Longan tea with fresh ginger

 Whenever we get the chills or feel like a cold is coming on, or even if we just want to warm up our toes, I make a pot of Longan Tea. 

This is the traditional Chinese way of using food as homemade medicine – chicken soup is Mom's penicillin the world over, it seems. 

Today's recipe is like that, but also much simpler and very, very tasty. Both the fruit and the ginger in this recipe are considered warming and good for the blood, and so new mothers are encouraged to enjoy bowls of it and other nutritious meals during their month of recovery. This wonderful custom is called "a month of sitting" (zuòyuèzi 坐月子) because folks like her mother, mother-in-law, aunties, and other female relatives are supposed to wait on her hand and foot.

The fleshy & aromatic fresh fruit

The main ingredient in this recipe is the dried fruit known as longan, which is sort of a corruption of the Cantonese name for this fruit, lung4 ngaan5 龍眼. In Mandarin, it’s called lóngyăn, and this literally means “dragon eyes.” (Why don’t we have such cool names for our fruit in English?) In North China, this tropical fruit has traditionally only been available dried, and there they are sold as guìyuán 桂圓.

Longans are sold fresh at the end of summer and mark the end of the lychee season. They look a bit like lychees (or litchis) in that they have a white flesh, hard brown pit, a thin leathery shell, grow in clusters, and come from the tropics. But the flavor, texture, and moisture content are completely different. While lychees are really fleshy, juicy, and have a light, almost sparkling juice, longans have a thinner, drier flesh that is deeply perfumed.

Fresh longans

Unlike lychees, longans are almost always sold dried, and they are beloved throughout most of China. In a way they are much like raisins or dried prunes, as their rich flavor is used to season many dishes. They are especially popular in winter sweets, like this sweet soup and such other cold-weather delights as Twelfth Month Congee.

I adore this dried fruit, and when I can find packages of this year's freshly dried longans, I snack on them as is or mixed with other dried fruits, like wolfberries, raisins, and so forth. I sometimes even add walnuts or almonds to lend a bit of crunch. Think of this as Chinese trail mix.

Fresh lychees

You can find pitted longans in the dried fruit aisle of most Chinese supermarkets, as well as at herbal medicine and dry goods stores. Look for bags with plump brown balls that are as soft as raisins when you press them. Older ones will be hard - and that's okay for recipes like today's - but make sure that there's no insect damage or droppings by checking out the detritus at the bottom of the bag. Store these in a closed jar in the pantry, or even freeze the bag if you want to keep them for a longer time. I've also seen these compressed into little squares when they have been processed in Southeast Asia - these are perfectly fine, especially after they've been allowed to plump up in some hot water.

This kind of thin, simple soup is called a "tea" in Chinese, and you actually can enjoy it as such by straining out the solids. But I'm a sucker for those plump fruits and so always serve this steaming hot in small soup bowls, either at breakfast or as a midnight snack. Adjust the amount of ginger and sugar in here to suit your palate. The following recipe is my personal favorite, but tinker with it to make it your own. For new moms I'd add some dried red dates to up the nutritional factor even more. 

Longan tea with fresh ginger

Lóngyǎn jiāng chá 龍眼薑茶 or guìyuán jiāng chá 桂圓薑茶
All over China

Makes around 8 servings

1 cup (or so) dried pitted and peeled longans
1 cup | 500 ml (or so) dried pitted and peeled longans
8 cups | 2 liters water

1 tablespoon finely shredded peeled ginger

Brown sugar, agave syrup, or honey to taste, optional

Ginger and dried longans

1. Rinse the longans in a sieve and place them in a medium saucepan. Cover them with the water and bring it to a full boil. 

2. Reduce the heat to low, add the ginger, and slowly simmer the longans for about 30 minutes. Taste and add some sweetener, if you like. Serve this hot, although you can store it in the fridge for a couple of days before serving - as with almost all soups, it tastes even better that way.

A soup made of silk, or so it seems

The beautiful mushroomy object known as the silver ear fungus can be utterly amazing when done right, and distinctly weird when not. 

To be honest, I never really liked it much, since it tended to be crunchy (not in a good way) and as close to annoying as an ingredient can get without being totally obnoxious.

One day, though, an older Chinese friend from Zhejiang told me that there was a simple secret to making it, for it turned these dried, plastic-looking balls into ethereal silk. I asked what it was, and she said, “Soak them for three days, change the water every day, and then slowly poach them for about eight hours.”

I went home and did just that. 

Simple, yet divine

And she was right on the money.

Since then, I’ve proudly been a silver ear devotee, as well as something on the order of a amateur silver ear pusher, as I’m always trying to turn people on to this. And that’s why I’m here today, talking about something you might not have ever heard of, and on the off chance that you have, you were most likely never quite impressed and and have been wondering what the fuss was all about.

Silver ears are eaten for their texture and texture only, as they are completely bland. However, no one ever cooks them correctly, which leads to that aforementioned annoying crunchiness. These need time and patience to make their innate beauty shine, for when soaked and slowly poached into submission, they are breathtakingly wonderful.

Those plasticky, brainlike objects eventually evolve into fluttery bits that melt on the tongue. Really, in their final form, silver ears end up as little more than whispers floating around your mouth, which is why things like small cubes of pear and ruby little wolfberries are needed to ground this elegant dessert soup to the earthly realm. Plus, the silver ears release a soothing thickener into the liquid that thickens it almost like cornstarch, but it's more like fairydust than your average binder. I know I'm being obtuse here, but once you try this you will understand.

You should know, too, that this fungus is considered therapeutic and filled with collagen. I don’t know if that’s right or wrong, but it’s the reason why it is often wrapped up in pretty gift boxes and foisted on elderly Chinese folks as presents. My mother-in-law used to receive them on a regular basis from well-meaning people, and that meant that at least a couple of boxes in turn got foisted onto me whenever we visited, as she didn’t know how to cook them correctly and wasn’t ever that interested in the kitchen to begin with. Back then I was just as confused as anyone about what to do with them, so I’d try in turn to foist them on somebody else or just toss them out when they finally got buggy or decrepit looking.

But that is all in the past. Now I revel in these things and hope you will, too.

Once you master this simple soup – which is slightly sweet, rather than savory, and therefore meant to be served at breakfast, in the afternoon, or after a heavy dinner – you should expand its possibilities into other avenues. Try it in light yet fresh fish or chicken or meatless soups, places where it can weave among the other ingredients, stay visible through the use of clear broths, and have its satin texture amplified or contrasted by the right accompaniments.

For example, a Chinese-style mushroom soup would be a great home for some silver ears, or a clear chicken stock with barely poached shreds of chicken breast, threads of fresh ginger, and a splash of Shaoxing rice wine.

Fully soaked silver ears

Silver ear fungus is a distinctly Chinese ingredient known by lots of pretty names, including xuě’ěr 雪耳, or “snow ear,” in Chinese, as well as jelly fungus in English. Pur­chase it from Chinese dried-foods stores, herbalists, and busy grocery stores. Look for large, unbroken heads that are not too white; whiteness means they were bleached. Store silver ears in a sealed plastic bag, where they will remain in good shape for a very long time.

Sweet pear soup with silver ears

Yíněr tiánlí tãng 銀耳甜梨湯

Shanxi and all over China; therapeutic cuisine

Serves 8 to 10

2 large heads silver ear fungus

3 quarts (3 l) boiling water

1 piece of rock sugar about the size of a large egg

Trim the bases

2 teaspoons ginger juice

3 tablespoons wolfberries (aka gouqi or goji berries), rinsed

2 tablespoons osmanthus blossom syrup, or ½ teaspoon sea salt

1 large Chinese pear of any variety, peeled, cored, and cut into small dice

Fresh lemon juice to taste, optional

1. Start this recipe at least 4 days before you wish to serve it. Rinse the silver ears and place them in a large work bowl. Cover the fungus with at least 2 inches (5 cm) of cool tap water, adding more water as needed to keep the silver ears submerged, and either refrigerate or keep in a cool area of the kitchen. Change the water twice a day for 3 days. On the second day, you can trim the silver ears by placing them in a col­ander set in the sink for easy cleaning. Use a paring knife to trim off the hard cores and any dark yellow spots, then separate the heads into individual petals (they do not have to be the same size), being sure to rinse off any detritus you find.

Transformation complete

2. Rinse the silver ears once again in a colander and then place them in a slow cooker, if you have one, or in a 4-quart (4 l) pot with a heavy bottom. Add the boiling water, return the water to a boil, and then cover and simmer very slowly for 6 to 8 hours, until the silver ears are completely translucent but have not started to break apart. About 1 hour before they are done, add the sugar, ginger juice, wolfberries, and osmanthus blossom syrup. The soup may be made ahead of time to this point and refrigerated; just heat it up before proceeding to the next step.

3. When the silver ears are soft and tender, remove the insert from the slow cooker or the pan from the heat. Add the pears to the hot soup, then taste the soup and add lemon juice or more sweetener if you wish. Serve the soup hot, or let it cool to room temperature, chill it, and enjoy it cold.

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.

Feel better soup from Shanghai

If I were asked to think of another country where something sweet was considered therapeutic, I’d be hard pressed to come up with an answer. But China does this on a regular basis. Case in point: this marvelous concoction.

In many ways, this is very similar to a regular old fermented rice soup. Shanghai, though, manages to ratchet the flavors and textures and colors up a whole lot, creating something that is quite unique all the way around. Corn is in there to round out the nutrition and add wonderful bits for the teeth to play with, and wolfberries add a dash of scarlet and light sourness to the mix. Did I happen to mention that this is delicious, too?

Chinese moms whip up soups like this whenever someone doesn’t feel well, has had a baby, or is otherwise miserable. One reason for this is that the fermented rice gets the circulation going, which warms up the toes and makes life seem just a tad more livable. Second is that it just tastes so darned good. And third is, it’s a snap to pull together.

Shave off the kernels

Fermented rice, wolfberry, and corn soup

Gŏuqĭ jīróng yùmĭ gēng  枸杞雞蓉玉米羹

Serves 8

¼ cup / 30g wolfberries

Boiling water, as needed

2 ears fresh corn, or around 1½ cups / 300g frozen tender corn kernels

2 cups / 450ml fermented rice, both solids and liquid

Rock sugar, to taste

1 tablespoon cornstarch dissolved in 2 tablespoons cool water

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

1. Rinse the wolfberries, place them in a small heatproof bowl, and cover with boiling water while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Cut the corn off of the cobs and use your knife to scrape off any pulp and juice. Or, measure out the frozen corn.

Totally luscious

3. About 10 minutes before you serve this, bring 3 cups of water to a full boil in a medium saucepan. Add the wolfberries, their soaking liquid, and the corn. Allow the soup to come to a boil again, and then use a whisk to stir in the fermented rice so that it breaks apart into grains. Add about 1 tablespoon rock sugar, or to taste. When it comes to a boil the third time, stir in the cornstarch mixture until the soup has thickened.

4. Remove the pan from the heat and drizzle the eggs on top in a thin ribbon, back and forth. Wait for about a minute, and then gently stir to make the eggs form gentle wisps. Serve immediately.

Tips

This can be made ahead of time up through Step 3. But don’t add the eggs until the last minute, as you want them to be silky and soft. Reheating the soup just turns them leathery.

Consider this for breakfast, too

The secret to these velvety eggs is the way in which they are poached: the pan is taken off the heat, the eggs are dribbled across the top (never poured into the pan in a vast puddle), and then they are left alone to set up. This way they won’t turn into nasty little tough threads. Instead, they will be sensuous and calming. A simple trick, but incredibly useful.

If you don't want to serve this all at once, reserve half (or so) of the soup after you’ve finished with Step 3 and add the eggs to whatever you’re eating at the time.

January soup for the stomach and the soul

Hubei is so speckled with still bodies of water that it is known as "the land of fish and rice." And the name is apt, for fishing is a major part of Hubei culture and fish is featured at almost every meal. But another important resource is harvested in those ponds, as well: lotuses.

Pink lotus blossoms cover the lakes and ponds of Hubei in high summer. Their leaves are gathered around this time and used as scented wrappers for pork and chicken or desserts. Also harvested are the heavy green pods filled with ivory seeds that can be found inside the flowers. These pods are soft and delicate when fresh and starchy when dried. The greatest harvest of all, though, happens after the leaves have died and the cold winds send the plants into hibernation. This is when the long, white rhizomes are dug up.

Harvesting these rhizomes is backbreaking work. The roots are hidden under many feet of thick cold, gray mud, and the workers have to gently feel around with their feet for the roots, and then pull them out without breaking them. The most prized rhizomes are the fat, long, juicy specimens that taste just like a meaty vegetable. They are delicious in this hearty soup, which is best served in late autumn or winter, the peak of the lotus root season.

Lotus, Chinese yam, & wolfberries

So, only go shopping for lotus roots when it's cold out, as that is when these will be fresh and juicy. Look for fat rhizomes 2 to 3 inches wide with as little bruising as possible. They should feel heavy, which tells you that they were harvested recently. Chinese markets will often sell these in long, unbroken lengths of three or four rhizomes, and if I see them proudly displayed that way, I can never resist, because this shows real pride in their produce.

Feel the roots all over for signs of squishiness, which signifies rot. You want these rock hard, and if you gently rap on them with your knuckles, you should be rewarded with a satisfying thump. Store them in plastic bags in the fridge with a paper towel if they are at all wet, and that will help preserve their quality. Remove the skins with a potato peeler, pare off the hard nubbins on both ends, and then clean out the long holes, using a chopstick to dislodge any dirt. However, if you did your job well and selected prime lotus roots, you probably won't find any mud squirreled away in there. 

Get plump specimens for the pot

In this version I’ve added another cold weather favorite, Chinese yams, or shānyào 山藥. These are weirdly wonderful vegetables that are delicious raw, when they are crisp and sweet. They're also great cooked, which turns them soft and more vegetal. The Chinese revere them as highly nutritious any way they are prepared, and they are touted as having anti-inflammatory properties, good for the skin, and so forth. They’re low in starch and sugar, too, which makes them great for folks on diets.

Me, I just like them, and so into the pot they go.


Lotus root, Chinese yam and pork rib soup
Lián’ŏu shānyào páigŭ tāng  蓮藕山藥排骨湯
Hubei
Serves 4 to 6 generously

About 1 pound pork back ribs or pork neck 
2 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil
2 inches fresh ginger
3 or 4 green onions, trimmed
2 quarts boiling water, plus more as needed
¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine, divided
Sea salt to taste
Freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon sugar
1 hefty lotus root (around one pound, about 6 x 3 inches)
1 (one pound or so, about 6 x 2 inches) Chinese yam
¼ cup wolfberries (aka gouqi or goji berries), optional

Fry the riblets

1. Start this recipe at least a day before you want to serve it. Have your butcher slice the ribs or neck into 1-inch pieces. Pat the meat dry. Heat the oil in a wok over medium-high until it starts to smoke, and use tongs to lower the meat into the hot fat. Brown the meat on all sides and then remove them to a large (4 quart or so) sandpot or stockpot.

2. Brown the ginger in the wok and then add it to the pork. Add the green onions (leave them whole) and cover the ribs with the boiling water. Pour in ¼ cup rice wine before bringing the pot to a full boil. Lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Cook the pork uncovered for around an hour, or until the meat is tender. Let the pot come to room temperature, and then keep it in a cool place overnight.

Simmer the soup for 30 minutes

3. The next day, skim off the fat, if you like, and discard the limp cooked onions. Add more boiling water to the pot to bring it up to its original volume, heat the soup to a boil, add the salt, pepper, and sugar, and adjust the seasoning as desired.

4. Peel the lotus root and roll cut (see Tip) it into pieces about an inch wide. If you see any mud at all inside there, wash it off carefully. Peel the Chinese yam and cut it into pieces about the same size as the lotus root chunks. Add the lotus root, Chinese yam, and optional wolfberries to the soup, and bring it to a boil again before lowering the heat to a simmer. Cook the lotus roots until tender, about half an hour. Stir in the 2 tablespoons rice wine and a bit more boiling water, if desired. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Portion out the soup into large individual bowls and serve hot.

Tip 

Hard vegetables like carrots and lotus roots are often roll-cut, which gives them a nice range of textures in one bite: soft along the edges, but firm in the center. To do this, hold one end of the vegetable firmly against your cutting board and use this same hand to rotate it as you slice it on an angle with the other hand. What you are aiming for here are slightly triangular wedges. There's no need for accuracy, so just practice away until you get the hang of it.