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.

Black tea gelée

It’s so hot just everywhere that today we’re going to look at something soothing, cool, and easy to make. This one of those dishes that ought to be wildly popular, but few folks seem to have ever heard of it, much less had a chance to fall in love with it: black tea gelée.

First off, this screams Hong Kong through and through, simply because it is such a perfect Chinese riff on a British classic: black tea with milk and sugar. 

The first time I really understood the passion such a simple drink can induce was in, of course, Hong Kong. During my first couple of years in Taiwan, I would take little R&R trips over to the then-colony and indulge in things like red wine, good coffee, buttery pastries, artichokes, cheesecake, and tequila… you know, the six pillars of any sensible diet. 

No prettier place in the world back then

At that time, my favorite hotel in the world was the Star Ferry YMCA. It was cheap, it was convenient, and the older section was in full retro mode, with rattan furniture, slowly rotating ceiling fans, and Forties-style upholstery covered with hibiscuses. 

Up on the roof was a restaurant that overlooked the harbor, back when the harbor was still heartbreakingly beautiful. There were sampans, junks with massive sails, and floating restaurants… so romantic and now so totally gone.

Good tea makes all the difference

But anyway, back to the food. I’d have a proper English breakfast there, one of those gut busters replete with bangers, eggs, tomatoes, and enough food to keep me going until dinner. I’d be sure and have cup after cup of my sweet tea to wash it all down, and pretty soon this turned into a major addiction.

They showed old movies there on the rooftop, like Casablanca, and it’s also the first place I got to watch Roots, and both times I sobbed my way through pots and pots of tea and tried to understand why I didn’t live permanently in such an amazing place as Hong Kong. (Answer: Mandarin. Oh well.) 

So, I have more than a bit of an emotional connection to milk tea, and when it’s hotter than blazes out, this is a great way to chill out in every possible way.

Qimen black tea

Any good tea works here, and you can make the tea as strong as you like. In addition to personal taste, this all depends upon the variety and quality of the tea. 

I prefer my tea British-level strong, so be forewarned. I've used a wonderfully fruity tea here from Fujian called Qimen. The flavors are very complex, and although it doesn't stand up to repeated dunkings like some other teas, that first round is out of this world.

You can make the tea jelly a couple of days ahead of time and spoon out as much as you want, then decorate it with sweetened condensed milk or cream or what-have-you. When you see a particularly hot week on the horizon, consider stashing a couple of bowls in the fridge to keep you sane and happy.

This makes a lot, but then again, it goes down like lightning.

Black tea gelée

Cool, shimmering, luscious

Hóngchá dòng 紅茶凍

Hong Kong

Makes 6 cups | 1.5 liters, serves 8 to 12

½ cup | 25 g really good black tea leaves (Fujian’s Qimen is great)

4 cups | 1 liter boiling water

3 tablespoons powdered gelatin

2 cups | 500 ml cool water

Condensed milk, as desired

1. Place the tea leaves in a small strainer and run water over them for a few seconds to rinse them off. Dump them into a large measuring cup and pour the boiling water over the tea. Cover the tea and let it steep for around 10 minutes. If you like an even stronger flavor, brew them for as long as you like, and then microwave the tea until it is once again very hot.

My hot weather breakfast, too

2. While the tea is steeping, pour the cool water into an 8-cup | 2 liter pan. Sprinkle the gelatin over the cool water so that it has time to completely soften. 

3. Strain the hot tea into the gelatin and stir gently to dissolve the powder. Let the liquid come to room temperature, cover, and refrigerate for six or so hours until solid.

4. Just before serving, cut the gelatin into tiny cubes. Scoop them into (preferably) clear glass cups or bowls, and then drizzle the condensed milk over the top. 

Photo of Hong Kong Harbor from Hong Kong Free Press

Hong Kong custard tarts, part 2

Here now is my lovely Hong Kong-style custard tart recipe. What amazes me is that it is such a simple, seemingly no-brainer sort of recipe, and yet it took me ages to get right.

Just about every recipe I referred to told me to fill the raw pie shells with the custard and bake on high heat. Failure after failure made me realize this is sheer nonsense. These glassy little gems require slow, gentle heat to nudge them into a perfect state of doneness. You don't want bubbles, you don't want browning, and you don't want puffing – just smooth, creamy, super-enticing custard.

However, the crusts have to be cooked at a high temperature in order to garner that right amount of crispness, so what to do? I settled on blind baking them (meaning just the piecrust without the filling) to set their shapes and give the crusts a head start.

Fill the partially baked shells

Since these are baked in muffin tins rather than the usual shallow aluminum ones you find in Chinese bakeries and dim sum teahouses, they are a tad bit heftier in size, but still amazingly light. In other words, you have a nice, deep-dish hand pie going on. And that is yet another reason why I so love this recipe of mine.

I also like the freeform crust edges. These look homemade, and they taste like they were created with love. Definitely not in the least generic or bakery-issue in appearance, they still embody the traditional loveliness of the beloved classic Cantonese teatime snack known as danta. The browned edges possess a wonderful crunch, and as the tart cools, the exterior crisps up and offers even more contrast to the eggy center.

Speaking of which, the eggs I've used here are of great quality, and that is why these don't taste overtly eggy and give off the sulphuric fumes you get from cheap eggs. Instead, they taste fresh and pure. I’ve come to be addicted to pasture-raised eggs, which have a true egg flavor, harder shells, and bright orange yolks. Have I mentioned how delicious they are, too? Let me repeat that anyway. Hunt these down. They are life-changers. 

Whatever you do, be sure and strain the eggs after they have been beaten with the sugar water, as this ensures a smooth texture. 

This recipe calls for a traditional ingredient, evaporated milk. I've made these with whipping cream on occasion, and they are delicious too, but in a different way. The filling somehow isn't as yellow, but the texture is truly lovely. Either way, these are terrific.

 

Ready for the oven

Custard tarts are wonderful the day they are made. Nevertheless, if you do find yourself with leftovers, be sure to refrigerate them, since they are, after all, basically just eggs and milk. 

One thing I have to tell you is that these are utterly stupendous the next day:

Heat the chilled tarts (just place the tarts directly on the oven rack without the muffin tin) in a toaster oven at 400°F (200°C) for around 5 minutes to warm them through and crisp up the crust. If you have a convection setting, use it this time around because it really gives the crust a whole lot of crunch. Because the custard is very cold when it goes on the oven, it will be just the right amount of hot at the end of 5 minutes. 

Don't you want to have a tea party right about now?

Hong Kong-style custard tarts

Găngshì dàntá 港式蛋撻

Hong Kong

Makes 18 custard tarts 

  

10 tablespoons (100 g) sugar
1 cup (235 ml) boiling water

Perfect crust & custard

4 whole large eggs

2 large egg yolks

2 teaspoons vanilla

Pinch of salt

1 cup (235 ml) evaporated milk or heavy cream, or half evaporated and half cream

18 tart shells from last week's piecrust recipe, frozen or fresh

Boiling water, as needed

1. Stir the sugar into the boiling water and then let the sugar water cool down to room temperature.

2. Use a whisk to beat the eggs and yolks in a work bowl until they are barely frothy. Beat in the cooled sugar water, which will help break up the whites and make the mixture smooth. Pour this egg mixture through a sieve into another 4-cup (1 l) measuring cup and discard any solids in the sieve. Stir in the vanilla, salt, and evaporated milk or cream. 

3. Heat your oven to 275°F (135°C) and set 2 racks in the center. (Do not use the convection or fan setting.) Divide the filling among the tart shell. Pour half an inch of boiling water into any unused muffin cups so that the muffin tin does not scorch the tarts close to those areas.

4. Bake the tarts for around 20 minutes, and then rotate the pan from front to back. Note how done they are at that point, for the edges should be set with the centers still looking liquid. Bake another 5 to 10 minutes (note: each oven is different, so check them every minute or so if they seem to be setting up quickly) until the crusts are edged with gold and the filling is no longer wobbly in the center. When done, there will be a very slight puffing up around the edges of the custard, but no big bubbles – that puffing is telling you that the custard is on the verge of boiling, so keep your eyes peeled. Again, you need to watch these carefully toward the end of the cooking time, adjust the temperature as needed, and remove the tarts the moment they look perfect. You don’t want to overcook them – no browning on the eggs, no puffy centers – as this will lead to bubbles in the custard. 

A simple solution to sticking

5. Cool the tarts down before serving, if you can wait, since the piecrust will crisp up by then. 

Tips:

Before you fill the shells, gently twist them in their tins so that any welded-on parts get dislodged.

To remove the tarts from the muffin tin, run a thin blade around the edge between the crust and the tin, and then slip a fork underneath the tart. I like to do this when they are warm and the crust is still a bit flexible. Also, I'm usually super anxious to eat one at that point, so perhaps I'm just looking for excuses.

If you worry that the piecrust will stick to your muffin tins, try this: Place a strip of parchment paper or foil in the oiled tins before you line them with piecrust.

Plum custard tarts

If you happen to have leftover custard, pour them into oiled custard cups (the name had to come from somewhere, right?) and bake them with the tarts. 

Again, remember that your oven will most definitely work differently than mine. A custard tart is one of the most finicky things to bake, and the major causes of failure are the baking time and the temperature. Just a few extra minutes too long in the oven will ruin the whole shebang. And it's not just our ovens that are different, for the temperature of the raw eggs and milk will also affect the timing. So, be sure to keep track of the exact times things get done and make notes for next time.

Always err on the side of undercooking. If you take the tarts out and all or a few still look a little runny in the centers, return these to the oven for a few minutes – no harm will have been done, and you will end up eating perfect custard tarts.


Variation on a theme...
Custard tarts with plums

It's high summer as I write this, so of course I have plums hanging around the kitchen, and they always seem to suggest that I come up with something fun for them to do. And, just to make them happy, I found out by playing around with them that they are absolutely incredible when tucked away in these tarts. 

Spoon cooked fruit into the shells

Plums (or plumcots or black apricots or any of those hybrids) are perfect here because of their tart centers and skins. And they are stunning, too.

Part of the allure is, of course, the flavor. But you have to admit that they also add pizazz just by dint of their color. 

Count on about half a plum per tart. Pit them, but leave their skins on. Cut the fruit into large dice and microwave for around 1 minute, which should barely cook them through and turn them into a nice puddle.

Spoon the cooked, unsweetened fruit into the bottom of each tart shell before pouring on the custard. These tarts might then require a few more minutes of cooking, so keep an eye on them.

As the seasons change, use other slightly (or very) tart fruits here, like strawberries and rhubarb. Anything with good color, great flavor, and a slightly puckery contrast to the custard will be perfect. Just be sure to cook the fruit first and make them jammy, as otherwise it will either not cook through or will release lots of liquid that will ruin your lovely tarts. 

Chinese olive redux

Chinese olives are a completely different species from the Mediterranean olive. In both China and Southeast Asia all the way down to India, the fruits of the Canarium album tree do look an awful lot like olives, hence the name. 

In spite of that, they do not taste the same—the Chinese olive has an unusual fragrance and is not as oily—but oddly enough East and West get along remarkably well, especially in dishes like this.

Olive corners

The people of South China use preserved ones as a seasoning, with the flesh of the halved and pitted fruits squashed flat into what are called olive corners. I like to cook the olives first in oil and sugar to tame their slight astringency. After that, they can be refrigerated in a jar and used to season things like pork patties, fried rice, and congee.

Chaozhou, it seems, is the capital of olive love here in China. Whole olives are cooked in sugar water until their flesh has candied, turning them into oddly flavored Chaozhou-style tea treats that can be quite delicious once you get used to them. Another unique way with them is to stew the chopped olives with mustard greens, oil, and seasonings to form a black paste called olive vegetable that is perfect for seafood dishes such as this one, since each tiny strand of the sauce packs a wallop of flavor.

Olive vegetable

Hong Kong has adopted many of Chaozhou’s ways of cooking seafood, but the former colony tends to put a unique spin on everything that comes out of its kitchens. Here, for example, the traditional seasonings of cured Chinese olives and olive vegetable are joined by the decidedly Western ingredient, virgin olive oil. They complement each other so well that the name “olive” suddenly seems to be an apt name for this distant Chinese cousin.

Together, this trio gives the fish a sublime aroma. Since all three are oily, and there is salt in two of them, I like to use a relatively lean fish here. Flatfish are terrific, and you can use either whole ones or just the fillets. However, feel free to substitute something else, like salmon, which is also delicious. I have also added a bit of lemon juice to lend a touch of tartness to all of these mellow flavors.

Start this recipe at least an hour ahead of time so that you can prepare the preserved olives. The rest comes together in a flash. Serve with hot rice to soak up the luscious sauce and flash-fried greens cooked with no salt, as the sauce is savory enough.

Decorative seasonings

Steamed fish with three kinds of olives

Sānlǎn zhēngyú 三欖蒸魚

Hong Kong

Serves 4

Preserved olives:

4 ounces (or so) olive corners

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon sugar

½ teaspoon ground ginger

Fish:

1 pound (or so) mild fish fillets or 1½ pound whole fish (see Headnotes)  

½ teaspoon sea salt

6 preserved olives (from the above recipe)

1 tablespoon olive vegetable, chopped

1 tablespoon finely shredded peeled ginger

4 tablespoons virgin olive oil

½ red jalapeno pepper, seeded and thinly sliced

Juice of half a lemon

1. First prepare the olive corners: Place them, including any broken bits and pieces, into a sieve and rinse them well under tap water. Shake the olive corners dry and place them in a small heatproof bowl. Toss them with the olive oil, sugar, and ginger. Steam the olive corners for around 45 minutes, tossing them with a spoon every 15 minutes. Remove the olive corners from the steamer, cool, and refrigerate in a covered jar until needed.

Olive corners in steamer

2. Prepare the fish about half an hour before you cook it. If you are using a whole fish, scale and gut it, remove the gills, and peel out any dark lining inside the cavity. Cut slashes horizontally through the thickest part of the fish’s body so that it cooks evenly. For both whole and filleted fish, rinse them and pat dry. Place the fish on a rimmed heatproof plate and rub the fish with the salt. Just before you proceed to the next step, pour off any water that has accumulated on the plate. Prepare a steamer and bring the water in it to a full boil.

3. Select about 6 of the olive corners and chop them roughly before placing them on top of the fish. Arrange the olive vegetable, ginger, and red pepper down the top of the fish so that it has an attractive pattern of black, white, and red. Drizzle the olive oil all over the fish. Place the fish in the steamer and steam fillets for about 10 minutes, whole fish for about 15, or until the fish is just cooked through. Squeeze the lemon juice over the fish and serve immediately.

Soft & luscious olives

Tips

Chinese olive corners can usually be found in Cantonese-style markets and dry-goods stores. They are available either in plastic bags or in jars on the counter, where they are sold by the ounce.

Olive vegetable is often sold in the sauce aisle of Chinese grocery stores. Be sure to chop it before you use it, as there often are whole pits hiding inside.