Amaranth with crispy baby shrimp

This classic Taiwanese/Southern Fujianese recipe features two ingredients that might not be all that familiar if you shop mainly at places like Safeway, Trader Joe’s, and Whole Foods: amaranth and dried baby shrimp. 

But if you set a plate of this down in front of someone from the southeastern Chinese seaboard, you are going to have one very happy person digging in. This simply tastes of home cooking, and it’s also a dish that you don’t find all that often in restaurants outside of the homeland.

Amaranth is a beautiful leafy green, sometimes a solid emerald and sometimes bearing garnet-colored veins. I can’t taste any difference between the two, so go with what you can find. 

Trim off the leaves and tip

This is usually found only in Chinese markets around here, where it’s known as xiàncài. Amaranth usually will be bundled up into a bouquet, so try to peek inside to ensure that not much rotting is going on, as this is the sort of vegetable that dissolves into mush if it sits around too long. And that is also the reason why you should plan to cook this no more than a day or two after you’ve bought it.

To prepare amaranth, use your fingernails to nip off the side leaves and the tender cluster at the top of each stem, and then toss the stem. Rinse the leaves carefully and shake them as dry as you can. That’s it.

The prepped leaves

Amaranth is one of those vegetables that has to be salted with a light hand, though. It doesn’t absorb flavors in the least, and so everything that is added to it sort of sits on the surface. For that reason it’s a good idea to not add any extra salt to this dish unless you are sure it really needs it.

Baby dried shrimp are always great, but what I really adore about them is the way they turn into a luscious combination of crunch and funk whenever they are slowly toasted in oil. Yes, I know, the traditional way is to just toss the little guys into the wok with the greens, which gives them a nicely mellow edge, but try it my way and see. It's delicious. 

I often fry these shrimp up as a side for things like congee or even as a bar snack, and they are terrific in omelets and fried rice, as well. Another variation on this theme is to use salted whitebait (wěnzĭyú 吻仔魚 or mòzĭyú 魩仔魚), which are immature fish fry (i.e., baby fish). Both are very good in this lovely dish.

 

Dried baby shrimp

Amaranth with crispy baby shrimp

Xiāpí chăo xiàncài  蝦皮炒莧菜

Taiwanese and Southern Fujianese cuisine

Serves 4

1 bunch (about 1 pound | 500 g) fresh amaranth

6 tablespoons toasted sesame oil or vegetable oil, plus more as needed

A handful or so of dried baby shrimp

6 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1. Remove the leaves and tips from the amaranth stems, and then discard the stems. Rinse the leaves carefully in a colander and shake dry.

Like your Ah-ma used to make...

2. Pour the oil into a cool wok and add the dried shrimp. Fry the shrimp over medium heat, stirring often, until the oil is foamy and the shrimp have turned a golden brown, but are not yet dark. Scrape the fried shrimp into a small work bowl and return any oil back to the wok. You should have about 3 tablespoons at this point, so add more oil if needed.

3. Set the wok over medium-high heat and add the garlic first. Stir this around over the heat until it begins to sizzle, and then add the amaranth leaves. Turn the heat up to high and stir-fry the amaranth until it wilts and almost all of the liquid in the wok has evaporated. Toss in the fried shrimp. Taste and adjust the seasoning as needed.

Good for what ails you: sesame oil chicken soup

China’s cuisines are unlike just about anyplace else’s for many reasons, but chief among them is the idea that every ingredient is also medicine. 

This concept was memorialized around two millennia ago in the Shennong bencao jing, which could be translated as The God of Agriculture’s Materia Medica. One of the basic principles of Chinese medicine is that there are polar opposites in just about everything – what we now refer to by the appropriately Chinese names of yin and yang – and much of our health stems from achieving good balance between the two. 

When it comes to our bodies, the polar opposites include the ideas that we are all composed to varying degrees of different proportions of male/female, hot/cold, wet/dry, and so forth. When these balances get out of whack, we get ill. A lot of this is simple good sense. For example, when we have a cold, we feel chills that blankets cannot warm. It takes a bowl of hot chicken soup to return those faint feelings of well-being to our bodies. As with the rest of the world, chicken soup in China is mom’s penicillin. 

Pure sesame oil

But the Chinese take it a few steps further. In addition to the health-giving properties of chicken soup – for the chicken itself is very nutritious and even the fat has been shown to make us healthier – various herbs and seasonings are tossed in the pot to enhance these warming properties. 

This soup, whose smell reminds me of Taipei, is often given to nursing mothers as a part of her confinement referred to in Chinese as a “month of sitting,” or zuò yuèzi 坐月子. During this period, the new mom gets to relax and take care of herself and her new baby. She also gets to eat lots of nourishing foods courtesy of her own mother, mother-in-law, and various aunties. 

One of the most classic dishes for the recovering mother is this, for it is believed to encourage blood flow and produce breast milk. Wood ear fungus is then included in this soup to help combat high cholesterol, which many women suffer from after giving birth. 

Dates and wolfberries

Other Chinese ingredients offer various ways to make people feel better, too. Red Chinese dates, for example, are considered “the king of fruits,” as they nurture the blood and heal the stomach. Wolfberries (aka gouqi or goji berries) are a prized general tonic. Also in here is rice wine instead of water, which warms up the body along with a huge pile of fresh ginger. The ginger is first fried in pure sesame oil, which is believed in Chinese medicine to have lots of anti-aging properties. This is, therefore, a wonderful, warming meal that aids in recovery. It also is super easy, fast, and hands-down delicious. This is something that should be served throughout the year, especially when anyone is feeling down or in need of a little extra TLC.

A couple of suggestions for perfection every time: First, fry the ginger until it is golden brown before adding the chicken, as this seasons the oil. It will fry and brown even further as the chicken cooks, which is wonderful, as this turns each slice into a sticky, crispy shard. Be sure to use a metal wok spatula to scrape the bottom of the wok while the chicken fries, as the sugars in the ginger will gradually caramelize on the bottom – these need to be nudged loose now and then so that they don’t burn. Once the ginger has completely dried out in the oil, it will merely float, rather than weld itself to the bottom of the pan.

Golden chicken & ginger

Be sure to fry the chicken to a golden brown, too. This completely changes the texture of the skin, turning it from flabby to tensile and slightly caramelized, which makes it marvelous to nibble on.

The toasted sesame oil is key here, too. Use pure toasted sesame oil with no fillers, like cottonseed or soybean oil. Look at the ingredients carefully before you buy. I always get Japanese brands, which are sold in large tins. Korean markets often have these on sale, and they stay fresh for a couple of months even when they have been opened; just close up the tin carefully and store it away from the heat in a cool pantry. I pour out about a cup or so of the oil into a little bottle that I keep near the stove for finishing many dishes, but for this sesame oil chicken soup and things like homemade sesame paste, these liter-plus sized tins are a lifesaver.

Taiwanese Mijiu is the final key ingredient here. You can find this in bright green glass bottles in most Chinese grocery stores, especially if they cater to a Taiwanese clientele. Get these either in regular wine bottle sizes or as gallon jugs.

The not-so-secret ingredient

Whatever you do, consider offering this as a full meal by serving it over the rice noodles. You can sidle a bit of fresh spinach or other leafy greens into the bowl if you like, but this should be little more than a garnish, as this is the best tasting medicine I know of. 


Sesame oil chicken soup
Máyóu jī tāng  麻油雞湯
South Fujian, Chaozhou, & Taiwan
Makes about 4 quarts soup

1 whole (3 to 4 pounds) free-range organic fryer, or 3 to 4 pounds chicken wings
10 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
1½ cups thinly sliced fresh ginger (peeling not necessary)
7 cups mild rice wine (Taiwanese Mijiu recommended)
2 to 3 cups wood ear fungus, fresh or dried and plumped-up, optional
16 or so red dates, optional
¼ cup wolfberries, optional
1 teaspoon regular soy sauce, optional (see Tips)
2 cups boiling water, optional
Dried rice noodles (mifen), optional

1. This soup, like just about any other soup, is many times better the next day, so plan ahead, if you can. Pat the chicken dry, get rid of any extra fat or pinfeathers, and then use a cleaver to cut it into large pieces before whacking it across the bones into inch-wide chunks. If you are using wings instead of a whole bird, simply cut each wing into three pieces along the joints; in this case, toss the wingtips into the pot, too, as they will lend extra flavor and richness to the broth. If you don’t enjoy nibbling on them like I do, then merely fish them out before serving.

A wok full of sesame oil & goodness

2. Place a wok over medium heat. When it is hot, add the oil and then the ginger. Stir the ginger occasionally as it fries so that it turns an even golden brown. As it start to brown a bit darker, scoot it up the sides of the wok out of the oil and add all of the chicken. Turn the heat up a bit and brown the chicken on all sides.

3. When the chicken is nicely browned, add the rice wine, raise the heat to high, and bring the wine to a boil. Add the optional wood ears (trimmed and torn into pieces), dates, and/or wolfberries at this point. Then, lower it to just a gentle simmer and cook the chicken until it is just tender, about 30 minutes. Taste the soup and add the soy sauce only if it is necessary. (Be careful not to add too much — this dish is might already be very savory because rice wines like Taiwanese Mijiu contain salt.) You might find it too salty for your taste; in that case, add about 2 cups boiling water to the pan. (The soup can be cooled down and refrigerated at this point when you are making it ahead of time.) If you wish to serve this over rice noodles, cook the noodles until barely tender and place them in the bottom of the soup bowls before ladling in the soup and chicken. Noodles or not, serve this very hot.

Tip

Taiwan-style rice wine (Mijiu, or as the label spells it, Michiu) is what gives this dish its distinctive flavor. Do note that this is type of cooking wine already has salt in it. The brand I use comes in a green glass bottle, has 1.5% salt, and says, in English, “Cooking michiu distilled spirit of rice, not for sale or use as a beverage.”

Illustration copyright (c) 2015 by Carolyn Phillips; from the forthcoming All Under Heaven (McSweeney's + Ten Speed Press, August 2016)

Something that will make your Taiwanese friends deliriously happy

One time we were absolutely starved, but since the restaurant we normally patronize in a Chinese strip mall near here was still taking its afternoon siesta, we hunted around for something else to eat. 

The sign for one place looked promising: home-style Taiwanese food. Visions of the great street food we used to enjoy in Taipei danced in our head, and we were almost giddy at the thought of having some oyster rolls, fish ball soup, sesame oil chicken, and braised pork over rice.

Our hopes and ravenous taste buds were dashed with equal force when the waiter said that they didn't have any of those dishes, either on the menu or because they weren't in stock. So, we ordered a bunch of other items that were barely edible and not particularly memorable except for their extravagant prices.

The secret ingredients

And I started to wonder, why can't I get some of Taiwan's greatest street foods around here? There certainly are enough Taiwanese in the Bay Area to warrant a try, and I bet if any clever restaurateur put a good bowl of that porky manna from heaven called lurou fan before a homesick Taiwanese, he or she would have a customer for life.

Utterly dissatisfied with my meal, but with my memories and appetite kicked into full gear, I went grocery shopping on my way home.

Right after I walked in the door, I got out my wok and whipped up one of those staples of Taiwanese street food, the kind of food that grandmas have bubbling on the stove and sending out puffs of deliriously delicious fragrances out of apartment windows, one of those dishes that you swear you can smell in your dreams.

The good thing is that it's not hard to make, it's great to have on hand, and anyone who likes pork and soy sauce will fall in love. As in the traditional recipes, the pork is served with a hard-boiled egg that has simmered in the pork sauce, as well as a bright round of Japanese pickled daikon. 

Learn how to boil the perfect egg!

In our house, we have one person who will eat as many eggs as he can get away with. (One time I made a dozen eggs like these and came upon him in the kitchen happily polishing off egg #9.) I therefore make lots more eggs that these recipes usually call for. Feel free to double or triple the amount of hard-boiled eggs; your only limitation is the sauce that needs to cover them, and the recipe can be doubled or tripled, as well. I have some suggestions below on how to get your eggs to end up with a yolk that is balanced in the center, rather than clinging to one side and subjecting the white to tearing.

There is also a recipe here for fried shallots, a prized seasoning in Taiwanese cooking. If you can, double the recipe and use the crispy little rings in your eggs, over noodles, on top of soups or even salads, and anywhere that could benefit from their subtle oniony punch and crunch. The oil the shallots were fried in is wonderful too, and is one of Chinese cuisine's traditional finishing oils, or mingyou, that are sprinkled over dishes to add a nice sheet and touch of flavor. Store this oil in the fridge, and keep a bit of it in a squirt bottle next to the stove. 

Frying shallots - seriously yum

Back to the star of the show, though. The resulting pork and sauce is served over a bowl of steaming rice with an egg (or three), a sprinkle of chopped cilantro, and a couple slices of that neon yellow Japanese daikon pickle known as takuan. This last fillip is probably a leftover from Taiwan's colonial days, when the Japanese ruled the roost. The politics of the matter aside, Japan left its cuisine behind in good hands, for this touch of color and piquant flavor is nothing less than perfect in this bowl of traditional Taiwanese aromas.

Eat it and weep... with delight.

Diced braised pork over rice
Lǔròu fàn 滷肉飯
Southern Fujian & Taiwan

Serves 6 to 8 as part of a multi-course meal

Fried shallots:
1 cup thinly-sliced shallots or small onions

2 cups fresh vegetable or peanut oil

Braised pork and eggs:

2 pounds fresh pork (try to get a ratio of two parts lean to one part fat)
½ cup garlic, chopped
½ cup shallots, chopped
The fried shallots (see above)
6 tablespoons peanut oil
Boiling water as needed

6 to 8 hard-boiled eggs, peeled

Sauce:
4 tablespoons tasty peanut butter, chunky or smooth
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
3 whole star anise
½ teaspoon five-spice powder
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ cup light soy sauce
¾ cup mild rice wine (Taiwanese Mijiu) 

Rock sugar to taste (or about the size of a walnut)
4 cups boiling water

Final touches:
6 to 8 cups hot steamed rice
Pickled Japanese daikon (takuan), sliced
Chopped cilantro

1. Start this dish at least a day before you want to serve it. First make the fried shallots. Separate the sliced shallots (or onions) into rings so that they fry quickly and evenly. Heat the oil in a wok over medium high heat until a wooden or bamboo chopstick inserted into the oil is immediately covered with bubbles. Sprinkle in the shallots, reduce the heat to medium, and slowly fry them until they turn a golden brown, stirring often so that they do not burn or cook unevenly. Remove the fried shallots to a plate, strain the oil, and use that as a finishing oil, or mingyou, in other dishes.

Porky gravel

2. Blanch the pork for ten minutes and cut in small dice.  Fry the raw shallots and garlic in oil until light brown. Add the pork and fry it until cooked it begins to brown; if you have pork skin in the mix, be sure to use a spatter shield or a lid over the pork while it is frying, since the pork skin is liable to explode and shoot all over. Add the fried shallots and all of the sauce ingredients, topping it off with enough boiling water to cover. Bring the pot to a boil, reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer, cover, and let it cook for about half an hour. 

3. Taste and adjust the flavor with salt, wine, and sugar as needed. Add the eggs, bring the pot to a boil again, and then let it simmer uncovered for about 30 minutes. Allow the sauce to come to room temperature, cover, and refrigerate overnight for best flavor. Try to submerge the eggs so that they obtain an even golden color.

4. The next day or - even better - after a couple of days, scrape most of the fat off of the top (if you want) before bringing the pork and eggs to a boil again; reduce it to a gentle simmer and cook uncovered for about an hour, turning the eggs occasionally so that they tan evenly. (If you cook the eggs with the cover on, they will get a honeycomb effect throughout the egg whites and will become tough.) Remove the eggs from the sauce and bring the pork and sauce to a boil to reduce it to about ¼ to ½ cup.

5. To serve, place about a cup of hot steamed rice in a large soup bowl, and put an egg on top of the rice and a mound of the pork next to it along with a couple slices of pickled daikon. Dribble a bit of the sauce over the pork and egg. Dust with some chopped cilantro and serve.

Variations: This pork is great on a variety of things, from fried eggplant to blanched bean sprouts to blanched Chinese chives. Leftovers can be used to top a simple egg omelet, tossed with cooked eggplant, or ladled on top of a bowl of hot noodles soup. Consider making a double amount of the pork and freezing it in 1-cup bags so that you can have lunch or dinner in the time it takes to boil your noodles.

Lovely, lovely eggs

Tip on making a balanced hard-boiled egg: This is one of those cooking secrets that sounds so obvious once you hear it. Just gently stir the eggs as they come to a boil, so that the raw yolk is moving around in the egg while the whites start to set up. Also, use medium heat rather than high heat to boil the eggs, which gives the eggs time to set up evenly.