it’s also called “tiger biting a pig” in Taiwanese (hoo-ka-ti 虎咬豬), I guess because it looks like a big tiger’s mouth with a nice slice of pork inside.

A classic

Be that as it may, in Taiwan this sandwich is traditionally served on the sixteenth day of the twelfth lunar month. That day is called Wĕiyá 尾牙, and is the year’s final day for making offerings to the Earth God. Some say that these sandwiches are shaped like tigers’ mouths so that they devour all the bad luck of the year. And then we devour the tigers. Circle of life. Hakuna matata.

Guabao

Makes 20 sandwiches (count on at least 2 per person)

Guàbāo 刈包

Fujian and Taiwan

Meat:

Around 2 pounds (900 g) good pork belly, preferably with the skin

Water, as needed

2 inches (5 cm) fresh ginger, thinly sliced

6 whole green onions

1½ cups (350 ml) Taiwan Mijiu, or other mild Chinese cooking rice wine

12 star anise

4 tablespoons rock sugar, or sugar to taste

¼ cup (60 ml) regular soy sauce

Mustard pickle:

1 pound (or so) pickled mustard (suāncài 酸菜, preferably from Taiwan)

¼ cup (60 ml) peanut or vegetable oil

2 dried Thai chiles, seeded and chopped

2 teaspoons sugar, or to taste

Peanuts:

1 cup finely chopped toasted peanuts, either oven toasted (see All Under Heaven) or deep-fried

2 tablespoons sugar

Roll out the wrapper

½ bunch of cilantro, cleaned, dried, and chopped

1 recipe lotus leaf buns (see Tips), steamed and hot

1. Start this recipe at least a day and up to a week ahead of time. Remove any hairs in the pig skin, freeze it for around half an hour to firm it up, and then slice it into around 20 pieces about 2 inches (5 cm) wide by ⅜ inch (10 mm) thick (see Tips). Place the pork in a saucepan, cover with water, bring the water to a full boil, and then lower the heat to a simmer. After about 10 minutes, discard the water and rinse off any scum on the pork and pan. Return the pork to the pan and add 2 cups (475 ml) water and the rest of the ingredients for the meat, except for the soy sauce. Bring the pan to a full boil, lower the heat to a simmer, and cook the pork for about 2 hours, or until it is tender but not falling apart, adding more water as necessary. When the pork is done, remove the star anise, ginger, and green onions, add the soy sauce, and then quickly boil down the liquid until it is thick and syrupy. Taste and adjust the seasoning as needed. Remove the pan from the heat, cool it to room temperature, and chill overnight or longer. About a half hour before serving, skim off the solid fat and then simmer the pork slowly in the reduced sauce until it is heated through, taking care not to burn the pork. 

 

Brush with oil and fold over

2. Up to a couple of days before serving, rinse off the mustard pickle, squeeze it dry, and then cut it crosswise into thin strips. Heat the oil in a wok or pan and add the chile peppers. When they start to sizzle, add the mustard pickle. Stir-fry them just to heat them through and remove the rawness. Season with the sugar and then scrape into a serving bowl. In a separate serving bowl, mix together the peanuts and sugar. Pile the cilantro in a third bowl. Arrange these three bowls on the dining table along with your baskets of hot buns and the steaming pork in its sauce.

3. Have each diner fill his or her own sandwiches. You can fill one first to show how it’s done. My preferred way of doing this (because it seems to make them more stable) is to open up a bun and place the mustard pickle on the bottom, followed by a slice of pork, then a sprinkle of peanuts and sugar (which will glue to the sauce on the pork), and then add a mound of cilantro. Close the bun around this and then devour.

Absolutely perfect pork belly

Tips

For this dish, don’t decorate the buns, but rather simply roll the dough out into a long oval and then fold it in half.

Don’t slice the pork too thinly, as it is important to prevent it from falling apart. You want each slice to be about the same width as the buns. 

Good quality pork belly is paramount here, so find an excellent butcher.

Try saving the rendered fat from the pork and using it for a stir-fry. Or, use it to fry up a couple of sunny-side-up eggs. Or do as my mother-in-law loved: melt some, drizzle it over a bowl of hot steamed rice, and season with some soy sauce. 

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Dry fried flounder

This is one dish that is so appealing and unusual that it could be an instant classic once word gets around.

I'm talking about whole Dry Fried Flounder, a direct translation of the most common Chinese name for this dish, ganjian longli, although once in a while you find it called xiangjian longli (fragrant fried flounder). It's another one of those dish names that obviously wasn't thought up by a poet or a PR man. Straight to the point. And that makes this recipe even more of a pleasant secret.

I've ordered this dish for years, and some restaurants turn out spectacular versions, others not so great. So I figured, what could be so hard about this? Why not make it myself? Easier said than done. Even Chinese-language cookbooks and online resources were less than any help. The most that anyone could offer in the way of advice was Dry Fried Flounder Fillets, which is really missing the point.

Secrets finally revealed!

Why do you need the whole fish? Simple: you want to enjoy the tiny bones that form the fringe of fins on a flatfish. When fried correctly, they turn into crunchy needles that are every bit as lovely as the meat. In fact, you will find that they are what everyone fights over. They're like tiny potato chips and offer a fantastically tactile experience.

It's taken me quite a while to figure out even where this dish originated, too. This is enjoyed throughout Taiwan, and for that reason a large number of Chinese restaurants here that are run by Taiwanese will offer Dry Fried Flounder on or off the menu. 

But this definitely doesn't taste like Taiwanese food. As best as I've been able to ferret out, it most likely came from Fujian, or even Chaozhou, that seafood-loving area just over the border from Fujian on Guangdong's coast.

The crunchy frill

Be that as it may, what really is important is how to make this. I have tried frying it with a cornstarch coating, a light batter, and so forth, but they were all dismal failures. That meant repeated visits to my favorite restaurants as I tried to break the Flounder Code. (Not that I'm complaining.)

Finally I realized that there was absolutely nothing on the fish. The Chinese name suggested that by calling it "dry," and it took a while to figure out that that was what was meant. The second word, "fried," actually means "pan fried," but whenever I pan-fried the fish, I ended up with a soggy mess, so this name really was throwing me for a loop.

And then it hit me: this needed super high heat, lots of hot oil, and deep frying. Once I did that, the problem was solved. 

Whole flounder freshly gutted

Almost.

There were a couple of minor explosions as the fish hit the oil, with flaming hot fountains of oil flying around. Very dramatic. So this is what I did: after salting and marinating it, the fish was wiped super dry, and even the cavity and the inside of the head were made as dry as could be. This kept the sputtering down and also allowed the heat of the oil to stay high, so the fish fried very quickly and the frills crisped up like a dream.

Cooking this yourself has all sorts of advantages. The first is, of course, that you can use the freshest fish available. Second, your oil will be fresh, too, and that is so important, not just taste wise but health wise. And finally, flatfish are generally so cheap that you'll laugh at the restaurant prices from now on.

So here it is, my beloved personal recipe for one of the great Chinese recipes that no one talks about. Serve it with rice and a vegetable; that's all you need.

Dry fried flounder 
Ganjian longli 乾煎龍利  
Chaozhou
Serves 4 to 6 as part of a multicourse meal, or 2 to 3 as a main entree

Scrape off the scales

1 whole flounder or other flatfish, about 1 pound (see Tips)
2 teaspoons sea salt
2 teaspoons Shaoxing rice wine
6 cups (or more) frying oil (see Tips)
2 tablespoons fresh peanut or vegetable oil
3 green onions, trimmed
3 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine
3 tablespoons filtered water or stock
2 teaspoons regular soy sauce, or to taste
½ teaspoon sugar

1. Gut the fish by cutting under the chin and removing the small pouch of organs; scrape out any black skin in there, as this is often very bitter. Remove the gills, too, which look like pink eyelashes. Scale the fish by scraping a knife from tail to head on both sides of the fish; when you are done and all the scales have been washed off, the fish should look pink rather than gray. 

Scaled pink fish

2. Pat the fish dry with a paper towel or two and lay it on a cutting board. Use your knife to cut diagonal slashes a little more than an inch apart, from about a 10:00 position down to a 4:00 position; these should go all the way down to (but not through) the bones, and cover the entire width of the fish body, but do not cut into the frills around the edge. Flip the fish over and do the same thing. (Make sure that the cuts use the same angle on both sides so that when you hold the fish up to the light, you can see XXX marks down its body. This keeps the fish from falling apart as you fry it, while allowing the meat to cook very quickly.)

3. Lay the fish on a platter and rub the salt into both sides. Sprinkle it with the 2 teaspoons rice wine, and let it marinate for 10 to 20 minutes. At the end of this time, drain off all of the marinade and pat the fish very, very dry. Wipe out even the inside of the head and cavity so that there are no drops of water to explode in the hot oil. Then. lay the fish on a dry paper towel while you prepare everything else.

4. Pour enough frying oil into your wok so that it is at least 1½ inches deep; this will ensure that there is enough hot oil to rapidly fry the fish and make it both crispy and succulent. Heat the oil over high until it starts to smoke. While you are waiting, prepare a serving platter, and have a pair of cooking chopsticks, a wok spatula, and either a spatter screen or a large lid ready. Also, make the sauce in the next step so that it is ready when the fish is.

Slash the flesh to the bone

5. Prepare the sauce in a small pan by heating the remaining 2 tablespoons oil over high heat until it is sizzling, and then adding the green onions. Stir them quickly over the high heat to release their fragrance, and then add the rest of the rice wine, water or stock, soy sauce, and sugar. Bring the sauce to a boil, taste, and adjust the seasoning. Turn off the heat under the sauce.

6. While the oil is heating up, clear the kitchen of children and pets and anyone who will get in your way. 


7. Holding the fish by the tail in one hand and either the spatter screen or the lid in your other, slide the fish into the hot oil and immediately cover the wok with the screen or lid, as the water in the flesh will start to explode. This will die down fast, and if you can, keep your grip on the tail so that you slide the fish around so that all of it gets a chance to brown. There is no need to flip the fish over if you have enough hot oil; just use your spatula to lightly press down on the fish and scoot it around. When the fish has fried for about 5 minutes, slide the tail end in so that all of the tail fin gets fried, too; this is a very thin part of the fish, so it will fry up fast. 

Deep fry the whole fish

8. Depending upon your fish, the heat of your stove, and the depth of the oil, the fish will be ready in about 7 to 10 minutes. It should be a golden brown all over, the fins and frills will be browned and crispy, and the meat will have pulled away from the bones where you slashed the flesh (see the top photo). Place your platter next to the wok. Use your spatula to scoop down under the fish body and your chopsticks to steady the tail end to lift up the fish, drain off the oil, and place it carefully on your platter. If you feel uneasy about this, use two spatulas, or even ask someone to help. (Turn off the heat and push the wok to the back of the stove out of harm's way and let the oil cool completely.)

9. Bring the sauce to a quick boil and pour it over the fish. Serve immediately.


Tips

NOTE: SERVE THIS ONLY TO PEOPLE WHO UNDERSTAND THAT THE BONES ARE NOT TO BE EATEN, ONLY THE FINS AND FRILLS. The bones inside the flesh will be hard and are inedible. Do not serve this to people who are unclear on this point, and this includes children, as they could choke on the hard bones.

Use whatever local flatfish you have that is sustainable and tasty. This link gives some  good suggestions.

Do not use a fish that is much larger than a pound here unless you have a restaurant-sized wok. The ratio of fish to hot oil is important, and if the fish is either too thick or too long, it won't cook fast enough and will crumble.

Pour the sauce over the fish

Be sure to use a large amount of oil here. This is crucial to achieving the correct balance of crisp edges and succulent meat before the skeleton cooks too and the fish dissolves into a sodden mess.

Salting the fish helps draw out more of the moisture, since water in hot oil explodes. Also, it lowers the temperature of the oil, and the drier the fish, the faster it cooks. 

When drying the fish, don't skimp on the paper towels.

The oil can be reused, since flounder and other flatfish are very mild flavored. Just strain the cooled oil and store it in a cool, dark place, like the fridge. Toss it whenever it starts to darken or have a strong aroma.

Once you master this dish, make it your own. Season it with other aromatics, or even change the sauce. It's up to you.

Roast chicken with a Fujianese twist

The other day I brought back home a large bird that dared me to come up with a new way to prepare that delicious standby, roasted chicken. This was a six-pounder, a fine representative of the best that poultry farmers can offer, so she only needed some tasty encouragement to turn into a crispy-skinned dinner.

My big jar of Fujian Red Wine Lees sat on the counter, looking as lovely and as scarlet as ever, which made me think, why hasn't anyone roasted a chicken with it? I've basted many a chicken with Shaoxing rice wine, but why not the red stuff? I couldn't think of a good answer, so I invented the following recipe. I guess you could call this nouveau Fujian style chicken, for want of a better name.

The main requirement, really, is a very good quality roasting chicken. This means that it is much larger than a fryer, which usually weighs in at about three to four pounds. The older birds respond wonderfully to the dry heat of the oven, rendering their fat and juices into the most perfect sauce imaginable.

Ruby red and delicious

Second on the list is Fujian's Red Wine Lees, a beautiful ingredient that can easily be either made at home or bought at a Chinese market; if for some reason you have neither, feel free to use either the Homemade Fermented Rice we talked about so many times here, or even a good Shaoxing rice wine. Everything else is pretty straightforward.

If you are pretty busy, you can marinate the chicken ahead of time by placing it in a resealable plastic bag with all of the marinade ingredients. Squish the marinade over the chicken and refrigerate everything. (Past experience with leaky bags has taught me that it's always best to place a work bowl underneath the bag, too.) Refrigerate the chicken for 8 to 10 hours, and it will be even more flavorful.

Serve this chicken with rice or steamed bread, a couple of simple vegetable dishes, and maybe a hot soup, and you will have a very easy feast with lots of leftovers. The broth from the chicken makes a delicious base for soups, too; just toss in some fresh mushrooms, spinach, soft bean curd, or even the onion that is stuffed inside the chicken, plus filtered water and seasonings to taste.

Roast chicken with a Fujianese twist 
Minshi kaoji  閩式烤雞
Northern Fujian

Serves 6 to 8 as part of a multicourse meal

1 organic, free-range roasting chicken, about 6 pounds
1 large onion, peeled
½ cup Red Wine Lees
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
3 tablespoons soy paste (jiangyou gao)
1 tablespoon sugar
3 tablespoons roasted sesame oil 

Robed and ready

1. Start this recipe at least 3 hours before you wish to serve it. Clean the chicken and pat dry with a paper towel. Stick the whole onion into the chicken, as this will keep the breast meat from drying out. (If you don't want to do this, tie the legs together to keep the drying heat out of the cavity.)

2. Place the chicken in a resealable plastic bag and add the rest of the ingredients. Seal the bag while forcing out most of the air, and then massage the marinade into the chicken from the outside of the bag. Put the bag in a work bowl and refrigerate the chicken for at least an hour and up to 10 hours. 

3. Remove the chicken from the refrigerator while you heat up the oven to 4oo degrees F. Select a roasting pan that is just a bit wider than the chicken; either a high-sided baking dish or an iron Dutch skillet work great here. If you have one, place a small trivet inside the pan so that all of the skin will get a chance to crisp up. Arrange the chicken in the pan and place the pan in the oven. Immediately turn the temperature down to 375 degrees F.

4. Roast the chicken for about 1½ hours, basting every 10 minutes during the last hour. It will be done if the juices in the cavity run clear when you tip up the chicken; you can also check that the thighs are done by piercing them with a knife, as these juices should be clear, too.

5. Let the chicken rest for 15 to 30 minutes while you prepare the rest of the meal, as this will allow the juices to plump up the meat. Remove the onion and use it for something else. Drain off the juices, skim off the fat if you like, and either serve this alongside the chicken or save it for the soup mentioned above.