September 30, 2007

Double-header II for 10/1: From the Archive: Wood chaff pudding

Sorry for digging out this characteristically uber Chinese post (mimicking ancient text style, just for fun) from the archive to groove in the mood of National Day celebration. I was trying the recipe I stole from a restaurant in Macao long time back; minor modification was made due to both the lack of ingredients and the slack of action but phew, the result tasted delicious all the same.

初,已時:
Img_9467   大丈夫其誰不有四方志?遠征馬交船屋餐廳,一試馳名木糠布甸。幸甚,“聞名不如見面,見面不如整件。” 縱橫食界良久,未有布甸能合也,何今喫精妙絕倫如斯?材簡,匠巧。如外貌爾爾之千里馬遇伯樂,自可獨步冀北之野,凝千秋之飛鴻:韻烈金石,震彩江水, 引人入勝矣。甜品之理復顧,布甸之道固當!晴天霹靂,醍醐灌頂皆不足以萬一;雨露蒼生,澤被萬方!席間盡皆額手稱慶也。

   "好味呀!好撚正邪!" 窺伺,效慕之心頓起,決他值於港之閭閻也!

次,暮:
   一登上水梧桐之巔。天高地迴,覺宇宙之無窮;興盡悲來,識盈虛之有數。桑榆既晚,炮製布甸之尹始 -- 餓至肚皮靠背 -- 終感大焉。

同日彈指間,上水「偽糠」市集:
Img_9552    夕陽西山下,人影散亂。徐徐行之。總統牌淡忌廉兩盒遂得。鷹牌煉奶一瓶亦然。運籌帷幄間,惟嘉頓牌馬利餅杳然!蹉乎,超市碩大無朋,獨欠馬利乎?紫電青霜,強者之道,哀有平坦乎? 情急智生,引麥維他牌牛油手指替之也。鷹視狼顧,龍行虎步;江山無數之英武氣概表露無遺!

時維亥子,寒舍:
   一)牛油手指何其甜腴肥美,蓄之“藍加黃變綠”密實袋內。奮而壓,狀呈無敵不摧之猛。須臾,碎之如砂也。手舞足蹈,頻稱萬歲。
   
Img_9554 Img_9557    二)總統牌淡忌廉兩盒盡傾,尋打蛋機於灶營也,良久未得之有。及如夢初醒,打蛋機已逝,家母前已納之。「媽打,點解你咁大整蠱,攞走左我既打蛋機都唔單聲?」獨嘆,惟今何如,何如?英雄悵然兮。猶持籌算之,成就霸業之途,豈有不舛之理?君子,《易》曰:「終日乾乾,與時偕行」。夫戰,勇氣也。遂人手發之。一鼓作氣,再而衰,三而竭。未幾,汗出不息,若波臣肆虐也;手呈癲癇,人呈旗靡,頭髮盡披散也。「打蛋機,俾番部打蛋機我呀!」噫!忌廉七成企身兮力盡。煉奶些許兮加之,再打至呈八成企身之姿。嗚呼!至此,目露青白,力枯而盡,頹然沙發間也。

Img_9560    三)覓一酒杯,委半杯忌廉於內,倒餅碎之間,復勉忌廉, 再濺之餅碎稀稀。嘻!木糠布甸雛形乍見之。藏於電冰箱下層(冰格非善)。姑待之一二時辰,取出,雖狀甚醜,唯淺而嘗之,忌廉瑩白如冰雪,甘酸如醴酪。口感滋味盡得船屋真傳之八九,再嘗,大有巫山行雲,長江流水之勢,不為虛語焉。喜不自勝,愈因而序之耳。

March 23, 2006

Chicken and conch soup with honey dew melon

To Italo Calvino, the world is an artichoke. "The world's reality presents itself to our eyes as multiple, prickly, and as densely superimposed layers. Like an artichoke. ...to continue to unpeel it like a never-ending artichoke, discovering more and more new dimensions..."

Img_9264 I love reading Italo and I am fascinated by the way he sums this world as a food (but he's an Italian, after all). Yet I have the gut feeling that if he were living in Hong Kong like I do since childhood, he would more likely to say the world is a bowl of Cantonese soup. Like, seeing how endless brilliant and hearty possibilities can be achieved with simple ingredients.

Soup for today: Chicken and conch soup with honey dew melon. A soup that is good for your kidneys and skin. Serves 3-4.

Ingredients:

Img_9256_1_1 Img_9257_1 Fresh conch feet -- 600g
Chicken feet -- one pair
Pork shank -- 600g
Honey dew melon -- one
Chicken -- half
Chinese ham -- 40g
Ginger -- a few slices
Water -- 12 bowls

Instructions:

  • Clean the conch feet.
  • Cut the melon in halves, discard the seeds and cut cubes from it.
  • Blanch the pork, the chicken, the conch feet and the chicken feet for about 3-4 minutes to wipe out scum like blood and grease.
  • Boil the water, add all ingredients except the melon cubes and cook to boil in high heat.
  • Simmer gently for another 2 hours.
  • Skim fat from the soup, add the melon cubes, cook in low heat for another 45 minutes.

Img_9258_1 Img_9259_1 Img_9260_1 1. Get an old chicken -- they have much more flavor. An old  'stewing' hen is excellent for this soup. The young supermarket hens, though less greasy, have no flavor at all.
2. Unlike the dried conch feet I once did here, which ready for use right away, we need to swab the swarthy and squishy dirt away from the fresh conch feet. A good way to do this, as told by my beloved fishmonger, is to rub it with your damnedest effort with sea salt on the cutting board -- one by one.
3. Remember to skim fat from the soup before you dunk in the melon cubes. An easy way to do this that I learnt lately is to toss a handful of ice cubes and skim them out with the fat that congeals around them.

October 27, 2005

Wild kudzu vine and snakehead soup: 野葛菜生魚湯

Soup. My rejoice. We Chinese can spare the appetizers but we can hardly go without a soup for a decent meal. It doesn't matter whether it's served as entree or finale. In fact, in some areas, soup is served as a last act, as a token to herald the end of the feast, quite similar to the time when coffee is served, I guess.

With our vast population and scope of land, it's inevitable to have many differences in the custom and the living style between the south and the north of China. This happens to soup as well. What I want to say is, in short, the southerners put a whole lot more emphasis on the nutraceutical effect(s) of a soup than the people of the north do. A foodie from the north would tell you a good soup is one that rich with edible ingredients, regardless with greens or meats. Ask the same to a soup devotee from the south, however, would get you the answer that a good soup is one that make with valuable herbs with good healing results.

Since when did the diversity become markable is beyond me, as it does to many food experts in China. We just knew. The truth is, the nutraceutical effect of different food is documented as early as the dynasty of Zhong, which is long before the era of Confucius. There are numerous classics exploring this subject because good health and thence, longevity has never ceased to be fashionable in China.

One explanation, or you may take it as an observation, points to the difference in weather. Considering the wintry weather in the north, it is easy to understand that their soup is more about giving the body the much needed energy -- to make the body feel warm and strong. While in the south, the weather is warm and soggy already, the raison d'etre for a soup is not about hunger and energy. The value of soup goes higher than that to the health of the body -- about how to make the yang and ying of the body balance (this applies not just to food but almost all facets of Chinese culture, right?). For example, to sweep away the dampness from the body in the hot summer, or to moisten the organs and joints in the dry winter, or even to lift up the appetite, or so forth. To some extent, we can see that on the one end of the spectrum is a devotion to utilizing seasonal produces from mother nature (north) while on another end is dedication on tendering the seasonal needs of the body (south). Look close in this, we see a tango of fullness (north) vs. wellness (south).

Like I've always said, with the addition or the deduction of this and that, there can be millions of recipe for soups in China (just last week I made a silkie chicken soup with fresh milk [烏雞鮮奶湯], more on that later). In a broader sense, however, we can still make some classification of the soups from the medicinal effect standpoint. the following are some of the most popular nutraceutical virtues a soup can improve your health: supplement (進補), moisten (滋潤), cooling (清熱), and harmonize (調和).

Take the soup I'm sharing today for example. The wild kudzu vine in the soup is perfect for removing the dirt-heat from your body while the snakehead, rich in protein, is the perfect candidate to moisterize your organs and provide vital energy at the same time; both consider providential for autumn.

051025_1432051025_13101The ingredients to prepare for this soup is simple. The major two are the wild kudzu vine, ye gen cai and the snakehead, san yue. Snakehead is a kind of freshwater fish see very common in the waters of China. It may look forbidding at first sight, but it tastes great with its flesh sweet and fresh, and hence works magic as a taste catalyst in soup or broth.

 

051025_14331_1Next up is the addition of some herbs. There are only two herbs needed in this recipe. The first one is a luo han guo (羅漢果), or grosvenor momordica in English. This is a produce from the Guangdong province of China. In TCM, the nature of this fruit is cooling and it has the merits of moistening the lung, reliving cough and phlegm. So it complements to the theme brought about by the kudzu vine and snakehead very well. Noteworthy is that the taste of luo han guo has been described by quite many people as too pungent. Peel it off and sniff it for a while. If it is too over-the-top for you, you can always reduce the portion to half. On the right we have five me zao (蜜枣), or glace/candied date in English. The purpose of adding glace dates in the soup is mainly for the sugary flavor, though it does have the function of detoxification as well.

Ingredients:
Snakehead -- one
Wild kudzu vine -- 700g
Pork(bony cuts) -- 900g
Luo han guo -- one
Glace dates -- five

Directions:
051025_1444_1Dressing the fish is the most trickery part for this recipe. I don't know how it is done in your place, but in Hong Kong we can always have the fish dressed in the marketplace. Without any extra charge, we can ask the fishmonger to drain, scale and remove the gills and guts. Of course, you still need to do a bit of scraping and rinsing on the fish in your own kitchen to make sure it is clean. Once the dressing is done, fry it in the pan for a while. Traditional Chinese kitchen wisdom says this is the way to get rid of the fishy stink and to help release the flavor of the fish in the soup.

051025_1803Then you can add water in the pan and start boiling it. The portion listed above is one serves for about 4 to 5 so roughly ten rice bowls of water will do. While boiling the water, rinse the wild kudzu vine and the herbs. Before you add the luo han guo to the water, you need to peel it off. The pork, meanwhile, will taste better if you blanch it a bit before you dunk it to the soup. It doesn't take long. Just two minutes will be enough to wipe out the blood and grease.

Now the water in the pan is bubbling hot, add all the ingredients into the pan. Boil over high heat for about 20 minutes. Then, boil for another 2 and a half hours over gently heat. Last, add salt for flavor.

July 10, 2005

Soup of fish maw and conch: 花膠響螺湯

Not to wax too much sentimental here, but the hustle in the office and the unforgiving weather lately have really taken their toll on me. Yet, I can still find the good news in such plight, which is, it makes me good excuse to boil another good bowl of Cantonese soup to nourish my 'weak' body. For this very occasion, let me introduce to you a soup that is very good for health: The soup of fish maw and conch, fa gau heung law tong 花膠響螺湯.

Img_0523The first ingredient we need to fetch for the soup is fish maw, a staple for all Chinese dried seafood vendors. Fish maw, the air bladders or 'sounds' of fish is one of the so-called 'Four Delicacies from The Sea' (海四珍) -- the other three are the abalone, sea cucumber and shark's fin. Fish maw is also billed as fa gau (which literally means floral plastic, for reason I don't know why). According to traditional Chinese medicine, fish maw can make lungs and kidneys stronger and moisten joints. It is also highly regarded for its richness in collagen and proteins. Because of this, fish maw and bird's nest have long been two of the most cherished nourishment for the ladies who want their skins look soft and youthful; also because of this, legend has it that this is our Chinese answer to Viagra, in a bowl, sort of -- well, well, well, okey dokey, there I said IT!

Img_0526Next up we need the dried conch to improve my vision (so I can see better what's in the mind of my pains-in-the-balls boss). Make sure you buy the conch foot, the part that this shellfish used for moving about and sucking up to stones, not the conch meat. The flavor of this part is stronger than the meat and so is more suitable as soup ingredient. In all cases, I advise against using fresh conch for good fresh ones are hard to come by and is too expensive for this kind of soups. One funny thing is, conch foot is widely known as 'law tou' (螺頭), which means exactly the opposite in Chinese.

Img_0528As always, there are some herbs to add in a Cantonese soup. For this particular recipe, I use the Chinese wild yam (wai shan), soloman's seal (yuk juk), wolfberry fruits (kei chi), dried longan (yuan yuk), lotus seeds (lin chi) and glehnia root (sah sham, 沙參). Adding these boost the merit of the soup. Take the glehnia root for example, itself alone can moisten our lungs and clear the 'hidden heatness' out from our bodies. I am quite sure with all these added up, there's nothing in this world can ail my body any more.

Img_0529It'd be nice to add a chop of pork in this soup to further sweeten the flavor too. My affable butcheress suggested the loin chop to me. I guess she's perfectly correct: while the fish maw is tasteless, the fragrance of the conch is readily heady for a soup. The loin chop will prove handy enough. And no matter how much I love it, the pork is just a sidekick in this soup for there're the fish maw and conch to lead the show. Still, it does add some neat chews in the end. By the way, did I tell you the approving gaze my butcheress gave me when I told her I'm making a fish maw and conch soup by myself? Yeah, that kind of look really makes my day...

Ingredients:
Dried fish maw -- 2 taels (about 80g)
Dried conch foot -- 4 taels
Pork -- 500g
Pre-packed assorted Chinese herbs -- 1 pack
Dried tangerine peel -- 2 slices

Directions:
Img_0530Img_0531Rinse the Chinese herbs and drain

Soak the tangerine peels, conch and fish maw with warm water for about 1 hour

Blanch the pork for about 2 minutes to wipe out the blood and grease (look how beautiful these chops are in the blanch -- no wonder they're also coined as 'white jade' in classic cook books)

Pour 10 bowls (rice bowl size) of water into the pan, add Chinese herbs, fish maw, conch, peels and pork into pan and cook over high heat to the boil

Simmer very gently for 3 hours

Add salt for flavor

July 05, 2005

Cleaner, stronger and cooler: 清補涼

It surely sounds alot more like a footnote for shampoo than for food, ain't it?

Truth be told, it is the name for another one of a zillion and one Cantonese soups, 'soup of lean pork and Chinpoleung,' (literally means clean, reinforcing and cool, which in fact is a mixture of Chinese herbs) Chinpoleung Sou Yuk Tong 清補涼瘦肉湯.

Weather in Hong Kong now is swelthering; in Shanghai the weather proves even dealier, reaching record high at 39C. Well, weather like this always calls for a good bowl of Cantonese soup. According to traditional Chinese medicine concept, though we sweat like we're melting down, there is still alot of unhealthy heat and dampness trapped in our body -- what the TCM called 'damp-heat,' or suk yip (濕熱). So at least we always sup something (soup or herb tea or tongshui, the sweet soup) that can improve our well-beings heeding to seasonal need. The chinpoleung, for example, can wipe out the heat and dampness, cool down or even re-energize the body. There're some other merits of it too, like promoting urination (always a good thing to remove away the toxicant from the body) and improve night vision! The formulae of chinpoleung was documented way back in the Tang dynasty. I am quite sure that the French was still eating grass at that point.

Img_0518Anyway, the reason why I'm sharing the recipe here, apart from its dietal virtues, is that this soup is probably the easiest Cantonese soup to start with.Go to any dried seafood store in town (I reckon you can also find one easily in your local Chinatown) and ask for a bag of pre-packed Chingpoleung. If you ever found one that can't make it available to you, tear down its awning and file a complaint to your local consumer council. The most commonly formulae of chinpoleung is composed of Chinese wild yam (wai sun 淮山), wolfberry fruit (kei chi 杞子), euryale seeds (hin sat 芡實), millet (yi mi 薏米), lotus seed (lin chi 蓮子), soloman's seal (yuk juk 玉竹), longan (yuan yuk 圓玉) -- if you feel these English names of these Chinese herbs look and sound bloody dorky, you're not alone -- I feel exactly the same when I wrote this.

Img_0522The finest pork to pair with this soup, or most Cantonese soup for that matter, is the shank cut. But my butchers always insist the bony cuts is a cut above the shank portion in terms of flavor. They say the juice from bones can make the soup tastes even sweeter.

Img_0521Then I also bought some carrots, which isn't common for the classic recipe of this soup. But I love it anyway for it can add, again, sweet flavor to the soup. Their hard fibrous texture fits well for long-boiling too -- all making the soup even harder to resist in a hot summer.

Ingredients:
Pre-packed chinpoleung - one pack
Pork (shank or bony cuts) - 500g
Carrot - 2 lengths

Directions:
Rinse the chinpoleung and drain

Blanch the pork bones for about 2 minutes to wipe out the blood and grease

Pour 8 to 10 bowls (rice bowl size) of water into the pan, add the chinpoleung and pork into pan and cook over high heat to the boil.

Chop the carrots into even pieces and dunk in the pan

Simmer very very gently for 2 to 3 hours (Chinese call such heat the 'fire of gentleman,' man fo文火).

Add salt for flavor and you're ready to go!

May 08, 2005

Happy Mother's Day

遊子呤   孟郊 (751-814)

慈母手中線,遊子身上衣。
臨行密密縫,意恐遲遲歸。
誰言寸草心,報得三春暉。

Song of a Roamer     Meng Jiao

The threads in a kind mother's hand --
A cloak for her son bound for distant land
Sew stitch by stitch before he leaves
   For fear his return be delayed
Such affection as little grass receives
   From the warm sun can never be repaid


To the best chef in the world


Homemade Shanghaiese Steamed Rice with Greens (自製上海菜飯)

P1010004_1Ingredients

Rice: 250g
Dried shrimps: 2 tbsp
Baby bak choy: 1 catty
Chicken/vegetable oil: 2 tbsp
Dry shallot: 1/2, finely chopped

Directions

  1. Cover the rice with cold water and let stand for half an hour. Rinse well.
  2. Likewise, cover the shrimps with cold water for 1 hour.
  3. Raise the bak choy, drain and chop well.
  4. Soften chopped shallot in the chicken/vegetable oil in a wok. Add the shrimps and chopped bak choy; stir over a moderate heat until the shrimps start to change color.
  5. Add the rice and stir for about 3 minutes.
  6. Remove all from the wok and put into a cooker.
  7. Add 3 bowls of water and simmer for about 20 minutes.

March 27, 2005

Who Moved My Za Jiang Mein (炸酱面)?

P1010014What, you expect me to eat this mein plain? Seriously, I am not trying to make a mockery of that self-improvement classic (naming no name). This is the real title for a hit song in China of late. So popular is it that quite a handful of people have started using the song as ring tone for their cellies. Well, quite a cool choice for a foodie's cellie, ain't it?

P1010015_1Leaving the ring tone aside, the most common version of za jiang mein (炸酱面), or noodles with fried (pork) sauce, usually uses ground pork as the main ingredient. Either the lean cut or the fat one will do (though most mein aficionados would confess they only use the fattier cut around the rump because the sauce tastes better in that way). However, the pork sauce is by no means the only version for za jiang mein; it has thousand faces with ingredients like dried shrimp, eggs, shredded bean curd and eggplant also used. Either way, the best sauce should be juicy but never oily even after the fry.

The version featured here is one of my mom's special in which she uses the same portion of beer to blend the bean sauce with so that the two form an emulsified sauce before the fry. This way, the sauce won't get too thick and firm after the fry. For, mind you, we still need to mix the sauce with the noodle before we eat it. Another good thing about adding beer to the bean sauce is that less oil is needed when we fry.

Ingredients:
Vegetable oil: 1/4 to 1/2 cup 
Ground pork (fatty): 1/2 to 3/4 lb
Bean sauce: 5 to 6 tsp
Sugar: 2 to 3 tsp
Beer: 5 to 6 tsp
Fresh Chinese noodles: 1 lb
Chopped scallions: 1/4 cup
Bean sprouts: 1/4 cup
Cucumber shreds: 1/4 cup
Chopped garlic: 1/6 cup
Chili: if desired

Direction:
Heat the oil in the wok. When the oil is ready, add the garlic and then the pork. Fry briefly.
Blend the bean sauce with the beer.
Add the mixed sauce, sprinkle the sugar into the wok and cook, stir until the sauce is piping hot (about 10 mins).
Turn off the heat and start to boil the noodles.
Drain the noodles thoroughly and place into a bowl.
Spoon over the sauce. Garnish with the scallions, bean sprouts and cucumber shreds.

Serves: 1 Servings.

P1010016_1Trick of the trade:
Use fresh Chinese noodle: the variety that is white in color (with no egg added).
The truth is, sadly for anyone who's on diet, lard is a better choice than the vegetable or peanut oil for this mein.
No salt is used because the bean sauce is salty enough. If anything, people in the northern part of China love to eat it in sweeter flavor.

March 07, 2005

反沙芋頭: Deep-fried sugared taro

147_4730反沙芋頭, or deep-fried sugared taro is a very famous Chiuchow (the southern part of China) fare for the sweet tooth. Overall, Chiuchow people is at the top of game when it comes to sweet in Chinese cuisine, head and shoulder above others when the subject is tong shui (糖水), or sweetened soup. It is absolutely mind-boggling to see a pan can turn out seemingly endless varieties of sweetened soup with all kinds of ingredient. 

As celebrated as the sugared taro is, you won't see it often in many Chiuchow eateries outside China because of the cost-profit reality. The recipe is easy but the timing is difficult to master; unlike other desserts, this one requires the full attention of the chef in the cooking. At best, the dried sugar syrup should embrace the taro like a casing after the stir-fry, that's how the name came: fan sa, the sa, or sugar, is on the outside of the food rather than inside. The same can apply to the deep-fried sugared lily bud (反沙蓮子) and the deep-fried sugared mandarin (反沙桔子).

Ingredients:
Taro 750g
White sugar 400g
Water little

Direction:
Peel the taro. Trim the ends and sides of taro to make a rectangular block, then slice about 2 or 3 cm thick. Stack the slices and cut into sticks 2 cm wide (just a tad bigger than that of the pommes Pont Neuf).
Deep-fried with pre-heated oil to golden in color; make sure it is well-done.
Remove the taro and the oil from the wok.
Add white sugar and a little water.  Cook the syrup slowly until the surface of the liquid bubbles. Add the fried taro.
Here comes the tricky part: remove the wok from the fire immediately. Switch on a fan in full gear and stir the taro in the liquid in the wind. Which way the wind blow does matter in this case: blow to the taro so the syrup can solidify during the stir-frying.

March 02, 2005

蘆蒿炒肉絲: Stir-fried pork slivers with louhao (common wormwood)

P1010042What's louhao (蘆蒿), or common wormword? Though its name suggests its common, it's quite an opposite case for the plate. It is not commonly heard of even in China, except in a scenic city called Nanjing, of where all the Nanjingers are crazy about this regional plant. Known in Latin as 'artemisia selengensis,' it is said that the Nanjingers can talk to you about this vegetable like a machine gun once the topic is triggered; and that they'd feel remorse if common wormword is missing from the menu when they're hosting a dinner (they'd also feel quilty if the salted duck is not included, people in Nanjing overall are quite mindful about food sentimentally).

But there's a technique in eating it. You have to discard the leaf of the plant otherwise it will all remind you the ancient proverb that goes "as bitter as wormword" too well. Only the stems are used in cooking (picky gourmets in Nanjing goes further to eat only the tip of the stems: 80% of the veggie is discarded). The best way to cook the louhao is to stir fry it. Dishes like the topic, the stir-fried common wormword with slivers of Chinese sausage and stir-fried common wormword with slivers of stinky bean curd are all classics among Nanjing cuisine.

Ingredients:
Pork: 100g
Common wormword: 300-400g
Red pepper: one, chopped
Garlic: one clove
Ginger: 2 slices
Vegetable oil: 3 tsp

Directions:
Raise the common wormword thoroughly and drain, chop it into strips lengths about 2 inches. Chop the pork into slivers.

Heat the wok to high heat. Add the vegetable oil to the heated wok. When the oil is ready, add the ginger; fry briefly.

Add the pork to the wok, and brown briefly.  Add the common wormword and stir-fry until nearly cook through. Next, add the garlic and stir-fry until fragrant (no more than half minute). Add the red pepper, fry a short while (mostly for garnish). Remove from the wok.

Serve 3 to 4.

Tricks of the trade:

It is very easy to overcook the common wormwood; always add it after the pork.

Add salt if desired but as little as possible because the highlight of this green is its lightness and sweetness. Real Nanjingers never add flavorings to this dish.

February 20, 2005

咸肉煮鮮竹荀: Braised bamboo shoots with salted pork

P1010001Though now indisputably the financial centre and the place to be of China (some columnists even compared it to as high as the New York or Paris of China), Shanghai was never regarded highly in China gastronomic wise: New York? Perhaps. Paris? Never. It is not one of the Four Grand Schools of regional cuisines (that honor goes to Sichuan, Canton, Shantou and Jiangzu), nor it even one of the Eight Grand Schools of regional cuisines (the first four plus Zijiang, Anhui, Fukian and Hunan). The ubiquitous footnote (or shall I say foodnote?) for Shanghaiese food is 濃油重醬, lung yu chun chiung, which means thickly oily and heavily condiment-ed in English.

Is that so or is that no so? Can a regional cuisine be as monotonous as for us summing it up in four words? Are we giving Shanghaiese food its due? I hardly think so. For there are some lighter and more refreshing dishes among the menu. So today I would do Shanghaiese food the justice by introducing a very tasty and soothing dish: the braised bamboo shoots with salted pork. I learned the recipe from my mom about 2 years ago and it is unbelievably easy to make. But it is also a dish that's full of the "umami" of the greens and the meat with virtually no addition of any flavorings.

Even if you can't fetch the salted pork in your place, you can still make it easily at home just like my great grandma once did. In fact, all Shanghaiese used to make their salted pork at home. All you need is a cut of fresh ham, coat it with salt evenly and leave it in cold and dry air (my great grandma used to put it inside a rice basin so that the rice can absorb the fragrant of the ham during the "cellaring" as well) for 3 or 4 days. The crunchiness of the bamboo shoots and the tenderness of the salted pork match with each other like a dream.

P1010002_1Ingredients:
Salted pork 200g
Fresh bamboo shoots 400g
Yellow rice wine 2 tsp
Chicken stock 1/2 cup

Directions:

Cover the bamboo shoots with cold water for about 15 minutes. Then blanch it for about 5 minutes, drain thoroughly. Leave cold for a few minutes and cut the shoots into strips.

Cook the salted pork with boiling water slowly for about 45 minutes. Take the pork out and cut into cubes.

Put the shoots and the pork into a saucepan, add the yellow rice wine and the chicken stock. Simmer gently for 15 minutes, stir sparsely.

Serves four to six.

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