Hunan charcuterie and leeks

A couple of more wonderful props were awarded to All Under Heaven during the last few days of 2016. 

But before we get to them, I first want to thank everyone for making this the best year of my life in spite of everything else that went on, for the simple reason that my two books were published and then received such a warm welcome. And not only that, but we moved into the house of our dreams. And then throughout the year so many wonderful things happened to friends and family. Really, I am endlessly grateful. 

Thank you for reading this blog, cooking from my recipes, and being out there in the world.

Christmas cheer in a Chinatown alley

In The Kitchn’s “6 Travel-Inspired Cookbooks for the Adventurous Cook,” Dana Velden points out that “I can't think of a reason why any serious student of Chinese food and culture would not have this comprehensive and informative volume on their shelf. Authentic yet accessible, All Under Heaven is fascinating and not as intimidating as its heft and breadth would have you believe. The author's simple line drawings help to clarify techniques and ingredients and add charm to the whole experience.”

And then in Chowhound’s “Cookbook Gift Guide for the Holidays,” Amy Sowder writes that in Heaven you can “wrap your head around all the varieties of Chinese food in this comprehensive, contemporary portrait of country's culinary geography and history that has shaped it.”

What happy reviews!

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This is a simple recipe for the end of the year. We are all tired of making fancy stuff for the holidays – or at least I am – and so this is the sort of super easy recipe I like to turn to when I find things like excellent young leeks hanging out at the market.

We have had lots and lots and lots of rain here in the Bay Area these past couple of weeks (months?), and so produce is either fabulous (particularly cold weather crops like root vegetables) or soggy (like lettuce). I tend to go with what the market suggests, so when I spied these amazingly beautiful young leeks, I knew what we were having for dinner.

Thin leeks like these are usually the result of thinning out rows to give the lucky remaining plants plenty of room to grow into luscious mammoths. The tender ones that don’t make the cut, though, are genuinely flavorful and don’t have to be braised or chopped into submission, and that makes them excellent for stir-fries.

They require only the minimum of care: trim, rinse carefully, slice, and you’re ready to go. I’d caution that these don’t store well and the leaves turn yellow if allowed to hang around, so enjoy them the same day that you bring them home.

As for the meat, either Hunan or Cantonese cured pork belly work equally well. Hunan larou is smoked, while the Cantonese version is not but yet is ever-so-slightly sweet. To prepare the meat, rinse off a hunk, shave off the skin (discard or toss in the soup pot), and then slice the pork against the grain into thin shards. This allows the fat to render easily, and the meat won’t turn into hard nuggets if you keep the heat low as it surrenders its fat.

Look for brands that are made in the U.S. rather than China, as they will be of higher quality. Select strips that have thin ribbons of dark meat woven with the pale fat, as this means they will be both tender and flavorful. Keep the charcuterie dry and closed in a plastic bag, and it will remain in perfect condition for quite a few weeks as long as it is kept chilled – freeze for longer storage.

 

Larou hanging out a window in SF

And again, this is more of a template than a regular recipe. It all depends on what you have, what you like, and what else is being served. Feel more than free to double or halve the meat, add fresh chilies or hot sauce, toss in chopped fermented black beans, add some thinly sliced pressed bean curd... the possibilities are truly endless. 

Here is a recipe from the archives that is a bit more complex and very Hunanese with its layered flavors and perfect for the chilehead in your life. But if you want something soothing and low tech, go with today's version.

I serve this over steamed rice and nothing else really is needed on a cold winter night, except for maybe a good movie. I’m watching Die Hard for the millionth time once I finish up with this. It’s my favorite Christmas movie.

Leek and charcuterie stir-fry

Suànmiáo chăo làròu 蒜苗炒臘肉

Hunan

Serves 2 as a main dish

Gaoliang and leeks

12 ounces / 330 g young leeks or green garlic

2 red chilies or 1 tablespoon Hunan style chile sauce, optional

1 tablespoon fermented black beans (doushi or douchi), optional

4 ounces / 120  g Cantonese or Hunan cured pork belly (larou)

1 teaspoon sugar

2 tablespoons / 30 ml white liquor (gaoliang recommended)

2 tablespoons / 30 ml regular soy sauce

1. Trim the roots off of the leeks, as well as any soft or yellow leaves. You should be left with only springy stalks with bright green leaves. Cut the leeks on a deep diagonal into thin slices, and keep the greens separate from the whites. If you are using fresh chilies, remove the stems and slice them on a deep diagonal into thin ovals. If you are using the fermented black beans, rinse them in a sieve and then coarsely chop them.

Charcuterie

2. Rinse the pork and cut off the rind. Cut the meat into thin shards against the grain, preferably into deeply diagonal slices so that they don’t end up too tiny. Set your wok over medium-low heat and sprinkle the pork in there. Toss them around now and then as they render their fat. When the white parts turn translucent, scoot them up the side of the wok and toss the optional chilies in their too before moving them up to the side of your wok.

3. Raise the heat under your wok to medium-high. Add the leek whites to the wok and toss them around in the oil. When they have wilted, scoot them up the side before adding the greens. Once they have wilted, add the optional chile sauce to the bottom of the wok to heat it quickly before tossing everything together.

4. Add the sugar to the dish, toss, and then the liquor and finally the soy sauce. Toss to coat everything evenly and adjust the seasoning as needed. Serve hot.

Amazing Hakka salt pork, green garlic & leeks

In the last post here, we talked about Chinese charcuterie and, more importantly perhaps, about how to make your very own Hakka-style salt pork.

 Now we're going to look at ways to transform those crusty coils sleeping in your fridge into dishes that are so good they practically defy description. But I'll try...

The only thing you really need to do with this cured pork is rinse it, slice it, and cook it. No seasoning is needed. At. All. 

You will find that these gorgeous porky slices embody just about everything you will ever want in a savory dish: meaty flavor, delectable fat, even-handed seasoning, and an enticing aroma. 

All you need to do is summon up a supporting cast. And since none of these are truly recipes -- more on the order of tossing things together -- I will just provide some general guidelines.

Green garlic

At the top here is a picture of a lovely breakfast or brunch dish that does complete justice to the salt pork: eggs and thinly sliced green garlic, as well as just a bit of oil to hasten the browning process. I added absolutely no other seasonings, and the dish was amazingly balanced.

Green garlic is available now around here for a brief couple of weeks, and I urge you to try this if you haven't already. 

At this stage in its life, garlic looks and acts a whole lot like leeks, which are their city cousins. Green garlic is much more rustic and yet also much more fleeting, as the stalks soon dry and brown as the garlic head matures.

Browned cured pork & leeks

When you buy either green garlic or leeks, look of course at the root end; the leeks especially should have plump white rootlets, while the garlic will withstand a little more manhandling due to its aspirations to grow up into a fat bulb. 

Most importantly, check the center of the leaves: do not buy either kind of allium if there is a flower stalk, which usually looks like a solid green stick. 

What does the flower mean? That the leek/garlic is already woody and tough, the leaves are getting ready to shrivel, and you will end up with very little to work with once you remove the stem.

Cured pork strips

To make this dish for two people, remove and discard the skin from half of a strip of the salt pork, slice the pork thinly against the grain, and then brown it over medium heat along with about 2 tablespoons oil. 

Wash and trim either two stalks of green garlic or one leek, making certain that there is no sand in between the leaves. Slice the green garlic or leeks very thinly on the bias and add to the browned pork. Stir them around over medium head until they wilt, and then add 3 or 4 eggs. Fry the eggs any way you like, and then serve up the dish.

A variation on this dish omits the eggs for a savory appetizer or beer snack or a nice side dish with plain congee: brown the sliced pork as explained above, add thinly sliced green onions or leeks, and then fry them together quickly with just a splash of rice wine to soften the veggies. 

Sliced cured pork

Finally, a very traditional Hakka way of enjoying salt pork is to trim and slice it as noted, and then steam the sliced pork on a plate it until done. 

Drain off the juices (save them for soup or a stir-fry, if you like) and serve the steamed pork with its fat still attached along with thinly sliced leeks or green garlic. 

The perfect dipping sauce for those who really want to scare off vampires is simply chopped garlic in vinegar. Save this dish for good friends you are not hoping to kiss.

Taiwanese beer house style sausage

In my previous column I talked about the wonders of Chinese sausage stir-fried with cabbage.  I'm now going to surrender to another taste memory that centers around lop chong, but this one is dated about 10 years later when I already was a seasoned denizen of Taipei.

A couple of posts ago I mentioned the beer houses (pijiu wu) that used to line the upper reaches of Zhongshan North Road in the Tianmu district. And boy, was that the best time to live in Taiwan, for in addition to the incredible restaurants that studded almost every street in Taipei, the buzzing little hives of great food and cold beer known as beer houses were always on my permanent rotation list because it just was the best way to end the week, relaxing with good friends over savory nibbles that just kept on coming until we couldn't eat any more.

Julienned leeks form the bed

One of the most popular of these Chinese tapas was a truly simple dish: slices of grilled sweet sausages lightly brushed with a soy marinade and served on a toothpick with garlic.  This was one of those redolent dishes that everybody at the table had to eat, but we never complained... the sausages were crispy and juicy, the sauces sweet and salty, the raw garlic sharp and tasty, and it all mixed so well with our icy beers that we'd often order seconds.  This dish is also a beloved street food throughout Taiwan, with people walking down streets as they nibble on fat wieners roasted on sticks, much like corn dogs.

When we moved back to California, I worked on recreating this favorite dish, and over the years it morphed into its present state, one that we love to eat on warm summer evenings with, yes, a beer or maybe some cold sake or a glass of chilled Pinot Grigio. It's now sausages chez Huang, but enough of the original fingerprints are still visible to keep this firmly in the Taiwanese corner of Chinese cuisine.

What has changed here: first out was the garlic.  I love garlic in all its forms, but too many raw cloves can be overwhelming. However, I did want the suggestion of garlic, so I started serving the sausage on thin shards of fresh leek, which has much of the same herbal zing as its earthier relative without all the fumes.  I now cut up big pillows of leeks to serve under the main event because, more often than not, I want a big mouthful of that oniony goodness to cushion to meaty burst of the sausage.

Lop chong

Next, since I can't get ahold of the fat fresh wieners that seem to be made only in Taiwan, I now rely on Cantonese lop chong. However, they're dry rather than juicy, so instead of grilling them whole, I slice them thinly on the diagonal. This makes them easy to chew and also exposes more of the sausage. 

That last point is really important because slicing them into long strips allows more of the lop chong to brown and even burn a bit on the edges, so that it ends up crispy and smoky.  I like to bake the sausage slices at very high heat, rather than broil them, as the sugar in the lop chong blackens easily. And if you do this in a toaster oven, it will end up as an incredibly economical dish, plus using a small oven helps keep the house cool.  

Just arrange the slices in a thin layer on a broiler pan (which allows the fat escape and not catch on fire), bake the lop chong until it's browned and smells delicious, and that's pretty much about it.  I drizzle some soy sauce paste or oyster sauce over the leek shards, pile the sausage slices on top, and serve.

One variation on this that we adore is duck liver sausage (yagan chang) instead of the lop chong. This is a darker meat that when done right has the subtle boozy undertone of white liquor, or gaoliang.  No matter what type of sausage you use, keep an eye on it as it broils, turning it over often so that all the pieces brown evenly. Snap up any burned offerings for yourself.


Chinese sausage Taiwanese style 
Taishi kao xiangchang  台式烤香腸 
Southern Fujian, Taiwan

Serve 6 to 8 as a small plate or tapa

1 medium leek, white part only
6 Chinese sausages
Soy sauce paste or oyster sauce

1. Cut and rinse the leek as directed in this post. Shake the leek dry and cut it sharply on the diagonal into very thin slices.  Separate the rings, fluff up the pile, and mound it on your serving dish.

2. Heat your oven to 450 degrees F.  Rinse the sausages and pat dry.  Slice them thinly on the bias into long pieces.  Separate the slices and place them on a broiler pan.  Cook the sausage slices a few inches from the upper element, turning them every minute or so as they cook so that they brown evenly. Remove the pan from the oven.

3. Drizzle the soy sauce paste or oyster sauce over the leeks. (You can also serve extra in a small saucer on the side.) Pile the sausage slices on top of the leeks and serve with a cold beverage.