Sexy Shanghai crab

I really cannot think of a more luxurious cuisine than the delicious trifecta that includes Shanghai, Jiangsu, and Zhejiang. Just like in last week’s recipe for Clams in Custard, the names for some of these dishes do not scream out sensuality, in either Chinese OR English. But believe me, food just does not get better than this. Something about the area around the Yangtze River Delta manages to bring perfect ingredients, textural nuance, and fresh flavors together in the ways that continually astound and delight.

Take this dish, for example. It is, simply put, insanely easy to put together, and yet I’ve never found it anywhere in the States. You find yourself a crab, have your fishmonger prep it, and then you toss it in a vibrant sauce with some rice cakes. Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops. But the results are incredible: sweet crabmeat contrasts with the salty seasonings, hard shells bounce up against the pillowy rice cakes, and the sauce forms a silky sheet that brings everything together.

Dining on this is also a descent into a more hedonistic realm that you might expect, as you have to slow down as you peel the shells off of the crab, lick your fingers and the shells, dip your crabmeat into the creamy sauce, and then enjoy its fresh sweetness against the puffy rice cakes, that turn soft and chewy in their short braise.

Cracked Dungeness

You can use live or cooked crabs for this recipe. I live in the Bay Area, so our go to variety is freshly steamed Dungeness. But live ones work equally well. Just go with whatever is local and in season. If you get a cooked crab, ask your fishmonger to do the following: save the carapace (top shell), remove the gills and clean the body, but keep any tomalley or roe, and then chop the body and crack the legs. For live ones, ask that they be killed and then prepared as with the cooked ones. You can do this at home, but this is a whole lot easier and makes you enjoy the dish even more.

It’s crab season around here. Get cracking.

Crab in bean sauce with rice cakes

Jiàngbào pángxiè nián’gāo  醬爆螃蟹年糕

Serves 4 to 6

Around 1 pound/450g whole crab or crabs (see headnotes)

Flour, as needed (about 3 tablespoons)

Around 8 ounces/225g rice cakes (batons preferred, but ovals ok)

1 tablespoon regular soy sauce

1 tablespoon sugar

1 tablespoon bean sauce (see Tips)

1 tablespoon catsup

1 cup/240ml water

1 cup/240ml peanut or vegetable oil

3 cloves garlic, chopped

1 tablespoon chopped fresh ginger

2 green onions, whites and greens chopped and kept in separate piles

1 tablespoon Shaoxing rice wine

1½  teaspoons pale rice vinegar

1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil

1. Check over the crab and use the butt of your Chinese knife or cleaver to crack any parts that look too solid, as you want your diners to enjoy the food without wrestling with it. Remove any loose bits of shell and check to see that the gills (feathery bits) have all been successfully removed. Place the crab (including the carapace) in a large work bowl and toss with enough flour to coat it evenly. 

Fried crab

2. Next, shake the rice cakes into another work bowl and separate them as much as possible, since you want them to cook evenly and get a chance to completely soften up in the sauce as fast as possible. Mix together the soy sauce, sugar, bean sauce, catsup, and water. Set a clean, heatproof work bowl, Chinese spider or slotted spoon, and work chopsticks next to the stove.

3. Place your wok over medium-high heat and add the oil when the iron is hot. As soon as a bit of flour sprinkled on the oil sizzles and disappears, pick up small handfuls of the crab and shake off the extra flour before sliding them into the hot oil. Cook the crab in 2 or 3 batches so that you have plenty of room to move them around and toss them in the oil. As soon as the crab is a pale gold and the shells turn pink, use your spider and chopsticks to remove them to the clean work bowl. Repeat with the rest of the crab until it is all fried.

Baton-shaped rice cakes

4. Drain out all but a couple of tablespoons of oil and return the wok to medium-high heat. Add the garlic, ginger, and onion whites to the hot oil and stir them around. Once they begin to take on a slightly golden tinge, scrape them and the oil out onto the crab.

5. Pour the soy sauce mixture into the wok and bring it to a boil over medium-high heat. Add the rice cakes and bring the sauce to a boil before lower the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cook the rice cakes until they are soft and pillowy, about 10 to 15 minutes, stirring often so that they do not stick to the wok; add more water, if necessary.

6. When the rice cakes are as soft as you like them, raise the heat to high. Toss in the crab and fried aromatics, as well as the rice wine, vinegar, and sesame oil. Toss these continually until the sauce thickens and the crab is heated through. At the last minute, toss in the onion greens and serve in a shallow bowl or casserole with the top shell perched attractively over the top, along with a bowl on the side to collect the shells.

Tips

Non-spicy bean sauce

Be sure to use a non-spicy bean sauce here, the one called doubanjiang, not la doubanjiang. Har Har brand from Taiwan is very good and comes in both cans and jars. (You can, of course, use a spicy bean sauce here, but it will then turn into more of a Sichuan-style dish. Still very tasty that way, of course!)

If you don't have this type of sauce on hand, sweet wheat sauce (tiánmiànjiàng) can be used instead.

Rice cakes generally come either in batons, which are about 1 inch/2.2cm long and ¼ inch/5mm wide, or as oval discs a little over an inch long. The latter are cut from logs, which occasionally can be found, but these are difficult to slice unless you get them very fresh. Fortunately, rice cakes are easy to find in Korean markets, as well as Chinese ones that cater to more recent immigrants, and they will be stored in the frozen or refrigerated section, usually near noodles and other starchy products.

If the rice cakes are frozen, remove as many as you plan to use and then freeze the rest. Fresh ones should be used up within a week or two, and be sure and discard them if they get black spots or feel slimy. Fresh rice cakes can also be frozen if you are not planning to use them immediately.

This crab dish makes great leftovers. Bring about a cup of water to a boil, and then toss the leftovers in the boiling water until they heat through; add more boiling water as needed to keep the rice cakes and sauce from sticking.

Tip

In the picture at the top of the page you will see that I fried the onion greens first to toast them up. A guest for that particular dinner doesn't care for raw or lightly cooked onion greens, so I fried them to a golden brown, which changed their character enough so that she was very happy. I got some nice green onion oil out of the deal, so I was happy, too.  

Daliang's gift: crab stir-fried with milk

Many Chinese people have difficulty digesting milk in any form, and it is difficult to say whether lactose intolerance is the reason that dairy products never gained much of a foothold in China, or whether it was because cattle require large expanses of grass for fodder, and arable land has always been in short supply around there, and so Chinese people never developed any particular need to digest milk. Whatever the reason, milk has never been a part of most Chinese cuisines, even peripherally, which is why lard has always been favored here over butter.

But as with any hard and fast rule, there are exceptions.

In southeastern China, whole milk is boiled until a skin forms on the surface; this is then removed, stretched out, and dried to form “milk fans” (乳扇 rŭshàn) that have a texture and use similar to bean curd skins and tofu batons, which makes sense, since both the milk and the soy milk are treated the same way. 

Out in the arid regions of western China, the yogurt and kefir of Central Asia has made its way into the local cuisines; in fact, one of the most divine yogurts I ever tasted was in Xinjiang’s capital, Ürümqi – rich and creamy, this took all of my attention away from the whole roasted lamb that was the nominal guest of honor, and I told the waitresses to keep the yogurt supply coming while everyone else tore into the meat.

Use the best full-fat milk here

The most unusual devotion to dairy here, though, lies in the Pearl River Delta of Guangdong, because unlike everywhere else in China, the milk there is consumed fresh, but with that inevitable Chinese twist, of course.

Centering around the magnificent local food capital of Shunde is an area called Daliang, which boasts a culture that prizes dairy cattle like none other in China. Milk is transformed into sweet, trembling puddings there by gelatinizing them with fresh ginger juice, rather than eggs or thickeners, resulting in a monumentally tender confection. The local egg custard is a clever creation called “double-skinned milk” because the milk is boiled until a skin forms, and then the hot milk underneath is sweetened and solidified with the addition of egg whites, which keep the custard a snowy white and add only the faintest suggestion of eggs to the dessert. There's also deep-fried milk, which actually is yet another type of custard that is chilled, cut into batons, and then fried in a batter. (Yes, it's insanely good.)

Strangest by far, but also one of the most delicious, is the Daliang dish called “stir-fried milk.” As with that double-skinned custard, only egg whites are added, and this lends a certain mystery to the final creation because you really are not that sure what is going on in there until you read the recipe.

Different approaches to this dish abound in the Pearl River Delta – some feature shrimp or pork or chicken, for example – but I love this crab-studded version with tiny bits of charcuterie to wake the palate out of any reveries that threaten to take this over the edge from subtle into somnolent.

The milk beginning to curdle

One change I've made to the original recipe is the addition of toasted almonds instead of the traditional little tropical nuts called lǎnrén 欖仁, or Indian olive, because I just haven’t seen them much around here. But have no fear because they taste faintly of almonds, and so toasted shredded almonds work perfectly here as a substitute, lending a nice textural contrast and depth of flavor to these gentle pillows.

Serve this as a main dish, if you like, but I rather enjoy it as a first course in small bowls, as they lend a sense of wonder to the meal and make my guests even hungrier for the food that is to come.

Crab stir-fried with milk 
Dàliáng chǎo níunǎi 大良炒牛奶 
Guangdong

Serves 2 to 6 

Almonds:

1 tablespoon (or so) fresh peanut or vegetable oil

¼ cup sliced almonds

Milk:

½ cup whole milk

1 tablespoon cornstarch

Crab:

1 cup cooked crabmeat (fresh best, frozen second, and canned a distant third place)

3 tablespoons fresh peanut or vegetable oil, divided, plus more if needed

½ Chinese sausage (lop cheong)

5 large egg whites

Sprinkle of sea salt

¼ teaspoon mushroom seasoning or fish sauce (see Tips)

Luscious fat inside the crab shell

1. First toast the almonds by filming the bottom of a wok (see first Tip below) with a tablespoon or so of oil before adding the almonds; toss the almonds over medium heat – adjusting the heat as necessary – until they are a golden color and smell toasted. Scoop them out onto a plate covered with a paper towel.

2. Bring the milk to a boil (either in a saucepan on the stove or in a measuring cup in the microwave), let it cool down until just warm to the touch, and stir in the cornstarch.

3. Pick over the crabmeat carefully, removing any shells or cartilage, but keep the meat in pieces as large as possible. Toss in about 1 tablespoon of oil and a pinch of salt.

4. Cut the lop chong into small (⅛-inch or smaller) dice. Place them in a wok or pan without any oil and fry them until they render their fat and are lightly crispy. Remove them to a plate covered with a paper towel and wipe out the wok.

5. Lightly beat the egg whites until they are broken apart and only very slightly foamy. Stir in the milk mixture, crab, fried lop chong, and mushroom seasoning or fish sauce. Prepare your serving bowl or small individual bowls next to the stove, warming them first, if possible.

6. Heat the rest of the oil in the wok over medium heat until it starts to shimmer, and then pour in the crab mixture. Use a silicone or wood spatula to stir the crab gently around over the heat, making sure to run the spatula along the bottom of the wok to keep the milk from burning. As the liquid heats, it will start to form curds. Drizzle in a bit more oil around the edge if it starts to stick. As soon as the liquid has turned into curds, immediately scoop it out into the bowl(s); if there is extra liquid, drain it off and enjoy it yourself, since it tastes great but doesn't look very nice. Sprinkle the crab with the toasted almonds and serve with spoons.

Tips

Confession time: I like to use a small (8-inch) restaurant-style frying pan here instead of a wok because nothing sticks to it after years of using it mainly for eggs; use whatever pan or wok you like, but be sure that  your wok doesn't have any black crud in it that will flake off and mar your beautiful crabby clouds. 

If you were wondering what to do with the body from the Savory Crab and Cellophane Noodles, this is one of my favorite suggestions. This dish can easily be doubled if you have two crab bodies left over, or if you want to serve more of this dreamy dish.

One thing really nice about making this with crab that you have to shell yourself is that you get to keep all of the good stuff like the fatty tomalley. For this reason, I don't let the fishmonger clean the crab for me, as she's just washing away the best part of the crab. 

To clean a whole cooked Dungeness yourself, first pull off the legs, crack them lightly with the butt of a knife, and set them aside. Turn the crab over and pull off the thin plate. (Only male Dungeness crabs are sold – we love our fertile females! – so you'll never find one with a triangular plate around here.) Then turn the crab right-side up and pull off the top of the crab over a bowl, reserving the juices. Pull off and discard the feathery lungs on both sides of the body. 

Chinese mushroom seasoning

Everything else in there besides the cartilage and shell is edible, so reserve and enjoy what you like and add them to this dish. If there is a lot of liquid and/or fat in your crab, you might need to add more cornstarch to the dish to make it solidify correctly. But if you end up with too much liquid anyway, just do as I do and surreptitiously drain it off into a bowl for yourself to enjoy.

The savory bits in this recipe can be swapped with happy abandon. Try some roasted duck, slivers of ham, or tasty mushrooms instead of the lop chong.

The mushroom seasoning here is a great addition to your pantry, as it offers extra umami kick without all sorts of additives. It is sort of like bouillon, but is not as salty, and it should contain no MSG or meat products. See the photo on the right for the brand I use. If you can't find it, use fish sauce.

Dungeness crab done up Hong Kong style

Some of the most wonderful things about living in Taiwan and visiting Hong Kong were the endless opportunities to revel in the local seafood. The cuisines of both places are dominated by saltwater fish and crustaceans, and I rarely passed up the chance to eat myself into a coma.

I became mesmerized by the many ways that Chinese cooks turned crab into something remarkable. Before moving to Asia, I grew up near San Francisco, and as a result, my idea of crab were those steamed, cold Dungeness behemoths that always tasted sweetly of the sea. Needing little adornment (although restaurants seemed bound by law to offer wedges of lemon alongside bowls of mayo or tartar sauce, melted butter, and cocktail sauce), this was the food of the gods as far as I was concerned, and all I needed as a teenager was a basket of the local sourdough bread and a pile of napkins to complete my happiness.

Ginger, shallots, dried shrimp

But the Chinese way with crabs was completely different. First off, the crabs were smaller and had thinner shells. This meant (second point:) that they were usually whacked apart with cleavers and then stir-fried with seasonings. And as I tucked into, say, the luscious Taiwanese version that was draped with sliced fried onions and omelet blankets, I had to concede that they were on to something there.

In Hong Kong, though, crabs are dealt with completely differently. Oftentimes the crab is served more or less whole so that it stares at you from a lake of silky, savory custard, or tiny crabs are deep-fried in a batter, their paper-like shells more like those of fried shrimp than anything else. Others were reminiscent of the genius of cooks from the Pearl River Delta, with shards of shelled crab nestled in soft pillows made from milk.

One of my favorites, though, has to be this truly inspired dish. This is all about the flavor of crab, and the only things that are added are aromatics that will highlight the sweetness of the meat and the silky strands of cellophane noodles that suck up every drop of juice. In fact, the only difficult thing about making this dish is ensuring that the cellophane noodles are prepared properly (follow the instructions to the letter and you will be more than halfway home), because these are notorious for dissolving into gummy clumps if not proffered sufficient respect.

Taiwanese fensi soaking

In this recipe, I've wandered slightly from the traditional recipe by shelling half of the crabmeat. What this does is allow more of the crab flavor to infiltrate the noodles, and I have to tell you, the noodles are The Best Part of this dish.

Since it is now winter and I am still not too far from San Francisco, I've used the best local crabs there ever will be: my beloved Dungeness. And because these are only sold already cooked, I've made allowances for that in this recipe. However, if you are lucky enough to have your own local crabs available still live and kicking, I have included instructions on how to use those, too.

Savory crab and cellophane noodles
Pángxiè fěnsī bào 螃蟹粉絲煲 
Hong Kong, Guangdong

Serves 2 to 6  (either as a main dish or as one of many)

4 bundles cellophane noodles (aka mung noodles or fensi)

Warm filtered water

2 tablespoons whole dried shrimp

2 pounds cooked Dungeness crab legs (the legs of 2 crabs, or just use 1 whole crab)

10 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil, divided

2 large shallots, trimmed and thinly sliced (about ½ cup)

6 thin slices fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped (about ¼ cup)

2 green onions, white and green parts kept separate, trimmed and finely chopped

2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil

2 tablespoons regular soy sauce

2 teaspoons sweet soy sauce (tián jiàngyóu, or 2 teaspoons soy sauce with a bit of sugar to taste)

¼ cup Shaoxing rice wine

Freshly ground black pepper

1. First, soak the cellophane noodles in warm water for 10 minutes. Then rinse them in a colander under cold tap water to immediately stop the noodles from softening any further. Shake all of the water off the noodles and them dump them onto a clean tea towel. Lightly pat the noodles all over to get rid of the rest of the moisture and let them sit uncovered while you prepare the other ingredients. (This step is the most important because it ensures that the noodles will have the right texture.)

Now supple & translucent

2. Rinse the dried shrimp well, cover them with hot tap water, and let them soak until soft. Then, drain the shrimp and chop them finely.

3. If you are using only crab legs, separate the large lower (and middle, if needed) sections from the rest of the legs so that the pieces are easy to stir-fry. Keep the meatier sections whole and work over a bowl while you remove the meat from the scrawnier pieces, discarding their shells (see Tips). You should end up with about half of the crab legs whole and the other half shelled. (If you are using a whole crab, you can merely separate the legs into manageable lengths and completely remove all of the shell and cartilage from the body, which will also leave you with about half of the crab in a shell and half shelled. Keep the large crab shell intact, if you like, to decorate the final dish.) Place the crab that is still in its shell in a heatproof dish and steam this over high heat for 5 minutes.

4. Prep the shallots, ginger, and onions, and then add them to the chopped dried shrimp. Mix the soy sauce, sweet soy sauce, rice wine, and pepper in small bowl. Cut the cellophane noodles into pieces approximately 2 inches long. Have a medium sandpot or casserole ready for serving.

5. Pour half of the oil into a wok, heat it over medium-high, and add the shallot mixture. Fry this until it starts to brown. Lower the heat to medium, add the rest of the oil plus the sesame oil, and when the oil is hot, toss in the chopped noodles. Stir-fry the noodles carefully, being sure to scrape up any that stick to the bottom of the wok; if needed, add a bit more oil. Fry the noodles for about 2 or 3 minutes, or until they start to become transparent. Add the crabmeat and the crab in its shell plus half of the seasonings; toss these together until the noodles have absorbed all of the sauce, and then add the rest. Toss these a bit longer, taste and adjust the seasoning, and sprinkle the crab with the onion greens. Toss once more and pour this into the prepared sandpot or casserole. Serve hot. 

Tips

Springy & white when dry

As you check over the Dungeness crab legs, use the butt of your knife to crack any pieces that are still solid; your diners will thank you. I tend to use a 3-inch paring knife to wiggle the meat out of the legs, as this also allows me to work my way into the joints and scoop out every last bit of fat and meat. Working over a bowl preserves all of the juices and tiny flakes while you dig away.

If you are using smaller, live crabs, use the same weight of crabs as suggested here. Kill and clean the crabs, and if the shells are around 3 inches across, use a cleaver to chop the crabs into quarters, so that each piece has a quarter of the shell and two legs.

Raw crabs need to first have all cut edges (but not the shells) dusted with flour, and then these cut edges are fried to keep the meat from drying up. Once the cut edges are browned, continue to fry the crabs until they have turned completely pink. Remove them and then proceed to Step 4, after doing Steps 1 and 2 first, of course.

Once you've mastered this dish, you will probably want to play with the seasonings a bit, and that is exactly the way to go here. Add ginger or chilies, use curry powder… anything is permitted here. Just make sure that you don’t drown out the flavor of the crab.