Creamy, cheesy pork from Jiangsu

All Under Heaven and The Dim Sum Field Guide continue to make some pretty darned amazing "best of 2016" lists, and all I can do is feel stunned and intensely happy. 

Thank you NPR's Book Concierge for including The Field Guide among so many illustrious writers in "Our Guide to 2016's Great Reads"! Nina Gregory, their Arts Desk editor, kindly noted that the Guide is "small enough to fit into a handbag," and this "beautifully illustrated guide really can help a nervous diner navigate the sometimes intimidating realm of dim sum."

What a wonderful surprise that Tom Philpott of Mother Jones added All Under Heaven to his list of "5 Cookbooks that Wowed Us in 2016." I mean, I adore Mother Jones - and have so for decades - so I'm still a bit agog. Here's what he said: "I've never been to China, but for me, All Under Heaven brings home the vibrant, vegetable-forward, umami-laced restaurant cooking I've found in places with large Chinese enclaves, like Manhattan's Chinatown."

And finally, the terrific New York City cookbook store Kitchen Arts & Lectures was kind enough to include All Under Heaven in "Matt's Favorite Home Books 2016." In his summary, Matt Sartwell explained that he "favored books that offer readers a conversation with an author who has knowledge and a distinctive point of view. In an era when recipes are free all over the internet, people paying for books deserve an extra level of engagement from an author. These are the books of 2016 that I think do that best for home cooks." 

I am beaming really loud right now. Thank you all for these truly kind words. What an honor. And a joy.

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Perfect pork belly with skin

Cheesy Pork. I’m sure that the name alone makes you wonder: Is this a take on a Philly cheesesteak? A Velveeta wonder dish gone awry? I understand your confusion. Take comfort, for there’s no milk in here at all. In fact, the “cheese” is actually fermented bean curd, an extraordinary ingredient you should get to know up close and personal... and as soon as possible, I might add.

We looked at the way to make this easy ingredient both here on the blog and in All Under Heaven. Doufuru is popular throughout much of China, particularly in the coastal areas from Jiangsu in the north down to Guangdong and Guangxi in the south, west out to Anhui and east as far as Taiwan, and it changes remarkably depending upon the local preferences.

For example, in places like Fuzhou in Fujian it often is cured in the local scarlet rice wine, another ingredient you can make yourself. This gives the cheesy cubes a beautiful red hue and subtle wine flavor. Further down south you’ll find spicier versions in some areas, while Anhui celebrates its deep love for all things pungent with a variety that could give Limburger cheese a run for its money.

Daxi style bean curd "cheese"

My absolute favorite, though, comes from the village of Daxi in northern Taiwan. It is a delightful amber color, and the doufu cubes are studded with darker brown soybeans. The sauce is slightly sweet, the cubes are softly cheesy, and it is one of those ingredients that begs to be savored as is. And I comply, happily I might add, by perching one of these squares and a sprinkle of the savory soybeans on a bowl of hot steamed rice or sandwiching a smear inside freshly made steamed bread. That’s because – at last to my mind – this is the most wonderfully cheesy doufuru around, and very very easy to love.

What is doufuru? In many ways it is much like a brined Western cheese, like feta, for it first requires that a liquid gets turned into a solid (here that means soymilk into bean curd, or doufu or tofu), inoculated with molds, allowed to transform into a whole new creature (i.e., bean curd “cheese”), and then cured in a brine.

In this dish I’ve satisfied my adoration for Daxi-style doufuru by flinging it into the pot with some willing squares of pork belly. And, because I love the gorgeous pink hue that comes from the more traditional red bean curd “cheese,” I add some red wine yeast.

My favorite packages

This latter ingredient is, I agree, not always easy to find outside of areas with large Chinese populations, so go with what you have, as this dish will be stunning no matter what kind of cheesy doufu you use. Like our own cheeses, just about any variety will add creaminess to the sauce, will permeate the meat with its tangy notes, and turn this into something that is downright luscious.

Cheesy pork

Fŭrú ròu 腐乳肉

Jiangsu

Serves 8

2 pounds / 900 g excellent quality pork belly with the skin on (see Tips)

Boiling water, as needed

2 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

2 lumps of rock sugar, each about the size of an egg

2 cups / 500 ml Shaoxing rice wine

1 cup / 250 ml fermented rice solids (see Tips)

6 slices fresh ginger

3 green onions, trimmed

2 to 3 cubes bean curd “cheese,” plus a tablespoon or so of the sauce (see headnotes and Tips), mashed

1 tablespoon red rice wine yeast, optional

1 teaspoon regular soy sauce

Red rice wine yeast in the pot

1. Start this a day or up to 3 days ahead of time. Chill the pork so that it is easy to slice cleanly and pluck out any errant hairs. Trim the edges of the pork, if needed, and remove any tough pieces of lean pork that line the bottom, as these will never cook up tender. Cut the pork into 8 even cubes. Tie each cube with kitchen twine to form a small package, as this will help the meat maintain its shape during the cooking process. Place the pork in a pan, cover with boiling water, and simmer the meat for 10 minutes or so. Dump out the water and then rinse the scum off of the pork and pan.

2. Pour the oil into an 8-cup / 2-liter dry pan or skillet, preferably stainless steel so that you can see the caramelization process clearly. Add the rock sugar and place the pan over low heat. As the oil heats up, the sugar will start to crack along its crystals, and so you can start to lightly whack at it with a wooden spoon to encourage it to break down into sandy piles. Stir the sugar often to keep any one area from quickly caramelizing and then burning. When most of the sugar has melted, stir pretty much constantly, as the sugar will now start to caramelize. Remove from the heat once the sugar has turned into a lovely amber syrup and immediately pour in the rice wine to stop the sugar from burning. The sugar will seize up and solidify, but that is all right.

The yeast coloring up the braise

3. Add the fermented rice solids, ginger, whole green onions, mashed bean curd “cheese,” and optional red rice wine yeast. Arrange the pork in the sauce and cover with boiling water. Bring the liquid to a boil over high heat and then lower the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cook the pork uncovered for 1½ to 2 hours, or until the pork is tender and the liquid has reduced by around half. Add the soy sauce and continue to simmer the sauce until it has the consistency of heavy cream. Remove from the heat and allow this to come to room temperature. Pluck out and discard the ginger and green onions. You can also strain the sauce, if you would like it very smooth. Transfer the pork and sauce to a heatproof covered bowl and chill at least overnight and up to a couple of days.

4. About an hour before serving, cut the strings off of the pork and remove any solid fat. Steam the pork and sauce for at least half an hour, although the pork will not suffer if it is steamed longer. Serve hot with the sauce, lots of hot steamed rice, and a simple side of flash-fried greens, like pea sprouts.

 Tips

Get top quality, heritage pork. No substitutes will do. Bad meat smells horrible and tastes worse and is bad for you. Spring for the good stuff. Here are some suggestions for picking the best pork belly.

It's what's for dinner

You won’t find good pork belly with the skin on in supermarkets. Even Whole Foods has recently dropped out of the game and sells only pork with the skin removed – this was met with absolute dismay by about every Chinese person lined up at the counter on my most recent visit.

What to do? Nurture an excellent relationship with an independent butcher. Find out if you can order the best pork with the skin on, plus things like ears or tails or kidneys or whatever else you love. (And I will get you to love them, if I have my way.) Because these animals are often purchased as whole or half animals, I try to get dibs on my favorite cuts. If you have the freezer space, consider making this really worth your butcher’s time by getting whatever things you think you’ll need over the next month or two. Win win.

If you don’t have any fermented rice hanging around, use an extra half cup of Shaoxing rice wine.

Red rice wine yeast is often hard to find, so a perfectly delicious alternative is red doufuru, since it already contains the red yeast. Or, you can just do without and have a pale yet equally good plate of pork.

Autumnal lotus root à la Guangxi and Guizhou

As autumn works its way into the year, slowly showing summer the door and painting the leaves the colors of a sunset, yet another Chinese vegetable makes its way onto the stage: the lotus root.

Nowadays, lotus roots can be found in Chinese markets most of the year, but that doesn't mean that they are at their best at any other time than fall and early winter. The reason is that the juiciest and plumpest ones are plucked when the leaves begin to wither. That is when the sugars in the lotus roots are at their highest.

They will also be fatter and heavier, as if they were little bears getting ready for hibernation. Which is exactly what is happening. Not that they are bears, of course, but they are preparing for a long winter's nap, and so food has been stored to keep the plant alive and give it that energetic burst once spring rolls around again.

Cubed lotus root...

The two relatively hidden provinces that I've been focused on recently that lie in China's south-central region -- Guizhou and Guangxi -- both have a marked fondness for lotus roots. And they treat them in ways I've never seen in other places.

One is an unusual quick pickle that uses the uniquely starchy, crunchy, refreshing nature of lotus root in a unexpected yet totally delightful way. The other is a side dish that is has fermented bean curd flavored with an ingredient that I used to think was confined only to northern Fujian province: red rice wine lees, or hongzao.

But just earlier today, as I was researching the background of Sichuan cuisine, I found a historical record that mentions hongzao being a favorite local ingredient... a thousand years ago! In Sichuan! That's like discovering that Leondardo da Vinci's mom cooked with lutefisk.

Why am I mentioning Sichuan? Because my own personal theory is that Guizhou and western Guangxi -- along with Yunnan province -- should be considered part of the Sichuan school of Chinese cooking.

and sliced

This is one big puzzle piece in the overall grand picture of Chinese food that divides it into eight broad cuisines. The main problem (for me, at least) is that it tends to be strictly drawn along borders, lumping together provinces that may have had some geopolitical relationship at one time or another, but in the end that doesn't take into account what people actually make for dinner. Also, in doing it this traditional way, many wonderful places have been left out of this patchwork, including Yunnan, Guangxi, and Guizhou to give just three important examples.

So, one of the things I'm going to start discussing here as we continue on our trip around China's cuisines is how they relate to each other historically, physically, and most importantly in their approach to food. 

One clue as to why Guizhou is part of Sichuan's general school is its love for chilies, its reliance on salt and fermented chili pastes rather than soy sauce, the main ingredients that make up the backbone of these cuisine, and their similar approaches to cooking.

Take this pickle as a good illustration. The main flavors come from lots of fresh garlic and ginger and green onions -- aromatics that color most of Sichuan's dishes -- plus the hot pickled chilies that add both tang and heat to any dish. These pickled chilies are almost always from Sichuan, and they tend to be either red or green Thai peppers preserved with salt, vinegar, and little else.

Homemade nanru

I love them. The flavors are clear in a way that the hot sauces are not. They convey a sharpness of color and aroma, too, that is unique and delicious. Called pao lajiao, or pickled chilies, they always come in glass jars, either whole or chopped. I much prefer the whole ones because the texture is so much cleaner, while the chopped ones tend to be mushy. Plus, they offer more versatility for the cook, as one can easily slice or dice them if that's what is called for in the recipe.

Pickles of all sorts are a big deal in Sichuan. Just about any Sichuan cookbook worth its salt will have page after page of pickle recipes. And those pickles with their chilies exploding against garlic and ginger look a whole lot like today's recipe from Guizhou, thus stacking even more evidence on the table in favor of my case for enveloping Guizhou (as well as Yunnan and western Guangxi) in Sichuan's loving though considerably spicy embrace.

The second recipe here is for a creamy, cheesy lotus root. This is a subtle dish with more of those echoes of trips to Guangxi by visitors in the north. Guangdong has its fair share of fermented bean curd, but they like their doufuru white and very funky there, while this mild red version called nanru is a taste of places further up China's eastern edge. Cross pollination is always at work in Chinese cuisine. Half of the fun is trying to connect the dots...

Sichuan style aromas

Pickled lotus root from Guizhou 
Guizhou paojiao lian'ou  貴州泡椒蓮藕  
Guangxi 
Makes about 2 cups

Lotus root and aromatics:
1 plump lotus root, about 6 to 7 inches long
½ teaspoon sea salt
Filtered water as needed
3 green onions, trimmed and chopped into ¼-inch rounds
1 tablespoon peeled fresh garlic, finely chopped
10 or more pickled red chilies (I use 14)
2 plump garlic cloves, thinly sliced

Brine:
2 tablespoons vinegar from the pickled chilies
¼ cup light rice vinegar or good cider vinegar
¼ cup sugar
2 teaspoons sea salt
Filtered water as needed

1. Peel the lotus root and remove both ends. Rinse the root thoroughly under running water; if there is mud in one of the holes, use a thin chopstick to scrub the inside. Cut the lotus root lengthwise in half and then into quarter-inch cubes. Place the cubed lotus root in a small saucepan, add the half teaspoon salt, and cover with water. Bring the pan to a full boil and then reduce to a simmer. Cook the root for about 5 minutes, or until it is just barely tender but still has a crunchy texture. Drain the pan in a colander and rinse the lotus root with cool water to stop the cooking.

2. Place the cooked lotus root in a 3 cup container with the green onions, ginger, pickled chilies, and cloves. Mix together the pickled chili vinegar, rice vinegar, sugar, and salt, and then pour this over the vegetables; add just enough water to almost cover them. Refrigerate the pickle for at least 24 hours. Remove whatever amount you want with a very clean slotted spoon. The pickle will stay crispy and tasty for at least 5 days.

Velvety lacy slices

Guangxi style lotus root with red bean curd cheese 
Guishi nanru oupian 桂式南乳藕片
Guangxi
Serves 4 as a side dish

1 plump lotus root, about 6 to 7 inches long
2 teaspoons roasted sesame oil
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced  
½ cup filtered water
½ teaspoon sea salt
1 cube red fermented bean curd (aka red bean curd cheese or nanru), lightly mashed, plus a dribble of the nanru's sauce
1 teaspoon sugar

1. Peel the lotus root and remove both ends. Rinse the root thoroughly under running water; if there is mud in one of the holes, use a thin chopstick to scrub the inside. Thinly slice the lotus root crosswise into lacy rounds.

Creamy vs. crunchy

2. Heat the sesame oil in a wok over medium-high heat until it smells wonderful, and then add the lotus root. Quickly stir-fry them for a minute or two to heat them through. Then, add the rest of the ingredients. Toss the lotus roots in the sauce for a few minutes until the sauce thickens. Taste and adjust seasoning, and then serve in a pretty bowl.

Tips

Select lotus roots that are heavy for their size. Avoid any with soft spots or heavy bruises, as this also indicates that the roots might be muddy inside.

Store the roots in a plastic bag in the refrigerator. They keep best if wrapped with a damp paper towel first since they are, after all, aquatic plants.

Pickled chili peppers will be found in the condiment aisle of Chinese markets. Look for peppers that are a shiny red, which shows that they are still fresh; dull red ones have been around too long. Keep leftovers in the fridge like any other pickle.

Red fermented bean curd (red bean curd cheese or 南乳 nanru) will also be on the condiment aisle. Store an opened container in a cool place, preferably the fridge if you're not going to use it up quickly. (I will be sharing a recipe for this creamy ingredient before long... so if you don't have your Red Wine Lees made yet, get started!)

If you want, you can use regular doufuru with a teaspoon or so of the Red Wine Lees.

Guangdong's stir-fried water spinach with bean curd "cheese" and chilies

Milk has only made a small incursion into Chinese cuisine, so you won't find many traditional dishes based on butter or milk. 

There are, of course, a few exceptions like yak butter tea in Tibet, the dried milk "fans" that are incorporated into a few luscious Yunnan dishes, and the delicious "fried milk" concoctions on Guangdong's Pearl Delta area, but all in all, soybeans have almost always taken the place of the noble cow, providing China with a vegan type of milk, as well as both fresh bean curd (called doufu or tofu) and the cheesier version known as doufuru, literally "bean curd milk."

But doufuru neither looks nor smells like milk, and I can't figure out why anybody would give it that name. It looks sort of like feta cheese and generally has a similar tang from the brine it is soaked in. 

What it tastes like, though, depends where it was made. Fujian province has a gorgeous ruby doufuru that is made with its local red wine yeast. Taiwan has a creamy, sweetly savory version from Sanxia that has whole soybeans and rice grains gracing the sauce. Guangdong has a couple of very funky versions, as well as some others spiked with chili or made rather mild. You get the point. They are all good in their own way as long as you think of them as cheese rather than bean curd.

Stalks of water spinach

So how do they make doufuru? My late mother-in-law said that she cut fresh bean curd into cubes and then set them out where they could mold. (Much like cheese, doufuru needs mold to perform the necessary alchemy.) After the cubes were nice and hairy, they were packed in jars and both  Shaoxing rice wine and a brine flavored with Sichuan peppercorns were poured over them to stop the decay and start the process of turning the bean curd into a cheese of sorts. 

Doufuru can be used as a condiment with congee or spread on fresh steamed bread (where it tastes particularly cheesy), or it can be used in a sauce. The absolutely most divine recipe comes from Shanghai and turns a boneless pork hock (front upper leg) into a trembling pyramid that is not in the least bit fatty, but rather is meaty and soft and buttery and, yes, cheesy. I'll post that recipe, too, before long.

But today I want to provide a recipe for my vegetarian friends and for those of you who want to try a really good vegetable dish. This one comes from Guangdong, down on the southeast coast of China, where Hong Kong dangles like a beautiful earring. 

Where kongxincai got its name

The vegetable is an exotic one called "water spinach" that some markets label as "ong choy," but which the Chinese call "hollow vegetable" (kongxincai). One look at the photo on the right and you'll understand the source of its name. It is a member of the morning glory family, and when allowed to flower, its blooms are white with deep purple throats that would be good enough reason to grow them even if the plant wasn't so tasty.

Water spinach can be found in most Chinese groceries during the warm months, and it has a very pleasant flavor that isn't quite like spinach. The stems are always eaten along with the leaves, but they need to be cooked a bit longer than the leaves. The best way to do this is to rinse the water spinach carefully, trim off the stem ends and any stems that feel tough, and then cut across the bunch where the leaves start to grow more thickly, because the stems at that point will be pretty tender. Then, cut the stems into 2-inch lengths and fry them first until they turn a bright green, and then add the leaves - which have also been cut into 2-inch lengths - to the wok for a quick fry until they barely wilt.

This recipe calls for chilies, but if you'd rather have garlic in there, go right ahead. There's no set rules, and the flavor will need to be adjusted depending upon what you like, what you are serving this with, and what kind of doufuru you are using. Think of this more as a general template rather than a set-in-stone recipe...

Stir-fried water spinach with bean curd "cheese" and chilies 
Furu kongxincai  腐乳空心菜 
Guangdong

Your ingredients

Serves 6 to 8 as part of a multicourse meal


20 ounces water spinach (around 3 fistfuls)
2 to 3 cubes doufuru, plus a few spoonfuls of the brine
3 tablespoon fresh peanut or vegetable oil
10 thin slices of peeled fresh ginger, minced finely
1 chili pepper, diced
Splash of rice wine
1 teaspoon roasted sesame oil
Sugar, light soy sauce, or more doufuru, if needed

1. Wash the water spinach carefully and trim off the ends, as well as any tough stems. Cut the bunch in half where the leaves start to grow more thickly and the stems are tender. 

2. Cut the stems into 2-inch pieces and put into one pile; cut the leafy stalks into 2-inch pieces and set in another pile. Place the doufuru in a small bowl with the brine and mash it with a fork.

Separate the stems from the leaves

3. Heat the oil in a wok over high heat until it starts to smoke. Add the ginger to the oil and quickly stir-fry it until it begins to brown. Add the diced chili and toss in the water spinach stems in the hot oil until they turn a brilliant green, and then add the leafy stalks; stir-fry the leaves quickly until they barely wilt. Pour the mashed doufuru into the wok and use the rice wine to rinse out the bowl into the wok. Quickly toss everything together and taste, adjusting the flavor with more doufuru or a dash of sugar or soy sauce if needed. Sprinkle the sesame oil over the vegetables and serve hot.


Note: Water spinach is best on the day it is cooked, so try to finish it up at this meal.  Leftovers can be sneaked into fried noodles, omelets, and fried rice, but it's still at its crunchy best right after it is cooked.