Monkey head soup

I know, I know, this is really about mushrooms, not actual monkey heads. But I got you to look, right?

This is actually a recipe that puts the spotlight on the Chinese mushroom known as the “monkey head,” and you have to admit, that’s a pretty good name – they’re cute and fuzzy and it sounds so silly, so what’s not to like?

Known in the West by a number of names, including the much more boring “pom pom mushroom,” this actually belongs to the “tooth fungus” group, showing that we are not totally bankrupt in the imagination department. The members on our shores tend to grow in long, toothy strands, though, hence the name.

Dried monkey head mushrooms

But in China, the monkey head mushroom, or Hericium erinaceus, is very, very common, especially (and almost exclusively) in its dried state. And like so many of China’s fungi, this one is beloved not only for its lovely flavor and texture, but also for its medicinal properties.

It’s been shown to be a good antioxidant, among other things, so give it a whirl.

You can find these golfball-size ‘shrooms in most Chinese grocery stores, dried goods markets, and herbal shops. They often come in packages.

Since you won’t be able to fondle them except through the plastic, go to a place with a fast turnover, if possible. The mushrooms should be a pale brown and beige, look plump, and not be busted into pieces. Shake the bag around a bit to search for bugs, while you’re at it. Then, once you open up the bag, store the mushrooms in a jar in the pantry, where they will keep for a couple of months, much like any other dried mushroom.

These are easy to reconstitute: rinse the mushrooms thoroughly, place them in a work bowl, cover with warm water, and give them a couple of hours or even overnight to plump up. Squeeze out the water (being sure to save it, as well as the soaking liquid) like they were little sponges, as this makes them easier to handle. Trim off the stems and then slice the balls thickly.

Fresh "pom pom mushrooms"

Monkey head mushrooms can be added to all sorts of braises and soups – or even a very friendly chicken potpie - but know that your meatless friends will be especially delighted with them, as these mushrooms have an almost meaty taste and texture. And so, I’ve provided my go-to chicken stock recipe below, but have also offered vegan alternatives.

My secret ingredient here is oyster sauce. Or, should I say, it was the husband’s suggestion. This adds great depth to the soup, and since the monkey head mushrooms possess a slight bitterness, the richness and sweetness of the oyster sauce balances this just right.

The salt, sugar, and oyster sauce are all approximations, as the final flavor will require you to taste and adjust. Chicken stock – fresh or packaged – has different levels of salt and seasoning, and even strength of the chicken flavor, so taste as you go. You can sneak in some chicken fat, too, for extra mouthfeel and body, if you’re going the chicken route.

And again, do feel free to monkey around with this. (Sorry.) It’s a home-style recipe that is meant to be adapted and adjusted. You can use less mushrooms and more stock, sub in different kinds of dried mushrooms, add more vegetables – whatever you like.

 

Plumped up 'shrooms

Monkey head soup

Hóutóugū qīngtāng 猴頭菇清湯

Therapeutic foods

Serves 4 to 6

4 dried monkey head mushrooms

Water, as needed

10 thin slices fresh ginger

½ cup (120 ml) Shaoxing rice wine

2 quarts (2 L) unsalted or lightly salted chicken stock or mushroom stock

1 tablespoon (or more) rock sugar

2 tablespoons (or more) oyster sauce or vegetarian oyster sauce

1. Start this at least a day ahead of time, if you can, as the soup improves by sitting overnight. Rinse the mushrooms, soak them for at least a couple of hours in warm water until they are very soft, and then squeeze out the liquid back into the bowl. (Reserve the soaking liquid.)

 

Slice the squeezed mushrooms

2. Cut off the stems and slice the mushrooms into thick (½ inch / 1 cm) pieces. Place them in a large saucepan and add the rest of the ingredients, as well as the strained soaking liquid. Bring the pot to a boil, lower the heat to a simmer, and cook the pot uncovered for at least 5 hours. Top off the pot with boiling water to maintain around 1 quart (1 L) of stock.

3. Taste the soup and adjust the seasoning as needed (see headnotes). Serve hot.

Steamed white custard from Shunde

The city of Shunde in the Pearl River Delta, downstream from the capital city of Guangzhou and north of Hong Kong, is home to most of China’s milk dishes. No one really knows why milk is such a big deal here, for beef certainly isn’t, but there you have it.

Cow’s milk is a true rarity in the traditional cuisines of China, although it has become more common over the past couple of decades as a beverage or as a major ingredient in things like ice cream and yogurt. Back when I was a student in Taiwan during the late seventies, though, the only milk to be had was powdered, and seeing Klim powdered milk in its iconic big yellow can still makes me nostalgic. Over the following decades, fresh milk made quite a headway in local diets, mainly because parents wanted to increase their calcium intake, and also because who can argue with the joys of ice cream?

Japanese custard pots work great

But Shunde is a completely different bird, culinarily speaking. Milk has traditionally not been consumed fresh there, but rather cooked and used as part of a dish, rather than drunk as a beverage. 

A lot of this has to do with the Chinese preference for hot foods over cold, but also because so many Chinese people have lactose intolerance. Cooking will not destroy the lactose in milk, but the relatively small amount of milk that is generally used in Shunde’s foods is another reason why it has become an acceptable – and most definitely delicious – part of one of Guangdong’s most delightful cuisines.

Called "double-skinned milk" in Chinese, I haven't a clue where the two skins are, as only one seems to form whenever I've made it, which is when you first heat up the milk. As every cocoa lover knows, that skin sticks to your lips at the wrong time, and to be honest, there never really is a good time to have milk skin glued to your face. Anyway, that's the moniker it's stuck with, so who knows...

Divide the custard among the bowls

Most directions for this dish demand that you preserve that skin and return it to the custard just before the final steaming. Honestly, I've tried it many ways and can't see the difference whether I mix the skin back into milk (as in the recipe below) or strain it out or fastidiously reserve it for the top. And so, out goes that step.

The customary recipe for this custard calls for nothing more than whole milk, egg whites, and sugar. And so, unlike just about any other custard recipe out there, this classic sweet is pure white. It’s therefore stunning when served with contrasting colors, like red raspberries or in a black bowl or with just a drizzle of honey on top.

But because no yolks were used, this custard is also exceptionally mild in taste. You won’t register much beyond the flavor of the milk and sugar. For that reason, use only really good quality whole milk here. You want that richness to shine through.

Egg whites only

You can make this custard as sweet as you like. It’s quite good with all the sugar mixed into the hot milk, but also exceptional if you reserve the sugar as a crunchy topping. Again, traditionally speaking, in Shunde the sugar is incorporated right into the custard so that it turns this into a genuinely sensuous, smooth dessert.

People who are getting over a cold or in some other kind of recovery will probably enjoy this, since it's pure protein, easy to digest, and quite delicious. According to Chinese medicine, you'd want to serve it hot or at least very warm, since cold foods are considered detrimental when the body is weak. 

That being said, be assured that you can serve this custard chilled, and that makes this especially perfect for a small tumble of fresh fruit on top. A couple of cookies on the side wouldn't hurt, either.

This is not at all what Shunde's grandmas do, but I won’t tell them if you won’t.

Good hot or cold

Steamed white custard

Shuāngpí níunăi 雙皮牛奶

Guangdong

Serves 4

1¾ cups (400 ml) fresh whole milk of the best quality

2 tablespoons sugar, or 2 teaspoons sugar for the custard plus more sweetener for the topping (see headnotes)(see Tips)

Pinch of salt

2 large egg whites, lightly beaten

1. Use a heatproof cup for measuring the milk. Add the sugar and salt to the milk, and then microwave it until the milk is very hot and a skin has formed on top (about 4 minutes on high - see Tips). Let the milk cool down until it is no more than warm to the touch, as you do not want it to curdle the egg whites. 

2. Gently whisk the cooled milk into the egg whites. Strain the milk mixture back into the measuring cup and discard any foam and solids in the strainer. 

Strain out the foam and solids

3. Use 1 large (3 cup / 750 ml) heatproof bowl or 4 smaller covered chawan-mushi (Japanese custard bowls). Set up a steamer that can easily hold whatever you are using here. Divide the milk among the bowls and cover them, either with foil or lids. Steam a large bowl for around 10 minutes and the smaller ones for around 7 minutes. Turn off the heat and let the bowls sit in the hot steamer for another 5 minutes to completely set up. Be sure that you do not over-steam them, as this will ruin the texture. Garnish the custard, if you like, and serve hot or cold or in-between.

Tips

If you want to use a sweet garnish like turbinado sugar, honey, maple syrup, fruit, etc., use no more than 2 teaspoons sugar in the custard itself.

Keep an eye on the milk while you heat it in Step 1 if you are not quite sure of its power. You can always microwave the milk in 1 minute spurts if you are at all unclear of how long your microwave takes, since you don't want the milk to boil over and make a mess and ruin your day. 

Good, really good, for what ails you

Unlike just about any other country I can think of, the therapeutic value of what you put in your body is considered by the Chinese to be almost as important as any other reason for eating. Simply put, food is medicine in China. Mighty delicious medicine, that’s for sure, but medicine all the same.

Much of this is common sense – stay hydrated, avoid fried foods if you’re feeling lousy, and eat mainly vegetables and grains with a bit of protein to keep things interesting – but Chinese therapeutic food therapy goes way beyond that into deep discussions on such things as the ways in which “cold” and “heat” work to make us healthy.

Fresh lotus root

Ginger and chile peppers warm up the body (as you might have guessed) and increase perspiration, while seaweed, green tea, and rice cool you down. A bout with the common cold, for example, will call for hot bowls of chicken broth seasoned with lots of ginger and rice wine to flush out the chills, restore balance, and keep your immune system in happy working order.

At other times during the course of that cold, your body very well could use some additional fine-tuning. This happened to me last week as I was clawing my way back out of the flu. The fever was finally gone, I had at long last stopped aching all over, and my brain was even beginning to work in spurts, but a terrible cough took over. I figured more chicken soup would be just the ticket, but it no longer appealed to me in the least. I asked my old Chinese doctor friend, Dr. Li, what to do.

Surprisingly delicious

He said that I needed cooling foods to stem the cough. Instead of fetching me some medicine, he told me that Chinese radishes, honey, and garlic were just what I needed. I figured he was just giving me the brushoff, as it sounded way too weird to work. But then my friend Chiaying chimed in and said that he was right on the money. There was nothing left to do but give it the old college try. And let me tell you this: It not only reduced my cough, but it tasted delicious!

I still was hungry, though, and so both of them ganged up on me and told me to make congee with a handful of other cooling ingredients, all pure white: lotus root, Chinese yams, and fresh lily bulbs. Again, nothing at all fancy here – not even a touch of salt or oil to mar this immaculate shade of pale – but the end results calmed my throat, fed my hunger, and made me feel cleansed. Plus, it tasted amazing. And I slept like a baby that night.

Here are these two recipes to help you and yours face down the cold season with delicious eating. Enjoy!

Radish juice and honey

Radish, honey and garlic syrup

Báiluóbo fēngmì dàsuàn tángjiāng 白蘿蔔蜂蜜大蒜糖漿

Therapeutic foods

Makes about 1 cup (240 ml)

About 2 pounds (900 g) white Asian radish (Chinese, Korean, Japanese)

1 clove garlic, smashed

Local honey as needed

1. Peel the radish, but leave on the stem end to use as a handle. Finely grate the radish into a bowl. Discard the stem end. Add the garlic.

2. Stir in enough honey to just cover the radish. Place a lid on the bowl and refrigerate it. Decant the syrup into a small teacup – about 2 tablespoons (30 ml) is a nice dose. Slowly sip it and let it glide down your throat, where it will start to get to work. You can repeat this throughout the day as you needed it since it is, of course, just food. More juice will be exuded if you can wait a day before drinking the syrup, but let’s be honest: you’re making this because someone’s sick, so give it at least an hour if you can. The radish will be pretty much exhausted after this, so just squeeze out as much of the syrup as you can before you toss the solids.

Broken jasmine rice

White cooling congee

Qùhuŏ báizhōu 去火白粥

Therapeutic foods

Makes about 12 cups (2.8 L)

1½ cups (300 g) broken jasmine rice (see Tip)

10 cups (2.5 L) water, plus more as needed

About 1 pound (450 g) fresh lotus root

Around 8 ounces (225 g) Chinese yam (shanyao)

2 or more fresh lily bulbs (baihe), optional but fabulous

1. Rinse the rice in a fine sieve and then dump it into a large pot. Cover with the water and bring it to a boil, stirring occasionally.

2. While the water is coming to a boil, peel the lotus root, trim off any less than perfect areas, and cut it lengthwise into quarters before slicing each piece thinly against the grain. Toss the lotus root into the pot with the rice and give it another stir. When the pot comes to a full boil, reduce the heat to the bare minimum and let it slowly cook for about 20 minutes.

Chinese yam

3. Peel the yam and slice it into ½-inch (1 cm) chunks, as it breaks down easily. Add these to the pot. Simmer the congee for another 10 minutes or so just to barely cook through the yams, since you want them to keep as much of their character as possible. Add boiling water as needed to thin the congee out if it gets too thick, but don't make it soupy. A big part of this porridge's charm is the slightly grainy texture of the rice against the soft/crisp/juicy vegetables.

4. Clean the lily bulbs if you have them, trim off any brown areas, and separate them into petals. Add them to the congee just before serving. The petals taste best when just heated through, as that way they remain crisp and fresh. So, if you’re not serving the whole pot at once, consider ladling out a bowl, adding as many of the lily bulb petals as you want, and then microwaving the congee until it’s nice and hot. Always reheat any type of congee in the microwave so that it doesn’t boil down into mucilage.

Tip

Beautiful broken jasmine rice

You can use regular white rice or long grain jasmine rice here instead of broken jasmine rice, if you can't find the latter. But try to hunt this ingredient down - it's incredibly aromatic and breaks down into congee like a dream! It's generally found in Chinese groceries that cater to southerners, as well as in Southeast Asian stores, and the best brands seem to come from Thailand.

Don't use brown rice here. That's just plain wrong.