Better than popcorn

I’m proud to say that this is a recipe I thought up all by myself, and I’m so proud. 

It stars cauliflower. I used to loathe this vegetable and could never understand who in the world would bother to a) buy it, b) eat it, and c) why. But then I discovered roasting, and suddenly cauliflower became one of my favorite things in the world.

This all has to do with texture and flavor. Boiled or even stir-fried cauliflower is so boring. Sorry, but it really is. Not much going on there at all. 

But toss those florets in oil and roast them? That leads to sheer nirvana. 

We’d been eating heads of cauliflower for years ever since I figured this out a couple of decades ago. 

Vegetable's answer to clouds

I’d roast it, toss on some salt or something, and we’d happily snack on cauliflower like popcorn. 

The crispy-edged pieces are particularly delightful, since they virtually fry up in the oven into absolute perfection. It’s truly a terrific way to devour a massive amount of vegetables with alacrity.

But then, when confronted one day with a gorgeous cloud of cauliflower, my eyes drifted over to the pantry and settled upon my big old can of Chinese satay sauce, and the combination sounded brilliant. So, I roasted the cauliflower until it was almost done, tossed it with an amped-up satay sauce, and the results were beyond delicious.

Select heads of cauliflower that are heavy for their size, as this means they’re fresh and haven’t dried out yet. Look at the leaves, which should be green and happy, as well as the surface of the white florets, which ought to be as unblemished as possible. Trim off the very bottom, but use all the rest, even the core. It truly is completely edible. 

I'll happily eat the whole thing

Besides, once you try this recipe, you’ll not want to waste a morsel.

Roasted cauliflower with Chinese satay sauce chez Huang

Huángjiā shāchá kăo yēcàihuā 黃家沙茶烤椰菜花

Serves 4 to 6 as a side dish

1 head cauliflower

½ cup | 125 ml peanut or salad oil

½ cup | 125 ml Chinese satay sauce or shacha (see Note)

2 tablespoons regular soy sauce

2 tablespoons sugar

6 cloves garlic, minced

4 scallions, trimmed and chopped

1. Place the rack in the center of your oven and set the oven to 400ºF | 200ºC. Have a large rimmed baking sheet ready. 

Cut into florets

2. Rinse the cauliflower and shake it more or less dry. You don’t need to cut off the leaves, as they will crisp up nicely in the oven. Cut the cauliflower into golf-ball-sized pieces or in whatever shape you want – no need to be terribly accurate here, as the smallish bits will crisp up, while the thicker pieces will provide a juicy contrast. Win-win. 

3. Place the cauliflower on the baking sheet and drizzle the oil over it. Toss the cauliflower a little with the oil and then set the sheet in the oven. Bake for about 40 minutes, by which time the edges of the cauliflower will be lightly golden.

4. While the cauliflower is roasting, mix together the rest of the ingredients, except for the scallions. Remove the cauliflower from the oven at the end of the 40 minutes, toss it with this sauce, and return the sheet to the over for another 15 minutes or so. You want lots of crispiness going on in there, believe me, but no burning, so keep an eye on things. When it’s done to your liking, toss with the scallions and serve immediately. 

Bull's Eye Brand

Notes

The only brand of Chinese satay sauce worth buying in my humble opinion in Bull’s Head from Taiwan, which says it’s “barbecue sauce” on the label. Don’t believe them – it’s satay. 

This brand has three varieties: traditional (clear lid, which tells you there’s dried seafood in it), vegetarian (green lid), and Sichuan seasoning (red lid). All are good. Use whatever variety you prefer. Keep this in a cool pantry, where it will stay perfect for quite a few months.

Beautiful burdock, Taiwanese style

This is truly home-style food in Taiwan, the sort of thing a doting grandma might prepare for a weekday dinner. 

It’s very simple, very easy, and such a wonderful combination of meat and vegetables that you will really need little more than a bowl of rice to find yourself perfectly satisfied.

Burdock can be found in most East Asian markets in the produce section. 

Old school stores will have the whole root ready for you in sawdust-filled boxes, while supermarkets will prefer to cut these whip-sized taproots down into smaller pieces that will fit onto trays. Either way is fine.

A whole burdock root

The Chinese call this vegetable niubang and the Japanese refer to it as gobo. When you buy burdock, lightly press it all over. It should feel hard and solid, which meats that it’s fresh and juicy. These do dry out over time, though, so look at the wispy bottom end, if it’s there, and if you see shriveling, pay particular attention to how heavy and full the rest of the root is. Sometimes the roots will be a dark brown, and other times they will have a beige skin. Both are fine.

When you get the root home, don’t store it on the counter, as it will dry out fast. Instead, cut it into lengths and wrap it in moist paper towels before refrigerating it in a plastic bag.

Most likely a riff on the Japanese kinpira gobo, this Taiwanese version is much more fully flavored, as it is laced with thin strips of beef and a deeper-hued sauce. 

Cut-up burdock

To my mind the dish ends up being heartier and satisfying this way, but then again, I’m a dedicated carnivore. If you want to leave out the meat, do what I do when serving this to veggie friends: use vegetarian beef. Really, even I can barely taste the difference when a good brand is used!

As for the beef, I like to get a small piece of steak for this. Anything will do, just as long as it’s not too fatty or full of connective tissue. Plus, this requires such a small amount that you can splurge and it won’t even hurt.

And finally, you’ll see that you will have to work on your julienning skills here. But it’s worth it. This dish is designed to be a colorful tangle of confetti. Making everything the same size guarantees a variety of flavors and textures in each mouthful. Plus, don’t leave out the toasted sesame seeds. That’s the definitive Taiwanese touch here, and it adds a lovely nutty layer to this beloved classic.

Burdock matchsticks

Stir-fried burdock and beef

Níubàng chăo níuròu 牛蒡炒牛肉

Taiwan

Serves 4

Beef:

4 ounces | 100 g boneless beefsteak (see headnotes)

3 tablespoons mild rice wine (Taiwan Mijiu)

1 tablespoon regular soy sauce

The rest:

1 burdock root (about 1 pound | 450g)

Cool water, optional

Half a lemon or 1 tablespoon pale vinegar, optional

1 medium carrot (about 2 ounces | 50 g)

1 green onion, trimmed

Vegetable matchsticks

¼ cup | 15 g julienned fresh ginger

¼ cup peanut or vegetable oil, divided in half

¼ cup | 60 ml water, divided in half

2 tablespoons mild rice wine (Taiwan Mijiu)

3 tablespoons regular soy sauce

1 tablespoon sugar

1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds

1. Before you get started, place the beef in the freezer for around 30 minutes to firm it up and make it easy to slice.

2. Rinse the burdock and use a potato peeler to remove the skin. Cut out any dark or soft spots. Chop the root into 2-inch | 5-cm lengths, and then cut each piece into thin matchsticks or julienne. If you are not cooking the burdock immediately, place in a bowl, cover it with cool water, and squeeze in half a lemon or a tablespoon of pale vinegar. Peel the carrot and cut it into matchsticks approximately the same size as the burdock; as carrots won’t oxidize, they don’t need to be covered with water. Cut the green onion into pretty much the same size julienne, too.

Beef matchsticks - notice a theme?

3. Cut the beef into matchsticks about the same size as the julienned burdock. Toss it with 3 tablespoons mild rice wine and 1 tablespoon regular soy sauce. Let it marinate for at least 15 minutes.

4. Set a wok over medium-high heat. As soon as the metal starts to smoke, drizzle in half the oil. Add the ginger and stir it around over the heat to release its fragrance, and then add the beef, but reserve the marinade. As soon as the beef has begun to brown, scrape everything out into a small work bowl.

5. Drain the burdock and rinse it in a colander before shaking it dry. Return the wok to the heat and add the other half of the oil. Swirl it around and then add the burdock. Stir-fry it for a few seconds, and then add half of the water. Adjust the heat to maintain a gentle boil. Stir the burdock occasionally, and when most of the water has evaporated, add the rest. Continue to cool the burdock until all the water has evaporated again, then stir-fry it until the burdock is tender and golden on the edges, about 10 minutes total cooking time.

Grandma food

6. Turn the heat back up to medium-high and add the carrots. Stir-fry for around a minute before tossing in the green onions, beef, the leftover marinade, 2 tablespoons rice wine, 3 tablespoons regular soy sauce, and the sugar. 

7. Keep tossing the sauce with the meat and vegetables until it creates a shiny slick on them and most of the moisture has evaporated. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Scrape everything out onto a serving place and sprinkle with the sesame seeds. Serve hot.

Dry-fried string beans + a Mother's Day card

I know, St. Patrick's Day has barely come and gone, but you know what? Mother's Day will be here soon. And if you love your mom as much as you love dim sum (and you know you do), then have I got a suggestion for you!

Papyrus commissioned me to make them a Mother's Day card with a dim sum theme, and how could I resist? 

You can most likely find this in your neighborhood card shop, but if not, it's available here, too. I love Papyrus's stationery, so this was a dream come true. So give her a card and treat her to the perfect brunch. And then apologize for that thing that happened, you know the one I'm talking about...

*   *   * 

To my way of thinking, there is only one divine way to eat string beans, and that is dry-fried. The problem is that these sometimes can be nigh on impossible to find, even in a good Sichuan style restaurant.

That’s because nowadays too many cooks are skipping the first step, the most important step, the one that turns these beany flavored green things into olive strips of silk. Instead, they plunk down a plate of what can only be described as stir-fried beans, and if they really want me to see red, they’ll toss in some zhacai (Sichuan pickled tuber) and chile sauce and call it a day. This sort of thing will put me into a major funk for at least a couple of hours.

Fry 'em up!

So, what’s the first step? The beans are washed and carefully dried, and then they are deep-fried until the skins are blistered and the interiors have turned soft and squishy. And if you taste them at this point, you may think to yourself that these are ok, but nothing to write home about.

That is where the sauce comes in. Once the beans have been turned a toasty brown, they are then stir-fried in a savory sauce that gets sucked up by these now thirsty beans. But wait, there’s more: a genuine dish of dry-fried string beans will be robed with yácài 芽菜, a type of preserved mustard green (kind of like a pickle) from Sichuan.

Yacai is a terrific ingredient you should get to know, for it has a darkly savory flavor, a touch of piquance, and (something really unusual for salty preserved things) a super silky texture. And that is what is going to make this dish particularly delicious. You will be tossing in what will seem like a whole lot of yacai, and yet it will turn around and cosset each of the beans so that there is yet another layer of texture in here.

So good...

Yacai is becoming increasingly easy to hunt down in Chinese markets; just head to the pickle aisle, where they will usually be waiting for you in a small cardboard box. They will be either whole or chopped—get whatever you want. Their flavor and texture really is a game changer, as you will probably already noted in that noodle dish from a couple weeks back.

Also like that noodle recipe, this dish is heavily influenced by the cuisine of Yibin, a city in the southwestern corner of Sichuan. It straddles the headwaters of the Yangtze River and is just a stone’s throw from Yunnan Province. In other words, you should expect to eat really, really well here, and of course you do. 

Every Yibin dish I’ve ever devoured has offered wonderful textures and flavors. Nothing overwhelming to spoil my reverie, just a balanced symphony that makes me smile. And so, you should put finding a box of yacai at the top of your To Do list.

Yacai, chile peppers, garlic, & ginger

Frying the string beans ahead of time is highly recommended. That way you can have everything cleaned up and your wok ready for the quick braise. I let the blistered beans cool off and then stick them into a resealable plastic bag. Then, from fridge to table requires only a few minutes.

A note for the nerds out there: This recipe uses a character you won’t run across every day: biān 煸. This is used almost exclusively in Sichuan cooking and refers to quickly stir-frying. It’s usually found in two verb combinations: gānbiān 幹煸 (dry-fried, as in today’s recipe, where only a bit of oil is used in the final step) or biānchăo 煸炒 (stir-fried, with the wok set on the heat before oil is added, and then the ingredients are flash-fried).

Leftovers are good, too. I even eat this cold, like leftover pizza. Don't judge.

 

Dry your trimmed beans

Dry-fried string beans

Gānbiān sìjìdòu 乾煸四季豆

Sichuan

Serves 4

Around 1  pound | 500 g fresh string beans

Frying oil, as needed

4 ounces | 100 g good quality ground pork or turkey, optional

½ cup | 50 g finely chopped yacai

4 dried Thai chiles

3 tablespoons finely chopped green onions

1 teaspoon finely chopped ginger

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 tablespoons mild rice wine (Taiwan Mijiu)

2 teaspoons regular soy sauce

2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil

Chop the meat until fluffy

½ teaspoon sugar

1. Rinse the beans and remove the stem ends, but leave them whole, if you like, and I like. Use a terry towel to rub off as much water as possible, since this will explode once it hits hot oil. Really now, get them totally dry. Have a spatter screen, a slotted spoon ready, and a clean medium work bowl ready.

2. First fry the beans: Set your wok over medium-high heat. Pour in about 1 inch | 2 cm oil. As soon as the oil starts to shimmer, insert a chopstick into the oil—it should be covered with dancing bubbles. Slide in a small handful of the beans. You don’t want too many, as these will fry up more evenly and quickly if you do this in smaller amounts. Adjust the heat as needed and stir the beans around as they fry. When they are browned and slightly crispy, use your slotted spoon to remove them to the work bowl. Repeat with the rest of the beans until all of them have been fried. Pour off all but about 1 tablespoon of the oil.

Readying the sauce

3. If you are using meat in this dish, first use the back of a heavy knife or two to chop it back and forth, up and down, as this lightens the meat and improves the texture. Rinse the yacai and squeeze it dry. If it is not already finely chopped, do so now. Break the chiles in half and shake out the seeds before tearing the chiles into smallish pieces.

4. Now fry the meat and other ingredients: Set the wok back over medium-high heat. When it is hot, add the optional meat, as well as the yacai, chiles, green onions, ginger, and garlic. Stir-fry these until the meat begins to brown. Add the rest of the ingredients, as well as the fried string beans. Turn the heat up to high and toss these all together until the sauce has been absorbed. Taste and adjust the seasoning, then serve.

Yibin's nutty noodles

This is one of those dishes that make you smile at first bite. The ingredients read like a kid’s list of perfect foods: noodles, peanuts, walnuts, and a little bit of pickles. I mean, toss in a sticky sauce, and who isn’t going to love eating this?

It’s a classic street food from the city of Yibin in Sichuan Province. It has a weird name in Chinese (ranmian means “burning noodles,” but no one has ever convinced me that this makes any sense whatsoever—nothing is being set on fire here, so I’m sticking with “nutty noodles”). 

Moreover, this dish is something that even the fussiest of eaters will all agree is startlingly delicious. In fact, I’ve never known of anyone who hasn’t polished off their bowl and then scraped sadly away at the bottom, trying to find a few more of the crunchy crumbs to nibble on.

Delectable crumbs at the bottom

Let’s get the basics out of the way. I’m going to give you the classic recipe, but know that you can use any kind of noodles here and any kind of nuts. They are the main ingredients, yes, but this is the sort of thing that rewards experimentation. Want pecans and macadamias? Be my guest. Love buckwheat noodles? Couldn’t agree with you more.

The only item that you might have trouble hunting down if you don’t live somewhere near a Chinese market is the Sichuanese pickled vegetable known as yácài 芽菜. But don’t worry. Any leafy Chinese pickle will do in a pinch—like snow vegetables (xuélĭhóng 雪裏蕻) or Tianjin’s winter vegetable (dōngcài 冬菜) or even Taiwanese pickled mustard (Táiwān suāncài 台灣酸菜)—since the sole requirement is that there be a touch of slightly tart saltiness in the mix.

If all else fails, chop some Sichuanese pickled tubers (zhàcài 榨菜), or even a cornichon or some capers, into a fine dice, rinse off most of the salt, and you’re ready to go.

Toasted sesame, walnuts, & peanuts

What I’ve found that the pasta I really like here are thin, dried egg noodles. The egg in there makes the noodles fairly tensile and so able to hold up to the onslaught of all sorts of crunchy things tumbling around in there, along with a vibrant sauce. 

But any sort of noodle will do, as long as you don’t overcook it. Just make sure it retains its personality. Floppy pasta won't cut it. 

You can find this dish all over Sichuan, but to my mind nothing comes close to a homemade bowl of these nutty noodles. You get to use a good handful of nuts in here, rather than a miserly smattering, and so each strand of pasta becomes coated with crunch. Plus, homemade chile oil turns up the volume in so many luscious ways. 

Honestly, extra Brownie points are awarded if you have some excellent homemade chile oil (and sweet soy sauce) on hand, as things will just be that much better. Rather than a boring one-note oil that offers little more than heat, the homemade stuff layers on even more flavors and nuances.

Be sure that the nuts and sesame seeds are fresh. That would be my only request. They are the stars of this particular show, so taste them and really make sure. And then prepare to be wowed when they strut their stuff in this marvelous bowl of noodles.

Chewy pasta

Yibin nutty noodles

Yïbīn ránmiàn 宜賓燃麵

Sichuan

Serves 2 as a main dish, or 4 as a side or a snack

¼ cup | 40 g finely chopped toasted peanuts (or sunflower seeds or other seeds or nuts)

¼ cup | 30 g finely chopped toasted walnuts (or pecans or other nuts)

2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds

¼ cup packed | 30 g Sichuan yacai pickled vegetables (see headnotes for substitutes)

2 tablespoons | 30 ml toasted sesame oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

1½ tablespoons sweet soy sauce, or 1½ tablespoons regular soy sauce plus 1 teaspoon sugar

1½ tablespoons chile oil (preferably homemade), or to taste

6 ounces | 180 g dried egg noodles (or whatever noodles you’d like)

2 green onions, green parts only, finely chopped

Super easy & amazingly good

1. If your nuts and seeds have not been toasted yet, do that first. The easiest way is to dry-fry them separately in a wok (meaning without any oil) over medium heat until they taste and smell toasty. Chop the nuts and any larger seeds into pieces not much larger than the sesame seeds, as this way they will mingle nicely with the noodles.

2. Rinse the yacai pickle (or whatever pickle you’re using), squeeze it dry, and chop it finely. Bring about 1 quart | 1 liter of water to a boil in a medium saucepan while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

3. Pour the sesame oil into a wok and set it over medium heat. Add the yacai and garlic. Stir these around until they smell divine, and then add the sweetened soy sauce (or soy sauce plus sugar), as well as chile oil to taste. Check the flavor levels and add more of whatever you like to make the sauce sing.

Crush the nuts before chopping them

4. Boil the dried noodles according to the package directions. Drain them and then toss them in the sauce over medium heat to reduce the sauce and to fully bathe each strand, about 3 minutes. Divide the noodles among your bowls. Sprinkle the nuts and seeds on top, as well as the chopped green onion. Serve hot. Each diner should admire this masterpiece before tossing the crunchy bits into the noodles.

Tip

Soy sauces and sweet soy sauces vary in depth of flavor and saltiness, so add less of either the first time around if you are not sure; you always can add more later.

Use the side of your Chinese knife to first crush the nuts before chopping them. You'll find that the nuts will be easier to corral that way. 

Fried gold thread buns

Happy Year of the Dog!

This is one of the first banquet foods that completely blew my mind during that initial year in Taiwan. Why fried buns like this aren’t sold everywhere in the world is beyond my comprehension. 

For, they are like doughnuts, but not as sweet. and they're like beignets, but better. And, if I'm going to get all poetic on you, these are like the toast and jam the angels must dine on. And if they don’t, I would like to know why.

Gold thread buns are a variation on silver thread buns (also known as yínsījuăn 銀絲卷), which are a variation on mántóu 饅頭, or plain steamed buns. 

Silver thread buns are, I admit, much more common just about everywhere in Taiwan and North China. And you can make them easily from this recipe by simply not adding the sweet potatoes in Step 3. It’s that simple. And this will give you something that is honestly amazing.

Steamed gold thread buns

But the sweet potatoes here are so good. They make these buns look like a gorgeous cross between sushi and eggs. Plus, that mild vegetal sweetness transforms into something magically aromatic in here.

These buns are also all about texture, for the dough threads offer up a silky quality that teases the tongue underneath the tensile outer dough wrapper. 

Mashed sweet potatoes

And that’s the reason why these buns are so beloved at big northern-style banquets, at least back when I was a student in Taipei. This was treat food reserved for holidays and weddings, not something you could get every day. And yet, even then, these hadn’t reached the absolute pinnacle of dream food status, at least in my book.

No, for that you had to fry them. And serve them with a little dish of sweetened condensed milk on the side. Yes, I understand your trepidation, since we just don’t serve bread with condensed milk in the West, but stick with me here. Try this. It’s an insane level of delicious. 

Ask your Taiwanese friends whether they’d like to try a batch and watch them start to drool as their eyes roll back into their heads. Yup, they are that good.

Wrap the mash in the dough

Fried gold thread buns

Zhá jīnsījuăn 炸金絲捲

North China

Makes 24, serves 6

1½ teaspoons bread yeast

1 tablespoon sugar

1¼ cups | 300 ml warm water

Spray oil

3 cups | 450 g Chinese flour (or ⅔ all purpose flour + ⅓ pastry or cake flour), plus extra for kneading and shaping the dough

1 tablespoon softened unsalted butter or butter substitute, or vegetable oil

½ teaspoon sea salt

¼ cup | 70 g cooked and mashed red sweet potatoes, pumpkin, or carrots

Butter up the "threads"

2 tablespoons packed light brown sugar or coconut sugar

2 tablespoons melted unsalted butter or butter substitute, or vegetable oil, divided in half

Vegetable oil, as needed

Sweetened condensed milk, homemade or store bought, as needed

1. Sprinkle the yeast and sugar over the warm water, stir them in, and wait until the yeast has a heavy head of foam, about 30 minutes. While the yeast is blooming, set up your steamer. You’ll need two baskets lined with steamer paper. Spray the paper with oil. Cover the baskets, fill the pan with water, and bring the pan to a full boil with the baskets on top. This will warm up the baskets and make them ready for the buns.

Arrange the "threads" on the white dough

2. Measure the flour into a medium work bowl and pour in the yeast mixture, butter, and salt. Mix these together to form a flaky dough, and then turn this out onto a clean work surface. Knead the dough with a bit more flour until it is as soft as an earlobe and no longer sticky. Divide the dough into approximately two-thirds and one-third. Set the large ball of dough back in the bowl and cover it with a towel to rest while you prepare your “gold threads.”

3. Pat the smaller ball of dough into a cup-like shape on a heavily floured surface and pile the mashed sweet potatoes and brown sugar into the center. Use a pastry scraper in one hand to corral the dough while you knead it with the other. Add more flour as necessary until you have a soft dough that is no longer sticky.

4. Scrape your work surface clean and then smear it lightly with oil. Flatten the orange dough out into a thin rectangle, about 18 x 9 inches | 45 x 22 cm in size. Use a pastry brush to smear half of the melted butter over the dough. Fold the dough in thirds, so that you have a packet about 6 x 9 inches | 15 x 22 cm in size. Roll this up from one of the wide edges into a cylinder about 9 inches | 22 cm long. Use a sharp knife to cut the cylinder into thin strips, about ⅛ inch | 0.3 cm wide. Lay these strips out flat on a clean work surface, brush the rest of the melted butter on them, and let them rest while you prepare the bun wrappers.

5. Scrape your work surface clean and lightly flour it. Divide the white dough in half. Working on piece at a time, roll one piece out into a thin sheet, about 20 x 7 inches | 45 x 11 cm in size. Pick up a small bunch of the orange dough threads and pull on them gently so that they turn into strings. Don’t worry if some of them break—no one will notice later on. Lay these strings lengthwise down the center of the white sheet of dough. Repeat with the orange dough threads until you have used up half of them.

6. Fold one long end of the dough over the orange dough threads and then continue to roll it up and over the orange threads to form a long rope. Pinch the end of the dough into the cylinder to seal it. Then, lightly roll the dough with the palms of your hands to even it out, and then gently pull on it to make it around 10 inches| 25 cm long.

7. Trim off the ends and cut the rope into 12 even pieces. Roll each one of the little buns to return it to a nicely round shape (see photo on the upper right). Set these on the oiled paper in the steamer and steam the buns over high heat for about 10 minutes. Once the buns have cooked through, nudge each one loose from the paper while they are still hot. Repeat with the rest of the orange and white doughs until you have formed 24 small buns. These can be frozen at this point, refrigerated and then reheated, or eaten immediately. But for pure sensory overboard, go to Step 8.

Frying up the buns

8. To fry these buns, set a 1 quart | 1 liter pan over medium-high heat and fill it with about 2 inches | 5 cm oil. The oil will be ready when chopsticks inserted in the hot oil are immediately covered with bubbles. Slide in 4 or so buns. Do not overcrowd them, as they will fry up fast, and you don’t want them to stick to each other. Turn the buns over as they brown. When they have turned a golden brown all over, remove to a plate lined with paper. Serve immediately with a saucer filled with sweetened condensed milk.