Rice cakes with yellow chives and mushrooms

One of the glories of East Chinese cooking is its artistry with rice, particularly sticky rice. 

In other parts of the country these grains are turned into equally sticky dishes or ingredients.

However, Zhejiang province in particular has mastered their transformation into hard white logs or small batons that are literally called year cakes, but which we know as rice cakes, which still doesn’t make much sense in English, but there you go. 

Be that as it may, since they are called year cakes in Chinese, they make the perfect vegan dish for the Lunar New Year (January 25 this year). Plus, these are so crazily easy to make that they should probably be on regular rotation throughout the year.

Korean sliced rice cakes

I’ve found that some of the most reliable brands now available in the Bay Area actually come from Korean manufacturers since they have become a beloved staple in Korean cuisine, where they’re known as tteok.

When it comes to Chinese yellow chives, the main thing you want to be concerned with is freshness. Each leaf should look bright, shiny, and full of pep. 

This vegetable goes south so fast no matter how hard you try to treat them with love and respect, so count on using them no later than the day after you buy them. 

If you've done that, they are easy to prep: just rinse and cut them into the desired length. 

Super fresh yellow chives

If not, you'll have to spend precious time slowly picking over them, pulling out the slimy leaves, and that is no treat. Plus, they smell awful if they're not extremely bouncy, so choose your yellow chives carefully and use them immediately.

Fresh mushrooms of any kind are delicious here. I've used Chinese black mushrooms, but feel free to improvise to your heart's content. And be sure to season this with salt, not soy sauce, since you want the beauty of the chives to shine through.

Rice cakes with yellow chives and mushrooms

Jĭucàihuáng xiānggū chăo nián’gāo 韭菜黃香菇炒年糕

Cook these only til wilted

Zhejiang

Serves 4

½ cup | 125 ml peanut or vegetable oil, divided in half

½ teaspoon sea salt

4 cloves garlic, minced

8 ounces | 250 g fresh mushrooms, stemmed and sliced

1 pound | 500 g yellow Chinese chives, trimmed and cut into 1-inch | 2-cm pieces

8 ounces | 250 g sliced rice cakes

½ cup mild rice wine

2 cups boiling water

2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil

Salt to taste

Sliced fresh Chinese black mushrooms

1. Pour half the oil in a wok set over medium-high heat and toss in the salt, garlic, and mushrooms. Stir-fry them until the mushrooms are golden on the edges, and the slide them out into a work bowl. Without adding any more oil, toss in the yellow chives and stir-fry them until they have barely wilted. Add these to the mushrooms.

2. Pour the rest of the oil into the wok and add the rice cakes. Toss these around until they have gently browned on the edges, and then add the rice wine and boiling water. Simmer the rice cakes, stirring often from the bottom, until the water has reduced to a thick gravy. Toss in the mushrooms, chives, and sesame oil, and then add more salt as needed to taste. Serve hot as an entrée or side.

Nanjing saltwater duck

Summer months in Taipei could be—and almost invariably were—brutal. The heat and humidity were completely enervating, and on days and nights like those it was very difficult to work up enthusiasm for food. 

But man (and woman) cannot survive on ice cream and beer alone, so the people who live in the more sticky parts of China (and I have to point out that this covers pretty much the entire country) have come up with some pretty amazing summer foods.

This simple yet breathtakingly delicious duck dish is one such example. You can’t find too many dishes easier than this, but few people seem to make it at home anymore, and I would like to change that. It is salted overnight, braised in no more than water, salt, and aromatics, and then refrigerated overnight, and that’s that.

I have come to like duck legs here in the States. For one, they are a heck of a lot cheaper than buying an entire bird, they slice up easily once cold, and they are almost all meat. 

If you do not have a heavy cleaver, get duck breasts, which can be easily removed from their cradle of bones and then simply sliced once cooked.

Who knew duck was a great hot weather option?

Rub salt and spices into the duck

Nanjing saltwater duck 
Nánjīng yánshuĭ yā  南京鹽水鴨
Zhejiang cuisine
Serves 6 to 8

Duck and salt rub:
4 whole duck legs (legs and thighs attached) with skin on
2 tablespoons coarse sea salt
2 teaspoons five spice powder 
2 teaspoons ground Sichuan peppercorns

Braising liquid:
2 scallions, trimmed but left whole
1 star anise
5 slices fresh ginger
2 teaspoons sea salt
Water, as needed

1. Start this two days before you wish to serve it. Rinse the duck legs, pat dry with paper towels, and pluck off any pinfeathers you find, as well as thin yellow skin. Place the legs in a plastic container. Sprinkle them with the salt and spices, and then rub these thoroughly into every part of the legs. Cover the containers and chill the duck legs for about 24 hours.

Sichuan peppercorns give a clean flavor

2. The next day, rinse the duck legs thoroughly in plenty of cool tap water, being sure to get rid of all the salt and spices. Place them in a small saucepan and add the braising ingredients, as well as water to barely cover. Bring the water to a full boil, then lower the heat to a bare simmer. Poach the legs for 30 minutes, then remove the pan from the heat. 

3. Let the legs cool in the braising liquid. Remove the cooled legs to a resealable bag and refrigerate overnight. Just before serving, use a very sharp heavy cleaver to hack the legs into ½-inch | 1-cm wide slices. Serve cold or just slightly chilled.

Red-cooked double winter pork

I have a long-standing and very passionate affair with Zhejiang’s cuisine. I mean, I adore the foods of Jiangsu and the whole Yangtze River area’s foods, but something about Zhejiang just equals excellence in my book.

A lot of this has to do with their love for Shaoxing rice wine. It has a gorgeous sherry flavor that insinuates itself into every morsel, no matter whether that particular dish has been braised, stewed, or steamed. Stir-fries are not that big a deal here because the connoisseurs there tend to enjoy their meats and poultry as tender chunks filled with the flavor that only time and low heat can create.

This dish, red-cooked double winter pork, is an old friend. "Double winter" means that it has winter bamboo shoots (the big and meaty ones, not the long, slender spring shoots) and winter mushrooms, which is the Chinese name for black mushrooms, aka shiitakes. Get fresh shoots and mushrooms if at all possible, as they are both in season now at busier Chinese markets. 

This is simply excellent pork belly!

For the pork, hunt down a great butcher shop. I want you to take a long, hard look at the pork I'm using here: look at the striations of fat and muscle. That equals tenderness. Don't settle for bellies that are massive blocks of red and white -- those will be tough and boring. 

Also, notice that this belly has skin on it. Skin equals collagen equals stickiness on the lips. You want this, I promise. My favorite place in the Bay Area for great pork belly is The Local Butcher in Berkeley -- that's also where Chez Panisse gets its meat, so you'll be in good company. 

We used to enjoy this dish in homestyle places in Taiwan before we got to know the amazing culinary palaces that sprung up in Taipei during the late Seventies and early Eighties. Those were the best years to eat there, for the great chefs were finally hitting their stride, but they were also nearing retirement age, so this was a short-lived last hurrah for the truly classic dishes of that area. About the only place you can enjoy things like this anymore is at home, so give this one a try. See if you don’t fall in love, too.

Parboiling the fresh bamboo shoots

Red-cooked double winter pork

Hóngshāo shuāngdōng ròu 紅燒雙冬肉

Zhejiang cuisine

Serves 6 to 8

2 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

1 inch | 30 g fresh ginger, thinly sliced

Around 8 ounces | 250 g fresh pork belly

1 bunch scallions, trimmed, with the white and green parts separated; or, half a small onion plus a fistful of onion greens

About 10 ounces | 300 g fresh black mushrooms (xiānggū), or a dozen dried black mushrooms soaked until pliable

2 large winter bamboo shoots, fresh or frozen and defrosted

Boiling water, as needed

¾ cup | 180 ml Shaoxing rice wine

2 ounces | 60 g rock sugar

2 tablespoons regular soy sauce

1. Set a wok over medium-low heat and add the oil. Toss in the ginger as soon as the oil starts to shimmer. While the ginger is slowly browning, slice the pork belly into cubes about 1 inch | 2 cm wide, and then add them to the wok.

2. As the pork sizzles away, prep the mushrooms by removing the stems and saving them for something else. If you have nice, fresh, fat caps, simply tear them in halves or thirds so that you can revel in their meaty texture. Or, cut them into ½-inch | 1-cm slices. Add these to the pork, toss them around, and add the rice wine, rock sugar, and about 1 quart | 1 liter boiling water. Roughly chop the scallion whites or the onion and toss that in, too. Don’t add the soy sauce at this point, as it tends to toughen the pork. Bring the liquid to a boil, then reduce the heat, and cover the wok.

Fresh, meaty mushroom caps

3. Once you have done that, prepare the bamboo shoots: If you’re using fresh ones, cut off the bases and remove the tough sheath. Trim off any brown or hard areas, and then cut the shoot lengthwise into quarters, and then crosswise on the diagonal into ½-inch | 1-cm slices. Place these in a saucepan and cover with boiling water. Simmer the shoots for about 10 minutes. Taste a small piece, and if it is not bitter, drain the shoots and add them to the pork. If it's still bitter, then repeat the parboiling process. If you’re using defrosted bamboo, simply cut them into ½-inch | 1-cm slices, parboil for about 10 minutes, drain, and add to the pork. Cover the wok again and simmer over low heat for about an hour. Turn off the heat and, if you have the time, let the mixture rest for a couple of hours so that the flavors get a chance to marry.

4. About half an hour before serving, add the soy sauce and bring the pan to a full boil. Quickly boil the sauce down until it is thick and luscious. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning as you wish. You can also make this dish up to this point and refrigerate or freeze it for later on. It only needs to be heated through (preferably by steaming) and sprinkled with the thinly sliced scallion greens before it’s served.

Pork rib soup in a carved winter melon

Sometimes just a tiny bit of work can give you something really spectacular for the dinner table. Case in point: soup inside a carved winter melon.

It used to be that you could only buy enormous winter melons. But recently a smaller variety has been showing up with delicious regularity in Chinese markets, and they are the perfect size for home meals. 

They are also fantastic for another reason: since they haven’t been cut up, they remain fresh and delicious for a very long time.

I adore winter melon. It has an unusual, almost spicy aroma, and it is one of the most versatile vegetables in creation. Hot or cold, savory or (yes!) sweet, this is a true chameleon.

You’re probably thinking, ‘Sweet?’ Well, yes indeedy. Winter melon is transformed into candy, sweet drinks, and extenders for sticky fillings, such as pineapple, which might otherwise be too cloying without the moistness and comparative blandness that grated winter melon can supply.

Be that as it may, winter melon is mainly beloved for its role in soups, in braises, and as a blank canvas for things like this delectably refreshing appetizer. But the one incarnation that always delighted me the most was when it arrived on a banquet table, all carved up into fancy designs, and acting as both the bowl and the vegetable for a delicious soup.

Now that I can lay my hands on these cute little melons, I’ve been enjoying them even more, since dinnertime gets turned into a special occasion when this soup is the centerpiece.

Pork rib soup in a carved winter melon

Páigŭ dōngguā zhōng 排骨冬瓜盅

Zhejiang

Serves 4

Pork and marinade:

Around 1 pound | 500 g pork riblets (half a side of ribs, the bones cut into 1 inch | 2 cm pieces)

¼ cup | 60 ml regular soy sauce

2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine

1 cup | 250 ml peanut or vegetable oil

Soup:

1 quart | 1 liter unsalted stock or water, divided

1 cup | 250 ml Shaoxing rice wine

2 inches | 5 cm fresh ginger, sliced

Rock sugar to taste

1 tablespoon homemade mushroom seasoning, or salt or soy sauce to taste
Ice cubes, as needed

1 small winter melon (about 3 pounds | 1.5 kg)

1. Cut between the bones to separate the riblets. Pat them dry and place them in a resealable bag or container. Toss them with the soy sauce and rice wine, and then marinate for at least a couple of hours and up to 5 days. Drain the riblets and pat dry.

2. Set a wok or frying pan over medium-high heat and add the oil. Slide in half of the riblets and fry until golden. Remove the riblets and then repeat with the other half.

3. Bring the stock (or water) and rice wine to a full boil in a medium saucepan. Add the ginger and the fried ribs, bring the pan once more to a full boil, and then reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cook the ribs until very tender, adding more stock or water as needed to keep the ribs covered. Remove the pan from the heat and cool. Add ice cubes to the soup, and then skim off and discard the congealed fat and leftover ice cubes.

4. While the stock is simmering, carve the winter melon (see Tips below), cut off the top to make a lid, and scrape out the seeds and membrane. Set the winter melon in a heatproof bowl and set the melon lid in the steamer, too, but without covering the melon, so that the heat easily penetrates the inside of the melon. (If you are going to serve this at a fancy dinner, though, replace the lid on the melon, as this will help keep the shape of both parts.) Steam the winter melon until it is tender but still holds it shape, at least 1 hour. Cool the melon until it is relatively easy to handle, and then pour out any liquid in it.

5. Now, before you go any further, practice removing that bowl from the steamer. Remember that it will be hot and heavy when it comes time to remove it, so figure that in, as well. The bowl should have a good lip on it, so that you can use a strong canning lifter to get a grip on it. The other alternative is to set the bowl on a small heatproof plate. But whatever you use, make sure there are a couple of inches | centimeters all the way around the bowl and optional plate so that you can safely grab them without dropping them back into the pot. It's a big mess when that happens, and yes, I'm speaking from experience.

6. Bring the ribs and broth to a full boil. Put enough of the ribs in the cooked winter melon so that the lid can still be placed on top of the melon, and then add the broth almost to the top of the melon bowl. Cover the melon with its lid, and then steam it for around 15 minutes to completely heat through the melon. Serve hot. Add more hot broth and ribs as needed, and toward the end of the meal, scrape out the melon flesh and serve with more of the broth.

Tips on carving

Wash the winter melon and pat dry. Use a paring knife to sketch out your pattern.

To cut the pattern, use either a paring knife, specialty carving tools, or (my favorite) a channel knife as shown in the second photo, as this makes the carving especially easy to control.

Once you have the melon decorated to your satisfaction, use a zigzag pattern to cut off the lid (see photo on the right). 

The membrane will be connected to the lid and therefore secure the lid down onto the melon, so carefully pry the lid off as much as you can, and then slip your paring knife in there to slash off the membrane. The seeds and membrane are pretty easy to remove after that.

Set the winter melon in a heatproof bowl that fits easily into your steamer. 

Make sure that there is plenty of clearance around the melon so that the heat circulates well, and also so that you can lift out your bowl without too much trouble. A wide, deep pot with a trivet or even a pasta insert work well.