Fresh guanciale, Yunnan style

This was our favorite thing to order at the traditional Yunnan-style restaurant called Yúnnán Rénhéyuán 雲南仁和園 in downtown Taipei. Back in the day, we would be served shards of the entire boned pig’s head: face, snout, jowls, ears, and tongue. I prefer, however, to make it just with the meaty jowls — i.e., cheeks. 

The jowl is slowly simmered in a richly seasoned liquid that permeates every cell, and it’s already so flavorful that you really don’t need a highly seasoned sauce, but even so, I would never serve this dish without it. The chilies, garlic, vinegar, green onions, soy sauce, and sesame oil come together to bathe each slice with an aromatic sheen that stuns the taste buds a bit as they hit the tongue, and then they subside just as the teeth release those herby, porky flavors hidden in each satiny slice.

Make razor-thin slices

A direct translation of the Chinese name, “big thin slices,” dabaopian is a study in the Chinese ideal of yóu ér búnì 油而不膩,  which means “buttery but not greasy.” This means that the pork has a silky, creamy texture that does not leave a layer of fat in your mouth. And considering that this cut of meat is pretty much the equivalent of fresh bacon, that is nothing short of amazing.

Pig jowls come pre-cleaned, which saves you a lot of hassle, and they are the tastiest part of the head. The jowls look for all the world like a nice piece of pork belly: a thick cut of meat interwoven with white fat, and a good layer of skin on top. Most Chinese places treat the jowls like fresh bacon (the Italians do the same thing when making guanciale). In fact, you can even consider substituting pork jowl for pork belly in other recipes. It is generally cheaper than most cuts of pork because most people here are just not familiar with it. For that reason, a good butcher might often carry it after a whole hog has been butchered, or they might accept special orders (see the Tips), but most supermarkets won’t.

A two-pound cheek will not look all that big, but something happens as it cooks: the cells swell up, and you are left with a really luscious pillow after a couple of hours. Chill the pork overnight and be sure and strain the liquid, for it makes an excellent stock.

A fresh pig jowl - yum!

Another thing I’d recommend is that you make this dish only for adults – the reason is that dabaopian is definitely bar food of the highest order. Like so many of China’s rich meat dishes, dabaopian demands the accompaniment of a drink that can hold its own against the rich flavors and fermented seasonings in the sauce. Be certain to serve this alongside something alcoholic - be it rice wine, white liquor, or even whiskey or scotch - but I wouldn’t recommend things like grape wines or even chilled beer.

Instead, this needs the lush aromas of a hearty grain-based brew, preferably at room temperature for the white liquor and those Western brews, or even hotter for the rice wine. Both Maotai (from Guizhou) and Gaoliang (from Kinmen in Taiwan) would be good here. Warmth is necessary to keep the mouth at body temperature or higher, which prevents the fats from seizing up and turning your tongue into a coated gym sock. The esters in the white liquor then work with the savory aromas to turn this into a serious source of dining pleasure.

Big thin slices of a pig’s head
Dàbáopiàn 大薄片
Yunnan
Serves 8 to 12 as an appetizer

Meat:
1 (2 pounds, or so) pig jowl (a/k/a cheek), with the skin attached
Water, as needed
¼ cup white liquor
4 green onions, trimmed
¼ cup thinly sliced ginger
½ teaspoon sea salt
2 teaspoons whole Sichuan peppercorns
1½ teaspoons fennel seeds

Sauce:
1 to 2 red jalapeño peppers
3 green onions, trimmed
6 cloves garlic, peeled
6 tablespoons regular soy sauce
6 tablespoons black vinegar
3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil

1. Start this at least a day before you plan to serve it. Rinse the jowl and pat it dry. If there are hairs still poking out of the skin, don’t worry about them, since they can be easily dealt with once the pork skin has been cooked. Place the jowl in a medium saucepan and cover with water. Bring the water to a boil and simmer for about 10 minutes, then dump out the water and scum, rinse the jowl and saucepan, and return the jowl to the saucepan. Add the white liquor, green onions, ginger, and salt to the pork. If you want, enclose the Sichuan peppercorns and fennel in either some cheesecloth or a mesh ball and toss this in the pot, or else let them roam free with the other seasonings. Bring the water to a boil, lower the heat to a gentle simmer, and cook the jowl for around 3 hours uncovered, adding more water as necessary. Check to see if the jowl is done by poking a chopstick through the thickest part — it should offer absolutely no resistance, but the meat and skin should not be falling apart, either. Let the meat cool in the broth and then remove the jowl to a clean covered container. Refrigerate it overnight and up to a couple of days. The broth can be strained and used for something else, while the solids should be discarded.

Ready for the pot

2. Before you do anything else, pull out any hairs you find in the skin at this point, since they will be easy to remove with either tweezers or a paring knife. Once that is done, cut the jowl against the grain into very long, thin slices while it is still chilled and easy to handle, arrange it on a platter, and then let the meat and silky fat come to room temperature before serving.

3. While the jowl is slowly warming up, prepare the sauce: Stem and seed as many peppers as you like and cut them into tiny dice. Chop the onions and garlic into a fine mince, as well, and place all of these aromatics into a small work bowl. Stir in the soy sauce, vinegar, and sesame oil. Adjust seasoning and then either serve the sauce alongside the meat, or pour it over the room temperature slices right before serving.

Tips

Pork jowls are not always available in Western butcher shops. I therefore ask my butcher to set them aside for me when they bring in a whole hog.

The white liquor, ginger, and spices work to tame the natural gaminess of the jowls. What you should end up with is a mildly flavored meat.

As with French headcheese, this dish benefits from a tart, aromatic sauce. The chili peppers can be as hot as you like, and you can use a chili sauce, if you prefer. I’d caution against adding sugar to the sauce.

You can, of course, use a whole boned pig’s head here. But make sure you multiply the recipe ingredients by 3, because you will have around 7 pounds of pork to contend with.

Of quail eggs & the West Wind

This romantic-sounding dish, West Wind Tea Quail Eggs, gets its name from a white liquor. One of China’s oldest varieties, West Wind is made in Fengxiang county, which lies almost directly west of Xi’an in Shaanxi. 

This was once a center for the earliest beginnings of Chinese civilization. Not only that, but excavations of Western Zhou dynasty (1046-771 BCE) sites around Fengxiang have shown that a thriving brewing culture was already in full swing there at the time.

Made mainly from sorghum grown in the neighborhood, barley and dried peas are added to the mix along with well water to make this unique clear liquor, the different grains adding subtle layers to its perfume.

Beautifully marbled

In this beautiful dish, where the cracked yet unpeeled eggs form intricate webbed designs on the whites, white liquor is added mainly as a flavoring; since West Wind is still hard to find outside of China, any good white lightning will do, such as gaoliang or Meiguilu.

Pigeon eggs are traditionally used in this recipe, but quail eggs are much easier to hunt down here, as good Chinese markets tend to keep a steady supply of them on hand alongside the other kinds of eggs. And while every single other type of egg comes in dozens or half-dozens, quail eggs invariably come as a set of ten packed in little plastic coffins. No one has ever explained why.

Make these 3 to 5 days ahead of when you want to serve them. As with all tea eggs or braised eggs, they need considerable resting time in the fridge for the flavors to seep all the way down to the yolks.

Ten to a box!

West wind tea quail eggs

Xīfēng chá chúndàn 西風茶鶉蛋 

Shaanxi
Serves 4 to 6

Eggs:

30 fresh quail eggs (see Tips)

Water as needed

Braising liquid:

4 cups boiling filtered water

3 tablespoons green tea leaves

4 slices ginger

2 green onions, trimmed

1 tablespoon Sichuan peppercorns

1 large piece dried tangerine peel

2 teaspoons fennel seeds

1 tablespoon rock sugar

7 tablespoons regular soy sauce, divided

7 tablespoons white liquor 

1. Start this recipe at least 3 days before you want to serve it. Use a pin or tack to prick a hole in the round end of each egg. Place the eggs in a medium saucepan, cover them with hot tap water, and slowly bring the eggs to a boil over medium heat. Stir the eggs every 30 seconds or so until the water comes to a boil, as this will keep the yolks in the center of the eggs. Gently boil the eggs for about 3 or 4 minutes (it doesn’t matter, really, as the eggs are going to be cooked further in the braising liquid), and then empty out the water, fill the pan with cold tap water, and let the eggs completely cool down. Gently crack the eggs all over (but don’t peel them) and let them drain in a colander.

2. Pour the water into a medium saucepan and the tea leaves, ginger, Sichuan peppercorns, tangerine peen fennel seeds, sugar, and 5 tablespoons of both the soy sauce and the white liquor. Bring the braising liquid to a boil and simmer it for an hour or two, or until the liquid has been reduced by half. Add the unpeeled eggs, bring the liquid to the boil again, and then lower it to a barely discernible simmer. After about an hour, turn off the heat and let the eggs come to room temperature. Add the remaining soy sauce and white liquor, taste, and adjust seasonings.

3. Place the eggs and the braising liquid in a covered container; the liquid should cover all or most of the eggs. Refrigerate the eggs, and when you think of it, lightly shake the eggs in the liquid so that they each get a good dunk in the flavorings.

4. After 3 days to even a week later, peel the eggs just before serving. I like to rinse them in the braising liquid just in case there are any tiny bits of shell clinging to the whites. Serve at room temperature or slightly chilled.

Eggs starting to boil

Tips

Hardboiled quail eggs can sometimes be very difficult to peel, but I’ve hit on a solution for this:

First let them sit out on a cool kitchen counter in their plastic wrappers for about 5 days. This ages them just enough to make the shell easy to remove.

 I always use a sharp pin or tack to punch a hole in the round end of each egg, since the air sac there expands in the hot water and tends to break the shell. (Look at their flat bottoms in the top two photos: that's from the air sacs, which makes these shaped like gumdrops instead of eggs.)

Finally, use medium heat to bring the water to a boil; since the eggs will be at room temperature, the water will still boil fairly quickly, but it won’t be fast enough to surprise the air sacs into exploding.

I also stir the eggs every 30 seconds or so as they come to a boil, since this centers the yolks inside the whites.

On having great face in Yunnan

Whenever we ate at the restaurant Yunnan Renheyuan in downtown Taipei, this would be the first thing to arrive on our table. We’d get dabaopian (big thin slices) as an appetizer to calm our raging hunger, and that it would do, while at the same time readying our taste buds for the coming meal.

If you've never eaten pig’s head or head cheese or pork jowls, this might seem like an odd thing to order of your own free will. But those of you who know and love this cut of meat will understand completely.

Traditionally, this dish is made with the entire boned pig’s head so that what is left looks a whole lot like one of those pullover rubber Halloween masks. You will have the face and snout, as well as the ears and maybe even the tongue.

Big, thin slices of jowl

My husband used to love making different pig’s head dishes at home – his favorite being a dish he concocted of the thinly sliced meat stir-fried with satay sauce – but since I was always given the job of cleaning the damn thing, I rebelled after about the third head. 

Back then, you see, most of the hair would be gone by the time the butcher handed over this big bundle, but there would still be enough bristles to cause me great anxiety, and then there was the problem of how to successfully swab out the ears and nostrils. Many Q-tips and gallons of sudsy water later, I’d have a shiny face looking back at me, but this press gang sort of labor killed any appetite along the way and led to grim thoughts of how my life had led this sad task of swabbing out a rubbery snout in a kitchen that supplied only cold tap water.

My husband is a happy man once again (and I a happy woman) because I've found that pig jowls are not only provided clean here in the States, but they are the nicest cut of the head, with thick layers of meat interwoven with white fat and a good layer of skin on top. This cut looks for all the world like a great piece of pork belly, which is why so many places treat it like fresh bacon, such as the Italians with their guanciale. In fact, consider using pork jowl interchangeably with pork belly, as it generally is quite cheap, since few (white) people know what they’re missing.

Big thin slices (of a pig’s head) 
Dàbáopiàn  大薄片 

Yunnan
Serves 8 to 12 as an appetizer

Meat:

1 pig jowl (cheek) with the skin attached, about 2 pounds

Filtered water as needed

¼ cup white liquor

Like the best fresh bacon

4 green onions, trimmed

¼ cup thinly sliced ginger

½ teaspoon sea salt

2 teaspoons whole Sichuan peppercorns

1½ teaspoons fennel seeds

Sauce:

1 to 2 red jalapeno peppers

3 green onions, trimmed

6 cloves garlic, peeled

6 tablespoons regular soy sauce

6 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil

Side view of the raw jowl

1. Rinse the jowl and pat dry. If there are hairs still poking out of the skin, don’t worry about them, since they can be easily dealt with once the pork skin has been cooked. Place the jowl in a medium saucepan and cover with tap water. Bring the water to a boil and simmer for about 10 minutes, then dump out the water and scum, rinse the jowl and saucepan, and return the jowl to the saucepan. Add the rest of the ingredients, bring the water to a boil, lower the heat to a gentle simmer, and cook the jowl for around 3 hours uncovered, adding more water as necessary. Check to see if the jowl is done by poking a chopstick through the skin into the meat; there should be absolutely no resistance, but the meat and skin should not be falling apart, either. Let the meat cool in the broth and then remove the jowl to a clean covered container. Refrigerate it overnight and up to maybe 4 days. (The broth can be strained and used for something else.)

2. Before you do anything else, pull out any errant hairs at this point, since they will be easy to remove with either tweezers (get the big Chinese kind at a market or kitchen supply store, if possible) or a paring knife; if you’re using the knife, put your thumb on one side of a hair and the knife on the other, and then pull up. Once that is done, cut the jowl into very long, thin slices while it is still chilled and easy to handle, arrange it on a platter, and then let the meat and silky fat come to room temperature before serving.

3. While the jowl is slowly warming up, prepare the sauce: Stem and seed as many peppers as you like and cut them into tiny dice. Chop the onions and garlic into tiny pieces, as well, and place all of these aromatics into a small work bowl. Stir in the soy sauce, vinegar, and sesame oil. Adjust seasoning and then either serve the sauce alongside the meat or pour it over the room temperature slices right before serving.

 

No longer a weird cut of meat

Tips

Pork jowls – also called cheeks – are not always available in Western butcher shops. I ask my butcher to set one aside for me when they bring in a whole hog. As always, the quality of the meat is essential to the success of this dish, so aim for pigs that were raised and butchered with care.

The white liquor, Sichuan peppercorns, and ginger work to tame the natural gaminess of this cut of pork. What you should end up with is a mildly flavored meat that is gently seasoned.

As with French headcheese, this dish benefits from a tart, aromatic sauce. The chili peppers can be as hot or not as you and your family likes. I’d caution against adding sugar to the sauce since that acidity is what perks up the palate and cuts the fatty elements down to size.

  

You can, of course, use a whole boned pig’s head here; just realize that you will have around 7 pounds of pork to contend with, so multiply the ingredients by around 3.

Pickled red chilies: a taste of central China

Before I leave Guizhou's remarkable cuisines on my trip around the rest of the country's foods, I want to introduce one condiment that is both beautiful and delicious: south-central China's Pickled Red Chilies.

As with so many easily canned items, this condiment can often be found on a Chinese grocery shelf. And many of them are quite good. But none are as stunning -- or as tasty -- as the ones you can make yourself.

Now is the time when fresh red chilies are at their peak (at least around here), so I've put up a couple of jars which might be able to see me through to next summer. Why make your own if storebought are available? Well, if you have ever tasted homemade pickle chips or chutney, then you know the answer: flavor.

Fresh Thai chilies

When you have a jar of pickled whatever made from truly fresh ingredients, they taste a couple thousand times more wonderful than anything a commercial processor can make. Plus, you can pick exactly the ingredients you like, mix up aromatics that suit your palate, and play with the salt-sugar-vinegar ratios until the wheels come off.

And that's what I did. I was wandering around a really huge Chinese market in San Francisco's new Chinatown in the Richmond district, poking through the veggie displays and feeling very uninspired when I noticed net sacks full of Thai chilies. To call these chilies red is sort of an understatement. These were the true scarlet of fire engines, and I immediately knew what they were destined to become.

One thing that has tended to bother me about many commercial pickled chilies that they are so one-note. There's intense heat, of course, but not a whole lot of flavor other than that. So, what I did was add some Sichuan peppercorns for their fresh piney aroma, some star anise to bring a relatively undefinable spicy note to the brine, and then put some Chinese brown slab sugar in the mix to make this not completely sour, but more pleasant and aromatic.

The results are delicious... and gorgeous.

Chinese brown slab sugar

This is a truly simple recipe, one you can pretty much put together while watching an old movie or a ballgame. If you have sensitive skin, wear disposable gloves and resist the temptation to rub your face, as you will feel the pain for quite some time.

Plain old jars left over from something else can be used here. Just wash the jars and lids carefully, sterilize them in the dishwasher or with boiling water, and let them air dry.

The aromatics in here can be played with to your heart's content. This is just a guideline, and a loose one at that.

Like red fingertips

Pickled red chilies Guizhou style  
Qianshi pao honglajiao 黔式泡紅辣椒  
Guizhou
Makes about 1½ pints

8 to 10 ounces fresh (or frozen) red Thai or Serrano chilies

4 cups filtered water

1 piece slab brown sugar, or 2 ounces piloncillo or other light brown sugar

1½ ounces sea salt (about 7 ½ teaspoons)

2 whole star anise

1 teaspoon Sichuan peppercorns

1½ tablespoons white liquor (gaoliang, maotai, or any other high proof Chinese white liquor)

1. Clean and sterilize three half-pint jars and lids, or one 1-pint and one half-pint jar. Have 2 or 3 plastic spoons cleaned and ready. If you are sensitive to chilies, prepare a pair of disposable gloves to wear while you are working with the chilies.

2. Wash the chilies and pat dry. Remove the stem ends by pulling them off and trim away any less than perfect parts. Pack the chilies into the prepared jars so that they are vertical, with the cut sides up as much as possible (see Tips).

3. Pour the water into a very clean saucepan and add the sugar, salt, star anise, and Sichuan peppercorns. Bring the water to a boil, cover, lower the heat, and simmer until the sugar and salt are dissolved. Remove the pan from the heat and let the brine come to room temperature.

My humble invention

4. Pour the brine over the chilies, and distribute the whole spices more or less equally among the jars. (If you’re using three jars, do this by pulling some of the petals off of the star anise.) The chilies will float to the top of the jars, so to keep them submerged, hold a plastic spoon up against a bottle where it curves in toward the screws and then break the handle off so that it is a little bit longer than that area. Gently bend the handle and slip it into the jar so that it snaps open just below the curved area and thus holds down the chilies. If the spoon end fits into one of the jars, use that, too.

5. Pour a half tablespoon of the white liquor into each half-pint jar, or 1 tablespoon into the pint jar. Cover the jars loosely so that gases can escape, wipe clean the jars, and label them. Place the jars in a cool, dark place so that they can ferment. They will be ready as early as two weeks later, but they improve with age. Check the jars occasionally to ensure that the chilies remain submerged. If any mold happens to form, remove it, wipe down the inside of the jar with a paper towel dipped in white liquor, and add a bit more of the liquor to the jar.

6. When the chilies are just like you like them, store the jars in the fridge.

Tips

Fresh red chilies are best at the beginning of autumn when they have just been harvested, but they often are available at other times of the year. Check with your greengrocer or farmer’s market.

Frozen Thai chilies are often sold in Chinese markets, and can be of very good quality. Just defrost them and use them right away, since they will rot quickly if not processed.

Have a couple of plastic spoons at the ready the first time you try this method of holding down the chilies, as sometimes they break at awkward times. I’ve found that those without ridges along the edges are more flexible. Of course, forks, knives, and sporks can be used, too.

Doesn't get better than this

White liquor helps keep mold from forming and also flavors the chilies.

I have taken a bit of liberty with this recipe, adding Sichuan peppercorns, star anise, and sugar to the recipe, as I like the subtle flavor vibrations these cause. If you want more traditional pickled chilies, leave them out.

Other aromatics can be added, of course, in addition to or instead of what is already here. Ginger, garlic, black peppercorns… they all add nice layers.

Place the chilies with the pointy ends down so that any air or fermentation in the chilies will not be trapped, but will rather rise to the top of the jar.