Yunnan cold rice noodles

This is a taste of the kind of simple foods my grandfather-in-law probably enjoyed during his youth in southern Yunnan’s countryside. 

People all over the spice-laden highlands of China make variations on this dish, for it’s the sort of thing that sparks the appetite even when it is hot and muggy.

The story about my late mother-in-law's father is told in my upcoming memoir, The Jade Labyrinth. She had always told us he was a warlord. However, what I discovered was something so much more fascinating that my husband is still trying to wrap his head around it. Sorry to be so opaque here... I'm just throwing that out there to get you excited about this upcoming book of mine.

If your mom is whispering something in the back of your brain about eating sensibly, note that there are enough vegetables and meat in here to turn this into a superbly delicious, easy, and totally balanced one-bowl meal. And if you want to eat this in winter, this dish is excellent hot.

Yunnan cold rice noodles

The tasty nuggets in here

Yúnnán liáng mĭxiàn  雲南涼米線

Yunnan cuisine

Serves 4 as a main dish

Around 1 pound | 500 g dry round rice noodles (see Tips)

1 teaspoon peanut or vegetable oil

8 ounces | 225 g fresh soybean, or 4 ounces | 100 g mung bean sprouts

Boiling water, as needed

2 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

8 ounces | 225 g ground pork

3 to 4 cloves garlic, chopped

2 to 3 tablespoons golchujang sauce, or to taste (see Tips)

1 teaspoon toasted ground Sichuan peppercorns, or to taste

2 to 3 tablespoons sweet soy sauce, or 2 tablespoons regular soy sauce plus 1 tablespoon sugar

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

2 tablespoons rice vinegar

1 teaspoon regular soy sauce

½ cup | 40 g chopped garlic chives

½ cup | 20 g coarsely chopped cilantro

Garlic chives & cilantro

1. Bring about 1 quart | 1 liter water to a boil in a saucepan.  Add the rice noodles and stir. As they soften, work them apart with chopsticks or tongs so that they aren’t allowed to form sticky clumps. When the noodles are plump and fully hydrated, transfer them to a colander set in the sink. (Check package directions, as each brand is different.)  They should be cooked, like any pasta, just to the point of al dente and no further, as this gives them personality. Rinse the noodles with cool water to stop the cooking. Put them in a work bowl and toss with 1 teaspoon oil to keep them from sticking.

2. Bring the pot back to a full boil. Check over the sprouts and discard any discolored ones, as well as any extra seedhead casings. Add the bean sprouts. Cook soybean sprouts until the yellow heads no longer taste raw, and yet they retain a nice crispness, about 10 minutes. Mung bean sprouts only need to be blanched briefly. Drain the sprouts and rinse under cool water to stop the cooking. Add to the rice noodles and toss. (If you are serving these noodles hot, reserve some of the noodle water for Step 4.)

3. Set a wok over medium-high heat. Add the 2 tablespoons oil, swirl it around, and then add the pork, breaking it up into smaller clumps as you go. Add the garlic and stir-fry the meat until it is no longer pink. Toss in the chile sauce for about 30 seconds to coat each piece of meat. Add to the rice noodles along with the raw chopped chives.

4. Toss the noodle mixture with the sweet soy sauce, vinegar, and cilantro. If you are serving the noodles hot, at about ½ cup | 125 ml of the hot noodle water to the bowl, too. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve immediately while the vegetables are still vibrant.

Tips

Jiangxi style dried rice noodles (called làifěn 瀨粉) work perfectly here. Make sure the rice noodles are about the thickness of spaghetti to give them enough heft to hold their own against the rest of the ingredients.

As for the chile sauce, Zhàotōng 昭通 style is traditional, but Korean golchujang works in a pinch. Zhaotong chile sauce is made with ground toasted soybeans, and that gives it a nice crunch. Plus, this fermented sauce contains Sichuan peppercorns and chiles, which give it a wonderfully buzzy flavor. If you don’t have this, use the golchujang with a good spoonful of ground toasted Sichuan peppercorns.

Fresh guanciale, Yunnan style

This was our favorite thing to order at the traditional Yunnan-style restaurant called Yúnnán Rénhéyuán 雲南仁和園 in downtown Taipei. Back in the day, we would be served shards of the entire boned pig’s head: face, snout, jowls, ears, and tongue. I prefer, however, to make it just with the meaty jowls — i.e., cheeks. 

The jowl is slowly simmered in a richly seasoned liquid that permeates every cell, and it’s already so flavorful that you really don’t need a highly seasoned sauce, but even so, I would never serve this dish without it. The chilies, garlic, vinegar, green onions, soy sauce, and sesame oil come together to bathe each slice with an aromatic sheen that stuns the taste buds a bit as they hit the tongue, and then they subside just as the teeth release those herby, porky flavors hidden in each satiny slice.

Make razor-thin slices

A direct translation of the Chinese name, “big thin slices,” dabaopian is a study in the Chinese ideal of yóu ér búnì 油而不膩,  which means “buttery but not greasy.” This means that the pork has a silky, creamy texture that does not leave a layer of fat in your mouth. And considering that this cut of meat is pretty much the equivalent of fresh bacon, that is nothing short of amazing.

Pig jowls come pre-cleaned, which saves you a lot of hassle, and they are the tastiest part of the head. The jowls look for all the world like a nice piece of pork belly: a thick cut of meat interwoven with white fat, and a good layer of skin on top. Most Chinese places treat the jowls like fresh bacon (the Italians do the same thing when making guanciale). In fact, you can even consider substituting pork jowl for pork belly in other recipes. It is generally cheaper than most cuts of pork because most people here are just not familiar with it. For that reason, a good butcher might often carry it after a whole hog has been butchered, or they might accept special orders (see the Tips), but most supermarkets won’t.

A two-pound cheek will not look all that big, but something happens as it cooks: the cells swell up, and you are left with a really luscious pillow after a couple of hours. Chill the pork overnight and be sure and strain the liquid, for it makes an excellent stock.

A fresh pig jowl - yum!

Another thing I’d recommend is that you make this dish only for adults – the reason is that dabaopian is definitely bar food of the highest order. Like so many of China’s rich meat dishes, dabaopian demands the accompaniment of a drink that can hold its own against the rich flavors and fermented seasonings in the sauce. Be certain to serve this alongside something alcoholic - be it rice wine, white liquor, or even whiskey or scotch - but I wouldn’t recommend things like grape wines or even chilled beer.

Instead, this needs the lush aromas of a hearty grain-based brew, preferably at room temperature for the white liquor and those Western brews, or even hotter for the rice wine. Both Maotai (from Guizhou) and Gaoliang (from Kinmen in Taiwan) would be good here. Warmth is necessary to keep the mouth at body temperature or higher, which prevents the fats from seizing up and turning your tongue into a coated gym sock. The esters in the white liquor then work with the savory aromas to turn this into a serious source of dining pleasure.

Big thin slices of a pig’s head
Dàbáopiàn 大薄片
Yunnan
Serves 8 to 12 as an appetizer

Meat:
1 (2 pounds, or so) pig jowl (a/k/a cheek), with the skin attached
Water, as needed
¼ cup white liquor
4 green onions, trimmed
¼ cup thinly sliced ginger
½ teaspoon sea salt
2 teaspoons whole Sichuan peppercorns
1½ teaspoons fennel seeds

Sauce:
1 to 2 red jalapeño peppers
3 green onions, trimmed
6 cloves garlic, peeled
6 tablespoons regular soy sauce
6 tablespoons black vinegar
3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil

1. Start this at least a day before you plan to serve it. Rinse the jowl and pat it dry. If there are hairs still poking out of the skin, don’t worry about them, since they can be easily dealt with once the pork skin has been cooked. Place the jowl in a medium saucepan and cover with water. Bring the water to a boil and simmer for about 10 minutes, then dump out the water and scum, rinse the jowl and saucepan, and return the jowl to the saucepan. Add the white liquor, green onions, ginger, and salt to the pork. If you want, enclose the Sichuan peppercorns and fennel in either some cheesecloth or a mesh ball and toss this in the pot, or else let them roam free with the other seasonings. Bring the water to a boil, lower the heat to a gentle simmer, and cook the jowl for around 3 hours uncovered, adding more water as necessary. Check to see if the jowl is done by poking a chopstick through the thickest part — it should offer absolutely no resistance, but the meat and skin should not be falling apart, either. Let the meat cool in the broth and then remove the jowl to a clean covered container. Refrigerate it overnight and up to a couple of days. The broth can be strained and used for something else, while the solids should be discarded.

Ready for the pot

2. Before you do anything else, pull out any hairs you find in the skin at this point, since they will be easy to remove with either tweezers or a paring knife. Once that is done, cut the jowl against the grain into very long, thin slices while it is still chilled and easy to handle, arrange it on a platter, and then let the meat and silky fat come to room temperature before serving.

3. While the jowl is slowly warming up, prepare the sauce: Stem and seed as many peppers as you like and cut them into tiny dice. Chop the onions and garlic into a fine mince, as well, and place all of these aromatics into a small work bowl. Stir in the soy sauce, vinegar, and sesame oil. Adjust seasoning and then either serve the sauce alongside the meat, or pour it over the room temperature slices right before serving.

Tips

Pork jowls are not always available in Western butcher shops. I therefore ask my butcher to set them aside for me when they bring in a whole hog.

The white liquor, ginger, and spices work to tame the natural gaminess of the jowls. What you should end up with is a mildly flavored meat.

As with French headcheese, this dish benefits from a tart, aromatic sauce. The chili peppers can be as hot as you like, and you can use a chili sauce, if you prefer. I’d caution against adding sugar to the sauce.

You can, of course, use a whole boned pig’s head here. But make sure you multiply the recipe ingredients by 3, because you will have around 7 pounds of pork to contend with.

Yunnan's delicious Burmese and Thai links

Crispy bean sauce over steamed cod is such a popular dish in Taiwan that many think that it's Taiwanese. 

But there's really nothing in this sauce that even suggests that it was born somewhere in Taiwan, as the flavors speak of the province called South of the Clouds, or Yunnan. (By the way, has there ever been a prettier place name?)

Located in south-central China below Sichuan and just to the north of the many Southeast Asian chili cultures - Myanmar (Burma), Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam - Yunnan may be excused if its dishes tend toward the red end of the spectrum.

The foods here are highly flavored, but deliciously so.  And although chili here is a mainstay, the local milder dishes, like silky Steampot Chicken, are nothing short of incredible, and you can also find tropical hints in the funky shrimp sauces that deepen the flavors of various vegetable and meat dishes. 

The first place I ever tried crispy bean sauce, in fact, was in Taiwan at a terrific restaurant called Yunnan Renheyuan. It was such an authentic Yunnan-style that it even served fried dried milk "fans" (rushan), which doesn't sound all that great in English, but in fact tastes mildly cheesy and is decidedly crunchy. In fact, I think that is the only crunchy milk that I've ever eaten, and I long for the day that this is a common supermarket item, too.

Jarred and dried dousu

Today, though, the focus is on Yunnan's crispy bean sauce. The basic material for this are the smashed, dried, salted beans that are sold as dousu, or "crispy beans." These are very close cousins to the dried discs of fermented beans sold as tua nao in Burma, as well as in northern Thailand in the Chiang Mai area. In fact, many of the ingredients and seasonings around the entire area shows an amazing degree of interconnectedness courtesy of the mountains' indigenous peoples. 

When I lived in Taiwan, I could occasionally buy them formed into hard clusters about the size of tennis balls, and except for the times when I hauled back a stash to the States, I never could find them here no matter how I tried, and any restaurant that served Crispy Bean Sauce over Steamed Cod charged a ridiculous amount of money for a small portion. I have to admit, though, that many was the time that I broke down and ordered this extravagance out of pure desire and more than a little bit of homesickness for Taiwan's incredible restaurant food. 

Crush the beans

All that changed recently. Nowadays you can often find the dried beans already crushed into a powder, and there is even a bottled version that only asks you to fry it up before serving. It's pretty good, so try it if you can find it. But whenever possible, I like to make the sauce myself, as I prefer to add more chili and ginger and garlic (and less oil) than the bottled variety. You too should feel free to adjust the flavorings to fit your tastes, as this is a very forgiving sauce and will taste good no matter what you do, as long as you don't burn it.

The most common way of serving this sauce is over steamed cod, for the soft blandness of the fish is a nice counterpoint to the assertive sauce. But don't let that stop you if you love the sauce but don't want to eat fish, for this is downright terrific over a plain omelet or steamed soft bean curd.

For the omelet, simply cook four beaten eggs into a regular old omelet (preferably round), and then pour half of the sauce over the eggs. For the bean curd, cut it into large cubes and either steam or microwave it until it is heated through; pour off as much water as you can before piling half of the sauce on top.

This recipe makes a lot of sauce, but it's easy to scoop out half just after you have added the ground beans and then save this portion for later; besides, there still will be plenty to adorn the fish. Folks in my family tend to strong-arm each other while scooping up as much of the sauce as they can on their rice, leaving the fish as an afterthought, which is a very good reason to have lots more sauce than fish.

Fry the aromatic

Crispy bean sauce over steamed cod 
Dòusū xuěyú 豆酥雪魚
Yunnan

Serves 4 to 6 as part of a multicourse meal

Fish:

24 ounces cod fillets or steaks, skin removed
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon rice wine

Sauce and garnish:

7 ounces (200 grams) dried crispy soybeans (dousu, see headnotes)
¾ cup vegetable or peanut oil
1 tablespoon finely chopped ginger
1 tablespoon coarsely ground dried chilies, or to taste
2 cloves fresh garlic, finely chopped, optional
2 tablespoon sugar

2 green onions, chopped 

1. Rinse the fish and pat dry. Place it on a heatproof plate and rub it all over with the salt, and then sprinkle the wine over the fish; this will help to season the fish and also remove excess moisture. Allow the fish to marinate for 10 to 20 minutes while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. Steam the fish while you prepare the sauce, allowing 10 to 20 minutes for the fish to cook, depending upon the thickness of the fish and how hot your steamer is.

Fry the fermented beans to a crisp

2. Crush the dried crispy soybeans by first making a small slit in the plastic bag so that the vacuum is released, and then break up the soybean brick into smaller parts. Then, use the handle of your cleaver to crush the soybeans into a powder; it is all right if there are clumps left, as these will fall apart as they are fried.

3. About 10 minutes before you wish to serve this dish, put the oil in a cold wok and add the ginger and chili. Slowly heat the oil over medium heat so that the aromatics can season the oil without burning. As soon as the ginger has fried to a pale tan and the chili is not yet browned, add the dried crispy soybeans and garlic. (If you want, remove half of the sauce as soon as the beans absorb the oil and set it aside for another day; it will keep will refrigerated in a covered jar.)

4. Raise the heat to medium-high and fry everything until the beans are brown and crispy. Sprinkle the sugar over the beans and stir in. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning. Pour the hot sauce over the fish, which should cause a delectable popping sound. Sprinkle the green onions over the sauce and serve immediately with a spoon so that the sauce can be scooped up. Have lots of hot steamed rice ready, as the sauce will be the star of the show.

A Thanksgiving gift to you: my secret recipe for seasoned sweet soy sauce

It is almost time for the best holiday of the year: Thanksgiving. And so, I just want to say that you are one of the things I am most grateful for. I couldn't write about the best cuisines in the world without you. Literally. And these Chinese food adventures wouldn't have been turned into a cookbook without you, either.

Also, I wanted to let you know that McSweeney's has delayed publication of ALL UNDER HEAVEN until September 2015. They are restructuring as they turn the company into a nonprofit, and so things have had to be shifted around a bit. In spite of that, I’m terribly grateful to the fine folks at McSweeney’s, too.

This delay has also meant that things are sort of backed up in the recipe testing department, so if you are wondering when that next recipe is coming down the pipeline, I can tell you that this will be taken care of soon, too. Your patience and understanding are two other good reasons for saying thank you.

So please, accept this gift of one of my all-time favorite, most secret, and intensely delicious inventions: Seasoned Sweet Soy Sauce.

Caramelized sugar

This is something that is beloved in Yunnan, and I think that is because of all the indigenous people there. If you love Southeast Asian cuisines, this sauce might even seem rather familiar. The contributions of China's ethnic minorities to the country's majestic cultural tapestry are just now beginning to find appreciation among culinary people, and their way with fermented things is astoundingly good. (We will look at another delicious example next week.)

You can buy this in most Chinese markets, but why bother, when the homemade version is so much tastier? It’s also a snap to make, and you will find yourself using again and again as a topping for braised meats and bean curd, as a quick fix for noodles, and just about anyplace else that could benefit from a touch of truly gorgeous flavor.

Homemade sweet soy sauce is much stronger and saltier than the store-bought kind, so adjust the amounts as needed. A lot of this will depend upon the kind of soy sauce you use. I like Kimlan’s regular soy sauce here. And then again, you can always dilute it as desired with hot water at the end.

The secrets to this amazing creation? Caramelized sugar, fresh aromatics, and warm spices. Your kitchen will smell incredible and even downright seductive.

Sweet soy sauce
Tiánjiàngyóu 甜醬油
Makes about 2 cups

Cook til thick

1½ cups sugar
¾ cup water, divided
1 (500 ml.) bottle regular soy sauce
1 teaspoon whole Sichuan peppercorns
2 slices licorice root
2 whole star anise
2 garlic cloves, peeled and lightly crushed
5 thin slices ginger
Boiling water, as needed

1. Put the sugar in a medium, heavy saucepan, preferably stainless steel so that the caramelization process can be seen clearly. Moisten the sugar with ¼ cup water and place the pan on high heat until the sugar caramelizes. Remove the pan from the heat and wait a minute for it to cool down slightly. While directing the pan away from you, pour the rest of the water into the caramelized sugar — it will sizzle and boil, so keep your face and arms out of the splash zone.

2. As soon as the boiling has subsided, return the pan to high heat. Add the rest of the ingredients up through the ginger, and bring the liquid to a boil, stirring often so that the now hardened caramel melts into the sauce. Stir the sauce occasionally as it cooks, and when it starts to go from large bubbles to a fine foam, do not leave the stove, as it might boil over. Continue to boil the sauce until it has reduced to a molasses-like consistency, about 20 to 25 minutes.

3. Strain the sweet soy sauce into a measuring cup and add boiling water, as needed, to bring the sauce to 2¾ cups. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Cool the sauce completely and pour it into a bottle. Refrigerate it if you not use it often, or else keep it near your stove in a cool spot.

Yunnan's ham & wild mushrooms come together

Yunnan has one of the most varied assortments of flora and fauna in China. This includes a delicious array of mushrooms that grow wild in the rainforest. Many of these, like porcini and morels, are prized by the best cooks in Europe, while others have yet to have even their names properly translated into English.

I like to make today's recipe with as much a variety of the best mushrooms as possible. The different flavors and textures breathe sensuous life into something that becomes more than a mere bowl of soup. Fat slices of porcini rub up against nubby morels, which curl around the feathery maitake (hen-of-the-woods)... and so on. Each mouthful contains a whole range of pleasures to be slowly savored.

Parma ham & ginger

And while the wild wealth of the highlands is featured here, one also gets a taste of Yunnan’s great ham. Along with the hams of Rugao (Jiangsu) and Jinhua (Zhejiang), the ham known as Yuntui (Yunnan ham) is also referred to by the city most closely associated with its creation, Xuanwei. It is also the most prized of all China’s many dry-cured meats.

At present, true Chinese hams cannot be purchased in the United States. Until the day arrives when this beautiful charcuterie makes its way into our markets, substitutions will have to do. One of my favorites is a good Parma ham or prosciutto. They go perfectly with all of those chewy mushrooms; another possibility is Hunan-style charcuterie.

Enjoy this in cool autumn or spring weather when the best mushrooms are on display. If none are available, use good dried mushrooms in their stead. This is more of an outline than a recipe, as it should celebrate the seasons and the mushrooms.

Luscious

Yunnan ham and wild mushroom soup

Yěgū Yúntuĭ tāng 野菇雲腿湯

Yunnan

Serves 8 generously

2 tablespoons rendered chicken fat

2 tablespoons finely julienned peeled ginger

3 to 6 tablespoons (depending upon how salty and flavorful it is) finely julienned Parma ham, prociutto, or other dry-cured ham

6 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine

2 quarts chicken stock, salted or unsalted

2 cups (or so) assorted fresh mushrooms (wild ones best), or rehydrated dried mushrooms of any kind plus their soaking liquid

4 or more pieces of bamboo pith fungus, soaked until soft in hot water

Sea salt to taste

Freshly-ground black pepper

1 tablespoon sugar, or to taste

1 teaspoon good rice vinegar, optional

Garnish:

3 to 6 tablespoons finely chopped Parma ham, prociutto, or other dry-cured ham

A few sprigs of green onion or cilantro

1. Heat the fat in a 4-quart pot and add the ginger. Slowly brown the ginger over medium heat and then add the ham. Stir the julienned ham around in the fat to release its fragrance, and then immediately pour in the rice wine, bring it to a boil, and then add the stock. Bring the stock to a full boil and then lower it to a simmer.

Use the best 'shrooms

2. While the stock is simmering away, clean the mushrooms. Cut them or tear them into pieces that are bite-sized: about ¼-inch wide for porcini, morels, and other thick mushrooms, or into separate “feathers” for maitake, oyster, and other stemmed mushrooms. If you are using rehydrated mushrooms, cut them into slightly smaller pieces since these will be chewier; strain their soaking liquid and add it to the stock.

3. Add all of these mushrooms to the stock. Simmer the soup for about 20 minutes, or until the thickest mushrooms are tender. Taste and adjust the seasoning with salt, pepper, and sugar. If you would like a slight edge to the flavors, stir in the rice vinegar just as you take the soup off of the heat; stir in the chopped ham, as well. Chop the green onions or cilantro and garnish the top. Serve immediately.


Tips

Bamboo pith fungus (zhusheng or "mushrooms") are only available dried. While most Chinese markets carry them, the best are found in dry-goods stores or herbal shops. 

Packaged bamboo pith fungus

Look for places that offer them loosely packed so that you can see each piece. Bags that are tightly stuffed will often only have nice ones on the outside, while the inside will be full of broken pieces that are of little use. The absolute best ones will be around 6 inches long, white, and still a bit supple.

To prepare bamboo pith fungus, soak them in warm water until soft. Trim off the hard bases and the frilly tops. Carefully rinse the webbed but fragile lengths clean of any debris, and then cut the crosswise into pieces.

Why eat these? They have a wonderful but subtle fragrance that permeates lightly seasoned soups like this. Their texture is also delightful: slightly crunchy with the feel of raw silk rubbing against the tongue. Highly recommended.

On having great face in Yunnan

Whenever we ate at the restaurant Yunnan Renheyuan in downtown Taipei, this would be the first thing to arrive on our table. We’d get dabaopian (big thin slices) as an appetizer to calm our raging hunger, and that it would do, while at the same time readying our taste buds for the coming meal.

If you've never eaten pig’s head or head cheese or pork jowls, this might seem like an odd thing to order of your own free will. But those of you who know and love this cut of meat will understand completely.

Traditionally, this dish is made with the entire boned pig’s head so that what is left looks a whole lot like one of those pullover rubber Halloween masks. You will have the face and snout, as well as the ears and maybe even the tongue.

Big, thin slices of jowl

My husband used to love making different pig’s head dishes at home – his favorite being a dish he concocted of the thinly sliced meat stir-fried with satay sauce – but since I was always given the job of cleaning the damn thing, I rebelled after about the third head. 

Back then, you see, most of the hair would be gone by the time the butcher handed over this big bundle, but there would still be enough bristles to cause me great anxiety, and then there was the problem of how to successfully swab out the ears and nostrils. Many Q-tips and gallons of sudsy water later, I’d have a shiny face looking back at me, but this press gang sort of labor killed any appetite along the way and led to grim thoughts of how my life had led this sad task of swabbing out a rubbery snout in a kitchen that supplied only cold tap water.

My husband is a happy man once again (and I a happy woman) because I've found that pig jowls are not only provided clean here in the States, but they are the nicest cut of the head, with thick layers of meat interwoven with white fat and a good layer of skin on top. This cut looks for all the world like a great piece of pork belly, which is why so many places treat it like fresh bacon, such as the Italians with their guanciale. In fact, consider using pork jowl interchangeably with pork belly, as it generally is quite cheap, since few (white) people know what they’re missing.

Big thin slices (of a pig’s head) 
Dàbáopiàn  大薄片 

Yunnan
Serves 8 to 12 as an appetizer

Meat:

1 pig jowl (cheek) with the skin attached, about 2 pounds

Filtered water as needed

¼ cup white liquor

Like the best fresh bacon

4 green onions, trimmed

¼ cup thinly sliced ginger

½ teaspoon sea salt

2 teaspoons whole Sichuan peppercorns

1½ teaspoons fennel seeds

Sauce:

1 to 2 red jalapeno peppers

3 green onions, trimmed

6 cloves garlic, peeled

6 tablespoons regular soy sauce

6 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil

Side view of the raw jowl

1. Rinse the jowl and pat dry. If there are hairs still poking out of the skin, don’t worry about them, since they can be easily dealt with once the pork skin has been cooked. Place the jowl in a medium saucepan and cover with tap water. Bring the water to a boil and simmer for about 10 minutes, then dump out the water and scum, rinse the jowl and saucepan, and return the jowl to the saucepan. Add the rest of the ingredients, bring the water to a boil, lower the heat to a gentle simmer, and cook the jowl for around 3 hours uncovered, adding more water as necessary. Check to see if the jowl is done by poking a chopstick through the skin into the meat; there should be absolutely no resistance, but the meat and skin should not be falling apart, either. Let the meat cool in the broth and then remove the jowl to a clean covered container. Refrigerate it overnight and up to maybe 4 days. (The broth can be strained and used for something else.)

2. Before you do anything else, pull out any errant hairs at this point, since they will be easy to remove with either tweezers (get the big Chinese kind at a market or kitchen supply store, if possible) or a paring knife; if you’re using the knife, put your thumb on one side of a hair and the knife on the other, and then pull up. Once that is done, cut the jowl into very long, thin slices while it is still chilled and easy to handle, arrange it on a platter, and then let the meat and silky fat come to room temperature before serving.

3. While the jowl is slowly warming up, prepare the sauce: Stem and seed as many peppers as you like and cut them into tiny dice. Chop the onions and garlic into tiny pieces, as well, and place all of these aromatics into a small work bowl. Stir in the soy sauce, vinegar, and sesame oil. Adjust seasoning and then either serve the sauce alongside the meat or pour it over the room temperature slices right before serving.

 

No longer a weird cut of meat

Tips

Pork jowls – also called cheeks – are not always available in Western butcher shops. I ask my butcher to set one aside for me when they bring in a whole hog. As always, the quality of the meat is essential to the success of this dish, so aim for pigs that were raised and butchered with care.

The white liquor, Sichuan peppercorns, and ginger work to tame the natural gaminess of this cut of pork. What you should end up with is a mildly flavored meat that is gently seasoned.

As with French headcheese, this dish benefits from a tart, aromatic sauce. The chili peppers can be as hot or not as you and your family likes. I’d caution against adding sugar to the sauce since that acidity is what perks up the palate and cuts the fatty elements down to size.

  

You can, of course, use a whole boned pig’s head here; just realize that you will have around 7 pounds of pork to contend with, so multiply the ingredients by around 3.