Pot au feu chez Huang

Autumn is finally here. The big-leaf maples in our foothills have thrown off their summer green for their stunning fall yellow. 

The flowers in the front yard are starting to fade and stud the garden with warm swaths of brown, confusing the butterflies, but delighting the chickadees and sparrows with this sudden abundance of tiny seeds. 

We’re even supposed to get rain this week, miracles of miracles. 

And so I’m putting away the salads and pulling out my recipes for stews and soups and other comfort foods that will cheer up the evenings and warm our toes.

Today’s dish is ostensibly from Zhejiang, but I’ve messed around with it a little bit. For example, I brown the beef and ginger, rather than keep them pale, as I love the deep flavor that caramelization provides. However, I don’t brown the onions, as that would be make this particular dish too dark.

Heavenly marbleization

Traditionally this is a very simple soup designed to highlight a relatively rare ingredient for Eastern Chinese cuisines: beef. Normally you’ll find this only in the far west, north, and central highlands, but once it a while it shows up in this area, as well as in Guangdong (like Crispy Beef Tomato Chow Mein… oh how I love that).

The only thing I’d advise you to really pay attention to here is the quality of the beef. Nothing will be able to disguise less-than-perfect meat, just as nothing can compare to the aroma and flavor of the finest beef. So last week when I came across these lovely chuck steaks at the Five Dot Ranch stall at Oxbow, they practically called out to me. I also managed to stock up on other hard-to-get yet incredibly delicious items such as beef heart, tripe, and shins. (More on those in the future.)

When an ingredient is as rare as beef in Zhejiang, you know that their heirloom recipes are going to put a spotlight on its presence, for it would have been an expensive treat. At the same time, any gaminess would have always been downplayed, for that is something that wouldn’t ever play well at a Hangzhou feast. So, what you end up with is something actually quite delicate and clever. Stark, even.

Ginger is a necessity here

Because it is so stark, I like to serve this with a mellow scallion-ginger dipping sauce. You’ve probably had this before many times in Cantonese delis, as it is almost a mandatory accompaniment to other plain dishes like White Cut Chicken. Using it here transforms something almost Puritanical into a sybaritic experience, for each slice of the braised beef gets bathed in a richly seasoned oil. 

I’ve tossed in spinach at the end, too, to make this more like a pot au feu– meat and veg all in one tidy casserole. It’s simple, yet delectable, and yet one more reason why I always look forward to autumn.

Pot au feu chez Huang

Huángjiā qīngdùn níuròu 黃家清燉牛肉

Zhejiang crossed with Guangdong

Serves 4 to 6

Beef:

1 tablespoon oil

1 generous tablespoon julienned ginger

1½ pounds | 750 g chuck steak (or whatever braise-worthy cut of beef looks good to you)

¼ cup | 60 ml Shaoxing rice wine, plus more as needed

Half an onion, thickly sliced

Freshly ground black pepper

Boiling water, as needed

Ice cubes, as needed

Mushroom seasoning or sea salt to taste

1 bunch spinach, cleaned and coarsely chopped, optional

Dipping sauce:

See the sauce for White Cut Chicken

Ahhhh, that caramel color

Note: These directions are for a pressure cooker. If you don’t have one, simply follow the directions through Step 2 using a wok or casserole, and then simmer the beef uncovered until it is barely fork tender, adding more liquid as needed. 

1. Set the bottom of a pressure cooker over medium-high heat and pour in the oil. Sprinkle in the ginger and then add the steak. Sear the steak on both sides until it is brown and crispy – the best way to do this is to patiently wait until a crust has formed on the bottom, at which point you will be able to gently nudge the beef free. It will stick and tear if you fuss with it before it’s ready, so really, wait for that crust to form. Always remember that caramelization is divine.

2. Pour in the rice wine. Add the onions and then the boiling water to barely cover. Do not add salt of any kind at this point, as it will toughen the meat. Cover the pressure cooker, seal, and cook on high pressure for 40 minutes, regulating the heat as needed. Remove the pressure cooker from the heat and let it cool down until you can open it easily. The beef should be barely fork tender, but not falling apart.

Fatty icebergs

3. Remove the beef to a plate, cool it to room temperature, and refrigerate it if you are not using it that evening. When the stock has cooled down, add a good handful of ice cubes to it, as this will solidify the fat. Strain the stock and discard the fat and solids. 

4. Cut the beef crosswise against the grain into slices about ½ inch | 1 cm thick, or however you like. Set it in a casserole and pour the strained stock over it. Gently raise the heat to a simmer so that the meat is warmed through but not violently recooked. Taste the stock and adjust the seasoning with more rice wine or whatever else you think it needs. Add the optional spinach, cover, and simmer these together just to wilt the leaves. Scoot the spinach into an attractive nest. Serve hot with the dipping sauce.

Chinese brisket & a couple of Beard nominations

Happy news!

All Under Heaven has been nominated as one of three titles in the International Cookbook division of this year's James Beard Awards! 

And if that wasn't exciting enough, a short story I wrote for Life & Thyme also got nominated. It's the one where I tell about cooking a northern Chinese meal for my terrifying mother-in-law, the daughter of a warlord and a woman of many secrets.

I don't know what I did in a past life to deserve this, but I'm not going to ask too many questions...

*  *  *

China has a complex relationship with cattle. This probably is due to the late arrival of the animal on the culinary scene. Unlike Central Asia and points west, where dairy and beef cattle are absolutely vital to so many food traditions, China depended upon either the water buffalo or the yak until (probably) Muslims introduced domestic cattle to the country via the Silk Roads. 

The domesticated yak provides milk, meat, and hides to people in cold climates like Tibet, while the water buffalo has been – and still is, in many areas – more valuable as a beast of burden than as a source for beef. 

In fact, the water buffalo was responsible for the survival of so many families that it was as beloved as the family dog. No one would even consider serving it up.

Unmistakable pattern of brisket

This was so ingrained a belief even a couple of decades ago that most of the ethnic Taiwanese I knew refused to eat beef. (My Muslim friends couldn’t eat pork, of course, and the Buddhists were often vegans, so dinner sometimes was at times quite the goat rodeo.) 

With the influx of McDonald’s and other hamburger places, as well as the status that steak and red wine have conferred upon wealthier diners, you don’t see this as much in the big cities. But it at least gives you an idea why milk and beef have never been quite as popular in China as, say, pork or chicken.

However, there certainly are divine exceptions to the rule. Last week we tried a lovely milk dish from Guangdong, and today we are tasting a really remarkable brisket from the Huai Yang area of Jiangsu – my idea of culinary heaven on earth, for what it’s worth. The Huai Yang centers around the city of Yangzhou in central Jiangsu Province, and this gastronomic motherlode is bounded on one side by the Huai River and the other by the Yangtze, which is why it's called Huai Yang.

This cuisine is downright sophisticated, and I will most likely be offering up some of the area's haute cuisine over the coming months, since I'm becoming more and more entranced with the absolute stellar dishes it produces. But more on that later. Back to the food at hand.

The supporting cast

You will see some familiar players in this very refined dish. Just as any French chef worth her salt would do, a Huai Yang chef will toss onions, carrots, salt, bay leaves, and wine into the pot. But what makes this both Chinese and utterly divine is that instead of stewing or braising the brisket, it is slowly steamed, the vegetables are removed, the beef is chilled, and then it is served in thin slices in the hot broth with a shower of finely shredded baby ginger. 

In fact, there are two layers of ginger in here – the older brown rhizomes insert a nice sense of warmth to the broth and meat, and a shower of thin white baby ginger sparkles as the sole garnish. This soup is very simple, very unadorned. 

Since Chinese folks - especially in haute cuisine - often find beef and lamb to be rather overpoweringly strong in flavor, you'll find that the Chinese radish and Shaoxing rice wine in this recipe work with the bay leaves to tamp down any gamy smells and flavors.

This is a culinary secret the Chinese use again and again. The radish serves as sort of a purifying agent for anything with strong aromas, including pork and oilier fish, lightening the odors and adding an almost undetectable vegetal sweetness. You might be surprised at seeing bay leaves in a Chinese dish, but the herbal aromas of the Mediterranean tree known locally here as “moon cassia” (yuèguì 月桂) might have been introduced to the country thanks to the same folks who imported the beef: the Muslims.

There is no two ways about it, though: clear brisket soup is an austere dish. There is nothing fancy going on here. Rather, almost like the best Japanese kaiseki, it's about celebrating honest ingredients in a way that puts them in their best light. So, if you love the taste of excellent brisket and the mild heat of baby ginger, you are going to love this soup as much as I do.

Beautiful brisket

To be honest, the only thing difficult about this dish is getting a great quality brisket, some tender white ginger for the garnish, and hunting down the steamer to hold all that soup. Let’s take these one at a time:

Get a really good grass-fed beef, something that’s been raised with care and butchered humanely, since it makes all the difference in the world. I compared a couple of briskets the other day at a rather upscale butcher shop, and the difference was remarkable: the regular beef had a thick layer of hard fat and looked stringy and rather forlorn, while the better quality one looked bright and bouncy. Yes, it cost twice as much, but don’t skimp when it comes to food. "Eat less, but eat better" is a really great mantra.

Rimmed bowl & grabber

Baby ginger is becoming more available, especially this time of year and, of course, your best bet is often a Chinese market. But keep an eye out for other sources. If all else fails, you can use regular fresh ginger, but make sure the rhizomes are plump and heavy. Peel them, slice them as thinly as humanly possible, and then crosscut them into the finest of julienne. Since the older ginger will be much hotter than the young, add this to taste.

As for the steamer, I use my largest pot – the one I haul out for the New Year dumpling parties – and stick a trivet at the bottom. This way I can get the bowl in and out of the steamer without scalding myself. Use a rimmed steel work bowl, if you can, plus a Chinese bowl grabber (see the picture above) to maneuver the bowl out of the steamer. If you don’t have either, wait until the soup has cooled down to merely warm before you lift it out.

Add noodles for a complete meal

For what it’s worth, I’ve tried cooking this soup different ways – browning the beef, using a pressure cooker, etc. – but this traditional method gives you the best of all worlds: a flavorful broth filled with super tender meat. Serve the meat with nothing more than the ginger and save the vegetables for your lunch or something. I love their flavor and melting texture, but they’re not for company. Being the cook definitely has its own rewards…

Clear brisket soup

Qīngzhēng níunán 清蒸牛腩

Huai Yang (Jiangsu)

Serves 6 to 8 as a soup, 4 to 6 as a main dish with noodles (see Tips)

1½ to 2 pounds (600 to 800 g) excellent quality boneless beef brisket

Water, as needed

1 Chinese radish (about 1 pound / 450 g), peeled and trimmed

1 carrot, peeled and trimmed

Young white ginger

2 large stalks Western celery, or 4 stalks Chinese celery with the leaves on

5 or 6 green onions, trimmed

3 inches (8 cm) fresh ginger

½ cup (120 ml) Shaoxing rice wine

1 tablespoon sea salt, plus more to taste

1 teaspoon sugar

Freshly ground pepper

At least ½ cup (65 g) young white ginger, peeled and finely julienned (see headnote)

1. Start this at least in the morning if you want to serve it that evening; you can also make this a couple of days ahead of time and heat it up just before serving. Place the brisket in a pan, cover with water, bring it to a boil, and then simmer the beef for around 10 minutes. Discard the water and rinse off the scum. Place the brisket in a rimmed steel work bowl that fits easily in your steamer (see headnotes).

In the steamer

2. Cut the radish, carrots, and celery in to large chunks and add them to the brisket along with the whole green onions. Smack the ginger with the side of your knife before tossing it into the bowl with the rice wine, salt, sugar, and pepper. Don’t cover the bowl, but simply place it in your steamer. Cover everything with water (around 6 to 8 cups / 1.5 to 2 liters) up to about an inch (2.5 cm) from the rim and steam the brisket for around 3 hours. Let the soup cool off completely. Remove all the vegetables (see headnotes) and discard the ginger and onions. Place the beef in a clean bowl and strain the stock over the top. Cover and chill the beef and stock for at least a couple of hours.

3. About half an hour before serving, remove any hard fat on top of the stock. Slice the beef crosswise into thin slices and arrange them in a wide serving bowl or individual soup bowls. Scatter the julienned young ginger on top. Heat the stock to boiling, adjust the seasoning as needed, and just before serving, pour the boiling stock over the beef and ginger. Serve immediately.

Tips

Julienned ginger

This soup is incredible when served over thin noodles, like capellini. All you need to complete the meal is that julienned ginger, as it will weave around the pasta and season every bite with a touch of heat. 

My husband prefers more powerful flavors in his beef soup, so he tends to plead for a dish of chile sauce or something on the side to zing things up. I eat this lovely soup plain, though, and absolutely revel in the beefiness of it all.

I admit, I'm a sucker for this dish. I love it hot, I love it cold. If you've properly degreased the stock, the fact that the soup and noodles are cold will actually charm you. So, keep this recipe in your back pocket for whenever summer finally rolls around.

  

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Winter soup from Beijing via Dublin

A genuine classic of home-style Northern cooking is red cooked beef. Sort of like our own beef stew with its feel-good connections, this is something that people in places like Beijing turn to again and again when the weather is cold and spirits need to be lifted in a very delicious and dramatic way.

Over the years, I’ve played with the basic template quite a bit, adding and subtracting until what I got what I believe is the perfect balance.

My secret ingredient? Stout.

A delectable secret weapon

Perhaps it’s just my Celtic forebears telling my freckled subconscious what's good, but this really looks and tastes like an Irish stew that took a detour along the Great Wall. You could even cook parsley-flecked raised dumplings on top (as I have) and declare that you’ve found a winner.

This addition of stout came about a long, long time ago when I was cooking away in my little Beitou kitchen on the outskirts of Taipei. All the ingredients were ready to go, except that my bottle of rice wine showed only a few drops in bottom. I rummaged around in the cupboards and came up with a big bottle of Taiwan Beer - a rather tasty pilsner, in my humble opinion - so into the pot it went. The result was exceptionally tender meat and a rich broth.

Now, I am not one to turn down a good pilsner, but if I had my druthers, I’d almost always order stout instead. I love that bitter, molasses edge and its lovely creaminess. And when it came to fussing around with my not-so-sacred home recipe for red cooked beef, it didn’t take too much of a leap of imagination to pour in a couple of cans of stout instead of the beer. The results are a keeper.

A hearty family favorite for decades

Red cooked beef soup with beer

Hēipíjĭu hóngshāo níuròu tāng 黑啤酒紅燒牛肉湯

North China

Serves 8 generously

3 pounds stew beef

¼ cup regular soy sauce

4 large shallots or 1 medium onion of any kind, trimmed and peeled

1 medium leek, split and cleaned

½ cup peanut or vegetable oil, divided in half

6 cloves garlic, trimmed and peeled

½ cup thinly sliced ginger

½ cup water

2 (14.9 ounce, or so) cans of stout or beer

3 quarts boiling water

1 tablespoon (or so) rock sugar

4 star anise

½ stick cinnamon

4 carrots, trimmed and peeled

Lots of aromatics in the mix

1 large (2 pound) Chinese or Korean radish, trimmed and peeled

1 teaspoon dark soy sauce

Quarter of a head of round cabbage torn into large pieces

1. Ideally, start this soup at least a day ahead of time so that the flavors have time to fully develop. If the meat has not already been chopped up by your butcher, cut it into 1-inch cubes. Place the meat in a medium work bowl and toss it with the soy sauce. Allow it to marinate while you prepare the vegetables and up to about an hour, and then discard any excess marinade.

2. Cut the shallots or onions into large wedges, as they will cook down quite a bit. Shake the leek dry and, without cutting off the root end, cut the leek crosswise into ½ inch pieces, as the root with keep the leaves tidy; discard the root end when you’re done.

Marinate the meat with soy sauce

3. Have a large (4 quart) pot or ready by the stove. Set a wok over high heat and add ¼ cup oil when it is hot. Add the ginger to the oil and fry it for a minute or two before tossing in the shallots or onions, leek slices, and garlic. Continue to toss them over high heat until they wilt and then caramelize along the cut areas. When they are nicely browned, dump them into the pot. Pour about ½ cup water into the wok to deglaze it, and then scrape this into the pot. Rinse out the wok and return it to the stove.

4. When the wok is again hot, add the rest of the oil to it, swirl it around, and place about a quarter of the cubed beef in the hot oil. Quickly sear the beef on all sides, but allow the soy sauce to caramelize before you flip the meat around. When it has rich, dark edges all around, use a slotted spoon to transfer the beef to the pot, but leave the oil in the wok. Repeat this step of browning the meat in small batches until all of the beef has been seared.

Caramelization lends depth of flavor

5. Pour a can of stout or beer into the wok to deglaze it, and then scrape this into the pot. Add the other can of stout or beer to the pot, as well as the water, sugar, and spices. Bring the pot to a full boil and then lower it to a gentle simmer. Cook the meat until it is tender, about 2 hours. Add the carrots, radish, and dark soy sauce to the pot, bring it to a boil, cover the pot, and then turn off the heat. Allow the soup to sit overnight.

6. The next day, scrape the hard fat off the surface and discard. Bring the soup to a full boil and add the cabbage. Cook it only for a minute or two to subdue the cabbage's raw flavor, as you still want it slightly crispy. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve the soup as is with steamed breads, grilled breads, or over noodles.