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

Steamed lotus duck with rice crumbs

If you are a fan of meats coated with a savory sauce, tossed in rice crumbs, and then steamed into sheer succulence, this is the dish for you. Unlike the spicy pork versions so popular in central China, this northern delight features duck breast seasoned with sweet wheat paste. 

An old Beijing cookbook I referred to when first making this says that "it originally had Hunan flavors," but by substituting sweet wheat paste for chili sauce, Beijing chefs successfully transplanted it from humid, heat-loving central China into the cold north.

Filling ready to be rolled up

As with just about every dish I introduce here, this too is extremely simple to make. Ingredients are tossed together, wrapped in a piece of dried lotus leaf, and steamed. And that is it.

The only thing that requires an extra step is if you want to make your own Rice Crumbs (zhengfen or "steam powder" in southern China and mifen "rice powder" in the north)  -- something I highly recommend -- but this is nothing more than dry frying raw rice with a couple of spices and then pulverizing them. However, if you want to save some time, commercial rice crumbs are available in many Chinese markets (see Tips).

Lotus leaves are easy to use and are not only beautiful, but they lend a subtle fragrance. They keep for months (if not years) when stored properly, and are handy whenever you want to lend an additional bit of exoticism and tropical flair to your dishes.

One thing I've done that is not in the traditional recipe is to add chubby strips of fresh Chinese black mushrooms to the filling. These are soft and almost fatty in texture, and they both lighten the texture and deepen the flavors.

Rice crumbs on the duck

Pork can easily be substituted for the duck, if you prefer, and it could be either meaty 2-inch ribs or tender boneless cuts. As with duck, pork goes very well with slightly sweet sauces, and it has a richness that melds well with these flavors.

To serve, I like to add a small bunch of Chinese radish or Japanese daikon sprouts alongside the little rolls as they not only add color, but also act as a palate cleanser, something like a raw pickle. Their pungency wakes up the flavors of the duck and sweet wheat paste perfectly. I also remove the plain toothpicks that hold the rolls together during the steaming and substitute pretty ones that add another flight of fancy. Completely optional, but much appreciated by diners.


Steamed lotus duck with rice crumbs 
Heye mifen ya 荷葉米粉鴨  
Beijing
Serves 16 as an appetizer, 8 as an entree

2 large dried lotus leaves (see Tips)

Rice crumbs:

Rice + spices

½ cup regular raw rice (not sweet or glutinous)

2 petals of star anise

1 teaspoon Sichuan peppercorns

(or ½ cup commercial rice crumbs; see Tips)

Filling:

1 whole duck breast (two halves) with skin on, preferably organic and free range (see Tips)

1 tablespoon minced, peeled ginger

2 tablespoons minced green onions

1 teaspoon freshly-ground black pepper

2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine

2 tablespoons light soy sauce

2 tablespoons sweet wheat paste (tianmianjiang)

2 tablespoons roasted sesame oil

1 teaspoon sugar

4 large fresh Chinese black mushrooms 

Garnish:

Chinese radish (or Japanese daikon) sprouts, or cilantro sprigs, or green onion shreds

1.    Soak the lotus leaves in a large bowl of very hot water while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. When they are soft, rinse them carefully to remove any dust, and then wipe them clean on both sides with a paper towel. Trim off the center stem and then cut each leaf into 8 wedges. Cover the leaves with a damp towel to keep them supple.

Duck breast

2.   If you are using commercial rice crumbs, skip this step. Otherwise, place the dry, uncooked rice in a dry, unoiled wok along with the star anise and Sichuan peppercorns. Cook the rice over medium-high heat, tossing constantly, until the grains turn from translucent to white and then very slightly toasted. Cool the rice and then grind it coarsely (see Tips).

3.   Rinse the duck breast and pat it dry. If it is not boneless, remove the bones, but keep the skin on. Slice each side of the breast horizontally (against the grain) into 8 even pieces. Place the duck slices in a medium work bowl.

4.   Add the ginger, green onions, black pepper, rice wine, soy sauce, sweet wheat paste, sesame oil, and sugar to the duck. Toss them together. Remove the stems from the cleaned mushrooms and slice each mushroom into ¼ inch wide strips. Add them to the duck and toss. Pour the rice crumbs over the duck mixture and toss again.

5.   Prepare 16 plain toothpicks and a steamer. Lay the 16 lotus leaf wedges out on a clean work surface, the wide side toward you; the smooth green side should be face down and the rougher lighter side on top. Divide the filling among these leaf wedges, placing a mound near the wide end. Fold the bottom third of the sides over the filling and then roll up the leaf all the way to the filling; secure with a plain toothpick. Place the little packets in the steamer and steam over medium-high heat for about half an hour (see Tips). Remove one and check; the rice crumbs should be soft and completely cooked through. If not, close up the packet and steam the duck for another 10 or 15 minutes. (This dish may be prepare up to this point, cooled, and then stored in a resealable freezer bag in either the refrigerator or freezer. To serve, simply steam them until heated all the way through; see Tips.)

Duck in the sauce

6.   To serve, you may replace the plain toothpicks with fancy ones. Arrange the packets on a serving platter or individual plates, and garnish as desired. Show your guests how to eat them by unrolling one wrap completely onto a small plate and then rolling up the leaf back up and tucking it at the side of the plate out of the way. Pieces of the duck filling can then be plucked up with chopsticks or a fork by the diner.

Tips

Check the lotus leaves before you buy them for signs of insect infestation or excessive breaking. The insects will appear as either tiny cocoons on the leaves or black dust (insect poo) at the bottom of the bag. Excessive breaking means that the leaves are too old. Store the extra leaves in an air-tight plastic bag in a dark cupboard.

Commercial rice crumbs are called zhengroufen (steamed meat powder) and are usually in the spice or dried goods aisle of a Chinese grocery in tall, narrow, white boxes. Of varying quality, they are very inexpensive. Make sure that they have expiration dates and use before that.

Ground rice crumbs

Sushi rice or any other plain white raw is fine here, as long as it is not converted rice like Uncle Ben's. Make sure the rice is at room temperature before you pulverize it. The best way to do this is in a spice grinder, although a mortar, food processor equipped with a metal blade, or a blender will work if you don’t overdo it. Pulse the rice until it is broken into between half and a quarter its original size, but do not grind it into dust.

Use the best quality duck breast available, and leave the skin on, as duck meat can be dry. The fat is delicious and will work its way into the rice crumbs and mushrooms, making this a succulent delight.

Rice crumb dishes generally will not suffer if you steam them longer than suggested; the only thing you should worry about is under steaming them, as then the rice is chewy rather than soft and mellow. So, feel free to steam these the first time for an hour if that is more convenient, or put the frozen or refrigerated packets in the steamer and steam them a second time an hour or so before you serve them.

Plain, unpainted toothpicks work best during the steaming process, as they slide easily into the leaf and will not bleed any colors onto the finished dish. If you would like to use prettier toothpicks for the presentation, just before serving simply slide out the plain ones and replace with the fancier ones.

Spring wraps of North China

Most people when they think of Chinese cuisine picture bowls of rice. But north of the Yangtze River, it is too cold and dry for rice paddies. Up there on the edge of the deserts where sand storms and blizzards are the norm, wheat and other hardy grains have been the starch of choice for countless years.

Noodles, breads, pasta... these are what northerners enjoy. And around the Lunar New Year, spring wraps join jiaozi (dumplings) at family celebrations.

Super thin and tender

Often translated as "Mandarin pancakes," these wraps are actually more like flour tortillas than anything else. Just like their Mexican cousins, they are created out of little more than fine flour, water, and a little bit of fat. That's it. But unlike tortillas, spring wraps are as thin as muslin, usually as wide as one's hand, and very delicate.

As you can tell from the name, spring wraps are meant to be enjoyed during the Lunar Year, and we still have one more week to go before the Lantern Festival (the first full moon that marks the end of the festivities), so here is yet another traditional northern treat to enjoy.

You do not have to be terribly fancy with the fillings (unless you want to, of course). Usually there are at least simple three stir-fries set out with spring wraps, along with some shredded green onions and a sweet wheat paste sauce.

Korean tianmianjiang

Now before I go any further, I want to share yet another one of my gripes about translation with you. A common condiment in North China called tianmianjiang (literally "sweet flour paste") is often rendered into English as "sweet bean paste" or, as in the picture to the right, as "black bean paste." But the main ingredient is not beans at all, and only a bit of soy sauce is added to provide a nice salty edge to this thick black sauce. (Sweet bean paste, for the record, is what sweetened mashed red beans -- hongdousha --is often called, and mixing up the two could lead to some truly disastrous result.)

The correct translation is, then, sweet wheat paste. An elderly friend from Shandong once described how they used to make it when he was a child: steamed breads (mantou) were left to mold, and then mixed with water, sugar, and some soy sauce to ferment. I've made it myself  that way, and it worked out pretty well, but the Korean brands in particular are really quite good and inexpensive, so it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to make it myself.

The bing should be translucent

Like just about every other wheat flour-based recipe on this blog, these spring wraps work best with Korean bread flour. The gluten level is just perfect, and you end up with very tender yet tensile tortillas. Do look at the Tips down below, as there are other little things you should keep in mind when making these spring wraps. But otherwise, this really is simpler than it seems. The recipe calls for mixing boiling water into the dough, making this yet another example of our rapidly expanding repertoire of hot dough recipes.


If you are serving spring wraps with some simple stir-fries as your main dish, count on about 4 wraps per person. Otherwise, 2 apiece will probably be just right.


Spring wraps 
Chunbing  春餅 
Beijing
Makes 16 wraps

2 cups Korean bread flour
½ teaspoon sea salt
2 tablespoons soft lard, shortening, or unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
¾ cup boiling filtered water 
About 1 tablespoon cool filtered water
Roasted sesame oil, as needed

Divvy up the dough

1. Mix the flour, salt, and butter together in a medium work bowl. Stir the boiling water into the flour and mix with a wooden spoon (or in an electric mixer or food processor) until combined; the dough should look flaky at this point. Stir in just enough cool water to make the dough form a solid mass. Turn the dough out onto a clean, smooth, unfloured board and knead the dough until it is smooth and soft. Add extra water or flour only if really necessary, as the dough ought to be perfectly workable at this point (see Tips).

2. Let the dough rest for about 20 minutes under a damp towel or plastic wrap. Roll the dough into an even rope 16 inches long (use a ruler for best results), and then cut the dough into 16 1-inch pieces. Roll each piece between your hands to form a ball, and then flatten the balls into even discs on the board, covering any pieces you are not immediately working on.

3, Prepare a clean, unoiled skillet, preferably seasoned cast iron (see Tips), as well a plate to hold the finished wraps and a clean towel. Pour a few tablespoons of sesame oil into a small bowl and have both a small rolling pin and a pastry brush ready.

4. Place two flattened discs next to each other and brush one completely with some sesame oil. Place the other one on top, matching them up as close as possible, and then use the rolling pin to roll them out into circles about 6 inches or so in diameter. Repeat with the rest of the dough until you have 8 sandwiched circles.

5. Heat the skillet over medium heat until the edge of the skillet is just too hot to touch for more than a few milliseconds. Place one of the sandwiched circles on the skillet and gently shake the skillet back and forth so that the dough slides on the surface and doesn't stick (see Tips). As soon as the dough either puffs up or is covered in bubbles, flip it over to cook the other side. Both sides of the wrap should only be very lightly browned with golden dots (see Tips). Place the cooked wrap in the prepared plate and immediately cover with the towel so that it steams (see Tips). Repeat with all of the circles until done.

6. Remove the bottom wrap from the pile and gently peel the two sides apart; it should be soft and supple from steaming under the other cooked wraps. If it is at all brittle, steam it before peeling it apart, as it will crack and tear once it is hard or overcooked. Place the peeled wraps on top of the other wraps and continue to remove the bottom one, peeling it apart, and returning it to the stack. When all of the wraps have been peeled apart, fold them into quarters. They may be served immediately or cooled, placed in a resealable plastic bag, and either refrigerated or frozen.

Wrap diameter: 6 inches or so

7. To heat the bing, place them in a steamer on either steamer paper or cloth. Steam until hot and soft. Serve immediately.


Tips

Different flours require different amounts of moisture, so be flexible here if you are not using the Korean flour and if you are in a high altitude, for example. Whole wheat flour yields rather brittle wraps, so I don't recommend it unless you have a better source of flour than I do. Using as little additional flour and water as possible makes this a soft, workable dough. You will see that the board in these photos is unfloured, and yet the dough does not stick to the board, the rolling pin, or the hands. This is what you want.

Any type of solid fat can be used here as long as it is fresh, unsalted, and at room temperature.

Other liquid fats can be used instead of the roasted sesame oil, such as peanut or vegetable oil. 

Bubbled up and ready to flip

Try a well-seasoned, unoiled, cast iron skillet for dry frying things like spring wraps. They are virtually non-stick if treated with respect and will last a lifetime; secondhand stores often carry excellent ones. Heat the skillet before you put the dough on it, and this will allow the bottom of the wrap to immediately cook, and then by rapidly shaking the dough loose, you've kept the dough from ever getting a chance to weld to the iron.

Cook the wraps only until they are barely cooked on each side; you do not want big brown spots, as this tells you that the heat is too high. Adjust the temperature so that the dough cooks only to pale golden spots at the most, as this will give you tender wraps that do not break.

The biggest secret to preparing perfect spring wraps is letting them steam under a pile of other wraps before separating them. You will of course want to immediately enjoy the magic and peel them apart, but wait a few minutes. The steam will moisten them just enough so that they turn supple. I learned this by trial and a whole lot of error!

The smoked charcuterie of Hunan with leeks

Chinese charcuterie generally gets short shrift in the West because it still is pretty much unknown. But if food lovers could taste what it is that Hunan, Guangdong, and many other provinces have to offer in the way of cured meats and sausages, all of this could change in an instant.

Take for example Hunan's smoked cured pork, called Hunan larou in Chinese. It is a perennial favorite even in places like Taiwan, where there isn't an enormous contingent from that region, a testament to the intense flavor and juicy texture this variety of gammon supplies.

Like most Chinese charcuterie, Hunan-style cured pork is marinated and then air-dried for a few sunny winter days. But there the similarity ends. While most other cured meats are simply dried, Hunan's specialty is smoked over a cool fire, permeating the flesh with a sweet, heavenly flavor. Also unlike other varieties, this is a fairly moist cured meat that is taken from the picnic cut (upper front leg), salted and marinated with the skin on, and given a bit of curing salt to keep the lovely pink hue of the meat. 

The skin is often rather soft on a good piece of Hunan larou, so you can keep it on if you wish. Just be aware that the skin will pop a lot when exposed to high heat, as with stir-frying, so use a spatter guard. If you do remove it, keep it in a bag in the freezer with any other ham-like scraps and bones for tasty additions to winter soups, as it adds a gentle smokiness and depth to the broth.

Pink flesh with marbled fat

Nowadays there are some good brands -- some of them based in Taiwan or Hong Kong -- that offer meat produced in the U.S. Get those. They are vacuum packed and will keep for quite a while without refrigeration as long as the bag isn't opened. Once you do pierce the plastic, though, seal up the meat in a reclosable bag and store in the refrigerator for up to a week or so, at which point it might begin to suffer in quality.

When you choose a piece of cured Hunan pork, look for a nice, solid piece without a whole lot of scraps tossed in to max out the total weight. It should have a good piece of skin at one end with a layer of fat underneath. Avoid any pieces that look like they were taken from the shoulder, where there are lots of sinews and broken pieces of muscle interspersed with stringy fat. 

Cut off whatever amount you want, wipe it off with a damp paper towel, and then slice it up. If the meat is at all hard, sever off a hunk and then steam it on a plate for about 10 minutes, as this will soften it up considerably.

One of my absolute favorite ways to cook this is in a Hunan specialty called Hunan Cured Meat with Leeks, or suanmiao chao larou. We used to order this often at an old Taipei restaurant that specialized in spicy central Chinese cookery called Tianrentai. Located across from my personal temple of good food, the South Gate Market, it sat on a corner of Roosevelt Road, an artery that ran from the federal buildings all the way down past Taiwan University. Lots of great eating on that street, and more on that some other time.

A good piece of larou

Hunan is located in the central regions of China, just east of Sichuan and nestled next to Jiangxi province. Heaven knows what they did for seasoning before chilies were imported from the New World, but in the past couple of hundred years, those little red firecrackers completely transformed the local cuisine, as well as that of just about every other inland area to Hunan's west and south.

But back to the dish under discussion. Suffice it say that this dish was always ordered by us simply because nobody could do it better. Sweet shards of fresh leek were woven between the cured meat, thin slices of pressed bean curd (doufugan), fresh chilies, and loads of garlic and ginger. The sauce was a delectable balance between pain and pleasure: hot bean sauce (la doubanjiang) and sweet wheat paste (tianmianjiang). If you are a devoted chili head, feel free to amp up the heat with more fresh chilies and another scoop of the hot bean sauce, but try not to completely drown out the smoky flavors.

The pressed bean curd adds a nice counterpoint to all the serious flavors in this dish. Like so many classic Chinese dishes, this is another yin yang component: blandness against punchy flavors, soft texture with chewy, white against deep colors. It's all part of a package that guarantees perfect balance. 

One of my favorite Hunan dishes

Hunan cured meat with leeks
Suanmiao chao larou 蒜苗炒臘肉 
Hunan

Serves 2 as a main dish or 4 as part of a multicourse meal

1 small leek or half a large leek
2 squares pressed bean curd
5 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil
1 cup thinly sliced Hunan-style cured meat
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons thinly sliced ginger
1 red jalapeno, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon spicy bean sauce (la doubanjiang)
1 tablespoon sweet wheat paste (tianmianjiang)
2 tablespoons rice wine
1 tablespoon soy sauce
4 teaspoons sugar
Roasted sesame oil

1. Trim the root end and the dark green leaves off of the leek and discard. Carefully clean the leek, making sure that all of the sand between the leaves has been removed. Cut the leek on the diagonal to make diamond-shaped pieces. Cut each beancurd square in half and then slice each piece horizontally into about 4 thin sheets.

The main ingredients

2. Heat the oil in a wok over high heat. Add the leeks and quickly stir-fry them until the edges just begin to brown. Remove the leeks to a plate or scoot them high up on the side of your wok. Add the sliced meat to the hot oil and quickly stir-fry them until the fat is translucent and the edges have started to brown. Again, remove them to a plate with the leeks or scoot them high up the side of the wok, but leave as much of the fat in the bottom of the wok as possible. Stir-fry the bean curd slices and add them to the leeks and meat once the edges have browned.

3. Toss the garlic, ginger, and jalapeno slices into the wok and quickly stir them around in the remaining puddle of fat to release their fragrance. Push them to the side and spoon both the spicy bean sauce and the sweet wheat paste into the hot fat; cook the sauces quickly to remove the raw taste and then add the wine. Stir it around for a few seconds more, and then return the leeks, meat, and bean curd to the wok. Sprinkle the soy sauce and sugar over everything and toss the ingredients well. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed. Dribble a bit of sesame oil over the dish and serve while very hot.