A taste of the simple life - savory peanuts and gluten

I fell in love with this dish the first year I lived in Taiwan. I’d find it on the dinner table of the Chinese family I boarded with as an easy appetizer or as the perfect side for congee. But even way back then, people did not whip this up at home, as it was so much easier to simply buy it at just about every corner store.

And that’s the way I enjoyed it for years. But then I decided to try making it myself, and I have to tell you, the difference is night and day. Instead of the heavy sweetness and general softness of the canned version, this homemade recipe has a lovely spectrum of flavors and textures that hit all my buttons just right.

I’ve tossed in black mushrooms for a terrific xianwei undercurrent, some fresh ginger to back up the flavors with a touch of heat, and then lots of warm spices to amplify the comforting nuttiness. The result really is delicious.

Simmer the nuts and shrooms

This dish might have originally hailed from Shanghai or Zhejiang due to the fried gluten balls, soy sauce, and rock sugar. It seems that this was then turned into a classic side dish by Taiwan’s military families, who have given the island a wonderful range of homey dishes called juancuncai 眷村菜 (literally "military dependents' village foods"). 

Back in the day (we are talking about the early 1950's here), these villages were rather impoverished, as even the officers lived in very simple barracks that looked like old motels. A hallway ran down the center of the place where my husband's family lived, and each household had front doors that opened up on this. The balcony in the back was covered with corrugated steel and used as a makeshift kitchen. No running water back then, so my husband and his father had to haul water up the stairs in buckets that would be poured into the family cistern.

Small grocery stores run by retired soldiers would sell supplies like fresh produce, as well as steamed breads (mantou) and the deli dishes known in Shanghai as péntóucài 盆頭菜 ("basin foods"). Prepared by either the soldiers' wives or local aunties, these savory preparations literally were sold in aluminum basins and covered with window screen mesh. Then, someone had the bright idea of making this simple concoction even easier by canning it, and most folks never turned back.

Rock sugar always makes things better

I recommend, though, that you do. Consider this yet another one of those template recipes, a guideline that you start out with and then hone to fit your own taste buds. The peanuts and fried gluten are the perfect backdrops for experimentation. Do try this traditional take first, though, as it’s a classic.

Peanuts and fried gluten

Huāshēng miànjīn 花生麵筋

Taiwan Military Families and the lower Yangtze River area

Serves 8 as an appetizer or side dish

1 cup (6 ounces/170g) raw shelled peanuts

1 big handful of dried black mushroom stems (see Tips), or 3 dried black mushrooms

Water, as needed

3 slices fresh ginger

2 whole star anise (see Tips)

½ stick cinnamon

1 teaspoon whole Sichuan peppercorns

2 tablespoons/30ml peanut or vegetable oil

1 tablespoon (or so) rock sugar

3 tablespoon/45ml oyster sauce (or oyster-flavored sauce for a meatless version)

1 tablespoon/15ml dark soy sauce

¼ cup/60ml mild rice wine (Taiwan Mijiu)

1 big bag (7 ounce/200g) of small fried gluten balls (see Tips)

1. This will be ready in two days from beginning to end (most of that spent just waiting around, truth be told). Start this recipe by rinsing the peanuts and mushrooms, placing them in separate bowls, and covering them by at least an inch with cool water. Let them soak overnight.

The collapsing gluten balls

2. Before you begin cooking, first rinse off the peanuts in a colander and place them in a 2 quart/2 liter pan. Reserve the mushroom soaking liquid and either rinse the mushroom stems or, if you are using the whole mushrooms, rinse them off before slicing them into thin pieces. Add the mushrooms and strain the soaking liquid into the pan, and add enough water to cover the peanuts and mushrooms by an inch.

3. Add the ginger, star anise, and cinnamon to the pan. Place the peppercorns in a mesh ball or teabag and add them to the pan, too. Bring the pan to a boil over high heat and then lower the heat to maintain a gentle simmer.

4. After about 15 minutes, add the oil, sugar, oyster sauce, soy sauce, rice wine, and gluten balls – you probably will have to add the gluten balls in increments, as they start out huge, but then collapse as they soften, so add enough to fill the pan, cover, simmer for a few minutes, and then add some more until you’ve added the whole bag.

5. Bring the pan to a boil again over high heat, and then reduce it to a slow simmer. Cook until the peanuts are soft but not mushy and the gluten is silky. Allow everything to come to room temperature before chilling it overnight, as this will give the nuts time to absorb all of the flavors. Serve this dish as either a bar snack or as a side with bland but delicious things like steamed rice or congee.

Tips

I’m a serious collector of mushroom stems. Fresh or dried, whenever I use Chinese black mushrooms (which are very similar to Japanese shiitake), I remove the tough stems and dry them out in a strawberry box set out on the counter for this very purpose. When the stems are completely dry and are as hard as wood, they get tossed into a jar and stored in the pantry. This is an amazing resource for deep sauces like the one we have here, for stocks, and for whenever you want to add a serious flavor boost to your soups. For more refined dishes, strain out the stems before you use the stock; otherwise, as with here, keep the stems in if you have a good set of teeth, as they can be a bit chewy, but I think divinely so.

Fried gluten balls

If you are in a hurry, or just don’t have all these spices, toss in five-spice powder to taste. Start with a teaspoon and work up until the flavors hit your sweet spot.

Fried gluten balls come in two sizes: big and small. The big ones are used in such Shanghainese dishes as this. Try to get the small ones for this recipe, though. They will usually be found in Chinese grocery stores that cater to Taiwanese and newer Chinese immigrants. The gluten balls are called miànjīnqíu 麵筋球 and should be around 1 inch/2cm in diameter. 

This bag of gluten balls will be alarmingly large, but don’t worry, as the puffs will collapse into small wisps in the sauce. Check the expiration date on the bag – old frying oil always tastes like old frying oil no matter how hard you try to fix it – and store them in the refrigerator.

More roast pork magic

One of the best ways to deal with an aching head — be it from a cold, your allergies, or a long night on the town — is a hot bowl of congee. It is soothing and delicious and full of savory bits that will restore your faith in the human race. Of course, if you are not feeling well, even the idea of waiting for breakfast can be daunting. But congee is easy to make ahead of time, and it only needs to be microwaved until it is boiling hot before the tasty bits are added.

Most traditional recipes for this classic congee use blanched or stir-fried pork strips, and that was the way I always made it, too. And then, on my birthday last month, we headed to my favorite Cantonese deli for brunch. I ordered a big bowl of this soothing congee and found shreds of roast pork waiting for me. What a great birthday present that was.

Leftover nirvana

Called siu yuk 燒肉 in Cantonese, this roast pork is not at all sweet and red like char siu, but rather has a golden, deeply fried skin that is crackly and delicious when hot. The cut is from a big side of pork, so it is not too fat, and yet it’s buttery enough to be juicy and tender. Most Cantonese delis will have this hanging in the front window alongside the roasted ducks and chickens, and I like to take a hunk home with me for later snacking. 

This is one of my absolute favorite go-to recipes now that I know what to do with all the delicious shreds at the bottom of the box. Even the bones get used, so keep any that you find. And don’t forget the skin... it adds a wonderful layer of texture. Other than that, personalize this as you like, with crispy cruller (youtiao) slices instead of the peanuts, cilantro in place of the green onions, and even some fresh eggs dribbled into the hot congee instead of the preserved ones.

My favorite... now even better

Pork and preserved egg congee

Pídàn shòuròu zhōu 皮蛋瘦肉粥

Guangdong

Serves 4 to 6

Congee:

1 cup broken jasmine rice

½ teaspoon sea salt

1 teaspoon fresh peanut or vegetable oil

17 cups water

1 tablespoon finely chopped ginger

2 tablespoons mild rice wine

Any bones from the roast pork

The tasty bits:

4 ounces (or more) shredded roast pork

2 preserved eggs (pidan)

More sea salt or light soy sauce, optional

1 green onion, trimmed

2 tablespoons toasted peanuts

Freshly ground black pepper

1. Rinse the rice in a sieve until the water runs clear, and then place it in a heavy-bottomed, large pot. Mix the salt and oil into the rinsed rice and let it sit for at least an hour so that it gently seasons and tenderizes the grains.

2. While the rice is marinating, shred the pork into smallish bits while reserving the bones and discarding any large pieces of fat. Shred the skin into thin pieces while you’re at it. Slice the green onion into fine rounds and coarsely chop the peanuts.

Ready to serve

3. Add the water to the pot, stir, and bring to a full boil before lowering the heat to a gentle simmer; add the ginger, rice wine, and any bones that you might have from the roast pork. Cook the congee for 40 or so minutes, stirring occasionally and always scraping the bottom of the pan, until the grains have bloomed and the liquid has thickened. You may also use an automatic rice cooker with a “porridge setting.” The congee will be ready when the grains have blossomed into soft little puffs, but don’t overcook the rice to the point that it becomes gluey. It’s important to be able to see each individual grain and to be able to feel them as they gracefully glide across your tongue.  The most important key to a perfect bowl of congee is cooking it to the exact point of doneness — everything else is secondary.

4. Pluck out and discard the bones. Toss in the pork, skin, and preserved eggs. Simmer these for around a minute just to heat them through and turn them a bit softer. Taste the congee and adjust the seasoning as needed; it may need more salt or a touch of soy sauce, depending upon the saltiness of the pork. Ladle the congee out among as many bowls as you wish, and then sprinkle the tops with the green onions, peanuts, and black pepper. Serve piping hot.

Beans & rice Chinese style

Chickpeas (aka garbanzo beans) are not usually associated with China’s cuisines. In fact, until I started cooking out of the classic cookbook Suiyuan shidan I had no idea that there was even a Chinese chickpea recipe to be had. But lo and behold, they were not only eaten in the Zhejiang region 250 years ago, but they must have been around long enough before that to develop a healthy following, for the two garbanzo recipes in that book are quite good.

One that has turned out to be a favorite in our house is chickpea congee. I know, it doesn’t sound like much, but just like down-home rice and beans, this is a healthy and delicious combination. The chickpeas lend a gentle nuttiness to the rice porridge, their mealy texture mingling very nicely with the silky rice. It’s hard to explain, but its simplicity is part of its charm.

The author of the Suiyuan, Yuan Mei, described this dish in his usual concise manner: “Crush chickpeas for the congee; fresh ones are the absolute best, although older ones will work. Add Chinese yams [shanyao 山藥] or fuling 茯苓, and it will be outstanding.” (Fuling—also spelled fu ling—is a type of fungus that looks something like a little coconut. Wolfiporia extensa also has medicinal properties, and it is generally only found in Chinese herbal shops.)

I cannot wait until fresh chickpeas hit the market later on in the year, as I now know exactly what to do with them!

Mash up the chickpeas

If you read Chinese, you might notice that the word for chickpeas in Chinese is, literally, “chicken bean,” and as the old English word “pease” meant beans, this looks like the name might have been adopted from some European folks. It’s strange, though, as chickpeas are such a vital part of Arabian and Indian cookery that they didn’t cause there to be a Chinese riff on the word “hummus” or “gram.” Oh well, a linguistic puzzle to gnaw on. (Chickpeas have another Chinese name, yīngzuĭdòu 鷹嘴豆, or “eagle’s beak bean,” that also has me scratching my head.)

Mr. Yuan's suggestion that Chinese yams be added is inspired because they add a delicious lightness to the porridge and subtle textural contrast with the rice 'n beans. Just like the beans, though, they should be cooked until they are v-e-r-y soft in order to make this recipe perfect. I cut them into bits about the same size as the chickpeas so that they cook quickly; see the Tips below for more information on this relatively unfamiliar tuber.

This is a gentle, nourishing dish that is perfect for breakfast or a late night snack, although I would not refuse it at other times during the day. Serve it with whatever you like. I usually surround big bowls of it with small savory things like the tribute vegetable in the previous post, some brined eggs, fried eggs, Chinese sausages, fermented bean curd cheese, toasted peanuts… even leftovers seem to shine when cossetted by such a velvety porridge. Sweets lovers could toss some of those peanuts on top along with a sprinkling of sugar or honey (maybe even a pat of butter). Fried crullers (youtiao) are excellent, too. I mean really, the list is endless.

Chickpea congee

Jīdòu zhōu  雞豆粥

Zhejiang

Serves 2 to 4

  

½ cup broken jasmine rice

½ teaspoon peanut or vegetable oil

¼ teaspoon sea salt

8 cups filtered water

1 cup cooked chickpeas (canned or ones you soaked and cooked yourself)

Optional: 1 cup finely diced peeled Chinese yam (see Tips)

1. Rinse the rice in a fine strainer, drain well, and place this in a 3-quart pot. Toss the damp rice with the oil and salt, and then let it marinate for at least an hour.

2. Pour in the water, stir, and bring the pot to a full boil before lowering the heat to a gentle simmer. Cook the rice for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Chinese yam's hairy legs

3. If you are using canned chickpeas, rinse them in a strainer under tap water. Lightly mash about half of the chickpeas and then add all of them to the pot. If you want to add the Chinese yams, do that now, too. Stir and cook the porridge a while longer until it has thickened and both the chickpeas and yams are super soft and creamy. Serve just barely hot, but not steaming. Reheat any leftovers in the microwave.

Tips

Find Chinese yams in most East Asian stores, where it sometimes is sold under its Japanese name, nagaimo. It has numerous health benefits, so it is often added to nourishing soups. These can grow to enormous lengths, but usually are sold in more manageable sections of a foot or so long.

That lovely goo

To prepare these yams, rinse off the sawdust (that's what they are packed in to keep them dry), and then use a potato peeler to remove the thin skin. The insides are smooth, white, and very slippery, and will exude a mucilaginous goo that can appear quite alarming, as there are few things that do this, other than David Bowie in "The Man Who Fell to Earth." 

Rinse off the goo, if you want, to get a better grip, but be aware that more will appear, especially as you cut it more. Unlike things like taro, though, this is not a skin irritant, but rather just looks incredibly weird. Even so, you can eat it raw, as it is mild and crisp.

Hot love: congee redux

A couple of years ago I posted about congee, using a recipe from Simon Hopkinson as my starting point. I still think that is a pretty great way to make this classic Cantonese bowl of comfort food, but I have found an even better basic recipe, one that tastes like it just came out of the best Chinatown deli in the world.

This is simplicity itself, a dish so fragrant with its key ingredient—broken jasmine rice—that just washing the rice causes me severe hunger pangs. The rice is then tossed with a bit of salt and oil to marinate it before it is simmered, and the aromas keep on getting stronger until it is time to eat, and by then I am utterly ravenous.

Broken jasmine rice

There are as many ways to make a proper bowl of congee as there are for good chicken soup. But after grilling lots of friends, I've come up with a couple of truly great recipes. The basic one comes from Helen Luo, who fell in love with the congee they served on the night shift when she worked as a nurse in a Guangzhou hospital; the nice lady in the canteen gave her this secret, and I’m passing it on to you. The variations below are also terrific.

I realize that 17 cups of anything might seem like a terrifying amount, but this is good stuff that goes down quickly. Think of it as soup. But if these 17 cups are still causing you distress, divide the recipe in half if there are only two of you and you are not that hungry.

The second time you make this, I guarantee you’ll make the whole amount.

Basic congee and variations

Guǎngdōng zhōu 廣東粥

Guangdong
Makes about 4 quarts

Congee:

1 cup broken jasmine rice (white rice hands-down works better than brown here)

¼ teaspoon sea salt

1 teaspoon fresh peanut or vegetable oil

Marinating the grains

17 cups filtered water

Optional seasonings during the cooking:

1 cup broken soy batons (fuzhu; see Tips), soaked in hot water and chopped

1 tablespoon mushroom seasoning, or regular soy sauce to taste

¼ cup rice wine (Mijiu)

2 tablespoons finely minced fresh ginger         

Unseasoned stock instead of water

Garnishes (choose from any or all, or follow one of the variations below):

Lots of Fried Green Onions 

Some oil from the Fried Green Onions

Stir-fried mushrooms, vegetables, meat, poultry, or fish

Eggs fried sunny-side up

Shredded green onions, chilies, cilantro, and/or ginger

Fried Peanuts, slices of preserved eggs (pidan), or Fermented Bean Curd Cheese 

More soy sauce or some chili oil and/or goop, roasted sesame oil, freshly ground black pepper

1. Rinse the rice in a sieve until the water runs clear, and then place it in a heavy-bottomed, large pot. Mix the salt and oil into the rinsed rice and let it sit for at least an hour so that it gently seasons and tenderizes the grains.

2. Add the water to the pot, stir, and bring to a full boil before lowering the heat to a gentle simmer. Cook the congee for 40 or so minutes, stirring occasionally and always scraping the bottom of the pan, until the grains have bloomed and the liquid has thickened. (You may also use an automatic rice cooker with a “porridge setting.”) The congee will be ready when the grains have blossomed into soft little puffs, but don't overcook the rice to the point that it becomes gluey. It's important to be able to see each individual grain and to be able to feel them as they gracefully glide across your tongue.

The grains "blossoming"

3. The most important key to a perfect bowl of congee is cooking it to the exact point of doneness—everything else is secondary. Taste the congee and adjust the seasoning as needed.

4. Divide the congee into 4 to 6 large soup bowls, leaving enough room for a generous assortment of garnishes. If you want, let people decorate their own bowls. If you have any leftovers, microwave just before serving it so that the rice doesn't mush down as it heats.

Variations:

Lotus leaf congee (héyè zhōu 荷葉粥). This gorgeously scented rice porridge is a specialty of the Yangtze River area and is usually served cool during hot weather. With little side dishes, it makes an elegant and tasty way to beat the heat. A good alternative to the lotus leaves are bamboo leaves. Make the plain congee above but add either 1 dried lotus leaf or 2 dried bamboo leaves that you have soaked until pliable and wiped clean. Remove the leaves before serving.

Chaozhou-style congee (Cháozhōu mí 潮州糜). Follow the directions above for the basic congee, only use 12 cups of filtered water instead of 17, which will give you a thicker, glossier rice porridge that will serve around 4 people. (This is also the go-to recipe for people who are not feeling well. Be assured that if you are sick in China, you will be fed lots of plain congee and good old chicken soup.)

Sweet potato congee (hóngshŭ xīfàn 紅薯稀飯). This is a specialty of Southern Fujian and Taiwan, where whole restaurants are dedicated to nothing but this delicious congee and an assortment of small dishes that can be chosen from a menu or from a steam tray table. Make the Chaozhou-style congee above, but while the rice is cooking, peel 2 or 3 red sweet potatoes and cut them into large (1-inch) squares. Steam the sweet potatoes or simmer them in a small amount of water until they are barely cooked through, and then add them to the congee about 10 or 15 minutes before it is done; add more water if necessary to make the congee as thin or thick as you like it..

Pork and preserved egg congee (pídàn shòuròu zhōu 皮蛋瘦肉粥). Flavor plain congee with 1 tablespoon mushroom seasoning. Toast 2 Chinese crullers (youtiao) in a toaster oven until crisp. Meanwhile, heat ¼ cup toasted sesame oil over high heat and add ¼ cup julienned ginger; fry the ginger until crisp, then remove to a small dish. Add ½ cup julienned pork to the hot oil and stir-fry until it has lost its pink color, then divide the pork and oil among 4 to 6 large soup bowls. Cut 4 preserved eggs (pidan) into thin wedges and divide them among the bowls. Heat the congee until it almost starts to boil, and then divide this among the bowls (extra congee can be added to the bowls halfway through the meal). Sprinkle the bowls with ½ cup finely chopped green onions and ¼ cup fried peanuts. Cut the crullers into thin rings and serve on the side as crunchy bits to add to the congee during the meal.

Tips

Broken jasmine rice is one of the great pleasures of the Chinese grocery store. For one thing, it is considered a “second” and so is cheaper. But since it has been broken up into small pieces during the milling of the rice, it also breaks down quickly into congee. The fragrance of jasmine rice is unequaled and gives the congee a terrific perfume.

For the soy batons, I use the broken pieces at the bottom of the bag. You will always have these no matter how careful you are, and this is a great way of using them up. If you don’t have soy batons on hand, fresh or frozen soy skins are fine, too; just use an approximately equal amount. These provide creaminess to the congee.