Jiangxi's stir-fried bamboo shoots and cured pork

As I was perusing a Jiangxi cookbook, I came across a recipe that struck me for many reasons. 

First, it really shows how much Hunan cuisine has helped shape the cooking of Jiangxi. Second, it has fresh bamboo in it, and I will pretty much try anything if it has fresh bamboo shoots. 

And third, it calls for cured pork, and since I had a hunk of it whiling away in the fridge, this looked like the perfect recipe for dinner.

It's also a good recipe to show that -- as with Sichuan and Hunan cuisines -- the foods of Jiangxi are not always spicy. Rather, this one reveals the same gentle side that Hunan shows to people who grow to love her, one that soothes rather than startles. As with some of Hunan's great dishes, this one from Jiangxi features fermented black beans, or douchi.

Fermented black beans

If you've never tried fermented black beans before, you're in for a treat. They have a savoriness that is reminiscent of a really good soy sauce, an almost latent smokiness too, but since they're in compact little forms, they sparkle throughout a dish rather than make their presence known absolutely everywhere. 

So, when you take a bite of something that has been judiciously seasoned with douchi, like this one here for example, what happens is that another strong flavor will probably hit your palate first -- in this case the cured pork -- and then you'll most likely start paying attention to the shredded leaks with their herby, oniony flavor, and only when you bite down into a piece of fermented bean will you really notice them. 

They are slightly chopped, of course, so that some of their pungency gets a chance to be acquainted with the other ingredients, but by and large the rest of the flavor will sit there quietly in the rest of the bean and wait for the change to pounce on your taste buds.

Sliced cured pork

The other ingredient here is the cured pork, or larou. The character la refers to the last month of the lunar year, which stretches out over the last weeks of winter, and this is when meats like this would be at their prime in the good old days before refrigeration. 

As in the West, pigs were butchered in autumn when they were at their fattest, and the vast majority of the meat was preserved for use throughout the cold months.

Cured pork -- also known as gammon -- is pretty simple to make, and my late father-in-law was known to take a nice piece of fresh pork with the skin still on it, rub salt and saltpeter and seasonings into it to marinate and cure it, and then let it hang in a cool, dark place for about three days until it had dried out a bit, much like salt-cured ham. At that point it could be smoked or just refrigerated. Sometimes when you slice and fry it, the cured pork will take on a beautiful sheen and look like a beautiful fire opal in your pan!

Rainbow opalescence in frying gammon

Cured pork is popular in many areas of China, and each place has its own special way of doing it. However, unless you eat a lot of larou or just want to try your hand at it, it's easier just to buy a good piece at a Chinese grocery, especially around the Spring Festival (aka Chinese New Year). 

They come in pound or so pieces vacuum packed, and you can keep the unopened package in a cool place. Once opened, keep the meat dry or else it will mold; just cut off what you want and pack the rest in an air-tight bag or container.

Jiangxi style bamboo shoots stir-fried with leeks and cured pork 
Ganshi dongsun chao larou  贛式冬筍炒臘肉  
Jiangxi

Fresh sliced bamboo shoots

Serves 6 to 8 as part of a multicourse meal, or 2 to 3 as a main dish

2 large (winter) fresh bamboo shoots, or 4 frozen ones
1 inch ginger, peeled
8 ounces (or so) cured pork (see note above)
1 large leek
2 tablespoons fermented black beans (douchi, see note above)
6 tablespoons vegetable or peanut oil
6 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine
1 teaspoon sugar, or more to taste
6 tablespoons stock, or filtered water plus a bit of sea salt
Roasted sesame oil

1. Peel and trim the bamboo shoots. Slice each one in half, and then slice them lengthwise into thin dominoes. Place them in a small saucepan, cover with salted water, simmer for 5 to 10 minutes until tender, and then drain.

2. Slice the ginger into very thin julienne. Rinse the pork and pat it dry; trim off and discard any skin, and then slice it against the grain into thin pieces about the same size as the bamboo. 

Clean the leak with the end attached

3. Cut the leek in half and trim off the dark green leaves as well as most of the roots, but leave on the hard end that holds the leaves together. Silt gets caught inside the leaves, so rinse the split leek carefully under running cool water; shake it dry, trim off the hard end, and then slice the leek into pieces about 2 inches long before cutting each section with the grain into thin julienne. Rinse the fermented black beans in a small strainer, shake dry, and coarsely chop.

4. Heat the oil in the wok over high heat until it starts to smoke. Add the ginger and quickly stir-fry it for a few seconds to release its fragrance before adding the pork. Stir-fry the pork until it begins to brown all over, and then toss in the bamboo shoots. 

5. Cook these together for about a minute, and then toss in the rest of the ingredients. Quickly stir-fry them (you don't want the leeks much more than barely done), taste to adjust the seasonings if needed, and then serve with a little drizzle of roasted sesame oil.

How to not be bamboozled by bamboo

I think that if I get a choice as to what I might be in my next life, the panda sounds pretty good. 

First, I'd be protected and a national treasure. 

Second, I'd probably be hanging around in the forests of Sichuan, which are awfully pretty. 


Third, I'd be as cute as a button, no matter how huge or hairy I got. 

Fourth, if I got sent to a zoo, I'd get waited on hand and food while I lazed around and ignored the cameras. 

And fifth and most importantly, I finally could eat all the bamboo shoots I wanted.

Bamboo shoots puzzled me for the longest time because I couldn't figure out why anyone would want to eat them. About the same time that I traded in my tricycle for a bike, my taste buds rebelled against canned bamboo shoots. I felt that they, as well as their blechy chop suey cohorts - canned mushrooms and water chestnuts - tasted like the worst tinned food ever, in my humble and decidedly picky opinion.

China's answer to the artichoke

How things have changed. Fresh imported water chestnuts are readily available, mushrooms of every variety are not only fresh but no longer exotic, and now newly-harvested bamboo shoots from China and Taiwan tumble out of bins at my favorite Chinese markets. And while the thinner, more tender varieties are still available only in frozen form, and they are certainly better than nothing and light years more delicious than canned ones.

I hesitate to call bamboo shoots "vegetables" because they seem to resemble nothing less than grass shoots on steroids. If anything, they have the sweetness and nuttiness of artichoke hearts, but the texture is crispy rather than soft, although their texture can be mellowed with stewing and braising. As a result, bamboo shoots can provide a lovely crunch or comforting meatiness, can be the star or play a supporting part, and are perfect hot, cold, or at room temperature. Really, pandas are on to something here.

The only problem with bamboo shoots is that unless you know a few secrets about how to select good ones, they can often end up being bitter or dessicated. So, let's first take a quick look at frozen ones before moving on to the fresh. 

Simply put, you're buying a pig in a poke with frozen bamboo shoots. There's no way of knowing whether they will be sweet or bitter because they are already peeled, and that's where all the clues are to be found. So, try a couple of different brands and see which ones you like. I've had good luck with L&W brand, but that doesn't mean that the others aren't equally as good. Look inside the clear part of the packaging to see whether the shoots have dried out (meaning that there's freezer burn going on) or are filled with ice (meaning that they've been hanging around in the freezer too long). 

You'll also often have a choice between "winter bamboo" (dongsun) and "spring bamboo" (chunsun). Winter bamboo is squat and fat, while spring bamboo is long and thin. Winter bamboo is crispier and holds up well in soups and braises, while the tender spring bamboo can be blanched and served as a delicate vegetable in appetizers, soups, and entrees. I haven't seen fresh spring bamboo in the markets  around here yet, but who knows what the future will bring?

The key to selecting fresh winter bamboo lies in its color and shape. Before I reveal these secrets, though, let me tell you a story about how I gained great face in the farmer's market near my home in Taipei's suburbs...

The tip is golden except for just a slight tinge

Early one morning, I was shopping as usual before taking the bus to work. A farmer and his wife had a big tarp on the ground covered with freshly harvested bamboo shoots, and I asked the wife to pick me out some sweet ones. She just grabbed a couple fistfuls and stuffed them into a plastic bag. 

Now, a couple of years earlier, I had been schooled in the selection of good veggies by another greengrocer, Mr. Cong. This kind gentleman - whom I nicknamed The Pope, because he always gave me what looked like a papal blessing when he said goodbye - for some reason found this dumb little American who's talking to you here really amusing, so he would give me a chance to pick out my vegetables before critiquing my choices. 

Over a year or two of steady patronage, I learned this wonderful greengrocer's secrets to selecting perfect vegetables. That is why, when I told the farmer's wife that the bamboo shoots she had selected were bitter, I said a silent prayer of thanks to Mr. Cong just about two seconds after her husband sneered and said, "Well then, missy, if you can pick out the sweet ones, I'll give them to you for free!"

A relatively fresh harvest

Pawing through the shoots, I selected only the ones with golden tips, brushing aside the majority which were solidly green at the end. Mr. Cong had advised me that once a shoot sees the sun, it starts to change from shoot into stalk, from sugar to something else, from edible to inedible. 

So, as I filled up my bag with only the best of his harvest, the farmer's face fell and he looked close to tears. "You win," he sighed, and true to his word handed over my winnings. I gave him a fair price for them, though, as I knew how hard he and his wife had worked to grow and harvest these shoots, and from then on I had a couple of very friendly faces waiting for me whenever I shopped for groceries.

Oh yes, a couple of other things to look for in a good shoot: for some reason, curved shoots tend to be a bit sweeter than straight ones. The base of the shoot should be as white as possible; black or soft areas mean trouble. The bamboo shoot should feel firm all over, and the outer sheaths should be plump and brightly colored without any mold. 

Remove the sheaths

Store shoots in a plastic bag in the refrigerator without washing them and preferably with a paper towel to absorb any mold-causing moisture. Use the bamboo shoots as quickly as you can. 

To prepare them, first have a very sharp cleaver at the ready, and keep your cutting board steady by laying it on top of a damp washcloth. Rinse the shoot and pat it dry. Trim off the cut end until it is completely white. Next, cut a slit down the length of the shoot to loosen up the sheaths. Peel off the sheaths and trim off the tip. Next, use the cleaver or a sharp paring knife to trim any hard or discolored bits off of the bamboo shoot. It is easiest to cut into pieces if you halve it first.

Fresh bamboo can be parboiled in lightly salted water if you want to use cook it in stir-fries or steamed dishes. This is a good way to check to make sure that the shoot is a sweet as  you hoped. If for some reason it's bitter, rinse off the shoots, change the water, and parboil the shoots again; this often will take care of most of the bitterness.

A trimmed shoot

One of my favorite ways to enjoy both fresh and frozen winter bamboo is as a simple salad. The ingredients are so simple that this is more of an assembly than a recipe. This dish is particularly popular throughout Taiwan, and it most likely is something that they picked up from Japanese cuisine. 

And while you're buying your bamboo shoots, be sure and snag a plastic bottle of Kewpie mayo, which tends to be in the refrigerated section of Asian markets. 

Yup, that's Kewpie, as in the old arcade doll, a picture of which graces the label (see the bottom of this post). Sure, you can go ahead and use any other mayonnaise you like, but Kewpie is what the locals use, and it's pretty darned good. It also comes in a squeeze bottle, making it lots of fun to dribble all over your food. No matter what mayo you use, this salad is a quick and refreshing way to enjoy the grass that thinks it's a vegetable.

Cold bamboo shoot salad 
Liangban dongsun 涼拌冬筍

Taiwan, Japan

The mayo with the doll

Serves 4 as an appetizer

4 fist-sized winter bamboo shoots, fresh or frozen
Salted boiling water as needed
Kewpie brand mayonnaise (see the previous paragraph)

1. If you're using fresh shoots, peel them as described above and cut them in half; if you're using frozen ones, defrost them and slice any large ones in half. Place the shoots in a small saucepan and cover them with salted boiling water. Bring the water to a boil again and then lower the heat to a simmer. Cook the shoots until a paring knife can be easily inserted into the thickest part of the shoots, but don't overcook them; cooking time will vary, depending upon whether they're fresh or frozen shoots and how big the pieces are.

2. Drain the bamboo shoots, let them come to room temperature, and cut into bite-sized chunks. Place them in a covered container and chill the shoots until it's time to serve them. Place the shoots on a colorful plate (both the shoots and the mayo are white, so use something garish, if you like) and squeeze squiggles of mayo all over them.