Double winter delight

This is a glorious cold-weather vegetable dish that goes by the equally glorious name of “double winter.” And it gets that name courtesy of the fat winter bamboo shoots and winter black mushrooms that shine here in all their, well, glory.

When we lived in Taiwan and happened upon an eatery that seemed like it might be good, but we were not sure what we’d end up with on our table, this was one of our “safety” dishes. 

It was hard for anyone to really mess this up because in Taiwan everyone used the fresh, sweet, succulent bamboo shoots that covered the endless hills, as well as the just-picked, meaty, swooningly aromatic black mushrooms that flooded the markets. This meant that even if the cook was asleep at the wheel, we would have something tasty in front of us no matter what.

The devil is always in the details, though. And when it comes to this particular dish, the difference between what is pretty good and what is intensely delicious is as broad as a highway. It’s sort of like fried chicken. If you have a good quality bird and fresh oil, you know you are going to end up with something scrumptious. But if you marinate that chicken right, give it the perfect coating, supply a bit of steam in addition to the hot oil, and cook it just until done, you will have yourself a plate of died-and-gone-to-heaven.

What I've discovered over the years is that there are a couple secrets to making this sensuous Zhejiang dish especially good.

First, parboil the bamboo shoots to get rid of any bitterness. No matter how hard you try, there often will be lingering tannic flavors that will fight with the silky mellowness of the other ingredients. So, cut up your freshly peeled shoots and boil them in nothing but water for around ten minutes. Take a taste, and if the shoots still are a bit bitter, parboil them again, discarding and rinsing the shoots each time you do this. (Get shoots with yellow rather than green tips, and the bottoms should not show any shriveling or molding; see the photo below.)

Super fresh bamboo shoots

Second, use really, really fragrant mushrooms. Nowadays the fresh black mushrooms in our Chinese markets are almost always flower mushrooms with the split caps, and they have an earthy, sexy perfume that manages to fill up the car on the ride home. So, use your nose and find ‘shrooms that advertise their presence.

Third, use chicken stock instead of water. This is very important because that stock supplies an underlying layer of xianwei, making the dish rich without being greasy, full of depth, and intensely flavored.

Fourth, use a good quality soy sauce and Shaoxing rice wine. You won’t need a lot here, but this dish is so simply seasoned that if either of these is of poor quality, it will show. (FWIW, I almost always use Wan Ja Shan soy sauce and Taiwan’s TTL Shaoxing rice wine.) Do not add too much soy sauce to this dish: that is what almost invariably wrecks it, as the saltiness will take over the sweetness and upset the subtle balances at play here.

And finally, rock sugar is what lends the sheen and subtle sweetness to this dish. It may seem like a whole lot is being thrown in here, but black mushrooms absorb sugar like there is no tomorrow, and instead of turning sweet, the sugar emphasizes their meatiness.

This dish can easily be made ahead of time and then warmed up while the bok choy garnish is being stir-fried. It also tastes great if allowed to sit around a day or two while the seasonings work their way into the very centers of the bamboo shoots and mushrooms.

Red-cooked double winter

Hóngshāo shuāngdōng 紅燒雙冬

Zhejiang

Serves 4

2 fresh, fist-sized, fat (“winter”) bamboo shoots, or about 2 cups defrosted frozen winter bamboo shoots (no canned ones, please)

6 large, fresh, meaty, fragrant black mushrooms, or 6 to 8 large dried and rehydrated black mushrooms

1 cup organic chicken stock, homemade or storebought

1 tablespoon good regular soy sauce

2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine

3 tablespoons rock sugar, more or less (can be one large hunk, if you like)

3 green onions

1 tablespoon peeled, thinly-sliced ginger

Filtered water as needed

Garnish:

2 large handfuls bok choy, trimmed and cleaned

2 tablespoons fresh peanut or vegetable oil

1. If using fresh bamboo shoots, trim off the ends, peel off the sheaths, and trim away any tough parts around the bottom. Cut the shoots into pieces about the same size as half a mushroom cap. Place the bamboo shoot pieces in a small to medium saucepan, cover with filtered water, bring the pot to a full boil, and then lower the heat to a simmer. Parboil the shoots by cooking them for only around 10 minutes, and then pour off the water, rinse the shoots, and taste one. If it is still bitter, repeat this step. When done to your liking, drain off all of the water and rinse the shoots in a colander. If using frozen bamboo shoots, defrost, cut into pieces about the same size as half a mushroom cap, and drain, as these were lightly cooked before being frozen.

Peeled & not

2. Clean the mushrooms and tear off the stems; reserve the stems for something else and tear the caps in half. If you are using dried mushrooms, cut the caps in half; you should also use the strained soaking water instead of regular water in the next step.

3. Scatter the mushroom caps and bamboo shoot pieces in a medium saucepan or sandpot. Add the stock, soy sauce, wine, and sugar. Trim off the root ends of the green onions and tie the onions into loose knots before them and the ginger to the pan. Add just enough water to the pan so that you can barely see it around the edge. Cover the pan and bring it to a full boil, and then lower the heat to a bare simmer and cook it covered for an hour or two, until the bamboo shoots are tender and flavorful. Remove the cover and quickly boil down the sauce by raising the heat under the pan to high, but take care not to burn the ingredients. When the sauce is thick, taste and adjust the seasoning. Cool the pan, if you like, and refrigerate overnight, or proceed immediately with the next step.

4. Just before serving, shake the bok choy dry in a colander. Heat a wok over high and then add the oil. Quickly swirl the oil around and then add the boy choy. Flash-fry them over the highest heat you have until they are barely done but still tender. Arrange these in a rimmed dish around the edge to form a nest. Pour the hot bamboo shoots and mushrooms in the center. Serve hot.

Of bamboo shoots and coral rings

After getting off from work at the museum or library back in the early Eighties, I often would stroll over to Taipei’s downtown shopping area where endless shops lined the busy boulevards and narrow alleys. There I could easily spend many pleasant hours digging around for food treasures, something new to wear, or a great book, while other days I would just window shop.

One dusty place had me seriously intrigued: it was a jewelry store with the same lineup of old rings in the grimy windows every day, a mysterious array of trinkets that had never been moved, as could be seen by their healthy layer of dust and the delicate cobwebs that cemented them in place. There never was more than one light on inside, and compared to the glittering jewelry stores all around that catered to the bustling bridal business, this slovenly storefront definitely had little to recommend it.

Youmen chunsun

But one very old coral ring insistently called out to me from those dusty windows, and I’d look at it every time I passed by, then peer around to see if anyone was inside, and then stare at the ring some more. Finally, after turning my head practically upside-down, I could see the price tag peeking up from the tattered old display box. I did some serious bargaining calculations in my head, and figured how much it would finally go for. After hitting the post office where I stashed my cash (that is where Taiwan had the best and most convenient savings account system ever), I summoned up my nerve and banged on the door.

In the very back a light suddenly blasted out into the dark hallway. A puzzled older man shuffled his way to the front door, staring at me menacingly the whole time, opened it up a crack, and looked me up and down. “Whattayawant??” he growled in a rasping Shanghainese accent, cigarette smoke swirling around his ratty sweater like a leaden fog. “I’d like to try that coral ring on, please,” I said. “It’s not for sale,” he snarled as the door started to close.

“Wait!” I shouted. “What?” “This is a store, right?” “Hmph.” “And you have things in the window for sale, right?” He silently looked me up and down, then glared back in answer. “And now at long last you have a customer. Let’s try it on, shall we?” I put on my winningest smile and stuck a toe casually into the doorway.

Lovely spring bamboo shoots

He looked around me to see whether (I guessed) I had a gaggle of similarly annoying Americans in tow, and finding me reassuringly flying solo, he begrudgingly let me in, wrestled open the display case, and let me try on the ring, which wonder of wonders fit my fat fingers like a glove, a strange and wondrous sign in this land of the slender digits. 

“Now let’s discuss the price.” The reluctant shopkeeper rolled his eyes and made a halfhearted effort at bargaining, but clearly his main concern was finding a way to get this irritating foreigner out of his place toot sweet. He polished up the ring with a dirty rag, money and jewelry exchanged hands, and I strolled down the street, giddy at finally having my prize.

That jewelry shop never opened again and soon had a For Lease sign stuck in the grubby window. Friends told me that it probably had been a black market front, and I had been lucky to get out of there with so little trouble. Ah well, I thought, looking affectionately at the old gem on my right hand, sometimes you just never know where particularly good things may be hiding.

And that goes for food, too. The following famous dish from the bamboo-laced mountains of Zhejiang has the Chinese name of “spring bamboo shoots braised in oil.” The problem is that cooks invariably take that a bit too literally and turn out things that are drowning in the stuff. 

Actually, the oil should be there merely to help along the cooking process and provide a bit of luxurious mouthfeel against the stark cleanliness of the bamboo. The dish should not be seasoned with a heavy hand, either, as is usually done, because that would overwhelm the delicacy of the stems’ grassy flavor. For that reason I also season these lightly, with only the minimum of soy sauce, rice wine, and sugar to stimulate the taste buds.

You can serve this dish hot or cold or at any point in-between. I prefer just slightly warmer than room temperature, as this allows the oil to melt a bit and slide off the thin needles, and it also will make the oil subside into the background rather than coat the tongue like a glove. This is a great make-ahead dish that can be ready for guests or a simple contemplative meal by yourself as you congratulate yourself on your best purchases ever.

Oil braised spring bamboo shoots

Yóumèn chūnsŭn  油燜春筍

Zhejiang
Serves 4

Shoots torn in half

14 to 16 ounces peeled and prepped spring (long, narrow) bamboo shoots, either fresh or frozen and defrosted (never use canned!)

1 cup filtered water

2 tablespoons Green Onion Mingyou, or fresh peanut or vegetable oil

1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil

2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine

2½ tablespoons regular soy sauce

1½ tablespoons sugar

1. Start this a day before you plan to serve it. If you are using fresh bamboo shoots, place them in a saucepan, cover with water, and bring the water to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook them until the bases of the shoots are tender. (If there are lots of different sizes of bamboo shoots in there, fish out the little ones as they are done so that they are not cooked to death.). Rinse the shoots in cool tap water, and drain in a colander. Frozen bamboo shoots have already been cooked, so all you need to do is defrost them thoroughly and rinse.

2. Now shred the bamboo shoots into thinnish strips by notching the stem end with a paring knife (go down about a ½-inch or so if the stems are a bit hefty), and then pull the bamboo shoot apart. Try to get them all into more or less the same size strips, which should be around ½-inch wide. I like to leave the strips long because they are so pretty (the interiors look like ladders, so this could be called shoots and ladders, I suppose), but cut them crosswise in half, if you wish.

3. Place the bamboo shoots, water, oils, rice wine, and soy sauce (but not the sugar) in a saucepan, cover, bring to a boil, and then lower the heat to a simmer. Cook the shoots covered for about 30 minutes, or until they are completely tender at the thickest bases. Add the sugar, toss again, and cook over high heat uncovered until almost all of the sauce has evaporated. Toss the shoots in the thickened sauce and plate. Cool, cover, refrigerate overnight, and serve the next day either warm, cool, or hot (see headnote).

Spring bamboo teaser from Anhui

In one of my previous lives I must have been a panda. That is the only explanation I can think of for my undying love for any- and everything made with bamboo shoots. And the more I look into Anhui's cuisine, the more I find to like, because bamboo shoots spring up everywhere just like, well, bamboo shoots.

The misty reaches of southern Anhui province are home to some pretty spectacular bamboo forests, and the long, thin "spring" type of bamboo (as opposed to the thicker and squatter "winter" bamboo shoots we've discussed earlier) of Mount Wenzheng are commonly held to be some of the best around, as they are tender, juicy, flavorful, and crunchy. 

There fame was secured long ago in the Anhui tongzhi (Anhui gazeteer), which said, "Bamboo shoots are produced in Liuyi, Anhui, and the flavor of the Wenzheng ones are the finest." And during the Southern Song dynasty (1127-1279), bamboo shoots were held in such high esteem that they were sent as tribute to the imperial palace. Lots of baggage for these little guys to handle.

Frozen "spring" bamboo shoots

But handle it they do, and with considerable aplomb. As of this date, though, echt bamboo shoots from Mount Wenzheng are not yet available anywhere near where I live, so I've resorted to some frozen spring bamboo shoots that are really quite good. These are available year round, and this cool appetizer is done with a minimum of effort, so when hot weather hits your area, consider making this refreshing dish to start your next meal.

Light colored vinegar is the traditional sour note in this dish, but I've come to like fresh lemon juice here instead for its spectacular burst of liveliness and scent. (And that's not just a California thing... lemons did, of course, originally come from China, so I'm just returning the favor.) Only a minimum of sugar is added to balance out the lemon's tartness and a touch of salt to wake up the palate. 

Also, I sprinkle Toasted Sesame Seeds on top in addition to a few drops of roasted sesame oil to add another level of flavor and texture. I've included a recipe below for these sesame seeds, which bumps up the flavor and texture a couple of more notches.

Pandas shouldn't have all the fun.

Tender shoots being toweled off

Mt. Wenzheng style bamboo shoots 
Wenzhengshan sun 問政山筍 
Anhui

Serves 6 to 8 as an appetizer

1 pound frozen spring bamboo
Filtered water as needed
1 tablespoon sea salt
4 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, or a light colored, tasty vinegar
1½ tablespoons sugar, or to taste
½ teaspoon sea salt
Roasted sesame oil
1 tablespoon (or more) Toasted Sesame Seeds (recipe below)
Garnish, optional

Whack the shoots to open them up

1. Place the bamboo shoots in a medium saucepan and cover them with water; add the tablespoon of sea salt and bring the pot to a boil. Lower the heat to medium-high and simmer the shoots until the thickest parts are tender. The easiest way to do this is to pierce an end with a paring knife; it should go in easily. Do remember, though, that frozen vegetables have all been blanched to some degree, so also be careful to not overcook the shoots and turn the tips into mush.

2. Drain the bamboo shoots and immediately rinse in cool water so that they stop cooking. Drain and pat dry with a kitchen towel.

3. Cut the shoots into 2- to 3-inch lengths. Slice the tip ends into thin strips. Hit the thicker ends with the side of your cleaver to help tenderize them some more, and then cut them into very thin strips. 

4. Place the bamboo in a medium work bowl. Add the lemon juice, sugar, and half teaspoon sea salt, and toss the bamboo in the seasonings. Let the bamboo shoots then sit there for a few minutes to give the sugar and salt the chance to dissolve; if you taste them right away, they will taste sweeter and saltier than they will later on because both ingredients are still crystalline. Once these crystals have melted away, do a taste test and add more lemon juice, sugar, or salt as needed. Refrigerate covered so the bamboo shoots get a chance to chill and absorb the seasonings.

5. Just before serving, pile up the bamboo shoots on a pretty plate, drizzle some sesame oil over them, and then sprinkle with the Roasted Sesame Seeds. Decorate with a few sprigs of cilantro or some little bamboo leaves, if you have them.

It doesn't get easier than this

Toasted sesame seeds 
Ganchao zhima  乾炒芝麻 
All over China
Makes ½ cup
½ cup raw sesame seeds (any kind)

1. This is one of those recipes that are super easy, but it's also one of those rare ones where lots of senses are involved: eyes, nose, and even the ears.

2. First check the sesame for tiny rocks or foreign matter. Heat a small dry frying pan over medium-high heat until the edge of the pan feels hot to the touch. Do not add any oil.

Stir the sesame

Add the sesame seeds to the dry pan and lower the heat to medium. Stir the sesame very often with a flat spatula while they toast, and as the seeds heat up and start to crackle, be sure to stir them constantly. 

3. The seeds will begin to pop and smell delicious as they turn a golden brown, and as soon as they are gold all over, pour the seeds into a shallow bowl to cool off. (If you leave them in the pan, they will continue to cook and probably burn.)

4. Store the toasted sesame in a jar in a cool, dry place. Try to use them up in a week or two so that they don't lose that freshly toasted flavor.

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.