A creamy, cold weather delight from South China

A wonderful surprise was in store for me a few evenings ago when I finally had time to catch up on my favorite podcasts, and lo and behold, there was All Under Heaven being featured and loved and totally understood. 

To top it off, I only discovered this spectacular review a month after it had been aired! (I still need to figure out how to Google myself without being weirded out by all the people who share my name but are simply the dearly departed or the recently arrested. Mine is one popular name, it turns out.) 

Anyway, a long time favorite cookbook reviewer, T. Susan Chang, started a new podcast last month called The Level Teaspoon, and my two books are featured in the very first episode! (The praise starts at the 5:00 mark, if you're in a hurry.) Subscribe to this free podcast while you're at it - you'll be doing yourself a favor if you love cookbooks as much as I do.

And you don't get to consider your bucket list fulfilled as a cookbook writer if you haven't yet been given the seal of approval by the esteemed cookbook site, Leite's Culinaria. Well, that just happened to yours truly, and All Under Heaven somehow made it to the top of their list of "Best Cookbooks September 2016." Call me stunned, thrilled, happy... All I know is that their wonderful reviewer, Melissa Maedgen, completely comprehended what I was trying to do, made a batch of recipes that worked for her (hallelujah!), and had all sorts of nice things to say. Thank you, Melissa!

The Wall Street Journal also quoted me this last Saturday in the well written and oh-so-timely article "Chinese Food in New Translations," which is celebrating the thoughtful and exciting exhibition "Sweet Sour Bitter Spicy" exhibit at the Museum of Chinese in America. The author of this article, Jamie Feldmar, studied in China, so her love for the foods of my adopted country echo throughout this article. Plus, she's a heck of a lot of fun to talk with when you're barreling on a train from New York to DC. 

Finally, you can find me jabbering away about dim sum this week with Evan Kleiman on her tasty and knowledgeable podcast "Good Food," which is on the public radio station KCRW out of Los Angeles. Now that is one GREAT interviewer. I was told I'd sound better than I ever had before, and since that has been proved to be true, I must owe it all to Evan and her talent crew. Thanks, Evan!

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The autumnal equinox has passed and the northern half of the world is becoming chillier. And that’s just the way I like it, because it means I get to dine on the warming comfort foods of China. This country has a marvelous battalion of soups, stews, and braises that are specifically designed to warm your toes and make even the crankiest diner happy. And this is one of them. In fact, this dish is downright luxurious.

Traditionally, this cured duck casserole is just pieces of the cured bird simmered with taro and a bit of ginger. And it’s good that way, but not the kind of thing that keeps me up at night with anticipation. Some recipes suggest adding coconut milk, and that is what got my mind really revving, since coconut milk always equals comfort food in my book. It’s sort of like adding heavy cream or a rich béchamel sauce to a dish, but with a delightful tropical twist.

I then went a bit nuts and took this dish many steps further down the road to hedonism: There’s rice wine in there to vibrate against the cured duck, the green onions and ginger are toasted to make them nothing less than absolutely mellow, I fry the duck after simmering it to give the skin a lot more interest and flavor, and the tangle of golden ginger is reserved to act as a chewy foil for all the soft textures underneath it.

Fuzzy baby taro

But I also took a cue from Macau’s great chicken dishes and broiled the top of the braise, which supplies yet another layer of texture, since a skin forms on the top of this rich coconut sauce and turns a rather boring looking dish into something that is quite beautiful. Finally, it all got lavishly decorated with garnishes that turn this dish into a celebration.

Do note that the ratio of taro to duck is huge. That’s because the duck acts more as a seasoning here than as a regular meat. When it’s cured like this, the bird becomes intensely flavored – a lot like prosciutto – which then turns around and seasons everything in its path. The duck is also very salty, and that’s the reason why it needs that initial hot bath to wash off a good part of the cure and also plump up the flesh a bit.

You can find cured duck (làyā 臘鴨) in most Chinese grocery stores all year around, but it will be best from autumn through spring, when the turnover is much faster. Try to find ducks that are grown and cured in the States, rather than China. Since the duck is completely cured, the unopened packages will keep forever in the refrigerator.

Use whatever kind of taro you like and is available. Mature taro – which looks a bit like a football and is very heavy and starchy – will make the casserole creamier and have more of a tropical flavor. Young taro are more vegetal and juicier, and in their own way are just as fine here. So, go with what you like.

Those lovely, creamy insides

I suggest you get a good-sized amount of taro because you will probably be trimming off a good portion of the flesh in addition to the skin, since things like bruises will have to be cut away. When it comes to young taro, trim off anything that is not creamy white, and keep only the lavender parts of more mature taro. (Do note that some varieties of mature taro will come in different colors – if you get a particularly pale or deep-colored root, you will be able to easily figure out what parts are good and what parts should be 86’d.)

To select taro, first eyeball them. They should look plump all over. When you see shrinking around the base, that means they have been hanging around too long and will be dry, which in turn means that they will take forever to cook. Avoid any with mushy spots, as this indicates rot. They are quite hairy, so you will have to fondle them in the vegetable bin – try not to make a scene while doing this or frighten the children.

Lots of times the mature taro will be cut in half or pieces and wrapped in plastic. There’s nothing essentially wrong with these, but do realize that they probably had their rotted parts trimmed off and so should be checked over very carefully for signs of further damage or excessive age.

Keep your taro dry and chilled and wrapped up in a bag with a paper towel, for this will help prevent them from sprouting or decaying. Wear kitchen gloves when you start to peel them if you are allergic to their juices. (Mature taro is much more irritating to the skin than immature ones, for some reason.) 

Fry the duck & onions

Use a potato peeler to remove the skins and then carve off any less than perfect parts. They don’t have to be soaked in water like potatoes, and if you do lots at one time (highly recommended if you are a taro fanatic like me), freeze them in a single layer and then store them in a freezer bag; they do not have to be defrosted first for most dishes.

Cured duck and coconut casserole with taro

Yézhī lìyù làyā bào  椰汁荔芋臘鴨煲

Southern Guangxi and Guangdong

Serves 4

1 Cantonese-style cured duck leg

Boiling water, as needed

Around 1½ pounds / 700 g baby or mature taro

¼ cup / 60 ml toasted sesame oil

¼ cup / 30 g thinly julienned ginger

4 green onions, trimmed and cut into fourths

¼ cup / 30 ml mild rice wine (mijiu)

1 (13.5 ounce / 400 g) can whole fat coconut milk

Sea salt to taste

1 green onion, trimmed and finely shredded

¼ cup / 30 g unsweetened grated coconut, toasted

1. This is great the same day that you make it, but gets even better with a day or two of rest in the fridge. Use a heavy cleaver to whack the leg into pieces that are around 1 inch / 2 cm wide all around. Place them in a saucepan, cover with water, and bring the pan to a boil over high heat. Lower the heat to a simmer and cook for about 5 minutes to remove the extra salt. Drain the duck well in a colander set in the sink, and then pat it dry with a paper towel.

2. Peel the taro, and if you are using mature taro, be sure to wear gloves if you are allergic its raw juices. Rinse the peeled taro and cut the baby ones in half or quarters, while the mature taro should be shaped into cubes that are also around 1 inch / 2 cm all around.

Chewy fried ginger!

3. Set a wok over medium-high heat and pour in the sesame oil. Sprinkle in the julienned ginger and stir the ginger constantly to toast it to a golden brown, adjusting the heat as necessary. Remove the ginger to a small work bowl. Return the oil to high heat and slide in the duck and green onions. Fry them all over so that they too are a golden brown. Pour in the rice wine, coconut milk, and a can full of boiling water, and then add the taro. Bring the liquid to a boil and then reduce the heat to maintain a bare simmer. Cook the duck uncovered until the taro is creamy, which may take from 15 to 30 minutes, depending upon the quality and age of the taro. Taste and adjust the seasoning with a bit more salt, if needed. At this point the sauce should have the consistency of heavy cream, so reduce it if necessary. The dish may be prepared ahead of time up to this point and refrigerated. Heat the dish through again before serving, of course.

4. Turn on your broiler. Scrape everything into a heatproof 4 cup / 1 liter casserole. Set it about 2 inches / 5 cm from the broiler. Keep a close eye on the dish, and remove it as soon as the top is covered with golden leopard spots. To serve, sprinkle on the green onions and then the coconut flakes and fried ginger. This is great with steamed rice of any kind plus a green vegetable stir-fried with little more than garlic and salt.

The Portuguese chicken of Macau

I never heard much about Macau before I went there. 

Back in the mid-70's, when I first went to check it out during a short Hong Kong vacation, this little city was still very much a colonial backwater, one of the last bastions of Portugal's far flung empire. All I'd ever heard about the place was that it was where you went for gambling, spies, and all sorts of nefarious goings-on.

What hadn't reached my ears yet was news about the local chicken dish, a bubbling casserole of curry, coconut milk, and potatoes that has never left my brain since the first mouthful.

What happened was, I had been dropped off at an itty bitty restaurant while my guide went off to care of some business. Knowing how much I like to eat, this was a responsible and rather inspired decision. The only thing I remember hearing as I was pushed in the door was, "Order the Portuguese chicken." And then the car roared off and I was left to my own devices.

Toss the chicken with cornstarch

It was a little shack with an elderly Eurasian gentleman mopping down the bar. He gave me a welcoming smile, and so I sauntered in and said with casual authority, "The Portuguese chicken, please."

A short while later, the same gent emerged from the back and placed a bubbling casserole in front of me along with a bowl of rice. And life has never been the same. The rest of Macau suddenly lost most of its allure, as far as I was concerned, because if there was one thing for a person like me to do in this little outpost of sin and espionage, it was to order the local dish, devour it with utter pleasure, take a walk around to look at the crumbling Portuguese architecture, and then head back for another round of chicken.

That's my idea of a perfect Macau vacation.

Fry until golden

At first I was a bit confused as to why it was called "Portuguese chicken," but years later as I figured out that this recipe must have arrived on China's southern coast via Goa, Portugal's colony on the Indian coast, and maybe even picked up a few ideas in another colony called East Timor, which lies next to Indonesia. And then this dish made complete sense.

I've played around with this a bit, using Japanese curry cubes instead of curry powder because it gives a controllable flavor. Curry powders vary in intensity and ingredients to such an extent that I wanted to make this something that it could be easily replicated. The cubes also add just the right amount of salt and thickeners, so I'm sold on this. Of course, feel free to use curry powder or canned curry paste, if that is something you prefer, but be sure to adjust the seasoning and the thickeners, too.

My secret ingredients

What you will end up here is a truly subtle sauce. When I first ate it at that little shack, I wasn't sure at all what the flavors were, and most likely your guests won't, either. That's because it's a really low level of spice here that just sort of hums in the background. The color is more like Dijon than ballpark mustard, a visual slight of hand that tends to trip people up. And the coconut milk is not assertive, either, pretending to be a cream sauce more than anything else.

The ingredients can be played around with, too. Some people like tomatoes and raisins and carrots in this. Others like shredded coconut or even Parmesan cheese sprinkled on top. I don't, but that's a personal choice. I also prefer boneless chicken in here, some potatoes and onions, and that's pretty much it.

You can almost see from this that I'm searching for gentle textures and smooth flavors with nothing sharp or sweet to wake me out of my reverie.

Hush. I'm eating.

Portuguese chicken 
Puguo ji 葡國雞 
Macau

Serves 6 to 8 as part of a multicourse meal, or 4 as a main course

Half a chicken, or two half breasts

2 tablespoons (or so) cornstarch

½ onion, peeled

2 small or 1 large potato (Yukon golds are great)

3 tablespoon peanut or vegetable oil, divided

2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine

2 cups filtered water

2 squares Japanese curry paste (see Tips)

13.5 ounce can good coconut milk (see Tips)

1. Rinse the chicken and pat dry with a paper towel. Cut up the chicken into 1-inch or so pieces. (You can do this with the bones and skin or without; up to you.) Toss the chicken with the cornstarch so that each piece is fully coated. Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a wok over high heat and add the chicken; stir-fry the chicken until browned, and then remove to a work bowl.

Add coconut milk

2. Cut the onion into 1-inch cubes and then separate it into the single layers. Peel the potatoes, cut them into 1-inch cubes, and if you want the dish to be ready faster, either microwave or boil the potatoes until soft. Heat remaining 1 tablespoon oil in a wok over high heat and add the onion pieces. Stir-fry them for a few minutes, and once they are soft, add the rice wine, stir quickly to evaporate the alcohol, and then add the water. Toss in the curry cubes and bring the sauce to a boil. Add the potatoes -- either cooked or raw -- and bring the sauce to a boil again. Reduce the heat to low and cook the potatoes until they are tender and have absolutely no rawness in them. Add the whole can of coconut milk plus the fried chicken. Bring the sauce to a boil, taste, and adjust seasoning, if necessary. (The dish can be made ahead of time and refrigerated.)

The velvety sauce

3. About 15 minutes before you want to serve this, heat your oven broiler to high and place the rack about 4 inches below the heat. Have a 10-inch round casserole that is around 2 inches deep ready. Bring the Portuguese chicken to a boil (in the wok or a saucepan), and then pour it into the casserole. Place the casserole under the broiler and brown the Portuguese chicken; it is ready when it has lovely leopard spots all over it. Serve piping hot with a vegetable and either some rice or baguettes.

Tips

I like the brand called Golden Curry, which comes in various degrees of heat, and prefer the one marked "medium hot," which has green on the box. This is great for making all sorts of curry dishes, including things like winter squash soup; just throw a cube into the soup, puree it, and enjoy.

Full cream coconut milk is best here, as it is that richness that makes this dish so luscious. Chaokoh brand from Thailand is the best.