Chinese rice wines: what's what?

Rice wines are as much a part of China’s food culture as tea, and this is truer of the Yangtze River area than just about anywhere else. Jiangsu and Zhejiang in particular enjoy an historic reputation for the exceptional quality of their wines. In fact, this region is a bit like the Loire Valley in France when it comes to discussions of a wine-based food culture, as countless dishes have been designed to complement wine and also incorporate it as a main component in the seasoning.

Inexpensive yet good Shaoxing wines

The rice wines here tend to be amber-colored, and so they are collectively referred to as “yellow wine” (huángjĭu 黃酒). Shaoxing rice wine (Shàoxīng jĭu 紹興酒), which is often specified as an ingredient in this blog and in my upcoming cookbook, ALL UNDER HEAVEN, is named after the town in Zhejiang where it is produced. The other two that must be mentioned are huadiao and cooking wine. Huādiāo 花雕 literally means “carved” and is a Shaoxing varietal.

The other main types of rice wine are mĭjĭu 米酒, which is referred to in this blog as a “mild rice wine,” as it has the most subtle flavor and is closest of the Chinese wines to Japanese sake. Very similar to that is the general category known as cooking wine (liàojĭu 料酒), which usually is of lesser quality than the wines destined for drinking; it often has a bit of salt added to deter its direct consumption, and a good example of this is Taiwanese Mijiu (or "Cooking Michiu," as it says on the label.

My preferred cooking wine

Like their Western counterparts, the best Chinese rice wines can range in sweetness from dry or brut (gān 乾) to syrupy elixers (nóngtián 濃甜) that pair well with dessert. The colors likewise can be anywhere from clear to a deep brown hue. All are non-distilled and made mainly from rice, of course, and they rely on the same happy bundling of yeast, molds, and bacteria that are called upon for Fermented Rice.

Connoisseurs often debate the proper pairing of wines with foods here with the same vociferousness that can be found in the West. And although Western-style grape wines are increasing in popularity and hearty red ones in particular are sometimes served with the foods of China, one must choose carefully to find a good match. 

Warm your rice wine before imbibing

Wine expert Gerald Asher has suggested varietals that can echo the attributes of Chinese rice wine, such as a vin jaune fino Sherry and other madeirized wines like Manzanilla, Tokaji, or Hungarian Furmint, because these, as Mr. Asher noted, are “not fruity in the way that, say, a Riesling is or a Chardonnay is... and would not overwhelm even the most subtle flavor of a Chinese dish.”

But then again, as with so many things having to do with fine dining, the most important factor is what tastes best to you. And if wine of any stripe does not suit your fancy, beer goes admirably with most of China’s savory foods, while tea is the perfect after-dinner refreshment.

Chilled boozy winter melon

One restaurant in the heart of Taipei was home to a couple of dishes I loved, but I always was very reluctant to go there. It certainly wasn’t the food that gave me pause. 

Granted, I didn’t go there for the atmosphere, which was more like a giant 1950s-era Rotary Club rec room than anything else: ceilings high enough to play basketball, old beige walls, echoes bouncing across the room, and the feeling that an impromptu bingo game could materialize at any second.

Cut up the melon

There were not many Westerners in Taipei at that time, and I’m sure that I was the only one that ever made it to this restaurant. The reason for this is that it was run by Taiwan’s armed forces as a dining hall for its officers. 

Fortunately for me, the public could also drop in and enjoy the many Yangtze-region delights on its menu. Unfortunately for me, few people seemed to know about the place, and so the waiters had lots of time on their hands.

And so, what always bothered me was not the décor, but one particular waiter, a middle-aged guy from Zhejiang or somewhere in that neighborhood who apparently thought of me as his personal television set. 

Steamed melon

I can still see him in my mind decades later, with his buzz cut and white rayon shirt, because he always planted himself directly in my field of vision and stared at me through the entire meal while smoking his way through a pack of local cigarettes. It was unnerving. And so I’d get up once he had settle in, move my seat so that my back was to him or position my husband between the waiter and me as a sort of visual blockade, and then finally focus on my dinner, which usually started with this fantastic wine-soaked dish.

It’s nothing much, just winter melon steamed until soft and then bathed in a heady marinade seasoned mainly with ginger and Shaoxing wine. The genius part is that it is then chilled. It’s a stunning way to start a summer dinner.

Chilled winter melon with wine and ginger

Jĭuxiāng liáng dōngguā 酒香涼冬瓜

This is what fresh looks like

Serves 4 to 6 as an appetizer

1 square piece of winter melon (about 1 pound, as flat as possible)

2 teaspoons mushroom seasoning, plus more as needed

2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine, plus more as needed

1 tablespoon fresh ginger juice

1 lemon

2 tablespoons julienned young ginger

1. Make this the day before you plan to serve it. Rinse the winter melon and pat dry. Remove the seeds and membrane, and then cut off any corners that stick up too high. Slash the flesh down the length of the melon into strips about 1 inch apart, cutting down all the way (but not through) the skin. Turn the melon 90 degrees and cut crosswise 1 inch apart. This will allow the melon to cook quickly and evenly, and also help the flesh easily absorb the seasonings.

A nice sized melon wedge

2. Place the melon on a rimmed, heatproof plate and sprinkle on the mushroom seasoning and rice wine. Steam the melon until the flesh is tender; to check, insert a chopstick in the center of the melon at the bottom of a cut—the chopstick should slide in easily, about 20 to 25 minutes. Remove the melon from the steamer and let it cool down a bit until you can handle it easily.

3. When it has cooled down enough for you to handle it easily, put the melon flesh-side down in a container along with any liquid from the steamer. Taste it, while you’re at it, and add more mushroom seasoning and rice wine as needed. Pour in the ginger juice. Zest the lemon and sprinkle it in, as well as about a teaspoon of the lemon juice. Cover the container and refrigerate the melon overnight.

4. Just before serving, use a thin blade to cut the flesh loose from the skin without disrupting its natural shape. Place the melon on a rimmed serving plate. Taste the sauce again and adjust the seasoning as needed. Sprinkle sauce and the optional ginger over the melon. Serve chilled or just above room temperature as an appetizer or side dish.

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.

Nanjing's drunken eggs with molten centers

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn't get better than this

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

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

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

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

Dried salted plums

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

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

Makes 6 eggs

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

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

Marinating eggs

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

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

Gentle marbling under the shell

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

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