Madame Huang's Kitchen

Lamb & the Dowager Empress & a puzzle

2013-05-16T09:00:00.000-07:00

Fit for an empress

Whenever I come across a name for a Chinese dish that has a strange explanation, I get curious. This happened with sachima—Rice Krispies Treats as seen through a Chinese lens—and although there were all sorts of twisted explanations that tried to shoehorn this word into an acceptable story, look what I came up with: the word means “dog nipples dipped in syrup” in Manchurian.

The same feeling that all was not right hit me every time I read about this dish. The roundabout tale went invariably as follows: The Dowager Empress Cixi was presented with this new preparation for lamb, and she was so impressed that she asked the chef what it was called; flummoxed at this unusual attention, the chef could not find the words to answer. The Dowager Empress mused over the dish and commented, “It’s like honey” (ta si mi).

Now first off, just about every story about a Beijing dish’s beginnings winds up in the Dowager Empress’s fancily embroidered lap for some reason. I’m not quite sure why, but there you have it. And second, this lamb does have a touch of sweetness, but it’s not overt. And so, confused as ever, I started digging.

My first guess was that this might be another Manchurian word, but that didn’t yield anything. Then, I looked more closely at the dish and realized that this was a riff on Muslim-style cooking. Hmm, I thought, I bet this is a Turkic word. And although I couldn’t find a Uyghur dictionary, that language is related to Turkish. A quick search through a Turkish one prompted a delighted shout from my desk, for tașim means “to bring to a boil.”

At last, an explanation that at least makes a bit of sense...

Simple yet divine

Tasimi—它似蜜 Tāsìmì

Serves 4 to 6

1 pound lamb loin, or other tender cut of lamb

4 teaspoons ginger juice (see Tips)

4 teaspoons corn starch

2 teaspoons regular soy sauce

4 teaspoons Shaoxing rice wine

1 tablespoon dark vinegar

5 tablespoons toasted sesame oil (or so)

1 tablespoon sugar

2 tablespoons sweet wheat paste

1. Rinse the meat and pat it dry. Cut in across the grain into thin slices, and then place the lamb in a medium work bowl. Stir in the ginger juice, cornstarch, soy sauce, rice wine, and vinegar. Cover the bowl and marinate the lamb for at least 20 minutes and up to 3 hours.

2. Heat a wok over high, and when it starts to smoke, add the sesame oil. Swirl the oil around to coat the lower half and add the lamb, as well as any marinade. Break up any big clumps and then lightly brown the meat. When all of the lamb is just barely done, add the sugar and sweet wheat paste, toss the meat well, and serve.

Tips

To make ginger juice, coarsely grate some fresh ginger; you don't have to peel it first. Then, wad it up in your fist before squeezing the juice out over a bowl. This is a lot easier than it sounds, as fresh ginger is very juicy.

A wonderful bread of the Uyghurs

2013-05-13T09:00:00.001-07:00

A Uyghur tradition

This is the bread that feeds most of Central Asia, as well as the Chinese far west, northern India, and then out through Afghanistan to the Balkans. This has been around for so long that no one knows where it started or who introduced it to whom, but as far as the Chinese are concerned, these definitely are culinary imports, for people who live on the northern plains of China refer to these as 胡餅 húbĭng, or “foreign breads.”

Always round, always rimmed like a pizza, and—at least in the Arid Regions—almost invariably adorned with decorative pricks of a special nail-studded tool, nang vary in size from a few inches across to others that are around 16 inches in diameter. Generally made out of wheat flour, some places prefer corn, and their flavors are given slight variation courtesy of toppings like sesame seed or nigella.

Special nang nail pricker

What makes these breads truly special is their ovens, often referred to around this area as nang pits (饢坑nángkēng). These heavy clay jars look very much like the tandoori ovens of India, with slow-burning fuel at the bottom providing the heat source and the clay walls themselves serving as the cooking surface. Raw rounds of raised dough are slapped onto the interior of a hot oven, and since the dough cooks the instant it touches the clay, the loaves stay perfectly attached while they bake until the cook gently pries them off.

I wish I had a tandoori oven, but as I don’t, I have adapted this simple bread recipe for a regular oven. A large clay pizza tile on the bottom rack of the oven provides a crunch similar to that of the nang pits. Repeated light baths of plain water while the loaves are rising and just before they hit the heat lend a nice texture to the crust. I've used Korean bread flour here, which has just the right amount of gluten to supply that requisite chewiness, but have also thrown in some wheat germ to add more flavor and earthy color.

A wonderful Uyghur custom that you can follow is to welcome your guests with hot tea and a fresh loaf that is torn apart and shared, a token of friendship and a tantalizing taste of the feast that will follow.

Baked round Uyghur bread—饢餅 Nángbĭng

Hot & chewy

Makes 4 small loaves serving 6 to 8

1¼ cups warm filtered water, plus extra for brushing the loaves

1½ cups yeast

1 teaspoon sugar

1 tablespoon fresh peanut or toasted sesame oil

1 cup wheat germ

2½ cups (more or less) Korean or Chinese bread flour

2 tablespoons butter, softened

Optional toppings: about 1 teaspoon per loaf of toasted sesame seeds, nigella seeds, fennel seeds, ground black pepper, coarsely ground dried chilies, coarse sea salt, etc.

1. Pour the water into a medium bowl and sprinkle the yeast and sugar over it. Stir the yeast into the water and then give the yeast about 20 minutes to completely foam.

Puffy after second rising

2. Stir in the oil, wheat germ, and about 2 cups of the flour to form a loose dough. Turn the dough out on a floured board and knead it until it is soft and no longer tacky, adding more flour as needed only to keep it from sticking. Form the dough into a smooth ball. Rinse out and dry the bowl, and then rub the inside of the bowl generously with the softened butter. Place the ball of dough back into the bowl and toss it around in there to thoroughly coat it with the butter. Cover the bowl with some plastic wrap and a towel and let it rise in a warm place until doubled, about an hour. Remove the towel and plastic and punch the dough down, and then fold the edges onto the top of the dough. Flip the dough over, cover it again with the plastic and towel, and let it rise again until double, about 30 to 45 minutes.

3. Lightly knead the dough and cut it into 4 equal pieces. Form each piece into a ball, and then use a rolling pin to roll each piece out on a board lightly dusted with flour to form circles around 7 inches in diameter. Place the circles on lightly dusted baking sheets to rise, and brush each circle with some water. Cover the circles and let them rise for around 30 minutes, or until puffy.

Pat down with your knuckles

4. Place the oven rack at its lowest setting, place your clay tile on the rack, and heat the oven to about 500°F. While the oven is heating up, shape the circles into nang: Wet one hand and lightly pat the inside of each circle, leaving a rim around the edge about 1 inch wide so that you end up with something that looks like a pizza (see photo on right). Use a dough prick or sharp fork to thoroughly perforate the inside of the circles up to the rim. Lightly brush the circles with water and sprinkle on the optional topping. Depending upon the size of your tile, bake one or two of the breads at a time. Use a pizza peel or a rimless baking sheet to slide the dough onto the tile. Bake the breads for about 7 minutes, or until they are a golden brown around the edges. Serve hot or warm.

Putting the tsal in salsa

2013-05-09T09:00:00.000-07:00

Traditional Tibetan momos

Momo and buuz are two very, very iconic dishes of (respectively) Tibet and Mongolia. No discussion of China's many cuisines would be complete without including both a mention and a recipe.

That being said, the following recipe is a bit of a change-up on these traditions. This all started when I was reading the food memoirs of the wonderful writer Liu Zhenwei and came across his discussion of shumai in a chapter on Inner Mongolia. Mr. Liu noted that the restaurants “Gufengxuan and Maixiangcun in Guisui, Suiyuan [part of present-day Inner Mongolia] are without a doubt number one in the world… the shumai of Guisui in fact have fillings of beef and lamb, with the addition of mushrooms, large scallions, and minced ginger.”

Now, that might already sound pretty good, but there’s nothing particularly innovative there, no ingredients that make the imagination go wild. But read on: “The skins used to wrap the ‘shumai’… are rolled out extremely thin, and after they have been steamed, they appear translucent, reflecting the brown of the filling, with a circle of white folds on top.”

Tibetan salsa!

These shumai have skins therefore that are much more elegant than what we have become accustomed to seeing on momo, buuz, and the shumai of the rest of China. (If you would like to make the traditional momo and buuz that are much heftier and more filling, see the Variations at the end of this recipe.)

And so I went to work trying to re-create these delicate steamed packets of long ago. In the process of fooling around with my food (a practice I heartily endorse), I used hot stock instead of cool or warm water to make the wrappers.

The results are ethereal.

One more thing: I became excited all over again when I started putting two and two together and came up with eight. The reason? Tibetans make a dipping sauce out of tomatoes, fresh chilies, green onions, garlic, salt, and cilantro. To a dyed-in-the-wool Californian, that was nothing less than a recipe for salsa.

And the Tibetan name for this salsa? Tsal.

Go figure.

Steamed lamb or beef dumplings

Momo and Buuz

Makes 36 dumplings and serves 3 to 4

Filling:

1 pound ground lamb (or beef), preferably at least 20% fat

1 tablespoon finely minced ginger

2 cloves garlic, finely minced

5 green onions, trimmed and finely minced

¼ cup finely chopped celery

¼ cup finely chopped cilantro

3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

2 tablespoons unsalted stock

2 teaspoons sea salt

4 large mushrooms, finely chopped

2 teaspoons cornstarch

The delicate variation on a theme

Dough:

1½ cups Korean or Chinese noodle (high gluten) flour, plus extra flour as needed

5 tablespoons boiling hot, unsalted chicken stock, strained

Tibetan salsa (tsal):

3 or 4 ripe red tomatoes

1 fresh red chili pepper (as hot as you like), finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, finely minced

2 green onions, trimmed and finely chopped

¼ teaspoon sea salt

1 tablespoon fresh peanut or vegetable oil

Small bunch cilantro, coarsely chopped

1. Start this recipe at least 4 hours before you want to serve it to give the filling time to chill. Mix together the filling ingredients and stir them rapidly in one direction until they are light and fluffy. Cover the container and refrigerate.

2. While the filling is getting cold, make the dough by placing the flour in a medium work bowl; use chopsticks to mix in the boiling chicken stock. As soon as it forms clumps, empty the dough out onto a smooth surface and knead it until it is smooth and bouncy, only adding flour if it is truly necessary, although the dough should not stick to your hands or the board. Cover the dough and let it rest for at least 20 minutes.

3. Next, make the salsa by chopping the tomatoes into ½-inch dice. Place these in a small work bowl. Add the chili pepper, garlic, green onions, salt, and oil. Toss the salsa, cover, and refrigerate until serving time, and then stir in the chopped cilantro; taste and adjust the seasoning.

4. Roll the dough out into a rope 36 inches long and cut the dough into 36 even pieces. Toss these lightly with flour and then roll each piece out into a circle about 3 inches wide. Divide the filling into 36 pieces and add one piece to the center of the circle. Gather the edges up in a frill so that the dough is puckered and pressed together over the top of the filling in a curved seam. Repeat with the rest of the dough and filling until done.

5. Grease 2 steamer baskets and place them over boiling water for around 5 minutes to warm them up. Arrange as many shumai in the baskets as fit comfortably without touching, stack and cover the baskets, and steam them for around 15 minutes. (Do this in two batches, if necessary.) Serve immediately with dark vinegar for dipping.

Variations:

Triangular momos

Momo. To make momo, double the amount of flour and add enough warm filtered water to form a soft dough. Knead and let it rest, and then cut the dough into 36 pieces. Roll each piece out into a circle about 3 inches wide, and then form a triangular packet by bringing the edges at 0°, 120°, and 240° together in the center and then sealing the seams (see the photo to the right). Steam as directed above and serve with the sauce.

Buuz. To make buuz, double the amount of flour and add enough warm filtered water to form a soft dough. Knead and let it rest, and then cut the dough into 36 pieces. Roll each piece out into a circle about 3 inches wide, and then make an oval packet by pinching the top seam together in a braid pattern. Steam as directed above and serve without a sauce.

Fried cookie twists courtesy of Mongolia

2013-05-06T09:00:00.000-07:00

Boortsog cookies

If you wanted proof positive that Mongolia’s cuisine has direct links with India and the Middle East, check out this recipe.

Fried cookies seem to be beloved in many parts of the world, but these lightly sweetened cookies called boortsog are often served with honey and cheese, which puts them firmly in the Silk Road camp.

Of course, you don’t need to enjoy these alongside honey and some fresh farmer’s cheese, but it certainly doesn't hurt. Neither does a nice cup of hot black tea or, even better, some Butter Tea.

I have sprinkled these with some powdered sugar, which definitely is not traditional, but this highlights the beautiful twists in the cookies so well that I never can resist.

Fried butter cookies—Boortsog

Makes enough for at least 20 people

Lightly crunchy, not too sweet

½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

¾ cup sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup cool filtered water

About 4½ cups regular Korean or Chinese flour

Fresh peanut or vegetable oil for frying

Powdered sugar, optional

1. In a medium work bowl, mix the sugar, salt, and water with the melted butter. Stir in 4 cups of flour to form a soft dough. Sprinkle ½ cup flour on a smooth surface and knead the dough until smooth, adding more flour as needed to keep it from sticking. Cover the dough and let it rest for 30 minutes.

2. Divide the dough into 4 pieces and work on one piece at a time; cover whatever dough you are not immediately working on. Roll a piece of dough out to around ¼ inch in thickness. Use a pizza or ravioli cutter, or even a knife, to cut the dough into strips about 1 inch wide. Then, trim the ends of the strips and cut these into pieces that are more or less 3 inches long.

Slit open, twist once, then once again

3. To shape the cookies, use a small knife to cut a slit down the middle of the strip of dough, stopping about ½ inch from either end. Gently insert one end of the dough through the slit 2 times, which will make the long edges twist (see photo on the right). Repeat with the rest of the dough until all have been shaped.

4. Pour enough fresh oil into a wok or saucepan to give you a depth of at least 3 inches. Heat the oil over medium-high until a chopstick inserted in the oil is covered with bubbles (275°F). While the oil is heating up, cover a baking sheet with a couple of paper towels, have some chopsticks ready to pick the cookies out of the hot oil, a large platter for the finished cookies. If you want to sprinkle powdered sugar on the hot cookies, have a small sieve, a spoon, and the powdered sugar ready.

Fried to a golden brown

5. Carefully add only a few cookies at a time to the hot oil, and then do not stir them around for at least 20 seconds so that they keep their shape. Then, use your chopsticks to gently move them in the oil to keep them from sticking. As soon as they are a medium brown, use your chopsticks to pluck them out of the oil, and then place them on the paper towels to drain. Place them on the plate and sprinkle with powdered sugar, if you want. Repeat with the rest of the cookies until all have been fried, adjusting the heat as necessary to keep them from burning.

6. Cool the cookies to room temperature and store in an airtight container.

The butter tea of Tibet & Mongolia

2013-05-02T09:00:00.001-07:00

Boeja or suutei tsai

This is very much like the tea that is enjoyed in Tibet’s high altitudes and on Mongolia’s frigid steppes. (Sorry, couldn't find any yak or horse milk at Whole Foods.)

Fat is both a necessity and a pleasure in both Tibet and Mongolia because of the cold, which is one of the reasons why butter is floated on the top of the local milk tea.

To take the place of some of that butter, I use whole cream instead of milk, and this way the fat does not separate. I then add just a little touch of butter's extra salty goodness since I live in sunny California and know that I really do not need another helping of fat in my diet. However, nothing beats the taste of premium butter, so I use one of my favorite brands to lend the tea that requisite zing.

If you would prefer to have more of a “barny” taste here, try using whole goat milk and a good helping of goat butter.

I tend to put more tea leaves in the brew—around 6 tablespoons—because I enjoy a really bitter edge. However, the amount of tea, water, butter, and cream you use is, of course, a matter of tasting and adjusting the amounts until you hit that sweet spot. And speaking of sweet, you can sneak in a bit of sugar to your cup if you have a sweet tooth; it’s not kosher, but if no one is looking…

Tea with boortsog (next recipe)

In Tibet, this tea is usually foamed up with a churn, much like the Mexican molinillo that is used to make hot chocolate, while in Mongolia the milk is foamed by repeatedly lifting up ladlefuls high over the pan and pouring it back in. This is pretty much the same concept as India’s “pulled tea” (teh tarik), where it is poured back and forth between two containers.

I've found that I can go high tech with a blender, though, and have a hot cup of butter tea with no muss, no fuss.

The butter tea of Tibet & Mongolia—Boeja and Suutei tsai

Makes about 6 cups

¼ cup (or so) Chinese fermented compressed tea (普洱 pŭ’ěr or 沱茶 tuóchá), broken up into smallish pieces
6 cups freshly-boiled filtered water, plus extra as needed
1 tablespoon to ¼ cup best quality salted butter

A pinch of sea salt

1 cup heavy organic cream

1. Place the tea in a saucepan, cover it with boiling water, and let it soak for about 3 minutes to loosen up the tea leaves; strain out and discard the water. Cover the tea leaves with 5 cups boiling water, bring the tea to boil, and then lower the heat to a simmer. After about 10 minutes, strain the tea into a blender.

2. Cut the butter into small pieces and add it to the tea along with the salt and cream. Blend the tea, starting on low and gradually increasing the speed to high in order to make the tea foam. Serve the tea in small bowls, preferably wooden.

Tuocha and pu'er

Tips

Compressed tea can be found in Chinese tea shops and grocery stores. Pu'er (also sometimes written pu erh or pu ni) is usually fermented black tea, although sometimes you can find it in its green form, which is milder and equally delicious. Pu'er comes in flat discs, hard-edged bricks, and also crumbled up. Tuocha tends to be bowl-shaped.

Both of these teas are aged, and the older they are, the more expensive they become.

I usually get the disc form which is easier to crack apart than the bricks, but I find the loose-leaf compressed teas lacking in flavor, so I never get those. I like to crumble up the tea myself and store it in a tin, which makes it more convenient to use. Keep this tea, as all teas, in a dry. airtight container.