The most luscious rice cakes ever. Thanks, Ningbo.

Ningbo on the coast of Zhejiang is the home to these chewy little slices of heaven called "rice cakes" or nian'gao, but I was completely unaware of them until I moved out of my Chinese family’s downtown home and into an apartment on the outskirts of Taipei with two American roommates.

We were within a stone’s throw from the airport, and in a few years the area would become very ritzy, but at the time it was cheap and ever-so-nicely rundown at the edges, making it great for three people on tight budgets.

Around the corner near the bus stop was a little place run by the sweetest man from Ningbo, and he was the one who introduced me to these stir-fried rice cakes. I soon invented all sorts of excuses for stopping in for a simple yet utterly delicious meal, and I inevitably did it when I was alone so that I could revel in all of the flavors and textures and aromas there without any distractions. This nice gentleman understood, and so he would serve me and then leave me alone in order to fully adore his food.

"Rice cakes" is one of those horrible translations that manages to supply all the wrong images, but there really is no equivalent in Western cuisine. Nian’gao like these are made of sticky rice that has been cooked, pounded into a paste, formed into batons, cooled, and then sliced.

If you are fond of mochi (and who isn’t?), you will like nian’gao, although these are firm and unsweetened and meant to be cooked again before being eaten. The name actually means "year cakes" because various forms of these rice pastes are traditionally eaten all over China during the Lunar New Year.

Red-in-snow

Nian’gao is fairly bland and offers only the natural sweetness of rice itself, so it serves as the perfect vehicle for whatever you want to match it with. When it is stir-fried as here, it will remain bouncy and chewy, and so things that are likewise bouncy and chewy are usually matched with it.

My favorite is the recipe here, a very vegan dish that is just amazingly delicious. The seasonings are juuust right, and the textures play off each other in a disarming way: the crisp bamboo shoots and nutty green soybeans getting a wonderful run for their money with the salted mustard greens called “red-in-snow” and good old green onions acting as a luscious backup, with the rice cakes bringing everything together.

Rice cakes with salted mustard greens, bamboo, and green soybeans

Xuělĭhóng sŭnsī máodòu cháo niángāo  雪裏紅筍絲毛豆炒年糕

Jiangsu, Zhejiang
Serves 2 as a main dish

3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

Frozen shoots & soybeans

4 green onions, trimmed and chopped

1 small bamboo shoot, fresh or frozen and defrosted, cut into julienne (about 1 cup)

1 cup shelled green soybeans (edamame), defrosted

6 ounces (about 1 cup) chopped Salted Mustard Greens (xuelihong)

12 ounces (about 2¼ cups) sliced Ningbo-style rice cakes, the slices separated if necessary

2 tablespoons Shaoxing rice wine

1 cup filtered boiling water

1. Heat a wok over high heat and then add the oil. Toss in the green onions and stir them around to release their fragrance. Before they start to brown, add the julienned bamboo shoot and soybeans. Toss these in the hot oil for about a minute to heat them through and then add the pickled greens (be sure and cut up any large pieces you find). Toss these together some more for about half a minute, and then add the rice cakes.

2. After you stir-fry the rice cakes for a minute or so, pour in the rice wine and the boiling water around the edge of the wok, and then continue to toss the rice cakes until most of the liquid has been absorbed. Taste and adjust the seasoning, if necessary. Serve hot in bowls.

A signature Shanghainese flavor made at home

One of the classic flavors of the lower Yangtze River area is fresh salted mustard greens. 

Often available in Chinese supermarkets nowadays, you will find it either in refrigerated plastic bags or canned. However, you can make this at home with minimal effort, ensuring that it truly is fresh and tasty.

           

I have always loved the subtle spicy hint in these greens that is courtesy of their mustardy volatile oils. 

This characteristic is most obvious when you take a nibble of the fresh darker leaves, and it becomes mellower as the vegetable is cooked, as can be enjoyed in a Hunanese recipe for mustard stems cooked with schmaltz and ginger (jīyóu jiècài  雞油芥菜).

Baby radish (L) & xuelihong greens

With salting, though, this nose-tickling tendency gets tamped down even more, providing a really delicious hit of flavor that turns almost buttery when it is chopped and fried. In next week’s post, I will show you how to use it in a classic dish from the coastal town of Ningbo in Zhejiang province: sliced rice cakes with bamboo shoots and fresh soybeans, with the xuelihong adding just the right amount of salt and seasoning. (Fun fact: I could go through bowls of that without breaking a sweat.)

           

Summer and autumn are the times when true xuelihong mustard greens appear in Chinese markets, their long stems and wrinkled leaves offering the perfect counterpoint of crunchiness and softness when they are salted. Just about any variety of mustard will do, though, and I have even made it from Chinese radish greens numerous times when I could not find any mustard that grabbed my fancy. (Korean markets are excellent sources for the baby radish greens as pictured above on the left.)

           

Wilted greens

The only caveat is that all of these greens—and especially radish greens—can be terribly gritty, and just a single microscopic grain will ruin your enjoyment of these sensuously salted greens, so wash and wash and wash them until every speck is gone. I usually soak the fresh greens in a big basin of warm water, which softens the dirt and makes it easy to dislodge. Soak the greens at least three times this way (use the water on your plants if you don’t like wasting it), swishing the greens around vigorously after their soak. When the water at the bottom of the basin is absolutely grit free, then you can proceed.

           

Salting them is an easy affair. Shake the greens dry and then either towel-dry them or whirl them in a salad spinner to remove the surface water. Then, place them in a large, clean bowl and massage them with the salt. That is pretty much it. Use the salted greens within a week for optimum flavor and texture.

Salted Shanghainese greens

Xuělĭhóng 雪裏紅 or xuělĭhóng 雪裏蕻

Jiangsu, Zhejiang
Makes about 2 cups chopped greens

2 pounds (more or less) xuelihong mustard greens, other mustard greens, or fresh Chinese radish greens

2 tablespoons coarse sea salt

1. Rinse the greens thoroughly and shake dry. Tear the greens in half or thirds and dry them either in a salad spinner or wrapping in a dry tea towel. Cut the thick stems in half.

Spin off the water

2. Place the greens in a large work bowl and sprinkle them with the salt. Then, lightly rub the salt into the greens for a few minutes. Let the greens sit in the bowl, tossing them every 5 minutes or so, for about 20 minutes, and then let them rest in the bowl for another 40 minutes until the leaves and stems are limp.

3. Use your hands to squeeze out the liquid from the greens, handfuls at a time, and place the greens in a resealable plastic bag. Close the bag and refrigerate the greens for a day or two. Chop the leaves and stems into approximately ¼-inch pieces. Return the greens to the bag and keep them refrigerated, and use them within a week. Rinse the greens under cool tap water and squeeze dry before using.