The perfection of crunch

Jackson Street in San Francisco's Chinatown used to have a little hole-in-the-wall call the Star Cafe.  

It was my kind of place. Star Cafe was only wide enough to squeeze in the semblance of a kitchen in on the right, run a counter down the middle, and stuff a couple of worn tables and chairs in the back.

The toilet was a creaky affair in the far corner that didn't invite anyone to sit and read the paper, and it was obviously treasured more as a place to stash wet mops, extra to-go boxes, and extra chairs than it was as a restroom.

But what this little dive lacked in refinement, it more than made up for in flavor and price. These folks really were from Shanghai, they cooked what they knew, and we would usually stroll out of there completely stuffed for under ten bucks. Not many places in The City have that type of reputation.

What I really loved there were its Shanghai-style mustard pickles. A huge glass jar of them would be perched in their old cooler, the pickles kept crisp and cold, just the way I wanted them. We'd order a bowl of them to munch on while we perused the menu, and I'd usually commandeer the lion's portion of the pickles before washing them down with a glass of cold, sweetened soybean milk that was also homemade. 

Fresh pickles are amazing

One day when we tromped over there for another meal, we found the doors locked and a sign on them saying the owners were away on a trip to China. That trip turned into years while the storefront stayed empty, and I longed in vain for my pickles, as no one else I knew ever offered them. 

Then, one fine day I ran across a recipe for Mustard Stems Pickled in Sweet Rice Vinegar in the wonderful Bruce Cost book Asian Ingredients. With a little tweaking, his pickles soon turned into the ones in my dreams.

This recipe calls for a Chinese vegetable called - depending upon the grocery store - gay choy, jiecai, or Chinese mustard cabbage. It's a slightly bitter vegetable that's great in a stir-fry with nothing else but lots of ginger and a healthy sprinkling of kosher salt. But it's in this pickle that this variety of mustard greens really shines. 

That gentle mustardy fragrance and flavor poke their way out from the sweet brine and spices, and they are strong enough to stand up to some brutal treatment, like being salted and having boiling vinegar poured over them. Make up a batch and store it in the refrigerator. If you like sausages, try stir-frying them with sliced onions and this pickle for a piquant and utterly divine dish.


Shanghai mustard pickles 
Tángcù jiècài  糖醋芥菜
Shanghai cuisine

It really does smell mustardy

Makes about 1 quart

5 medium heads of Chinese mustard cabbage
2 tablespoons sea salt
3 cups | 750 ml pale rice vinegar
2¼ cups | 500 g sugar
2 tablespoons sea salt
8 dried Thai chiles
5 cloves garlic, crushed
10 thin slices of ginger
Boiling water, as needed

1. Trim off any flimsy leaves from the mustard cabbage and reserve them for some other use. Cut the stems into approximately 3-inch | 8-cm lengths and then cut each length into pieces no more than ½ inch | 1 cm inch wide. (If the heads are starting to flower, use the cores and flowers, too, if they are tender.) Rinse the mustard cabbage carefully, shake dry, and place it in a colander. Sprinkle the salt over the vegetables, lightly rub the salt in, and let them sit for an hour or so to remove most of the excess water.

2. Clean a quart-sized glass jar and lid, making sure that there's no oil or soap residue in there, as this could cause the pickles to mold. Rinse the jar and lid with boiling water and turn them upside-down to drain.

3. Bring the vinegar to a boil in a medium saucepan along with the peppers, garlic, and ginger; let the brine simmer for a few minutes. Shake the excess salt and water off of the mustard cabbage and place it in the glass jar. Pour the boiling brine over the vegetables and toss them lightly; add a bit of boiling water so that it almost reaches the top of the vegetables. Stir the vegetables every 5 minutes or so as they cool so that all of them turn from an emerald green to an olive shade. As they turn color, they'll shrink, and the brine should soon cover the vegetables. Add a bit more water as needed to keep the vegetables submerged.

4. When the jar is cool, refrigerate it for at least two days. Use a very clean pair of chopsticks or fork to remove the pickles. They'll last at least a month if kept clean and cold.

Illustration from ALL UNDER HEAVEN (McSweeney's + Ten Speed, 2016)

Copyright 2016, Carolyn Phillips

Cold weather casserole: Shanghai sandpot

We used to order this at our favorite Shanghainese restaurants without fail during Taipei’s dreary season, which stretches unbroken from November through March. With a couple of bowls of this inspired soup—which manages to be hearty without being terribly filling—we’d happily brave the weather and splash in the puddles afterwards.

The only really unusual ingredient is băiyè jiĕ 百葉結, or fresh bean curd knots. At the time of this writing, they can be most usually found fresh or frozen in vacuum-packed 8-ounce packages. If your Chinese market doesn’t hold them, you can roll up sheets of fresh “hundred leaf” bean curd (băiyè) and tie them in knots. 

And if even that isn’t available, just cut very firm fresh bean curd into squares and call it a day; they won’t need soaking, so just toss them in the soup.

This is what you're looking for

Two ingredients are absolutely essential here: good ham and good Shaoxing rice wine. Chinese ham is sometimes labeled Smithfield in Chinese markets, and it’s a much saltier and drier ham that what Americans usually eat; Spanish jamón or Italian prosciutto are great substitutes, and if you can find the ends, they’ll be both cheap and flavorful. 

There are not a whole lot of substitutes for the toasty, mushroomy aroma of Shaoxing rice wine, but in case of an emergency, use dry sherry instead. 

The first four steps should be done more or less at the same time, as this is all prep work. As with just about every good soup, though, this tastes much better if it is made at least a day ahead of time. So, if you can, assemble it up through Step 5 the first day, so that the flavors have the time to marry, and then proceed with Step 6 just before serving.

Shanghai sandpot

Yāndŭxiān 醃篤鮮

Shanghai cuisine

Serves 6

Stock:

1 quart | 1 liter unsalted chicken or pork stock

1 tablespoon Sichuan peppercorns

6 fat, dried Chinese black mushrooms, soaked until plump (use the soaking water in the stock)

Plumped-up knots

3 scallions, trimmed but left whole

2 finger-sized pieces of ginger, sliced

¼ cup | 60 ml Shaoxing rice wine

Soup ingredients:

1 piece of Chinese ham or prosciutto with skin and bone, about 4 ounces | 125 g

Around 8 ounces | 250 g fresh pork belly, preferably with skin

Water, as needed

Around 4 ounces | 125 g frozen or fresh bean curd knots, or very firm bean curd (see headnotes)

1 quart | 1 liter boiling water

½ teaspoon baking soda

1 large bamboo shoot, fresh or frozen, sliced about ¼-inch | 6 mm thick

½ cup | 125 ml Shaoxing rice wine, plus more as needed

A large handful of ice cubes

A pinch or two of sea salt, if needed

8 small green bok choy, sliced lengthwise in half, or 3 large bok choy, cut into thin wedges

Half a leek, white and light green parts only, cleaned carefully and sliced thinly

Wash the bok choy carefully

1. Again, start this recipe at least a day before you wish to serve it. Place the stock in a large (2 quart | 2 liter) sandpot or casserole. Wrap the peppercorns in a piece of cheesecloth or a tea ball. Toss in the mushroom soaking liquid, Sichuan peppercorns, ginger, green onions, and rice wine, but don’t add any salt at this time. Reserve the mushrooms for Step 4. Bring the pot to a boil before lowering it to a simmer, and then cover lightly. While the stock simmers, prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Rinse the ham and pork and blanch them in boiling water for about 10 minutes. Rinse them off again, scrape off any black areas on the ham skin, and return them to a clean saucepan and cover with water. Boil the meats for around 30 minutes and remove the pork. When it is cool, slice it against the grain into thin pieces.

3. Continue to cook the ham for another 30 minutes, or until it is tender enough to be easily pierced through with a chopstick. Remove it from the ham stock. When the ham is cool enough to handle easily, slice off and discard any skin, gelatinous bits, and bones, and then cut the ham into thin slices. Ever ham has a different level of salt, so pour the ham stock a bit at a time into the pork stock until it is as salty as you like; reserve the rest of the ham stock for later.

4. While the pork is cooking, place the bean curd knots in a heatproof bowl and cover them with the boiling water. Add the baking soda and stir. After about an hour, the knots will have plumped up. Rinse the knots in several changes of water. Slice the mushroom caps into pieces about ¼ inch | 6 mm wide.

Time to skim off the solid fat

5. Remove the Sichuan peppercorns, scallions, and ginger from the stock and discard. Arrange the sliced ham, pork, bamboo shoots, mushroom caps, and rice wine in the stock. Bring the soup to a boil. Lower the heat to a simmer and cook the soup for around 30 minutes. Taste the soup and add more pork or ham stock as needed to cover all the ingredients. Add the bean curd knots and simmer the soup for another 20 to 30 minutes. If you can, make it up to this point and let it sit covered overnight in a cool place.

6. Place the ice cubes on top of the cool soup, and after a few minutes remove any coagulated fat and unmelted ice cubes. Heat the soup up until it is at a full boil. Just before serving, taste the soup again and add more rice wine and ham stock to taste; there should be a nice, winey punch to the soup, and you can adjust the seasoning as you like with a pinch or two of salt, if necessary. Add the bok choy and leeks to the soup and bring it only to a boil, as you want them just barely cooked through. Set the sandpot on the table and serve in small soup bowls. 

Fried pumpkin & scallion flatbreads

The good news keeps on coming. This week, All Under Heaven was included in Amazon’s 100 Books for a Lifetime of Cooking and Drinking. I mean, I look at all of my heroes on that list – Julia Child, Fannie Farmer, Escoffier - and wonder how I managed to crash that particular party. I’m still reeling.

Speaking of heroes, many of my favorite living ones are going to be at the SF Ferry Building next month as part of the LDEI Literary Feast. Look at this list: Diana Kennedy, Dorie Greenspan, Joyce Goldstein, Paula Wolfert, Georgeanne Brennan, Mariela Spieler.... I snuck into that wingding, too, so please stop by my table if you can and nosh on some sample munchies from All Under Heaven.

*  *  *

It’s the time of year when everything seems to be made out of pumpkin, even beer or tea. Now, in cases like these, I’m of the opinion that these are not really given a squashy boost, but rather have cinnamon or nutmeg in there to suggest autumn and the holidays. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but I really like the taste of good squash.

And that is why I am giving you genuine pumpkin here, which turns these breads into lovely golden rounds that are moist and yet flaky, but with a subtle squashy flavor. In fact, you can use any type of hard squash here, like acorn or butternut, or even sneak in mashed sweet potatoes, if you prefer.

Baked acorn squash

Like zucchini bread, the pumpkin is here mainly to bump up the moistness, color, and nutrition of this dish, rather than serve as an assertive seasoning. In fact, some squashes like acorn are downright subtle in color and flavor, but are good in their own way. If you want more of a pumpkin-y statement, use canned pumpkin. 

The only thing you need to be careful of is not using anything that is too moist, as then you’ll have to use too much flour, which will then turn all the ratios into a mess. Canned pumpkin is good here, too, but be really sure that you’re not using pumpkin pie filling, which already has sugar and spices added.

Once you get this recipe down, you should make it your own. Consider some whole-wheat flour for part of the white, toasted sesame oil or sesame paste for the filling, perhaps ground toasted Sichuan peppercorns instead of the black pepper... really, the possibilities are endless.

Welcome the upcoming holidays with a Chinese twist on old favorites, like this.

Layers can be seen in the flatbreads

Fried pumpkin and green onion flatbreads

Nánguā cōngyóubĭng 南瓜蔥油餅

Shanghai

Makes 4 flatbreads and serves 4 to 6

Dough:

Around 6 ounces / 180 g (¾ packed cup) cooked, mashed pumpkin (see headnotes)

2⅓ cups / 375 g regular Chinese flour (or 1⅔ cups / 250 g all purpose flour plus ⅔ cup / 90 g pastry flour), plus just a little extra for kneading

1 tablespoon brown sugar

3 to 4 tablespoons / around 50 cc warm water

1 teaspoon oil of any kind to grease the bowl

Seasoning:

2 tablespoons / 30 ml peanut or vegetable oil

2 teaspoons sea salt

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

4 green onions, trimmed and finely chopped

Peanut or vegetable oil for frying

Fat flakes should form

1. Heat the mashed pumpkin until it is very hot to the touch (around 150°F / 65°C). Place it in a medium work bowl with the flour and sugar, and use chopsticks or a silicone spatula to stir them together to give you fat flakes, and add just enough warm water to form a soft dough. (The amount of water you end up using will depend upon how moist the pumpkin is.)

2. When the dough has cooled down to the point where it is easy to handle, turn the dough out on a very lightly floured board and knead it for about 5 minutes until it is smooth, adding a bit more flour as necessary. It should feel like an earlobe when it is ready. Clean out the bowl, wipe it clean, and rub the oil inside of the bowl with the oil and set the ball of dough in the bowl, then cover it with plastic wrap and let the dough rest for at least 45 minutes so that it is easy to roll out.

Sprinkle on the seasonings

3. Divide the dough into 4 equal pieces. Form them into balls and work on one at a time, covering up the rest with that plastic wrap. Divide the salt, pepper, and green onions into 4 equal portions each.

4. Roll a ball out into a flattened strip that’s approximately 16 x 5 inches / 40 x 13 cm in size. Smear a quarter of the fat over the dough, and then sprinkle on a quarter of the salt, pepper, and green onions. Starting on a wide end, roll the dough fairly tightly into a fat rope, and then pull on it gently at each end to stretch it out a bit before coiling it around into a snail. Pinch the end into the edge of the bread. Cover the snail with a piece of plastic wrap to let it rest while you repeat this step with the other three balls of dough.

5. Now you can start to roll them out into discs. Roll each one out into a circle around 7 inches / 18 cm wide. You can freeze the discs at this point by laying them flat on a baking sheet covered with plastic wrap; store them in freezer bags and fry them directly from the freezer without defrosting.

Lovely bread snails

6. To fry the breads, set a flat frying pan over medium heat. When the pan is hot, swirl in about 4 tablespoons / 60 ml oil. Slide one of the discs into the oil and immediately cover the pan, which will encourage steam to form and so give you a flaky bread, as well as cut down on the spatter. Turn the bread over when it is a light golden brown on the bottom, cover the pan again, and fry the other side. Remove the bread to a plate covered with a paper towel and cut it into wedges before serving. If you are not eating them immediately, keep the fried breads warm in an oven.

Deep-fried rice batons

To be honest, I haven’t a clue as to why something this simple and elegant and delicious is such a secret. It is just steamed rice cut into batons and fried. That’s it. But it’s also so much more, like mochi on steroids, and it’s something that I easily could (and do) dream about at night.

But when my friend Dianne Jacob mentioned this lovely way with rice to me recently, there was a happy look in her eye as she recalled the exact same dish her mother used to make for her. The daughter of Iraqi Jews, her parents and grandparents had lived in the free port of Shanghai before and after World War II. What Casablanca was to the West, Shanghai was to the East: a place where refugees and those who just wanted a bit of peace in their lives sought as a new home as they settled down and tried to achieve a touch normalcy.

Good rice is fresh rice

Dianne's mother obviously loved Shanghai because she wore Chinese clothes the rest of her life while dining on kosher Chinese. And you really can't blame her for finding joy and comfort in a dish like this, for it's one of those ingenious little things that make complete sense once you try them. Why we don't deep-fry rice on a regular basis is anybody's guess. 

You see, the outside is crunchy and hot, while the inside is creamy and faintly sweet. Dust these with a bit of sugar and a few sesame seeds or crushed peanuts for your morning treat. Doughnuts will never again look as good.

Actually, I could eat these all day.

Deep-fried rice batons

Zīfàn’gāo 粢飯糕

Shanghai and Jiangsu

Serves 8

Cut into batons

2 cups / 400 g sticky rice (brown or white), or use half white jasmine rice and half white short-grain sticky rice

3 cups / 700 ml water

Spray oil

2 cups / 470 ml peanut or vegetable oil (use ok if it smells fresh)

White sugar, optional

Toasted sesame seeds or ground peanuts, optional

1. Rinse the rice in a sieve under running water, drain, and place them in a saucepan. Add the water, bring the saucepan to a full boil, cover, and simmer it on low for about 20 minutes, or until all of the water has been absorbed. Turn off the heat and let the pan sit for around 10 minutes so that the rice can continue to steam. (If you have a rice cooker, follow the manufacturer’s directions for making 6 cups cooked rice.)

2. Spray an 8-inch / 20 cm square pan with oil. Pat the warm rice into the pan, even it out, and press down lightly on it so that the rice sticks together without any air pockets. Cover the pan and chill overnight.

3. The next day, empty the pan out onto a cutting board. Slice the rice crosswise in half and then lengthwise into 16 even batons. Have a plate ready covered with tempura or parchment paper; paper towels will stick.

Fry on both sides

4. Pour the oil into a skillet and place it over high heat. When a chopstick inserted in the oil becomes covered with bubbles, add as many of the batons as will loosely fit (or as many as you plan to immediately eat – whichever is less). Lower the heat to maintain a gentle bubbling around the batons, and carefully flip them over when the bottoms are a golden brown. When both sides have browned, remove to the paper-covered plate to drain. (You can make these as crisp or not as you like - little kids and older people will probably thank you for keeping these on the soft side, but I love these when they crunch and then weld to my molars. As always, to each his/her/its own.) Serve the batons hot with a sprinkle of sugar and some toasted sesame seeds, if you like.

Tips

This recipe can be changed up a million ways to fit your appetite and menu. Consider adding finely chopped ham, ground sea moss or laver seaweed (nori), toasted sesame seeds, minced green onions… whatever appeals to you.

Fragrant brown sticky rice

The rice used here is also a suggestion. Brown sticky rice is perhaps my favorite, since it has a subtly nutty texture and flavor, although I also really like the combination of the sticky rice with jasmine, as the texture remains light thanks to the jasmine rice, but tacky enough to hold together well due to the sticky rice. 

You can vary these as you like, of course, and add or substitute different rices (think Thai black rice and brown sticky rice for starters), with other grains like millet tossed in for variety.

One thing to watch out for is the freshness of the rice. The smell of stale rice will become achingly apparent, since this is all about the perfume and flavor and texture of the rice. Nothing else. Take a big whiff of the rice when you open the bag - it should smell sweet and delicious.

Feel better soup from Shanghai

If I were asked to think of another country where something sweet was considered therapeutic, I’d be hard pressed to come up with an answer. But China does this on a regular basis. Case in point: this marvelous concoction.

In many ways, this is very similar to a regular old fermented rice soup. Shanghai, though, manages to ratchet the flavors and textures and colors up a whole lot, creating something that is quite unique all the way around. Corn is in there to round out the nutrition and add wonderful bits for the teeth to play with, and wolfberries add a dash of scarlet and light sourness to the mix. Did I happen to mention that this is delicious, too?

Chinese moms whip up soups like this whenever someone doesn’t feel well, has had a baby, or is otherwise miserable. One reason for this is that the fermented rice gets the circulation going, which warms up the toes and makes life seem just a tad more livable. Second is that it just tastes so darned good. And third is, it’s a snap to pull together.

Shave off the kernels

Fermented rice, wolfberry, and corn soup

Gŏuqĭ jīróng yùmĭ gēng  枸杞雞蓉玉米羹

Serves 8

¼ cup / 30g wolfberries

Boiling water, as needed

2 ears fresh corn, or around 1½ cups / 300g frozen tender corn kernels

2 cups / 450ml fermented rice, both solids and liquid

Rock sugar, to taste

1 tablespoon cornstarch dissolved in 2 tablespoons cool water

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

1. Rinse the wolfberries, place them in a small heatproof bowl, and cover with boiling water while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Cut the corn off of the cobs and use your knife to scrape off any pulp and juice. Or, measure out the frozen corn.

Totally luscious

3. About 10 minutes before you serve this, bring 3 cups of water to a full boil in a medium saucepan. Add the wolfberries, their soaking liquid, and the corn. Allow the soup to come to a boil again, and then use a whisk to stir in the fermented rice so that it breaks apart into grains. Add about 1 tablespoon rock sugar, or to taste. When it comes to a boil the third time, stir in the cornstarch mixture until the soup has thickened.

4. Remove the pan from the heat and drizzle the eggs on top in a thin ribbon, back and forth. Wait for about a minute, and then gently stir to make the eggs form gentle wisps. Serve immediately.

Tips

This can be made ahead of time up through Step 3. But don’t add the eggs until the last minute, as you want them to be silky and soft. Reheating the soup just turns them leathery.

Consider this for breakfast, too

The secret to these velvety eggs is the way in which they are poached: the pan is taken off the heat, the eggs are dribbled across the top (never poured into the pan in a vast puddle), and then they are left alone to set up. This way they won’t turn into nasty little tough threads. Instead, they will be sensuous and calming. A simple trick, but incredibly useful.

If you don't want to serve this all at once, reserve half (or so) of the soup after you’ve finished with Step 3 and add the eggs to whatever you’re eating at the time.