Strange flavor peanuts

The name alone for this dish makes me happy. The other plusses are that these are dead simple to make and are absolutely tasty and crunchy, and are wonderful to have on hand, so prepare to make a lot after this first batch.

“Strange flavor” is a Sichuanese term that is applied to quite a few dishes. Usually it means that there is a complex number of seasonings going on in there that will fight for your attention. In this case, the toasted peanuts are covered with a crispy sugar shell spiced with all sorts of good things – namely smoked paprika, chiles, Sichuan peppercorns, black pepper, and cumin – and balanced with a nice jolt of salt to keep things on track.

These are, in a word, bar snacks with an attitude. And for the record, my husband refers to them as weird nuts.

It used to be that this recipe was a whole lot more difficult to prep, because back in the day we didn’t have peanuts with the skins removed. That meant toasting the nuts and then rubbing them in a towel to knock off most of the bitter red skins. Yes, it wasn’t backbreaking work, but this extra step always made me think twice about dedicating the necessary time to pulling the ingredients together.

Nowadays, Chinese shops and organic markets often have these nude peanuts for sale, so buy a couple of packages when you run across them.

A gorgeous load of spices

The basic recipe for this calls for toasting the peanuts in an oven (a toaster oven works nicely here), tossing them over the heat with a barely caramelized sugar syrup that evenly coats each nut, and then sprinkling in the seasonings, as well as a bit of starch to keep things tidy. You end up with a nice pile of expertly flavored peanuts that gain serious crunch as they cool down.

Once you master this basic recipe, think about the other flavors you like and start experimenting accordingly. Five spice powder works well in here, as does a bit of curry powder or powdered ginger or even pumpkin spice. You can 86 the chiles and amp up other seasonings, or make them relatively mild when you have kids ready to pounce on them.

The only caveat would be to not add anything moist, like fresh garlic or ginger or green onions. The seasonings have to be absolutely dry so that the crunchy shell doesn’t melt and goo up.

The basic recipe for toasted peanuts is something you should have in your permanent repertoire. It’s super easy and a whole lot tidier to make than fried nuts. I’ll set it off below the main recipe here so that you can refer to it as needed, and it is also included on page 411 of All Under Heaven.

Strange flavor peanuts

Guàiwèi huāshēng  怪味花生

Sichuan

Makes about 3 cups

Caramelization is underway

1 teaspoon ground toasted cumin

1 tablespoon smoked paprika

1 teaspoon ground chiles

1 tablespoon ground toasted Sichuan peppercorns

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 teaspoon sea salt

3 tablespoons cornstarch

Spray oil, if using foil for the baking tray

1 cup | 225 g sugar

¾ cup | 180 ml water

1 pound | 450 g toasted skinless peanuts (see recipe below)

1. Combine the spices, salt, and cornstarch in a small work bowl. Have a large, rimmed baking tray ready and line it with Silpat or foil sprayed with oil.

2. Place the sugar and water in a wok and swirl them around a few times to ensure that the sugar is wetted all the way through. Bring the sugar water to a boil over medium heat, swirling it now and then. Cover the pan for about a minute so that the steam will wash down any crystals, and then turn the heat up to medium high. Swirl the pan now and then, rather than stir it, and as soon as it takes on a golden tinge (but is not yet caramel), toss in all of the peanuts.

3. Use a spatula to toss the peanuts in the nuts until they are thoroughly coated. Remove the wok from the heat as you rapidly sprinkle the spice mixture over them, and then return to the heat as you quickly toss them to distribute the seasonings evenly.

4. Remove the wok from the heat and wait about 30 seconds for the sugar coating to start to cool down and harden. Then, scrape the nuts onto the lined baking tray. Scoot the nuts around to separate them as much as possible. Cool the nuts thoroughly and store in a closed container.

The sugars turn golden...

Toasted peanuts

Kăo huāshēng 烤花生

Makes about 3 cups

Toasted skinless peanuts

1 pound | 450 g raw peanuts, with or without the skins

1. Heat the oven or a toaster oven to 275°F | 135°C. Place the peanuts in a baking pan large enough to hold them in a single layer – the bottom of the broiler pan that may have come with your oven works well. Put the peanuts in the oven.

2. Slowly toast the nuts for about 1½ hours. Because the edges of your pan will be hotter than the center, you’ll want to shake the pan once in a while and stir the nuts occasionally. When the peanuts start to smell cooked and begin to split along the center, taste one; if the rawness seems to have disappeared, taste a couple more from different parts of the pan just to be sure. It doesn’t matter if the nuts are crisp yet, as that will happen once they cool down.

3. Pour the peanuts into a wide, heatproof bowl and let them come to room temperature. Store in a sealed container.

Not your momma's peanut brittle

I fell in seriously in love with Taiwan’s sweets practically from the moment I stepped off the plane. Peanut candy soon became one of the pillars of my diet. 

Part of the appeal was the lowered level of sweetness, as maltose is often used in place of part of the sugar. The other source of this lifelong addiction was the flavor and crispness of Taiwan’s peanuts, which are insanely good.

Penghu, or the Pescadores Islands, as they used to be called—Portuguese fishermen sailing around in Chinese waters just wasn’t that long ago, was it?—is an archipelago of about 90 isles scattered in the Taiwan Straits, right between Taiwan and Fujian. It also happens to be home to some of the greatest peanuts in the world. Yes, they are a bit on the small side, but these red-skinned wonders are worth seeking out.

Maltose

I’ve played a bit with tradition here and come up with something that works wonderfully as a bar snack. Instead of the usual sweetness and light of regular old school Chinese peanut brittle, I’ve made this a whole lot zippier. These can be seriously addictive chile bombs if you can get your hands on good quality peanuts seasoned with chiles and citrus.

For, that heat is marvelous and cuts the cloyingness of the candy. Plus, the citrusy touch (probably due to citric acid, rather than real limes or lemons) will have you reaching for another square while your mouth is still working on a piece. Serve these with chilled beer.

If you would prefer straight-up brittle, use plain toasted peanuts. Add about ½ teaspoon salt if the peanuts are unsalted, and then serve the brittle with hot tea. 

Your best bet for toasted peanuts would be a health food store with a fast turnover and a good selection of bulk bins. In my area, that might be Berkeley Bowl or Whole Foods. Places like Trader Joe’s have some good spiced nuts, too, but you won’t be able to sample them.

Caramelizing syrup

Get your maltose at any self-respecting Chinese grocery store. It comes in plastic tubs and usually is hiding on the sugar aisle. It’s easiest to weigh maltose, rather than spoon it out into a measuring cup. Either way, nuke the opened jar for about a minute, or just until the maltose has softened enough to spoon or pour out. It’s always a good idea to spray your measuring cup or bowl with oil, as otherwise maltose can be hellishly sticky.

That being said, that maltose makes for one heck of a great candy. The brittle really is crunchy, rather than sticky, because the sugars were all caramelized. So you see, we have caramel + peanuts + chile. I’m definitely in my happy place.

Crispy spicy Chinese peanut brittle chez Huang

Gooey strings that harden up

Huángjiā làxiāngcuì huāshēngtáng 黃家辣香脆花生糖

Makes almost 2 pounds | 850 g

Spray oil

1 cup | 200 g sugar

⅔ cup | 225 g maltose (see headnotes)

½ cup | 125 ml water

1 pound | 450 g toasted chile-lime peanuts, or any other unsweetened toasted nuts

¼ cup | 40 g toasted sesame seeds, optional

1. Prepare an 8 x 8 inch | 20 x 20 cm metal pan and a sheet of parchment paper (or foil) by spraying them lightly with oil, and have a silicone spatula ready. Place the sugar, maltose, and water in a high, 2-quart | 2-liter steel pan. (You will need the light color of the metal in order to determine when the sugar has caramelized, and it should have high sides so that the syrup doesn’t bubble over.)

Press into an even layer

2. Bring the syrup mixture to a full boil over medium heat, stirring it occasionally. As soon as it boils, cover the pan and cook the syrup for a couple of minutes so that the steam washes down any sugar, which might otherwise cause the syrup to crystallize after it cools, instead of staying nice and smooth.

3. Remove the cover and cook the syrup until it starts to caramelize, which will take about 10 minutes. The syrup will bubble up into a froth first, and then settle down into a smaller layer of bubbles just before the sugar darkens. Swirl the pan as it boils to achieve an even, light golden hue. It will smell like caramel when it’s ready. If you’d prefer to use a candy thermometer, that would be about 320°F | 160°C. When you have caramelized syrup in your pan, reduce the heat to the absolute minimum.

Perfect for Chinese New Year, too

4. At that moment, quickly stir in the nuts and optional sesame seeds, and then mix them thoroughly with the spatula so as to coat each piece well. Keeping the pan on low heat will help keep the syrup from seizing up. Scrape the mixture out into the prepare pan. Immediately cover the pan with the oiled paper and the towel, and then press down on it to create a level layer.

5. Cool the candy for a couple of minutes, just until the bottom of the pan is warm. Turn the pan over onto a cutting board and slice it into small squares or rectangles. Refrigerate in a covered container.

New and improved tea eggs

This is one of my husband's favorite snacks in the whole wide world. It's celebration food, comfort food, and his beloved eggs all rolled up in one. 

He will eat these from morning til night, and then get into them again at night if I don't watch him like a hawk. And so, I make these only on rare occasions because he just can't be trusted not to finish them off.

I often used to make a batch of these whenever we went down to Southern California to visit my mother-in-law. She was a terror on most days, but calmed down significantly if she got to munch on something tasty and, preferably, from her childhood. Tea eggs fit the bill perfectly. If a dozen managed to make the eight-hour trip down to her home (you can imagine how many I had to start out with), we would have a happy beginnings to our stay. 

The tasty factor

I've found a new and better way to make these, though, that gives me a softer, creamier center. The whites are tenderer this way, too. And when you think about it, this makes sense, for instead of boiling the bejeezus out of them, they are soaked in the marinade. In a ton of spices and herbs and other good things.

Tea eggs are as beautiful as they are delicious. Pasture-raised eggs tend to have a nicer flavor, more personality in the yolks, and whites that are almost sensual in texture. 

Use older eggs, if you can, as they peel easier, and smaller ones absorb the marinade down toward their yolks, which is always a good thing. For that reason, buy the eggs and set them out on a cool counter for a week or so to age them a bit. 

Prick the fat ends to release the air

Now, about that marinade. Most tea eggs turn out wishy-washy in color, with none of that deep crazing over the surface that tells you the aromas of cinnamon and soy sauce have worked their way down under the shell. When you do a repeated dip like here, the yolks get to stay cool and so not turn powdery, while the whites never have the chance to seize up. To get the flavorings down in there, I have to let you in on a few secrets:

First, you not only need plenty of seasonings in the form of the usual suspects—soy sauce, rice wine, warm spices—but you need to amplify them. And so, you’ll find a lot more of them than normal in the marinade here. But I’ve gone a step further by adding the oyster sauce. This adds a gentle richness and subtle scent of the ocean, and it works marvelously with everything else that’s going on in here.

Cradle them into the hot water

Second, you need tannins. That means lots of black tea. They will stain the eggs just like your shirt and your teeth, and for once this is something nice. Thanks to the tea, these eggs will look gorgeous.

And third, the secret most people aren't aware is even important when making tea eggs, is acid. The makes all the difference in the world when it comes to getting the egg whites to accept the marinade. For that reason you have Shaoxing rice wine leading the way, as well as a big handful of fresh orange peel, plus my secret weapon: orange juice and a lemon.

You might expect these eggs to taste rather citrusy as a result, but they don’t. The other seasonings tussle with the orange and lemon and vie for attention, so they mainly are there to provide the proper chemical reaction.

If only high school chemistry had been this delicious.

Creamy tea eggs

Your ice bath

Tángxīn cháyèdàn 溏心茶葉蛋

Jiangsu

Makes 2 dozen

Marinade:

2 quarts | 2 liters water 

½ cup | 40 g black tea leaves

1 fresh peel from 1 large orange (remove the orange part only with a potato peeler)

1 stick cinnamon

3 star anise

1 teaspoon fennel

1 teaspoon Sichuan or black peppercorns

4 pieces dried licorice 

½ cup | 125 ml Shaoxing rice wine

A porcelain spoon works great here

4 slices fresh ginger

2 whole green onions

2 walnut-sized pieces rock sugar

¼ cup | 60 ml oyster sauce

¾ cup | 175 ml regular soy sauce

1 large orange, juiced

1 whole lemon

Eggs:

2 quart | 2 liters water 

2 dozen medium eggs at room temperature 

a large bowl of ice cubes and ice water

Try to make spiderweb patterns...

1. A couple of days before you plan to serve these, prepare the marinade by simmering all of the ingredients (except the orange juice and lemon) together for about 1 hour, or until the liquid has reduced by around 1 cup | 250 ml. Add the orange juice and lemon, and bring the marinade to a full boil before removing it from the heat.

2. Next, prepare the eggs: Bring the water to a full boil in a largish pan. Poke a small
hole in the round ends of the eggs and then slide them carefully into the water. Simmer for 7 minutes. Have a large bowl of ice cubes and ice water ready. 

... which will give you this

3. Slide the cooked eggs into the ice water to stop the cooking. When they are cold, lightly crack them all over with the back of a spoon. Bring the marinade to a boil and then add the eggs.

4. After a couple of hours, remove the eggs to a work bowl. Bring the marinade back to a full boil before returning the eggs to the pan. Remove from the heat and let the eggs completely cool down. Repeat this step four or five times, or until the eggs are as dark as you like them. Shell the eggs just before serving and cut them into wedges, if you like. The marinade can be reused.  

Taiwanese popcorn chicken

This dish is known as "salty crispy chicken" in Chinese, and that about sums it up in the tersest language possible. These seasoned chunks of fried chicken started to become insanely popular in Taiwan around the early eighties. I think the first people to sell this were the street hawkers. These folks would push little carts with propane stoves set up in front, a wok full of hot oil, and all of their seasonings ready in a shaker can.

Some chicken would already be fried and ready to go on their display shelves, but those in the know would ask that a fresh batch be cooked up to order. This ensured maximum freshness and crispness. Once the chicken had been fried, it would be transferred to a small paper bag. A handful of fresh basil leaves was then tossed into the chicken to add color and freshness and a blast of flavor, and toothpicks were inserted into a couple of the pieces to act as instant serving utensils.

The last word in fried chicken

This to me was one of the most inspired dishes I learned to love in Taipei. I’ve always been a big fan of fried chicken, but this beat American fried chicken by a country mile. It was the seasoning in the meat and the incredible crunchy-chewy texture of the coating that always blew my mind. Instead of plain chicken seasoned with just salt and pepper like Mom used to make, I could taste garlic and five spice and soy sauce in there. Every bite was yet another step down the path to complete addiction.

The Taiwanese have an amazing way with fried foods, for the meat itself is not only expertly seasoned from the inside out, but the coating is most often composed of nothing more than sweet potato flour. Also known as sweet potato starch, I have to tell you that this is one of the best and most brilliant culinary inventions ever.

Taiwanese sweet potato powder

Instead of a batter, the meat is coated with this dry flour and the excess is knocked off just before the morsel is deep-fried. The surface turns from white to a deep golden brown and crisps up into bubbly mounds that crunch and offer total sensory satisfaction. But it’s what lies beneath that turns this into a genius move: the part right next to the meat becomes chewy and gloriously tensile. Oh. My. God. These contrast against each other and complement each other and then do this all over again in a luscious tango with the juicy meat.

Basil is the herb of choice in this dish. Its peppery, licorice aromas bounce off well against the fried chicken. But while it’s usually added as a raw garnish in Taiwan, I’ve come to love it fried. This way the leaves become brittle and the flavors turn muted, so that they act as more like a gentle counterweight to the chicken, rather than a conflicting salad of sorts. I’ve also added just a touch of cayenne to insert a bit of a kick. You can definitely add more or leave it out, depending on what you and the folks you are serving tend to like.

A hint of cayenne

Another thing I've done here is to sub out the regular bone-in chicken (usually whole birds are whacked up into small pieces) in favor of my favorite cut of meat, the thigh, which has had the bone removed to make dining even easier. Call it chicken mainlining, if you like.

This is still good cold (and would make terrific picnic fare), but I always opt for it fresh off the stove whenever possible. Serve this with ice-cold beer and prepare to be amazed. As Aretha Franklin said in The Blues Brothers, it’s the best damn fried chicken in the county.

Popcorn Chicken

Yánsū jī 鹽酥雞

Taiwan

Serves 6 as an appetizer or bar snack

1½ pounds | 675 g boneless free-range chicken thighs (about 5 or 6)

1 tablespoon regular soy sauce

½ teaspoon five spice

¼ teaspoon cayenne

1 tablespoon mild rice wine (like Taiwan Mijiu)

1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil

2 cloves garlic, finely minced

Deep bubble action

1 cup sweet potato flour (also known as sweet potato starch) or tapioca flour; cornstarch will work in a pinch

1 teaspoon dry-fried Sichuan peppercorn salt or black pepper salt

Half a bunch of fresh basil (more or less), rinsed and patted very dry

2 cups frying oil (used ok, as long as it smells fresh)

1. Pat the chicken dry. Leave the skin on if you are lucky enough to have it. Cut the chicken roughly into pieces no larger than 1 inch | 2 cm square. You don’t want uniformity here, as ragged bits will crunch up nicely, while the squarish ones will offer juicy contrast. Toss these in a bowl with the soy sauce, five spice, cayenne, rice wine, and sesame oil. Do NOT add the garlic unless you are cooking this within an hour, as otherwise the garlic will become overpowering. Cover the bowl and refrigerate at least for an hour and up to 24 hours. Toss in the garlic within an hour of proceeding to step 2.

Fresh basil

2. Pour the sweet potato flour or tapioca flour into the chicken and mix it around with your chopsticks so that every piece turns completely white. You should only have a little bit of flour left over. The flour is what gives this chicken its amazing texture, so don’t shortchange it by giving it a quick toss. Spend a couple of minutes on this.

3. Pluck the basil leaves off the stems; you can keep the top parts together, if you like. Pat these again until they are really, really, really dry. Any water that finds itself in the hot oil will explode, so this step is also important. Array the leaves on a dry tea towel and roll them up so that any extra water gets a chance to wick away.

Crisped up leaves

4. Have a medium work bowl and a Chinese spider or slotted spoon ready. Heat the oil in a small saucepan rather than a wok, as this will give you a deeper well to cook in and thus you will not need as much oil as when you are using a wok. Set the pan over medium-high heat. You can tell the oil is ready for frying if you insert your dry wooden chopsticks into the oil and they immediately bubble all over.

5. Carefully slide about a quarter of the chicken into the hot oil and mix them around with your chopsticks so that they do not stick to each other. Stir the chicken every once in a while so that the chicken gets evenly browned. As soon as it is a deep gold, use your spider or slotted spoon to scoop out the chicken into the work bowl. Repeat this step until all of the chicken is fried.

Snack heaven

6. Have a spatter screen or wide lid ready to shield you from any spattering oil. Set the pan over medium heat and cautiously slide in a small handful of the basil leaves. They probably will spit hot oil at you even though you did your best to remove all the water—that’s just life, so use your screen or lid to protect you from harm. As soon as the sputtering slows down, mix the basil around with your chopsticks to ensure that they fry evenly. When they turn a dark green and are crispy, scoop them out with your spider or slotted spoon and into the bowl with the chicken. Repeat until all the basil has been fried.

7. Sprinkle the toasted salt over the chicken and toss everything together so that the basil and salt quickly covers the chicken. Scrape this out onto a serving dish and eat immediately. Fried chicken will never be better than this.

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