The best zhajiang noodles in the world. Period.

Popular throughout most of northeast China, zhajiang noodles are almost like pasta Bolognese: this is basically a rich meat sauce balanced on top of chewy strands of dough. But there the comparison pretty much ends.

Zhajiang mian means “deep-fried sauce noodles,” which has always confused me. When I have given Chinese cooks the third degree about this, the answer is always that the sauce is “deep fried” before it is mixed with the meat. And I've invariably retorted, “But the sauce is ‘pan fried’ [jian], so this should be jianjiang mian, right?” and the reply I get is always a shake of the head and a frown, because the name simply doesn't make any sense. (It’s sort of like when Chinese people ask me to break down the meaning of hot dogs [regou, literally “hot dogs” – nothing lost in translation there], and I have to tell them that we really and truly don’t dine on puppies in the States, despite all misleading names to the contrary.)

It wasn't until very recently that I figured out the solution. You see, most folks think of this as from Beijing, and zhajiang noodles is believed by most to be the name this dish was originally christened with. But actually, I discovered, it comes from Manchuria, where it is known by the name zajiang mian 雜醬麵, or “mixed sauce noodles.” Zha and za sound very much alike, and perhaps there was some confusion upstream. Who knows what happened... all I know is that I now can sleep well at night.

Pork plus the secret ingredient

We've enjoyed endless variations on this dish, but I have to say that the recipe below is the best I have ever tasted. But as with great simple foods elsewhere, perfection demands a couple of very important requirements:

First, the pasta should be handmade and fresh. No dried noodles here, please. In fact, you should use pulled noodles, not rolled ones, because the stretching of the dough creates little tears along the strands that grab onto the sauce and then convey it to your eagerly awaiting mouth. 

All of that pulling and bouncing that goes on in creating lamian means that the gluten has been excited into a state of near hysteria (or as close to hysteria that pasta can get), which makes it astoundingly chewy and vibrant. And another thing: make the pasta flat and wide, if you can, because you really want the noodles to make a boisterous presence against all of that powerfully seasoned sauce. (More on pulled noodles and how to make them in the very near future...)

Second, don’t drown the noodles with sauce. You want a good balance of sauce to pasta so that your tongue is initially hit with the salty/sweet/meaty taste of the zhajiang, and then this is complemented by the subtly sweet noodles that act sort of like palate cleansers. The cucumber garnish does much of the same thing, but it is raw and slightly tannic, which provides even more contrast. (The brilliant emerald color satisfies the eyes, too.) Some people like to sprinkle green onions on top, and I would not be opposed to a few shards per bite, but don’t overdo it.

Frying the sweet wheat paste

Third, add the secret ingredient of this recipe, eggplant, as this ends up as creamy bits of heaven that make the meat even meatier. 

The idea for this addition came from the wonderful Chinese writer Liang Shih-chiu, who recalled in an essay called “Noodles” (Miantiao) that “our family once was taught by a lofty personage to add cubed eggplant when the sauce was almost done… and the secret lay in doing one’s best to make the sauce on the noodles not too salty.”

He was right on the money.

Zhajiang or zajiang, Beijing or Manchuria, this is soul-satisfying stuff.

Zhajiang noodles  
Zhájiàng miàn 炸醬麵 
Manchuria, Beijing

Serves 2 to 3 as a lunch or snack

Noodles and eggplant:

1 pound fresh, wide noodles, preferably hand-pulled

8 cups boiling filtered water

2 small eggplants

¼ cup peanut or vegetable oil

Sauce:

1 tablespoon peanut or vegetable oil

8 ounces good quality ground pork

Gravelly meat and aromatics

½ medium onion peeled and cut into ½-inch dice

2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger

3 cloves garlic, finely minced

2 tablespoons plain rice wine (mijiu)

6 to 8 tablespoons toasted sesame oil

3 tablespoons sweet wheat paste (see Tips)

1 tablespoon regular soy sauce

2 teaspoons sugar

¼ cup hot filtered water

Garnish:

1 Japanese, Persian, or pickling cucumber, trimmed and julienned

1 green onion, trimmed and julienned, optional

1. Prepare your own noodles or use storebought fresh ones, preferably something wide and chewy like paparadelle. Shake the noodles out onto a tea towel and loosen the strands. Cover them with a clean tea towel to keep them from drying out. Have the unsalted water in a pot on the stove with the lid on to keep it hot.

2. Clean and trim the eggplants and then cut them into ½-inch dice (about 1 cup) without peeling. Heat the oil in a wok on medium-high and fry the eggplants until they are browned all over. Remove them to a dish.

3. To prepare the sauce, heat the oil in a wok over medium-high and add the ginger, pork, onion, and garlic. Lower the heat to medium and cook them – stirring occasionally – until the onions are translucent. Raise the heat to medium-high again and fry the mixture until it has some browned edges.

Korean sweet wheat paste

4. Pour the rice wine in and stir it around quickly to stop the caramelization. Scoop the mixture up one side of the wok. Raise the heat to high; pour in the sesame oil into the bottom of the wok and add the sweet wheat paste. Stir the paste around in the oil to break it up into a smooth layer and to fry out any raw flavors. Add the soy sauce and sugar. Mix the meat mixture into the sauce and toss these around on the heat. Add the hot water and stir the sauce around to incorporate the water. Lower the heat to a simmer and let the sauce gently cook for 10 to 15 minutes; add the eggplant, taste and adjust the seasoning, and cook the sauce for another 3 minutes.

5. Just before serving, cook the noodles until done but still nice and chewy. Use a Chinese spider or slotted spoon to remove them to noodle bowls, but don’t pour out the noodle water. Ladle the sauce on top of each mound of noodles and garnish with the cucumbers and the optional green onions. Serve a soup bowl of the hot noodle water on the side to each person. Your diners should toss the noodles with the sauce and garnish so that there is a nice balance of fresh, sweet, salty, chewy, and soft in each bite.

Tips

Look, Ma, no beans!

Zhajiang is traditionally made out of steamed breads (plain mantou) that have been allowed to mold. These are then mixed with seasonings and the resulting mush ferments into a thick, rich sauce of the deepest, darkest brown.

The problem is that zhajiang is often translated as “black bean sauce” (see the photo to the right) or “sweet bean sauce” or something on that order, but no beans were injured during the making of this sauce. It should be called “sweet wheat paste,” as it is gently sweet and nicely savory. Check the ingredient list as here: it should mainly be wheat, water, caramel, and salt. If any beans or bean powder or soy sauce are mentioned, it should be as an afterthought.

The best brands are made in Korea, for my money. Excellent quality, balanced flavor, good texture… what’s not to love? 

Muslim style boneless lamb

Tenderest lamb imaginable

Of the three major influences on Beijing's cuisine -- Manchuria, Shandong, and Muslim -- perhaps the most remarkable one is the last. China in no way is an Islamic nation, nor has any of its emperors or presidents ever been a Muslim. But the foods of Central Asia were carried into the northern regions of China over a thousand years ago, and they took root in a land that has enthusiastically welcomed their flavors and aesthetics. 


True, many Chinese converted to Islam over the years, and the northwest and western regions still are home to a great many Muslims. But something happened to the spices and meats and breads that wound their way along the northern Silk Road and finally into the nation's capital: the foods became unmistakably Chinese.


Take this lamb recipe, for example. The meat is simmered for hours until little more than a harsh look makes it fall apart in your hands. And yet it is not at all dry: in fact, this might be the tastiest and juiciest lamb you've ever tried. It is on a par with the most delectable lamb dishes China offers.


But it is more than that: exotic spices that were imported into China -- cinnamon and fennel -- nestle up to Sichuan peppercorns, star anise, ginger, and green onions to scent even the innermost regions of the meat. Soy sauce and North China's beloved sweet wheat paste (tianmianjiang) season the sauce, but in keeping with halal rules there is no rice wine. 


The meat is perfectly delicious as is, but to bring it up one more level, it is fried in roasted sesame oil, which not only flavors the exterior, but also crisps up the edges and offers some of that inimitable Chinese counterpoint of tastes and textures.


This is served simply with some tender Spring Wraps to enfold the meat, along with a sprinkling of either shredded green onions or cilantro, plus the Fried Sweet Wheat Paste, which has a recipe down below, and the Mustardy Cabbage Mounds in the previous post make the perfect accompaniment. You can, of course, use plain sweet wheat paste instead of heating it up, but there is a rawness in the stuff that comes out of a jar, and this responds happily to a quick frying with some sesame oil, sugar, and a sprinkle of soy sauce to balance out the flavors.  


Leftover meat can be used, along with some of the cooking stock, as a terrific topping for plain wheat noodles. Top with some blanched greens and you have an utterly delicious meal practically as an afterthought!

Peppercorns and lamb

Muslim style boneless lamb -- 鍋燒羊肉  Guoshao yangrou
Serves 6 to 8 as a main dish and around 16 people as part of a multicourse meal


Lamb

Approximately 3½ pounds boneless organic, free-range lamb (leg or shoulder; see Tips)

1 leek or 5 green onions, trimmed and cleaned (see Tips)

10 slices fresh ginger

3 whole star anise

½ cup regular, good quality soy sauce

2 tablespoons sweet wheat paste

2 inches stick cinnamon

1 tablespoon Sichuan peppercorns

1 tablespoon whole fennel seeds

Filtered water to cover

1 cup fresh roasted sesame oil

Garnish

Fried Sweet Wheat Paste Sauce (recipe follows)

Shredded green onions and/or cilantro sprigs

Double the Spring Wraps recipe if you are serving the entire amount

1. Rinse the meat and pat it dry. If your butcher has not bundled the lamb in a net, use kitchen twine to tie it up, which will keep the meat from disintegrating during the long simmering.

2. Place the meat in a pot, cover with tap water, and bring the water to a boil. Simmer the meat for about 10 minutes, at which point scum will have risen to the surface. Dump out the water and rinse both the meat and the pot. Wipe all of the scum off with a paper towel and return the meat to the pot.

3. Add the leek or green onions in one piece to the pot (they are easier to remove this way), as well as the ginger, star anise, soy sauce, sweet wheat paste, cinnamon, Sichuan peppercorns, and fennel seeds. Add enough filtered water to cover the lamb. Bring the pot to a boil and then lower the heat to a simmer. Slowly cook the lamb uncovered for 4 hours, or until extremely tender. Cool in the stock. Remove the lamb from the stock and let it drain; see Tips. (You may prepare the lamb ahead of time up to this point and refrigerate the meat; the stock can be used for other things, as suggested above, and the fat can be easily removed once it is chilled.)

4. Remove the net or twine. Cut the meat in half with the grain so that you have two large slabs. (Fry only as much of the meat as you want to serve immediately.) Heat the sesame oil in a wok over medium-high heat until it starts to smoke and carefully add one half of the meat. Fry it on both sides until crispy. Cut it against the grain into strips and serve with the Spring Wraps, shredded green onions and/or cilantro sprigs, and Fried Sweet Wheat Paste Sauce. To eat, smear some of the sauce down the middle of a wrap, add a strip of the lamb, and tuck in some of the green onions; roll them up together and eat with your hands.

Dark & delicious

Fried Sweet Wheat Paste Sauce – 炸甜麵醬 Zha tianmianjiang

Makes about ½ cup

3 tablespoons roasted sesame oil

½ cup sweet wheat paste (tianmianjiang)

2 teaspoons sugar, or to taste

2 teaspoons regular soy sauce, or to taste

Toasted sesame seeds, optional

1. Pour the sesame oil into a wok and warm it up over medium heat until it is very liquid. Stir in the sweet wheat paste until the oil is incorporated. Taste and add as much sugar and soy sauce as needed. Cool to room temperature.

2. Scrape the sauce into either a container or small dishes for individual service. (This can be made ahead of time and stored in the refrigerator or at room temperature.) Sprinkle with the sesame seeds as garnish, if desired.

Tips

Use any tasty cut of boneless lamb; it should be fatty for the most flavor, and it can be full of connective tissue and tendons (as in the leg), since these will become soft and tender by the time the meat is fully cooked.

Some butchers will provide a net for boneless cuts like this. If yours doesn’t, simply tie kitchen twine around the lamb as for a roast (i.e., tightly around the meat at 1-inch intervals).

If you are using a leek, keep the root end on, split it down the center, and then rinse the leek under running water to remove all of the sand and dirt. Shake the leek dry and add it to the pot without cutting it up further; this makes its later removal much easier.

The brands of sweet wheat paste vary, so use your own judgment when seasoning the sauce. It should not be overly sweet, but rather have a lovely balance of sweet and savory. 

Top and bottom photo credit: Jen Y. Cheng