Guilin rice noodles

Today’s dish combines last week’s braised beef shanks with pickles in what has to be one of the most sublime pairings I’ve ever enjoyed. What’s more, the main components of this noodle soup – namely the braised beef and the pickled long beans – can be either store-bought or made at home long in advance, which means that this is a really easy recipe to pull together.

I would, of course, strongly urge you to make both of these yourself. Like I already showed you, these Muslim-style shanks are simply divine and can be cooked with very little effort. The pickled green beans are super easy, too, if you already have a crock filled with the aromatic brine from traditional Sichuan-style pickles that we explored a couple of years ago. This traditional way to ferment pickles has become one of the most popular recipes I’ve ever posted on this blog, and I really urge you to get a crock going in your kitchen ASAP.

After three weeks in a delicious brine

It’s hard to describe just how tasty these beans are, but here goes: While commercial ones may be dully green, soft, and sour, these homemade ones posses a much brighter olive color, are gently crispy, and have a lovely range of flavors hiding inside their skins - juices that squish out onto your tongue with each bite and turn this simple street snack into what might easily become an addiction. Of course, if you don't have a nice bunch of these at the ready, just about any other crunchy green Chinese pickle will do, including the cabbage in that main Sichuan recipe or even Shanghai mustard pickles.

Many classic Guangxi dishes as prepared in the bigger cities and lowlands combine local ingredients with Cantonese techniques, but the cuisine does an about-face as one moves into higher altitudes, for it ends up looking and tasting much more like the cooking of its northwestern neighbor, Guizhou. 

Fresh long beans ready for the crock

This is most likely the one dish that the beautiful city of Guilin is most famous for among the Chinese, and pork is the usual meat component here, but those braised shanks work like a dream, too.

So, if you have the ingredients mentioned here already made, you can have a steaming bowl of noodles in a flash.

Guilin rice noodles
Guìlín mĭfěn 桂林米粉 

Guangxi

Serves 2

Thin slices of braised beef shin

1 pound | 500 g fresh rice noodles

Boiling water as needed

½ cup (or so) pickled long beans, or other pickled vegetables, chopped and rinsed with boiling water

10 (or so) thin slices braised beef shank, plus some of the braising sauce

Large handful of coarsely chopped cilantro

2 scallions, finely chopped

Finely ground chile peppers, to taste

1 handful fried soybeans or peanuts

Fresh rice noodles & green onions

1. Place the rice noodles in a wide colander and separate them as much as possible. Put the colander in the sink and run boiling water over them. Shake the colander to fluff up the noodles, and then divide them between two large soup bowls.

2. Arrange the beef slices and pickles on top of the noodles and drizzle in about ¼ cup of the braising liquid. Pour enough boiling water into each bowl so that about an inch of the noodles is peeking out. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Divide the cilantro and green onions among the bowls, and sprinkle on some ground chili pepper, if you like. Toss and eat.

Five cup duck: a Guangxi delight

When I came across mention of this recipe, I became obsessed. Five Cup Duck. It had to be delicious.

And you know what? I was right.

The reason for my rapt attention is a) I love duck, b) I love Jiangxi's Three Cup Chicken, and c) I really wanted to know what the five cups were. Jiangxi's most famous dish has a cup each of sugar, soy sauce, and oil, and it is certainly wonderful. And here Guangxi -- which shares no borders with Jiangxi but nonetheless is not that far away -- was one-upping that province with a total of five mysterious ingredients.

When I finally found a recipe, it seemed good but not quite yet divine. 

It was on the right track, though. Instead of soy sauce, it called for salt water, and the other two ingredients were vinegar and rice wine, making this another entry in the Chinese pantheon of sweet and sour dishes. 

Fry the honey-coated bird

However, the duck was merely chopped up and quickly fried in this mixture. That is not how I like my duck. The best red meats are always slow-cooked in my book. Think of how heavenly and tender pork and lamb and beef and, yes, duck get when they are gently poached or braised or roasted. This gives the muscles time to relax, the moisture to  meld with the meat, and the flavors to penetrate every last morsel.

So I've taken Guangxi's traditional banquet dish and updated it, giving it more flavor, more depth, and a whole lot more succulence. And do you want to know what the best part is? The duck gets even better by the second day, when it's had a chance to sit in those jelly-like juices and turn into a quivering mass of perfection. 

This recipe is so good it's unreal.

But what you really have to understand is that this is a very easy dish to make. The only thing you have to do is prep a cleaned duck and then fry it to tighten and flavor and degrease the skin. Then you just plop it in the braising liquid and let it simmer very very very slowly for a couple of hours.

Cantonese white liquor

This frying step is genius. First, you smear honey all over the toweled-off bird and then fry every inch of the skin. You'll notice the skin tighten up like a drum as it shrinks in the hot fat. And, as the honey on the skin turns a deep mahogany, the fat underneath the skin will eke out into the wok, releasing all sorts of incredible aromas. If you don't do this frying step, the skin will be flabby, and all of the duck fat will drown your braising liquid. Like I said, it's a brilliant technique for braising poultry. 

Now back to the braising liquid. The traditional recipe calls for a cup each of sugar, salt water, rice wine (you can tell this is city food by all the sugar and wine!), oil, and rice vinegar. What I've done is reduced the sugar by a quarter, used a Cantonese white liquor that is rice based but packs a terrific wallop, substituted a mixture of balsamic and cider vinegar for the Chinese rice vinegar that I am still very wary of, and added a fistful of sliced ginger to both season the meat and erase some of the duck's innate gaminess. 

For the vinegar, I went for a really nice balance of sweet and tart by using half balsamic and half cider vinegar. (Bragg's is one cider vinegar that I heartily recommend.) This provided me with what is almost an almost identical ringer for a good dark Chinese vinegar, and it's one I'll be using in a lot more recipes, too.

Ginger in the braise

If you like a sweeter sauce, you'll be able to add more sugar later on when the duck's done. And if you prefer a tarter one, dribble in some vinegar just before you serve it.

One thing that makes this braised duck different from just about any other Chinese duck is the lack of herbs and aromatics. The original recipe didn't even have ginger in it, which is highly unusual. Most braised duck recipes from Shandong down through the Yangtze River valley out to Fujian and over in Sichuan all call for a grab bag of medicinal herbs that not only flavor, but also add to the restorative properties of a duck dish. You, of course, can add whatever you like, or you can even eliminate the ginger, if you want to be completely traditional.

This is perfect as is, served whole at the table so that guests can pluck off pieces. No cutting is needed, as it will fall apart with little encouragement.

What's more, it is incredible as a topping for the soft rice noodles that Guangxi revels in. So, if you do have friends over for dinner, try to squirrel away a few pieces of the duck for the next day. Or, if you are as in love with duck as I am, make two ducks and revel in your brilliant foresight over the next couple of days. A recipe for these noodles is down below.


Five cup duck Guangxi style 
Guangxi wubei ya  廣西五杯鴨
Guangxi
Serves 6 to 8 as part of a multicourse meal, 3 to 4 as a main dish

1 whole duck, as natural as possible
3 to 4 tablespoons honey
Frying oil as needed
1 cup Cantonese rice white liquor (Shiwan mijiu) or other rice wine
½ cup balsamic vinegar plus ½ cup cider vinegar, or 1 cup unseasoned rice vinegar
1 cup fresh peanut or vegetable oil
1 cup filtered water, plus more as needed
2½ teaspoons sea salt
¾ cup sugar
2 inches fresh ginger, thinly sliced

Cut up whole duck

1. Clean the duck and pat dry. If the head, neck, and feet are attached, cut them off and reserve, if you like, as well as any giblets, such as the liver, gizzard, and heart. Remove any large pieces of fat around the top and bottom openings; save the fat for something else (see Tips). Cut off the tips of the wings (the last joints) and reserve. What you should end up should look like the photo on the right: 

2. Use a sharp paring knife to poke tiny holes in the skin over the heavy fat deposits, which usually are around the neck and by the thighs; this will help the fat escape as it melts. Rub the honey all over the outside of the duck body so that it is fully coated. 

3. Heat a cup or so of frying oil in a wok over medium high heat until a chopstick inserted in the oil immediately bubbles all over. Carefully add the duck and fry it on all sides until it is golden brown. Don't try to rush this process, so adjust the heat so that the duck slowly fries and doesn't burn. Be careful of the liquid that will collect in the duck as it cooks; these juices will spatter when they hit the hot oil, so have a spatter screen or lid ready to protect you whenever you turn the duck over.

4. Have either a large sandpot or crockpot ready; it should be just large enough to snugly hold the duck, about 5 cups sauce, and the trimmings, if you want. When the duck is a golden brown all over, drain off all the oil from the bird and place it in the pot breast side up. Add the rest of the ingredients to the duck, as well as any trimmings (such as the fried head, neck, and feet, plus the raw gizzard and heart), and also about a cup more water (if needed) so that the duck is almost submerged. Cover the pot, bring the liquid to a boil, and then lower it to the lowest possible heat. Braise the duck very slowly for a couple of hours until it is absolutely tender. (The time will depend upon the duck, your heat source, how hot the heat is you're using, and the type of pot you use.) You won't need to flip the duck over in the sauce. If you are planning to add the liver, cook it for about 15 minutes in the pot, or until it is just cooked through.

5. Cool the duck in the braising liquid until it is cool, then cover the pot and chill it overnight in the liquid; if you wish, you can remove everything but the bird itself before chilling it, and either eat or discard these pieces. (You may also serve the duck immediately when it is still hot; just carefully lift it out of the liquid onto a platter while using two spatulas to transfer the very delicate duck.) Just before serving, remove the duck from the cold braising liquid, place it on a heatproof rimmed platter, and steam for about 15 minutes until heated through. The braising liquid can be strained and reduced over high heat until it is syrupy, and then used as a sauce; adjust the seasoning at that point.

6. Serve the duck whole on a platter with a pitcher or bowl of the reduced sauce on the side, and allow your guests to pick the duck apart.

Heavenly leftovers

Guangxi style duck soup with thick rice noodles 
Suancai yarou fenli tang  酸菜鴨肉粉利湯 
Guangxi
Serves 1 person as a main dish

This dish is more of a throw-together than an actual recipe. What you mainly need are the following:

A handful of fresh or frozen thick rice noodles (see Tips)
A handful of pickled vegetables of some sort (see Tips)
Some leftover duck and sauce

1. Boil the noodles for a couple minutes in a pot of boiling water to cover until they float but are still chewy; drain the noodles and reserve the water.

2. While the noodles are cooking, chop up the pickles to whatever size you like. Taste one, and if it is too sour, rinse the pickles in boiling water until they're as mild as you like (see Tips).

Pickled long beans

3. Shred the duck and remove any bones. Cut the skin into bite-sized pieces. In a small pan, heat the leftover duck in the sauce. Taste and adjust the seasoning.

4. Place the noodles in a large bowl. Arrange the pickles and duck on top, and then dribble the sauce over the noodles. Add as much of the hot noodle water as you like. Enjoy an easy dinner with no guests around.


Tips

Ducks are usually available frozen and the quality varies widely, so get one from a reputable butcher.

I like mine with all the body parts attached, as they add flavor and body to the braising liquid. But, if this makes you squeamish, get one that's already been trimmed.

Most Chinese ducks will have the tongues, hearts, and livers removed, since these are delicacies and so can be sold at higher prices.

Thick fresh rice noodles

Duck fat should be rendered simply because it is utterly delicious. Period. Hoard it like gold and use it whenever you want to show your love.

The oil the duck was fried in will have a delicious flavor, too, if you used good, fresh oil to begin with. Be sure to strain and reserve this oil, using it up over the next week to scent eggs, vegetables, and other mild-flavored ingredients.

Use any kind of pickled vegetable you like, such as spicy pickled mustard stems (zhacai), pickled mustard greens (suancai), or these pickled long beans. Anything is good as long as it has a slightly sharp bite to counteract the richness of the duck.

Frozen thick rice noodles are called fenli 粉利 if they're from Guangxi or mitaimu 米台目 if they're from Taiwan. They are increasingly becoming more available here in California in the frozen sections of larger Chinese supermarkets. If none can be found, dried rice noodles of any kind will work just fine.

Yunnan's stir-fried rice noodles

When it comes to starch in Yunnan cuisine, only one immediately comes to mind: rice noodles. 

People who are not familiar with these often get them mixed up with cellophane noodles (also called mung noodles or fensi). And this is perfectly understandable because in their dry state they look very similar: brittle, white, and translucent.

Rice noodles, though, are favored more in the south of China, while cellophane noodles reside comfortably in North China's many cuisines. Taiwan has some truly wonderful brands (particularly the ones made in Puli), and you will also find them made in China, Hong Kong, and Southeast Asia. The main difference -- besides quality, of course -- is thickness and whether the noodles are fresh or dry.

Textures & flavors abound

The dry noodles come in two basic shapes: thin round and thick flat. They are pretty much interchangeable when it comes to taste, although sticklers will say, for example, that Taiwanese fried mifen must be of the thin and round variety. If there are no sticklers around, it's pretty much your call.

Whenever you find fresh rice noodles in your Chinese grocers, think of this recipe and snag a package. Fresh noodles are ethereal and completely worth seeking out. If, on the other hand, you just have some dried mifen lurking in your pantry, it works beautifully here, and it doesn't matter whether it is thick or thin. This really is a forgiving and very accommodating dish.

In fact, you should think of this is merely a template for further explorations. Once you've mastered the minimal skills required for stir-frying rice noodles, let your imagination and appetite soar.

Today, for example, I decided I couldn't face another breakfast of eggs and toast or another bowl of oatmeal, so we had these rice noodles topped with fried eggs. Luscious.

Fresh wood ear

The noodles end up being a bland but plush background for an assortment of wonderful flavors. I had some fresh wood ear mushrooms in the fridge (we are lucky enough to live in mushroom country), so a bunch of them went into the wok. They too are bland, but they act as a nice, neutral setup for all the fireworks that are going on:

Red chilies explode, but in a nice way. The ones I used were the little dry Thai chilies that really only show off their heat if they gang up on your tongue; here, they mingle with everything else and so just shimmer away. The fermented black beans are nice salty punches of umami, scenting each bite as they burst and then disappear. Likewise the cilantro offers a pleasant funk, while the green onions lend their usual herbal note.

It's a wonderful combination.

Yunnan's stir-fried rice noodles
Yunnan chao mifen 雲南炒米粉
Yunnan
Serves 2 as a main dish

Aromatics

6 ounces dry rice noodles or 12 ounces fresh rice noodles
Boiling water, as needed for dry rice noodles
10 fresh or dry wood ear mushrooms, or other mushrooms
Small bunch of cilantro
5 small dried chilies, more or less
2 tablespoons fermented black beans
1 green onion, trimmed
4 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 teaspoons roasted sesame oil

1. If you are using dried noodles, place them in a large work bowl and cover them with boiling water. As the water cools a bit, loosen the strands. After about 10 minutes, check the noodles; they should be loose and plump. If not, cover them with more boiling water. When the noodles are white and slithery, rinse them in a colander under cool tap water. Drain them and shake them dry. (If you are using fresh noodles, fluff them up so that they are in loose strands that don't stick together.)

2. Clean the mushrooms and trim, if necessary. Cut them into bite-sized pieces if they are large. Rinse the cilantro, shake dry, and trim off the ends; chop it coarsely. Break the chilies open and shake out the seeds, and then crumble them into pieces no larger than a quarter inch. Lightly chop the fermented black beans. Cut the green onion thinly on the diagonal.

3. Heat the oil in a wok over high heat until the oil shimmers. Add the mushrooms, cilantro, chilies, black beans, and green onion, and stir-fry for around a minute. Toss in the softened dried noodles or the fresh noodles and continue to stir-fry over high for around 5 minutes until the noodles are lightly browned. Add the soy sauce and sesame oil and toss some more; taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve hot.

Tips

Today's breakfast

Wood ear mushrooms are becoming more popular now in Chinese markets, but if you don't have them in your area, dried ones are easily reconstituted. Just remember that a tiny dried wood ear turns into an enormous one after it is soaked in boiling water. If you do happen to soak more than you can immediately use, just drain them and store in a plastic bag on top of a paper towel in the fridge for a day or two.

Fresh rice noodles will be fine if kept in the fridge unopened for a couple of days, although they will lose some of their softness.

Asparagus with seasoned rice noodles

If you are like me and find most attempts to coat hard vegetables (like asparagus and green beans) with flavor just a bit more of a bother than seems right, let me share a new way to enjoy them.

Up to now, the only way I've really enjoyed Chinese style green beans is when I've used the Sichuanese method called "dry frying," which really means that the beans have to be deep fried before being tossed in a sauce. 

Asparagus, while admittedly a newcomer to Chinese cuisine, also seems stubbornly resistant to any flavorings that aren't stuck on to the stems with cornstarch or other thickeners. Even so, these veggies --especially when cooked in restaurants -- often teeter between an unwelcome rawness and mushy oblivion.

An early spring crop

That is why a novel idea from Shanghai grabbed my attention.

Here, the asparagus is first quickly steam-fried so that it is barely done, keeping the lovely lengths a sparkling green and cooking them to the perfect degree of doneness. Once they are ready, everything else is tossed in, and all of the flavors gang up on the rice noodles, which turn a lovely shade of mahogany.

The brilliant thing about this is the way that rice noodles readily absorb all of the seasonings and then drape themselves around and among the veggies so that each bite is a spectrum of flavors and textures.

This is another one of those super easy recipes that rely on a clever bit of know-how (in this case, using the rice noodles to transport the savory sauce) rather than lots of time and preparation.

Crunchy yet soothing

You can use any other green vegetable here that is not leafy, like snow peas, those green beans, and so on; whatever is in season and appeals to you. All of the prep is easily done ahead of time, and if you are serving these at a dinner party, you could even cook the veggies earlier in the day so that all you have to do is toss them with the rice noodles and sauce. 

Who says Chinese food has to be hard?

Asparagus with seasoned rice noodles 
Lusun chao mifen 蘆筍炒米粉  
Shanghai
Serves 4 to 6 as part of a multicourse meal

6 to 8 ounces wide or thin dry rice noodles (see Tips)
1 pound very fresh asparagus (see Tips)
Filtered water as needed

Trap the steam with a small lid

1 tablespoon peanut or vegetable oil
1 teaspoon sea salt
2 tablespoons roasted sesame oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1½ tablespoons sweet wheat paste
1 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon Shaoxing rice wine
1¼ cups filtered water
1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds

1. Place the rice noodles in a medium work bowl and cover with cool tap water; allow them to soak for about 30 minutes until they are white and soft, and then drain. Wash and trim the asparagus, removing and discarding the tough ends. Cut the stalks into 2-inch lengths. 

Taiwanese rice noodles

2. Put the asparagus in a wok along with a tablespoon or so of water, the oil, and salt. Bring the wok to a boil and place a small lid on top of the veggies to trap some of the steam and keep them more or less submerged. Open the lid now and then to toss the asparagus. (The asparagus and noodles can be prepared ahead of time up to this point.)

3. When the asparagus is a bright green and has just a hint of rawness in the center, add the sesame oil, garlic, sweet wheat paste, sugar, rice wine, 1¼ cups water, and the softened rice noodles. Bring the wok to a boil over high heat and toss the veggies with the noodles and the sauce for only about 2 minutes to allow the noodles to soak up the sauce. Plate the dish and sprinkle with the sesame seeds. Serve hot.

Tips

Select asparagus that have tight, purplish heads with no signs of decay or dryness. The stems should be taut and juicy, while the ends of the stems should be white where they were cut. All of these tell you that the asparagus is fresh.

Softened rice noodles

Store asparagus in the fridge, preferably with the cut ends in a bit of water and the tops covered with a plastic bag, since these actually are just very dignified fern fronds. Asparagus doesn't keep well for more than a day or two, so use it up as soon as you can.

Break off the ends with your fingers, rather than cutting off the ends, as this allows you to keep only the tender parts of the stalks.

Rice noodles from the town of Puli (Poolee) in Taiwan are superb. Green bean noodles (fentiao) are equally good in this dish; as with the rice noodles, you can use wide or thick ones, and they too require a soaking in cool water to ready them for this dish.