Sugar snap peas, Calvin Lamborn, & North China

Noodles are one of my go-to delights, no matter where I find myself on the planet, or even in my own neighborhood, for that matter. 

Something about hot pasta just makes me happy. That must be one of the main reasons I so love the foods of North China, because they come up with some of the most inventive, satisfying, and easiest ways to delight both my mouth and my stomach without breaking the bank.

Today’s recipe shows just how carefree and delicious this habit has become for me. Just to give you a bit of background, I happen to adore what the Chinese call “tossed noodles” (bànmiàn 拌麵), while my husband is a sucker for soup noodles. I try to be fair in the kitchen and give him his favorites on a regular basis, but whenever it’s up to me or I’m left to my own devices, it will be tossed noodles for sure. The reasons for this are simple: The textures become more focused that way, since nothing is swimming around in a broth, so neither the pasta nor the toppings need to fight for my attention. And second, some sort of rich, savory sauce coats each strand to different degrees, so every mouthful is a bit different.

Chinese pasta

This classic home-style recipe is probably from Hebei (the province surrounding Beijing and Tianjin) or Shanxi. It’s definitely not restaurant food, but rather something you would enjoy at a little mom n’ pop stand or at your grandma’s. The ingredients are all cheap, and you can play with the ratios and even sub out one thing for another without wrecking the beauty of this bowl of noodles.

It probably started out as a Hui Muslim dish, but over the years this has morphed into something more distinctly Han Chinese, for you have pork here instead of beef or lamb, soy sauce and rice wine driving the flavor profiles, and lots of green vegetables to add crunch and color. This is food cross-pollination at its finest.

About those vegetables: String beans are traditionally the veggie of choice here, but today you will instead see sugar snap peas given some very special attention. I selected them for three reasons: they are in season now, they are so sweet and crispy that for my money they work even better as the crunchy element in this dish, and most important of all, I had the chance to meet the lovely man who bred the sugar snap pea, Calvin Lamborn.

Sugar snap peas

We came across each other over an array of Turkish food at the Terroir Symposium in Toronto a couple of weeks ago, and I was bowled over by how nice he and his son, Rod Lamborn, turned out to be. The elder Mr. Lamborn is a renowned plant breeder who has specialized in snow and snap peas, and as they are two of my very favorite vegetables, this was a real delight for me. Plus, he gave me a pen that I will always treasure.

Thank you, Calvin, for creating something truly amazing, and thanks to Jim Poris of Food& (formerly Food Arts) for making sure great people like him were properly honored at Terroir. What a treat.

Me & Calvin Lamborn

Tossed noodles with snap peas and pork

Tiándòu bànmiàn 甜豆拌麵

Hebei and Shanxi

Serves 2 to 3 as a main dish

4 ounces/100g pork belly

2 tablespoons regular soy sauce

2 tablespoons mild rice wine (Taiwan Mijiu)

8 ounces/230g/2 cups sugar snap peas (see Tips)

1 quart/1l boiling water, as needed

3 tablespoons Sichuan peppercorn oil, or plain peanut or vegetable oil

3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

2 green onions, trimmed and chopped

2 dried Thai chiles, seeded and crumbled, optional

5 ounces/140g (or more) fresh noodles (see Tips)

 

Marinated pork belly

1. If you start this dish a day ahead of time, the pork will take on an almost cured flavor from the marinade that I really like. Remove any skin on the belly and slice it thinly against the grain into pieces about an inch wide. Toss the pork with the soy sauce and rice wine, cover, and refrigerate for at least 20 minutes or up to a day or so.

2. Trim and string the peas as needed and cut any long ones in half so that they are about the same size. Bring the water to a full boil in a pan and toss in the peas. Stir them around, and when they turn a bright green and have just barely lost their raw taste, scoop them out into a colander set in the sink, but leave the water in the pan, as you are going to use it to cook your noodles. Rinse the peas quickly with cool water to stop the cooking and let them drain.

Green onions - the North's favorite

3. Set a wok over high heat. Swirl in the oil and add the garlic, green onions, and optional chiles. Toss these around for a few seconds to release their fragrance and then add the pork and any leftover marinade. Stir-fry the pork until it loses all its pink color, which will just take a few minutes. Remove the wok from the heat.

4. Bring the pot of water to a full boil again and then sprinkle in the noodles so that they do not clump together. Stir them gently until the water comes to a boil again, and then reduce it to maintain a simmer. While the noodles are cooking, set out however many noodle bowls you need near the stove, along with a Chinese spider or slotted spoon. When the noodles have cooked to your liking, use chopsticks and the spider or spoon to transfer them to the wok, and then discard the water. Immediately return the wok to high heat and add the blanched peas. Toss these together until the sauce comes to a boil. Taste and adjust the seasoning, and then divide the noodles among your bowls. Serve hot.

Tips

Heaven

You may use snow peas or tender string beans here, if you like.

The traditional pasta for this type of dish is freshly pulled noodles, or lāmiàn 拉麵, but feel free to sub in whatever you like or whatever is available or whatever looks good. I would recommend fresh pasta over dried here, as its texture will be a bit softer and luscious.

I love the sound of crunch in the morning...

Popular all over the coastal north, these breakfast rolls probably are most beloved in the port of Tianjin. These offer all sorts of pleasures, both in terms of flavor and texture. A slight sweetness offsets the tang of the chili sauce, but these form little more than a gentle background for the main attractions: a chewy crêpe-like wrapper, a crunchy fried cruller, a fried egg (see the vegan option below), and a crispy leaf of lettuce. 

Perfection — even early in the morning — can easily be achieved.

Ready to roll

Tianjin breakfast rolls

Jiānbǐng guǒzi 煎餅果子

Tianjin, Beijing, & Hebei

Serves 4

  

Wrappers:

⅔ cup Chinese or Korean flour (or two-thirds all-purpose plus one-third pastry flour)

⅓ cup mung bean flour

¾ cup cool water, or as needed

Peanut or vegetable oil

Wheat & mung bean flours

The rest:

1 Chinese cruller (youtiao), fresh or frozen

1 teaspoon sesame oil

1 tablespoon chili sauce (page TK)

1 tablespoon sweet wheat paste

½ teaspoon sugar

4 large eggs, optional

1 green onion, finely chopped

4 large leaves lettuce (something crunchy like romaine is good)

Edges curling up

1. Mix the flours together in a large (1 quart, or so) measuring cup. Use a whisk to stir in enough cool water—about 1 cup—to form a thick, pancake-like batter. Let the batter rest while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Cut the cruller in half lengthwise and crosswise so that you have four pieces. Heat it in a 300°F oven (a toaster oven is perfect) until it is crispy.

3. Heat the sesame oil in a wok and add the chili sauce, sweet wheat paste, and sugar. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding whichever more ingredient you want to emphasize. Scrape the sauce into a small work bowl.

Chinese cruller

4. Set a nonstick flat pan over medium heat. When the pan is hot, dip a paper towel in some of the oil and wipe it all over the inside of the pan. Gently stir the batter and pour ¼ of it into the pan (about ⅓ cup batter), swirling the pan around with the other hand so that the bottom becomes evenly covered. Adjust the heat as needed to slowly cook the wrapper. As soon as the top is more or less set and the edges start to curl up, crack an egg on top, use your spatula to break it up and spread it over the wrapper, sprinkle on ¼ of the green onions, cover the pan, and continue to slowly cook the wrapper. When the egg is set, flip it over for a couple of seconds to cook it through, then flip it back over, and brush ¼ of the sauce over the top. Place a lettuce leaf and one piece of cruller on top. Remove the wrapper from the pan and roll it up like a burrito. Serve this one immediately and start to work on the other three. These can be sliced in half or quarters, if desired.

Tip

An egg is traditionally added to these wrappers, but vegans can omit it. Instead, sprinkle the green onions on the batter before it sets so that they stick to the pancake. 

Magical mystery treat of the cold North

I dare you to guess what this recipe is for just from the photo on the left. It took me a long time to first figure out what they were, then to nail down where they came from, and then finally to ferret out how they were made.

But here's a hint: Few people would think of oats when they consider the foods of the cold Chinese north, but in the region between northern Hebei and Shanxi and then up north into Inner Mongolia, the flour from oat groats (youmian) is turned into some very interesting things.

Take this bread-like creation, for example. It is visually spectacular, with tiny rolls of the oat dough clustered together in a steamer basket. They look just like a honeycomb or wasp’s nest. But looks aside, these are also quite tasty.

Sweet & nutty cylinders

This area of China has historically been rather poor, and so the humble oat is sometimes called upon to lend substantial cheer to a relatively empty table. 

I was astounded, though, by how utterly delicious and satisfying a simple meal of these rolls are when accompanied by nothing more than some julienned cucumbers and a bowl of chili oil (this recipe is strongly recommended here).  

Honeycomb rolls also are the perfect accompaniment to lamb soup; simply dunk the rolls in the soup as you go or drop one into the soup before scooping it up with some meat and broth. Since there is no gluten in oat groats, they will crumble into mush if left to their own devices in the hot soup, so drop in one at a time.

Preparing oat groats this way is called “thrice cooked” (三熟 sānshóu), as they are first toasted, then blanched, and then finally steamed. The toasting brings out their sweetness, and as you dry-fry them in a wok, they will swell and gently pop, sort of like popcorn. 

Raw oat groats

The directions take longer to read than actually making the rolls, especially once you get the hang of it. I use two 6-inch wide dim sum steamer baskets made out of bamboo; the honeycomb rolls fit perfectly in there and also look gorgeous.

Oat honeycomb rolls

Yóumiàn tuīwōwō 莜麵推窩窩 or Kǎolǎolǎo 栲栳栳

Shanxi, Mongolia
Serves 4 to 6

2 cups organic oat groats (see Tips)

1¾ cups boiling filtered water

1. Place the oat groats in a dry wok and toast them over medium-high heat, stirring them with a wok spatula, until they start to pop and are gently toasted. Pour the toasted groats into a mixing bowl and let them cool down to room temperature.

2. Grind the groats in a blender or food processor until very fine; do this in two or more batches if necessary. Put the groat flour into a heatproof bowl and stir in the boiling water. When a dough has formed, knead it on a smooth surface until it becomes smooth.

Toast the groats

3. Next, form the little rolls. Break off bits of dough to form balls about an inch across. Cover any dough you are not working on with a damp towel or some plastic wrap. Have two small dim sum steamer baskets ready. Working on one piece at a time, roll these balls into cigar shapes and then use a rolling pin to roll them out to an approximately 6 x 2 inch rectangle. Cut the rectangle in half lengthwise (giving you two strips about 6 x 1 inch in size). Roll each strip up into a cylinder and place them cut-side down in the steamer basket. Fit the rolls right next to each other, as they will not expand as they steam. Repeat with the rest of the dough until all of it has been shaped and packed into the steamers (see Tips).

4. Stack and cover the steamer baskets and place them on a saucepan filled with a couple inches of water. Steam the honeycomb rolls for about 15 minutes and serve immediately.

Tips

The four shaping stages

Oat groats are not the same as oatmeal. They are oat berries and can be found in health food stores or online.

The rolls can be fitted fairly tightly in the steamer baskets since there is no leavening and so the rolls will not swell up. However, these rolls will stick to each other as they cool off, so I usually serve one basket at a time and keep the other one covered and slowly steaming. 

If you have any leftover dough, form these into little “fish” that can also be steamed: cut the dough into thin 3-inch strips and then roll them so that the middle is fat and the ends are tapered. Steam these just like the honeycomb rolls.

Hebei: home to some great, strange pasta

Hebei is generally overlooked in the grand scheme of things. Politically, culturally, culinarily… this province has almost always been ignored. It’s not hard to see why: supersized Beijing weighs down the eastern edge of Hebei and gets all the attention. In fact, a couple of decades ago, Beijing and the huge port city of Tianjin were shaved off of Hebei and made into autonomous metropolises, sort of like Washington, D.C.

What was left behind was a large, bumpy cutout shaped like the letter C, with a tiny dot of Hebei proper remaining behind as a provincial outpost between the almost equally-proportioned clasp of Beijing and Tianjin. The northern part of Hebei seems mainly dominated by mountain ranges and stretches of the Great Wall, which makes for a relatively sparse population, while the rest is part of the enormous North China Plain, meaning that the foods here center on meat and breads and pasta.

Hebei, courtesy Wiki Commons

As a result, one thing they do especially well up in Hebei is pasta. Noodles of all forms – including many that remain a surprise even to me after all these years of eating my way through China’s numerous cuisines – are doted on with particular affection.

One of the reasons for this is that flour is a cheap energy source. And if you go one step further and make a meatless meal centered on pasta, you find that you can easily feed a number of people well for very little money.

That is not to say that the food isn’t good. On the contrary, inventiveness is prized here almost as much as pasta.

Hidden Hebei gem of a dish

In addition to regular noodles in all their incarnations, northern Chinese love crepes – both thick and thin – that are cut into ribbons and then fried. Called 炒餅 chǎobĭng, these chewy strips are a true delight.

I first enjoyed them in Taiwan, where military families (who were almost always on very tight budgets) rolled out thin rounds of bread dough, grilled these on both sides with very little oil, and then cut them into thin strips. These were then stir-fried with bean sprouts, green onions, and pork, with only a few dashes of soy sauce seasoning the dish. It was a perfectly balance meal that also soothed parts of my soul.

These rolled crepes, though… these are really ingenious. Bouncy and chewy, they work as wonderful little intermissions between bites of crunchy vegetables and a savory sauce. As with all of the local pasta dishes, this is as good a reason as any to finally put Hebei on the map.

Fried rolled crepes 
Chǎo miàn cài  炒麵菜 
Hebei

Like pancake batter

Serves 4 as a main dish 

Crepes:

2 cups Korean noodle flour

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

2 cups cool filtered water

Peanut or vegetable oil

Vegetables and seasonings:

½ medium onion, peeled

6 large fresh Chinese black mushrooms, stems removed

½ sweet red pepper

½ medium head cabbage

1 pound mung bean sprouts

4 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

¼ cup finely chopped fresh ginger

6 cloves garlic, finely chopped

¼ cup rice wine

4 tablespoons toasted sesame oil

4 tablespoons sweet wheat paste

4 teaspoons sugar

Regular soy sauce to taste

1. First make the crepe noodles: Mix the flour and pepper together in a medium work bowl. Stir in the water to form a batter the consistency of heavy cream. Heat a flat skillet (as smooth as possible to keep the crepes from sticking) over medium heat and then film the bottom of the skillet with a tablespoon or so of oil. Pour in just enough of the batter to thinly cover the bottom, rolling the skillet around to encourage the batter to fill in bare spots. Cook the crepe on one side only, until the edges loosen from the sides of the pan, the top of the crepe is still wet, and the bottom of the crepe is not yet browned. Use a spatula to remove the crepe to a clean cutting board. Quickly add more oil, if needed, to the pan and make another crepe. While that crepe is cooking, roll up the semi-cooked crepe very tightly, lightly squeezing it with your fingers and rolling it back and forth; the remaining heat in the crepe will cook the raw batter and – if all works right – seal the crepe into a tight cylinder. Repeat this with the rest of the batter until you have a bunch of rolled-up crepes. When the crepe rolls are cool, cut them crosswise into ½-inch to ¾-inch pieces.

Lumpy batter quite all right

2. Next, prepare the vegetables: Cut the onion, mushroom caps, red pepper, and cabbage into ½-inch (or so) dice. Rinse the bean sprouts in a colander and let them drain in the sink.

3. First fry the crepe noodles: Heat about 2 tablespoons oil in the wok over high until the oil starts to shimmer, and then add the noodles. Gently toss them over the heat until they are lightly browned all over. (If some come uncoiled, that’s fine. No one will notice.) Remove the noodles to a large serving bowl.

4. Then, fry the vegetables: Heat 4 tablespoons of oil in the wok over high and immediately add the ginger, garlic, and onions. Stir-fry them for a minute or so to lightly brown them, and then add the mushrooms. Stir-fry them until all the oil has been absorbed, and then toss in the rice wine. Quickly toss the mushrooms and onions in the wine, and then add the red pepper and cabbage. Toss these as they fry and wilt, and when they have shrunk to about half their original volume, scoot them up the side of the wok. Add the sesame oil and sweet wheat paste to the bottom of the wok and stir them around to cook the wheat paste. Add the sugar and fried noodles, and then toss everything together. Taste and adjust the seasoning with soy sauce, if needed. Serve hot.

Tips

Roll up tightly into a cigar

Korean flour works best here, which is the same as two parts all-purpose flour to one part pastry flour.

Shredded pork or chicken can be added with the mushrooms, if you like.

Vary the vegetables, using whatever you like and is in season. Aim for a variety of colors, textures, and flavors.

The sauce, too, can be adjusted to fit your tastes. Like chili oil? Add some!

The corn thimbles of Hebei

My late mother-in-law hailed from Tianjin, and although she never lived there after fleeing the invading Japanese in the late 1930's, her palate had been molded by North China's way with food. After marrying in Kunming and then traveling around the country with the children and her Air Force pilot husband, she settled in Taiwan in 1949 before finally making the U.S. her home.

Nowhere, though, was she able to find the food she longed for, and it must have been awfully hard to never taste the flavors of childhood again.

Unaware of this at first, I started to ask her about what she used to eat just because food tends to be on my mind a whole lot. Reminiscences started to flow out, and I was captivated. She was not a terribly good cook, but she loved to dine almost as much as I do, and her taste memories were always right on target. 

Ready for the steamer

One of the things she missed the most were the little corn thimbles called wowotou'er. There is no direct translation for this word, which makes me think that it might be Manchurian, like another Beijing snack called aiwowo. Corn, of course, came from the New World, and from what I understand from all the books I've referred to, wowotou'er were probably first made from millet flour, or mizifen. 

Millet has a nice stickiness that you will notice if you have ever made millet porridge. But cornmeal can prove to be a little difficult to shape into something like these thimbles. 

That led me to add just a bit of flour to up the stickiness factor, plus some sugar to heighten the corn flavor and a touch of baking powder and salt to lighten the dough. The balance now is just right. 

Later on, I made other thimbles out of such things as chestnut flour, which is even sweeter than corn; my mother-in-law demolished them with glee. 

These thimbles are often made as fist-sized cones for peasant style meals. But I like them smaller, ones that can be enjoyed in two or three bites, something like what used to be served in the imperial Qing palace.

So, these are fit for a king, or an emperor, or even a homesick mother-in-law.

The right consistency

Corn thimbles 
Wowotou'er  窩窩頭兒  
Tianjin

Makes about 12 and serves about 3 or 4 people

1 cup cornmeal (not coarse ground, as for polenta)

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

2 teaspoons sugar

½ teaspoon sea salt

6 tablespoons filtered water, plus more as needed

1. Set aside an hour or so the first time you make these; this will give you enough time to practice and redo them a couple of times. Set up a steamer, and line a steamer basket with either a square of damp muslin or a sheet of steamer paper. Turn the steamer on with the covered basket on it so that the inside of the steamer gets hot and moist; steam the basket and liner this way for at least 10 minutes while you prepare the corn thimbles.

Shaping a thimble

2. Mix the flour with the baking powder, sugar, and salt. Add the 6 tablespoons water and mix it into the dry ingredients. Squeeze a piece of dough in your fist; if it forms a cigar shape easily without crumbling, it's ready to go. If not, dribble in just enough water to do this (see Tips). Do note that you probably will need to add a bit more water later on as the cornmeal starts to absorb it, so keep some water nearby.

3. Put a walnut-sized piece of dough in one hand and shape it into a ball. Take the forefinger of the other hand and insert it into the ball to form a thimble shape. Smooth the outside into a cone or dome, whichever you prefer. Sit the thimble right-side up on your work surface; if it crumbles or looks less than steady, pop it back into the dough and try again. Repeat until you have formed a dozen or so wowotou'er. 

4. Place the corn thimbles on the hot muslin or steamer paper. Cover and steam for about 30 to 40 minutes so that the cornmeal cooks completely through. Remove the wowotou'er from the steamer. You can serve them immediately or freeze them for later (see Tips).

Tips

The water content of cornmeal and flour can vary, so it's difficult to give a precise amount here. 

Japanese style steamer paper

Add only as much water as you need at first, and then sprinkle in more as you go along to keep the dough moist and supple. If you happen to add too much water, just add a bit more cornmeal. 

Steamer liner paper is great to have on hand if you do much steaming. It's very cheap and you don't have to bother with washing steamer liners. Plus, it's relatively nonstick. Get a package in the housewares section of a Chinese market.

To prepare the wowotou'er for freezing, put the cooled corn thimbles in a single layer on a small sheet, freeze them until solid, and then store them in a resealable freezer bag. To reheat the frozen corn thimbles, just place them with or without defrosting in a lined steamer and steam until heated through.