Pot au feu chez Huang

Autumn is finally here. The big-leaf maples in our foothills have thrown off their summer green for their stunning fall yellow. 

The flowers in the front yard are starting to fade and stud the garden with warm swaths of brown, confusing the butterflies, but delighting the chickadees and sparrows with this sudden abundance of tiny seeds. 

We’re even supposed to get rain this week, miracles of miracles. 

And so I’m putting away the salads and pulling out my recipes for stews and soups and other comfort foods that will cheer up the evenings and warm our toes.

Today’s dish is ostensibly from Zhejiang, but I’ve messed around with it a little bit. For example, I brown the beef and ginger, rather than keep them pale, as I love the deep flavor that caramelization provides. However, I don’t brown the onions, as that would be make this particular dish too dark.

Heavenly marbleization

Traditionally this is a very simple soup designed to highlight a relatively rare ingredient for Eastern Chinese cuisines: beef. Normally you’ll find this only in the far west, north, and central highlands, but once it a while it shows up in this area, as well as in Guangdong (like Crispy Beef Tomato Chow Mein… oh how I love that).

The only thing I’d advise you to really pay attention to here is the quality of the beef. Nothing will be able to disguise less-than-perfect meat, just as nothing can compare to the aroma and flavor of the finest beef. So last week when I came across these lovely chuck steaks at the Five Dot Ranch stall at Oxbow, they practically called out to me. I also managed to stock up on other hard-to-get yet incredibly delicious items such as beef heart, tripe, and shins. (More on those in the future.)

When an ingredient is as rare as beef in Zhejiang, you know that their heirloom recipes are going to put a spotlight on its presence, for it would have been an expensive treat. At the same time, any gaminess would have always been downplayed, for that is something that wouldn’t ever play well at a Hangzhou feast. So, what you end up with is something actually quite delicate and clever. Stark, even.

Ginger is a necessity here

Because it is so stark, I like to serve this with a mellow scallion-ginger dipping sauce. You’ve probably had this before many times in Cantonese delis, as it is almost a mandatory accompaniment to other plain dishes like White Cut Chicken. Using it here transforms something almost Puritanical into a sybaritic experience, for each slice of the braised beef gets bathed in a richly seasoned oil. 

I’ve tossed in spinach at the end, too, to make this more like a pot au feu– meat and veg all in one tidy casserole. It’s simple, yet delectable, and yet one more reason why I always look forward to autumn.

Pot au feu chez Huang

Huángjiā qīngdùn níuròu 黃家清燉牛肉

Zhejiang crossed with Guangdong

Serves 4 to 6

Beef:

1 tablespoon oil

1 generous tablespoon julienned ginger

1½ pounds | 750 g chuck steak (or whatever braise-worthy cut of beef looks good to you)

¼ cup | 60 ml Shaoxing rice wine, plus more as needed

Half an onion, thickly sliced

Freshly ground black pepper

Boiling water, as needed

Ice cubes, as needed

Mushroom seasoning or sea salt to taste

1 bunch spinach, cleaned and coarsely chopped, optional

Dipping sauce:

See the sauce for White Cut Chicken

Ahhhh, that caramel color

Note: These directions are for a pressure cooker. If you don’t have one, simply follow the directions through Step 2 using a wok or casserole, and then simmer the beef uncovered until it is barely fork tender, adding more liquid as needed. 

1. Set the bottom of a pressure cooker over medium-high heat and pour in the oil. Sprinkle in the ginger and then add the steak. Sear the steak on both sides until it is brown and crispy – the best way to do this is to patiently wait until a crust has formed on the bottom, at which point you will be able to gently nudge the beef free. It will stick and tear if you fuss with it before it’s ready, so really, wait for that crust to form. Always remember that caramelization is divine.

2. Pour in the rice wine. Add the onions and then the boiling water to barely cover. Do not add salt of any kind at this point, as it will toughen the meat. Cover the pressure cooker, seal, and cook on high pressure for 40 minutes, regulating the heat as needed. Remove the pressure cooker from the heat and let it cool down until you can open it easily. The beef should be barely fork tender, but not falling apart.

Fatty icebergs

3. Remove the beef to a plate, cool it to room temperature, and refrigerate it if you are not using it that evening. When the stock has cooled down, add a good handful of ice cubes to it, as this will solidify the fat. Strain the stock and discard the fat and solids. 

4. Cut the beef crosswise against the grain into slices about ½ inch | 1 cm thick, or however you like. Set it in a casserole and pour the strained stock over it. Gently raise the heat to a simmer so that the meat is warmed through but not violently recooked. Taste the stock and adjust the seasoning with more rice wine or whatever else you think it needs. Add the optional spinach, cover, and simmer these together just to wilt the leaves. Scoot the spinach into an attractive nest. Serve hot with the dipping sauce.

The most beautiful dish in the world

I can think of few foods that are as gorgeous as this one. Slices of chilled tendon look like they belong in a great cathedral rather than on a plate, and they shimmer and refract the light in almost unearthly ways.

In spite of that, they also are amazingly delicious and have a delightfully snappy texture that teases the palate. Beef tendons are also inexpensive ingredients and easy to cook, so there really is no excuse not to fall completely in love with this extraordinary dish.

And if all that was not enough, you can make this dish your own by seasoning it with pretty much whatever you like. I have provided some basic guidelines, but they really are little more than suggestions, as you just can’t go wrong here.

For example, these thin slivers first charmed their way into my heart at a Nanjing friend’s home, where he used a gently sweet soy marinade in the background with warm spices like star anise and ginger supplying the necessary fireworks. That is because tendons are actually completely flavorless; they are loved solely for their texture in China and for their collagen, which is considered especially wonderful as a supplement for the elderly, as it strengthens joints.

Afternoon light through a slice

Tendons can be used in many different ways, of course. They lend a lovely stickiness and body to soups and stews, leaving sensuous smears on the lips and giving the teeth something to sink into like luxurious pillows. Tendons are also beautiful in certain braises, especially this one from Zhejiang that is intensely seductive.

But no other recipe quite is as visually stunning as this dish. If we were ever able to build a temple to great food, I have the perfect design for its windows…  By the way, the Chinese and English names for this dish are my own. It is invariably called simply “braised tendons” (lŭ níujīn 滷牛筋), which does not even begin to hint at what is in store.

Stained-glass tendons

Cǎisè bōlí níujīn 彩色玻璃牛筋

Beijing Muslim

Serves 12 or more as an appetizer

4 beef tendons, cleaned

Filtered water

1 inch fresh ginger, thinly sliced

4 green onions

1 cup rice wine (Taiwanese Mirin)

 

Simply gorgeous

Suggested seasonings (all or some):

1 to 2 tablespoons smoked paprika

2 tablespoons regular soy sauce or sea salt to taste

2 star anise

½ stick cinnamon

3 cloves garlic, peeled

1 tablespoon Sichuan peppercorns

1 tablespoon fennel seeds

1 piece rock sugar (the size of a small egg)

1. Prepare this dish at least a day before you wish to serve it. Rinse the tendons and place them in a saucepan. Cover the tendons with water, bring the water to a boil, and simmer them for about 5 minutes. Dump out the water and rinse both the tendons and the pot to remove any scum.

2. Return the tendons to the pan and cover with filtered water. Add the ginger, green onions, and rice wine. Bring the pan to a full boil over high heat and then lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Cook the tendons for around 3 hours, or until they are barely tender.

3. At this point, add whatever seasonings you like and simmer the tendons for another hour or so until they are completely tender; I like to place the spices in a bag or spice ball so that they can be tossed out easily once the tendons are cooked. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning; remember that the flavors will be muted since the tendons are to be served cold, so over-season them a bit. Remove the pan from the heat and let it cool down a bit.

Raw tendons

4. Prepare a loaf pan by rinsing it out with cool water. Use tongs to lift the tendons and arrange them in the loaf pan, and then strain as much of the sauce onto the tendons to barely cover them; the rest of the sauce can be reserved and used in soups or for noodles. Cool the tendons completely, cover with plastic wrap, and chill overnight.

5. Rinse the bottom and sides of the loaf pan under very hot tap water to loosen the tendons, and then release the solid aspic out onto a cutting board. Use a very sharp knife to slice the tendons as thinly as possible; cut each slice in half, if you wish. Serve on a bed of fresh cilantro or other crunchy greens.

Tips:

Cleaned beef tendons can be found in many Asian and Latin groceries. I usually get mine in the frozen section of my favorite Korean store.

Raw tendons are impossible to cut, so leave them whole.

Blanching the tendons will get rid of most of the fat in this dish and also leave only a clean, neutral background for whatever seasonings you like.

Grilled beef pastries from Beijing's Muslims

Anyone who has spent a considerable amount of happy time eating along the streets and alleys of Beijing will tell you the same thing: these foods are more often than not the creations of the capital’s Muslim community. Tantalizing aromas of beef and lamb take the place of the usual Chinese preference for pork. Breads and pasta supplant the delight in rice.

Even more important is that the nice person who is cooking up the dish will often wear a small white hat or a scarf, for even though Mecca is thousands of miles away, in the southwest corner of the old city the thousand-year-old Muslim temple on Niujie (Ox Street) still summons the faithful.

Meant to be enjoyed at any hour of the day, I adore these crispy pastries fresh during leisurely weekend brunches and have them in the freezer for easy dinners during a busy week. That is because they are easy to make, freeze beautifully, and only need to be slowly fried to make their fragrant juices come alive.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...yup: 7

Often called “thousand-layer pastries” (qiancengbing) with what must be a salesman’s eye to flogging the daily special, I’ve only been able to find seven in here, which makes these, oh, about 993 layers short. But never mind. Those seven layers are perfect just as they are.

What happens is that the meat—seasoned with a steady hand and hued a rosy pink from the curing salt—is cosseted between thin pastry blankets. 

The outside crisps up into a crunchy brown that contrasts with the soft layers of bread and meat hiding inside. Forming all of these into thin strata ensures that the meat cooks quickly while remaining lusciously juicy, and the thin bread sheets have no time to turn doughy, but rather become like silk blankets.

In Beijing, these are usually served with bowls of thin millet porridge or hot cups of tea, and if a small plate of pickles completes the scene, then just about every food group is represented on your tiny table with a flourish. But up in the desert Northwest, a thin rice gruel, strong brick tea, or even a glass of milk might round out the meal.

In China, you always know where you are by the foods that are in front of you.

Grilled layered beef breads

Qīngzhēn níuròu qiāncéngbĭng 清真牛肉千層餅

Beijing
Serves 4

Roll the dough into a thin sheet

           

Filling:

1 pound organic ground chuck or ground beef (15% fat)

1½ tablespoons finely minced ginger

2 green onions, trimmed and finely chopped

2 teaspoons regular soy sauce

½ teaspoon sugar

⅛ teaspoon pink #1 curing salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1 clove garlic, peeled and finely minced

Wrappers:

1 cup Chinese flour

6 tablespoons boiling filtered water

2 to 3 tablespoons cool filtered water

Extra flour as needed

Oil for pan-frying

1. The day before you make these pastries, combine all of the filling ingredients except for the garlic, place in a covered container, and refrigerate at least 8 hours so that the meat has time to cure and marinate. Just before filling the pastries, stir in the garlic, which would overpower the filling if left in there too long. Divide the filling into 8 lumps.

2. To make the pastry, place the flour in a small work bowl and use chopsticks to stir in the boiling water until large flakes are formed. Then stir in just enough cool water to form a soft dough. Knead the dough on a lightly dusted smooth surface until the dough is supple and passes the earlobe test. Cover the dough with plastic wrap and let it rest for 20 to 30 minutes.

3. Divide the dough into 4 even pieces. Working on one piece at a time, and keeping the rest of the dough covered, roll it out on a lightly-floured smooth surface into a thin square around 10 inches on each side. Spread one of the portions of filling evenly over the lower half of the square, but keep the edges clean so that they can be sealed later. Fold the top half over the filling and lightly pinch the open edges closed. Then, spread another eighth of the filling evenly over the right half of the pastry—still keeping the edges clean—and then fold the left half over the right like a book. Firmly crimp the open edges closed to seal in the juices. Cover the filled pastry with plastic wrap to keep it from drying out. Repeat with the rest of the dough and filling until you have 4 filled pastries.

Spread the filling on the dough

4. The pastries can either be immediately cooked or frozen at this point. To freeze them, put them in a single layer on a sheet lined with plastic wrap; as soon as they have frozen solid, pack the pastries in a resealable freezer bag. The frozen pastries can be cooked like fresh ones, only use a lower heat to give the filling time to evenly defrost.

5. To cook them, heat a flat seasoned frying pan over medium heat and then film it with a tablespoon or two of oil. Lay as many pastries in the pan as you wish, as long as they do not touch each other, and cover the pan. Gently fry the pastries until they are a golden brown on one side, and then flip them over and fry the other side. Remove the cover for the final few minutes of frying so that the pastry crisps up on the outside. Cut into pieces, if you like, and serve as is, or with a black vinegar or chili dip.

Silk Road fajitas

I absolutely adore this dish. 

Granted, being a California kid, I practically grew up on Mexican dishes, so fajitas are pure comfort food as far as I am concerned. And I have to admit that as much as I adore the Mexican way with steak and tortillas, this version from up in the Chinese Northwest inevitably blows me away.

There is so much in common between the two—flour tortillas, grilled steak, barely cooked vegetables, cilantro, cumin, garlic, and a dash of salt—that they seem like mirror images of each other. 

Brilliant ideas sometimes seem to travel across space and time in order to end up on the plates of grateful diners. I don’t understand what wormhole allowed this to happen, but there you are.

Go ahead, squeeze some lime in your beer. Just don’t sneak any guacamole onto your plate.

Silk Road fajitas

Báobĭng jiān níuròu  薄餅煎牛肉

Northwest
Serves 4

16 Chinese flour tortillas (either baobing or héyèbĭng 荷葉餅) or 16 smallish but really good Mexican tortillas

Beef:

12 ounces boneless beef steak of any kind

2 tablespoons rice wine (Mijiu)

½ teaspoon sea salt

½ teaspoon ground toasted cumin

½ teaspoon (more or less) finely ground chilies

2 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

Vegetables:

2 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 sweet red pepper, trimmed and cut into thin strips

3 green onions, trimmed and julienned

1 cup coarsely chopped cilantro

1. Prepare the wheat wrappers and grill as directed. Place them in a clean tea towel and fold it around them to retain the heat. When it comes time to eat, peel the wrappers apart into thin tortillas, if you wish, or leave them as is.

2. Slice off the fat and any gristle in the steak before cutting it against the grain into thin slices. Cut across these slices to form strips less than ¼-inch thick. Place the steak strips in a small work bowl and toss with the rice wine, salt, cumin, chilies, and oil. (The steak can also be prepared earlier in the day, covered, and refrigerated so it has extra time to marinate.)

3. About 10 minutes before serving, heat a seasoned cast-iron frying pan over high heat. Toss in the steak and all of the marinade. Sear the steak by allowing it to brown before flipping the strips over. When most of the pink has disappeared and the meat has a good brown sheen, add the garlic and red peppers. Toss these together over high. As soon as the peppers barely start to wilt, remove the pan from the heat, and then toss in the green onions and finally the cilantro. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve alongside the warm tortillas.

Lamb & raisin pilaf from China's great northwest

Fragrant rice medleys stretch all the way across the main body of Asia, from the buttery rice and noodle pilafs of Armenia, the pilavs of Turkey, and the Persian polows that hover around the eastern edge of the Mediterranean and start trickling east into the desert regions of Central Asia, where the Uzbekis know it as palov and the Russians as plov, down through South Asia and the brilliant yellow pulaos of India and palaus of Afghanistan, and then curling back up over the Himalayas into western China, where the Uyghurs call it polo.

All along the way, the name stays very similar – pilaf, pilav, polow, palov, plov, pulao, palau, and polo, plus an assortment of alternate spellings in between – but when it gets to China, such foreign nomenclature is tossed out the window in favor of a description that goes right to the heart of the matter. 

The Chinese refer to this West China creation as zhuafan, or “grabbed rice,” because this is one of the few Chinese rice dishes that are not eaten with chopsticks, but rather with the fingers of the right hand in the Muslim manner.

Echoes of Central Asia therefore remain, and it is of course completely halal. This is an ideal accompaniment to any of the local lamb dishes, as bits of that meat dot the rice along with fruit and vegetables to provide visual and aromatic contrast: onions, golden raisins, and carrots.

The standard recipes I looked at called for a sort of fried rice, with cooked rice browned in the fat from a lamb’s tail and then simply tossed with all of the other ingredients. It was good, but I transported the traditional way of cooking pilafs in Armenia (and, for good measure, risottos in northern Italy, not that I'm starting a thrash here about the origins of Italian food) to Xinjiang and gently browned the onions, lamb, and raw rice in a combination of oil and butter (lamb tails are rather hard to find around here, I've found to my considerably dismay) before being simmered in a broth; the raisins and carrot are added toward the end so that they get to keep some of their personality.

This is easy and delicious, as well as a happy contemplation on a food that must have traveled a distant, winding path over countless years along ancient caravan routes as traders dined on golden piles of rice in walled oases, fell in love, and brought the recipe home as a treasured souvenir.

Uyghur pilaf 
Zhuāfàn 抓飯 
Xinjiang
Serves 4 to 6 as a side dish 

3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

Long grain brown rice

½ medium onion, chopped into ½-inch dice

4 ounces (about ½ cup) lamb, chopped into ½-inch dice (see Tips)

½ teaspoon sea salt

Freshly ground pepper to taste

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 cup raw long-grain rice (see Tips)

Boiling filtered water as needed

½ cup moist golden raisins

1 medium carrot

1. Heat the oil in a wok or large frying pan over medium-high until it starts to shimmer and then add the onion, lamb, salt, and pepper. Lower the heat to medium and fry the onions and lamb until they just start to turn brown on the edges. Scoot the meat and onions up the side of the wok or pan away from the heat.

2. Raise the heat to medium-high, add the butter to the pan, and when it is melted pour in the raw rice. Stir the rice over the heat until it starts to turn golden and smell nutty. Mix the rice with the lamb and onions. Pour in 1 cup boiling water and stir the water into the rice. Lower the heat to medium-low and cook the rice gently uncovered, stirring once in a while and adding more boiling water as needed.

3. While the rice is cooking, rinse the raisins and drain them. Peel the carrot and cut it into thin lengths about the width of the raisins. Then, cut across the carrot strips to make pieces that are about the same size as the raisins.

4. When the rice is almost done, toss in the raisins and carrots so that the carrots are just barely cooked at the same time that the rice is done. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more butter if you like. Cover the pan, remove it from the heat, and let it steam from the residual heat for about 10 minutes before you serve hot.

Lamb neck meat

Tips

Any cut of lamb can be used here as long as it is of good quality. Remove any sinews or silver skin so that you are left with only tender morsels.

Vegetarians can, of course, eliminate the lamb and substitute some tasty variety of mushroom cut in ½-inch dice.

Use long grain rice, not short grain, which is too starchy for this dish. I like brown rice here, as it adds an extra level of nuttiness to the pilaf.

The amount of water used varies according to the type of rice used, the heat of the stove, and so forth, so just keep an eye on the pilaf as it cooks and add a bit more boiling water as needed to keep the rice moist and fluffy.

Xinjiang style lamb kebabs

Kebabs are popular all across Central Asia, from Turkey in the west and up through North China. The differences in preparation are relatively minimal, depending upon the type and cut of meat, as well as the seasonings.

Out on the far west edge of China is a region they call Xinjiang ("the new borderlands"), which also has the old and much more romantic English name of Chinese Turkestan. A title like that summons up images of caravans on the ancient Silk Road that used to connect Xi'an in the east with Venice in the west, passing through fabled oases like Samarkand as spices and silks wound their way across the harshest terrain on the planet.

When we finally got enough money together to make our long-delayed trip to China, the first place on my list was China's wild west. It was the one place I was as yet unfamiliar with, but the Silk Road had haunted my memories ever since my youth, when I had read and then dreamed about bazaars and shifting sands, wanting to smell the aroma of whole lambs roasting over open fires. 

Cumin, chili pepper, & garlic

This is Central Asia seen through a Chinese prism, a region where Cossacks, Mongolians, Tibetans, Uyghurs, and Hui Muslims have as much claim to membership in China's glorious spectrum of cuisines as the Hans, their cultures intermingling with glorious abandon as spices from one region creep into and improve another, where cooking methods evolve as new generations grow up with the blood of many tribes mingling in their veins.

Take, for example, this wondrous skewered lamb dish from Xinjiang. It is something that speaks of an Uzbek mother somewhere upstream further west along the Silk Road. And yet, where Uzbekis might prepare this with lemon juice, onions, cilantro, coriander seeds, salt, and garlic, in Xinjiang all of these flavors are discarded (save for the salt and garlic so beloved by Chinese of every stripe) in favor of a simple dry rub of ground chili peppers and powdered cumin. As a result, this meat dish is ineffably Chinese and yet completely halal.

Dry rub as the Gobi

The traditional recipe for this kebab calls for oil to be mixed in with the meat. But I use the unsung and under-appreciated shoulder here (as in most of my lamb dishes) and have found that the fat already on this delightful part of the animal is just the right amount to both baste the meat as it cooks and provide a buttery flavor. Also, if you are cooking indoors, the extra oil often will cause billows of smoke, so try it without the oil first and see if you like it.

This recipe is so easy that I am always tempted to make a couple of pounds of the meat tossed with the dry rub for fast dinners later on in the week. It freezes well this way, too, and only needs to be defrosted before threading it onto the skewers.

You can vary the spices as you like, adding more chili pepper if you really enjoy hot foods, or tossing in some minced ginger. The cumin is what really makes this dish especially tasty, and for this I like to use freshly ground cumin seeds, which are much more aromatic than the fusty powder sitting on the back of your shelf behind an ancient jar of ground cloves.

Serve these kebabs with steamed rice or Xinjiang-style pilaf (coming soon), or with any number of flatbreads. I especially love these tasty nuggets wrapped up in a freshly-made thin griddle bread (also coming soon) with no more than a few sprigs of cilantro for contrast and a very unkosher cold beer to wash it all down.

Happy 2013!

Served on griddle breads

Xinjiang style lamb kebabs 
Xīnjiāng yángròu chuàn 新疆羊肉串 
Xinjiang

Serves 4 as an entree

1 pound boneless lamb shoulder (see Tips)

4 to 6 cloves garlic

2 tablespoons ground cumin

2 tablespoons coarsely ground chili pepper

2 teaspoons sea salt

1. Start this recipe at least 6 hours before you wish to serve it. Use 8 small or 4 large metal or bamboo skewers for the kebabs; I like long, forked bamboo skewers (see Tips), as the pair of tines helps hold the meat easily, and the sharp ends make threading the meat relatively easily. If you are using bamboo skewers, soak them in warm water for a few hours before you cook the meat.

2. Rinse the meat and pat it dry with a paper towel. Trim off and discard any silver skin or tendons, but leave on the fat. Cut the meat in long, thin strips against the grain; the length of the strips doesn't matter, but the meat should be about ¼-inch thick. Place the strips in a resealable plastic bag or a plastic container.

Marinating lamb

3. Mix the garlic, cumin, chili pepper, and salt together, and then use this as a dry rub for the meat. Toss the seasonings with the meat and lightly massage it into each piece so that the lamb is well seasoned. Close the bag or container and refrigerate for at least 6 hours and up to around 5 days, depending upon your fridge (again, the prepped meat also freezes well).

4. Prepare either a ridged grill pan for indoor cooking or an outdoor barbecue for grilling. Thread the meat onto the skewers, but don’t compact the meat too tightly so that it cooks evenly. Cook the meat on a grill pan or barbecue over medium heat. Allow one side to slightly char before turning the skewer over. The lamb is done when the second side is also lightly charred. Let the meat rest for about 10 minutes before serving.

Tips

I like lamb shoulders because the meat is flavorful and tender without costing much. Also, if the butcher bones it first, this makes life a whole lot simpler. If you buy a whole shoulder, you can divide it into smaller portions and freeze whatever you are not using within the next couple of days.

Organic lamb really shines in this dish, as it is all about the quality of the meat.

Pretty bamboo skewers

Like many spices, cumin is best when it is freshly ground. I buy whole seeds and then grind around ¼ cup of the spice to have on hand for my far west binges, as this way it stays fresh and fragrant.

For my money, the best skewers are double-tined bamboo. First of all, they are relatively cheap but still can be used a few times before discarding. The ends are needle sharp, which makes threading the meat a breeze, and the two tines allow the meat to not only be skewered, but also wrapped around the bamboo as needed. Very convenient. Just be sure to soak them well so that they don't burn up.

Chinese jiaozi two ways

Zester Daily has just put up an article by me on how to host a jiaozi (or dumpling) party. This now includes the embedded video I made showing in detail how to form these tasty little raviolis at every stage, from mixing the dough to serving.

I will be showing you three different jiaozi fillings. This time it will be a pair that feature meat, while the next article will talk about a lovely vegetarian filling, as well as how to make the wrappers from scratch. 

These two meat versions get to appear first for no other reason than they are simply just too good to pass up: cinnamon scented Muslim style beef, as well as one with juicy shrimp and pork. 

Mixing up the beef filling...

The Muslim style filling was made to match memories of the deliciously aromatic ones made by a little eatery at the corner of Hoping East Road and Roosevelt Road in downtown Taipei. This place is long gone, but the delicious memories of this northern style restaurant linger on. Spotless and always crammed with happy diners, this was the first place -- and also the last place -- where I'd ever had this kind of filling. Recreated from hungry recollections, this one will please any meat eaters at your party.

To contrast with the northern sensibilities of the beef jiaozi we have a Cantonese style filling from southern China. This is a lush, vibrant mix of best quality pork with large shrimp chunks that snap between the teeth. 

All are delicious and all are easy to make ahead of time. See the Tips below for some suggestions on making the fillings. Directions for the wrappers will be found on Zester Daily, and a link will be included here as soon as they are up.

and the pork with shrimp

Muslim-style beef jiaozi filling 
Qingzhen niurou xian 清真牛肉餡  
Beijing Muslim
Enough for about 18 jiaozi

1 pound best quality ground chuck (not too lean)

¼ cup finely chopped fresh ginger

2 tablespoons ground cinnamon, optional

2 tablespoons regular soy sauce

1 teaspoon sugar

Ground black pepper to taste

4 large leaves napa cabbage

1 teaspoon sea salt

4 green onions, finely chopped

Slice the cabbage by rolling up the leaves

1. Up to 2 days before filling the jiaozi, mix the ground chuck in a work bowl with the ginger, cinnamon, soy sauce, sugar and pepper. Pack into a container.

2. Finely chop the cabbage by rolling it up tightly before slicing it, and then cutting the slices into small pieces. Place the cabbage in a colander in the sink and toss it with the salt. Wait about half an hour and then squeeze the cabbage dry in your fists. If you are not filling the jiaozi immediately, layer the cabbage on top of the meat filling, cover and refrigerate.

3. Just before filling, toss the beef filling with the cabbage and onions. Adjust seasonings (see Tips), and then fill the jiaozi.

Shrimp and pork jiaozi filling
Xianxia zhurou xian 鮮蝦豬肉餡 

Guangdong
Enough for about 18 jiaozi

8 ounces fresh or defrosted frozen shrimp

1 pound best quality ground pork (not too lean)

¼ cup finely chopped fresh ginger

3 tablespoons regular soy sauce

2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine

1 teaspoon sugar

Ground black pepper to taste

4 large leaves napa cabbage

1 teaspoon sea salt

4 green onions, finely chopped

Friends chatting at our jiaozi party...

1. Up to 2 days before filling the jiaozi, shell and devein the shrimp, if necessary. Coarsely chop them (into ¼ inch pieces) and mix them in a work bowl with the pork, ginger, soy sauce, rice wine, sugar and black pepper. Pack into a container.

2.  Finely chop the cabbage by rolling it up tightly before slicing it, and then cutting the slices into small pieces. Place the cabbage in a colander in the sink and toss it with the salt. Wait about half an hour and then squeeze the cabbage dry in your fists. If you are not filling the jiaozi immediately, layer the cabbage on top of the meat filling, cover and refrigerate.

3. Toss the pork and shrimp filling with the cabbage and onions. Adjust seasonings (see Tips), and then fill the jiaozi.

Tips

while others enjoy eating...

Flour. In this recipe, as well as in every other one of Chinese pastry recipes, I call for Korean flour, which is similar in gluten content to Chinese all-purpose flour, but is of more consistent quality. As with French and Italian recipes, American flour results in a tougher dough, while Korean flour provides a gentle suppleness combined with just enough snap that you end up with perfect Chinese pasta. The mixture of American flours listed below as an alternative is a distant second when it comes to good results, as gluten qualities and freshness vary so much. You can find Korean flour at many East Asian markets.  

Freezing. Uncooked jiaozi freeze beautifully, so try to make more than you think you will need. Freeze the extra uncooked jiaozi on a cloth-covered baking sheet; make sure that they do not touch each other or else they will stick together. As soon as they are very hard, remove them to a resealable plastic freezer bag and return to the freezer; boil the jiaozi without defrosting them first.  

Any leftover cooked dumplings can be lightly fried in a few tablespoons of oil over medium-high heat until golden all over, and they are just about as delicious as the freshly boiled ones. Do note that you cannot steam these jiaozi, as these use what is called a “cold dough” (only room temperature water is mixed into the flour), while steamed ones call for “hot dough” (where boiling water is stirred into the flour).

and some toast the New Year

A perfect flat surface. One of the best places to roll out dough (or knead bread, for that matter) is the underside of a pullout chopping board. Most people use only the top side of the board to cut things on and forget that there is a nice, unblemished surface underneath. If you are lucky enough to have such a board, place a damp cloth on your counter to keep the board from moving around and place the board on top of that. Then, when you are through making the wrappers, be sure that you turn the board right side up before you put it away in order to protect its smooth surface.

Add the onions and cabbage last. Raw onions can overwhelm a dish and take on a slightly foul aroma if not cooked immediately. Likewise, cabbage can become watery if added to the filling to early, even if salted first. So, I recommend that for meat fillings, you pack them into containers, layer the salted squeezed cabbage on top and don’t add the onions until the last minute. The vegetarian filling, too, should wait until the last minute before the onions are mixed in.

Adjust seasoning as desired. Fry a small amount of the filling (no additional oil should be necessary) and taste it to adjust the seasoning; more sugar, oil, salt or any other fine-tunings can then be made right before you fill the dumplings.