Well, another year has rolled by and it’s the Year of the Dragon.

I realize it has been a LONG while since I’ve turned up here at Foodrepublik.  A lot has happened.

First of all, I stopped updating the site when morning sickness prevented me from wanting [...]]]>

Well, another year has rolled by and it’s the Year of the Dragon.

I realize it has been a LONG while since I’ve turned up here at Foodrepublik.  A lot has happened.

First of all, I stopped updating the site when morning sickness prevented me from wanting to look at any food.  That’s right, I got knocked up =), and Chris and I are expecting our first baby in less than 2 months.

Second, we suddenly got relocated to Orange County, and the next few months were spent looking for houses and living with the in-laws.

Third, we found the perfect house for us in a family-friendly neighborhood, but it’s a fixer-upper.  Since we got the keys, we’ve been tearing out walls, renovating, painting, and frantically trying to get the house ready for our little bun in the oven (don’t come out early, baby!).

In addition to blogging, writing, and a few other things, it’s a lot on my plate, and I’m not sure if a food blog is enough for me now.  There are so many new experiences that I want to blog about and a recipe blog is a little limiting.

So we started at new blog at SomethingIsDone.com.  It’s going to be a DIY, home improvement, craft, lifestyle and general everything blog, and I’ll probably post recipes on there once in a while too.  Come see us over there!  I’m not sure if I’m going to continue Foodrepublik right now, but in the meantime, here’s a new recipe:

Cantonese Steamed Whole Fish

Steamed whole fish is one of the traditional dishes for Chinese New Year.  The word for fish, “yu”, is similar to the word for “overabundance”.  A common saying at CNY is “Nian nian you yu”, which means “May you have surplus every year”.  The fish has to be whole with the head and the tail, to symbolize the start and end of the next year.

Cantonese style steamed fish is super easy to make, and you don’t really even need a bamboo steamer.  Just set the whole fish (cleaned and de-scaled) in a round metal cake pan.  In a wok, place a steaming rack (or rig up a donut made of aluminum foil).  Pour water into the wok (enough that it won’t boil dry in 15 min, but not so much that it covers the steaming rack/aluminum donut) and heat until simmering.  Place the metal cake pan (with the fish inside) on top of the steamer rack and cover the wok.  Steam for 15 min for an approx 1-pound fish.

1 whole fish (tilapia, sea bass, or other fish, about 1 to 1.5 pounds)
2-inch piece ginger, peeled and julienned
5 green onions, thinly sliced
soy sauce
vegetable oil

Place the fish in a metal pan.  Take half of the ginger and green onions and stuff the cavity of the fish, and place some ginger and green onions over the top of the fish.

Steam for 15 minutes (see steaming instructions above) in a wok over simmering water.

Remove pan from wok (fish should flake easily).  Carefully move the fish to a plate, removing the steamed ginger and scallions.  Pour soy sauce to taste over the fish.

Empty and dry wok.  Heat 2 tbsp vegetable oil in wok until shimmering.  Add remaining ginger and green onions and fry for 30 seconds until aromatic.  Pour hot oil and aromatics over the fish.  Serve immediately (with steamed rice).

These ribs are delicious.  It’s the recipe my sister bugs my mom to make all the time, the one she misses watching a movie with her friends for.  Pork ribs are braised in dark soy sauce and rock sugar, with a hint of [...]]]>

These ribs are delicious.  It’s the recipe my sister bugs my mom to make all the time, the one she misses watching a movie with her friends for.  Pork ribs are braised in dark soy sauce and rock sugar, with a hint of ginger and garlic, until the meat is tender and practically falling off the bone.  Then the braising liquid is reduced until it forms a glaze, coating the meat with a delicious depth of flavor.

They’re actually really easy to make, with just a handful of ingredients – my favorite kind of recipe.  We made two racks of pork loin back ribs tonight, and between the five of us, demolished the mountain of ribs in no time flat.

I wouldn’t say they’re healthy by any means, but they are pretty darn yummy.  While I was living in China, I heard that these ribs are pretty good made with Coca-Cola.  I haven’t tried that yet, cause Coke kind of scares me, but it sounds interesting.

Mom’s Chinese-Style Sticky Ribs

Dark soy sauce is essential in this recipe – it is less salty, but has a more intense flavor, than regular soy sauce.

2 racks pork loin back ribs
1/4 cup dark soy sauce (must be dark, not regular!)
1/3 cup Chinese rock sugar*
3 cloves whole garlic, peeled
1-inch piece of ginger, sliced
2 tbsp corn oil
water

*can substitute 1/4 cup brown sugar, but this will change the taste

Cut up the racks into individual ribs. Put into a large bowl and pour the dark soy sauce over. Using your hands, mix the soy sauce into the ribs until they are covered. Let marinate at least 1/2 hour (place in refrigerator if marinating longer).

Heat oil in a wok over high heat. When oil is hot, add garlic cloves and ginger slices, and stir around a little bit until aromatic. Sear the ribs in batches until browned on the outsides. Put all the ribs in the wok, arrange them as compactly as possible, and add water just to cover (tops of ribs should be poking out). Add the rock sugar and cover wok.

Reduce heat to medium and simmer, covered, for about 40 minutes.

Uncover wok, turn heat up to high, and let the liquid boil off, stirring occasionally, until liquid is reduced to a brown glaze and coats the ribs, another 10 minutes or so.

Serve and enjoy!

Sometimes I crave Chinese food so bad I don’t know what to do with myself.

Usually, though,  I get a grip and make a stir-fry.

This isn’t, as far as I know, a traditional stir-fry, but I really enjoyed it and it satisfied my cravings for Chinese [...]]]>

Sometimes I crave Chinese food so bad I don’t know what to do with myself.

Usually, though,  I get a grip and make a stir-fry.

This isn’t, as far as I know, a traditional stir-fry, but I really enjoyed it and it satisfied my cravings for Chinese food, so it’s all good.  I’m not usually a cauliflower fan, but I like it prepared like this, a bit browned and a bit charred, so that the earthy flavors are teased out.  The edamame’s nutty-earthy flavors are similarly enhanced by browning, and I think complements the cauliflower really well.  Plenty of freshly ground black pepper and a squirt of sriracha give this dish some kick.

Edamame can be found in most well-stocked supermarkets now (I get mine at Trader Joe’s). I find that getting the frozen, shelled variety is the easiest. They’ve already been blanched before being frozen, so they cook quickly.

If you don’t have sriracha, you can substitute another hot sauce as long as it is not too vinegary.  You can usually find sriracha in the Asian section of your grocery or at Asian food stores.

As with most stir-fries, you’re going to be working with a hot and fast wok, so having your mise-en-place ready to go makes things much easier.  Have everything chopped and your sauces ready at hand before you start stir-frying.

Cauliflower and Edamame Stir-Fry

2 tbsp canola oil
1 medium head cauliflower, cut into florets
1/2 cup shelled frozen edamame
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 cup water
1 tbsp low-sodium soy sauce
1 tbsp sriracha hot sauce
fresh black pepper
salt

Heat oil in a wok or large skillet over medium-high heat until oil is hot and shimmering. Add cauliflower, and stir around to coat with oil. Cook, tossing frequently, until parts of cauliflower are browned. Lower heat to medium.

Add edamame and minced garlic. Stir around briefly, trying to avoid letting the garlic burn. Add 1/4 cup water (it will sizzle vigorously). Put cover on wok, and let steam for 4-5 minutes, or until cauliflower is crisp-tender.

Uncover wok. Stir-fry all the vegetables together until the last of the water has evaporated. Add sriracha, soy sauce, and season with salt and plenty of black pepper. Stir-fry briefly until cauliflower is coated (this is a relatively “dry” stir-fry…there won’t be much sauce).

Serve immediately with steamed rice and optionally, a few other Chinese dishes.

After a month and a half of being in California, I’m starting to really miss Chinese food. On the Central Coast, it’s hard to find good Chinese restaurants. Of course, there’s the local Panda Express, and other such establishments. But they don’t [...]]]>

After a month and a half of being in California, I’m starting to really miss Chinese food. On the Central Coast, it’s hard to find good Chinese restaurants. Of course, there’s the local Panda Express, and other such establishments. But they don’t particularly appeal to us. The other day we actually had a coupon for free food at Panda Express. We pulled into the parking lot – I mean, it’s FREE FOOD, people! Old college habits die hard. But when we peered into the eerie heat-lamp-lit interior, we just shuddered and decided to cook dinner instead.

There are a few Chinese restaurants around, but we haven’t gotten around to visiting them yet.  So maybe I shouldn’t pass judgement so quickly.

I finally got a chance to stock up on Asian sauces, spices and other condiments when we drove down to Orange County last weekend, and I brought a good couple of heavy bags back up here with me. Then, all I needed to do was to find the raw materials (aka Asian vegetables) to cook me up a feast. Of course, it’s not the easiest to find Asian vegetables around here. The local supermarkets don’t stock baby bok choy or bamboo shoots, or even very good tofu (the best tofu is fresh, something not very appealing to our food industrial complex). But on Wednesday I went to the farmer’s market, and tadaa! I found an Asian vegetable stand!

It was kind of refreshing to be in contact with Asians again, to be completely honest. Of course, they were speaking Vietnamese (I think?), not Chinese, but there was a definite sense of déjà vu as I grabbed a couple of Japanese eggplants and handed them, smiling, to the middle-aged Asian man who bagged them and gave me change. I mean, haven’t I done that countless times before, only when I’m in China, the middle-aged man only speaks Chinese, and the vegetables cost a fraction of the price? In any event, I was quite satisfied to find a supply of Asian vegetables, including some I haven’t used before, such as mizuna, Japanese mustard greens.

One thing I really love about Chinese food is mixing together all the different sauces. I feel like I’m in some crazy science lab, and the goal is to find the right combination of sauces to produce the best flavor. Even though some Chinese recipes give specific measurements for how much of each sauce to use, there is such a great difference between different brands and kinds of sauces that you really have to do much of it by taste. Soy sauces, for example, vary so much in saltiness and flavor, as do fish sauces. Different kinds of vinegar vary in acidity, and I’m not about to go buying a new bottle of vinegar every time a recipe recommends a specific brand (in Chinese vinegars alone, I have three or four bottles already, let alone my balsamic, wine and cider vinegars)! So, I experiment, and taste, and sometimes it works well, and sometimes it doesn’t work out as well as it might. But hey, that’s cooking right? It’s an imprecise science (unlike baking).

This is one of my favorite Chinese dishes – Eggplant in Chili-Garlic Sauce. I’ve always had difficulty with my eggplants becoming either falling-apart tender, or not quite tender enough. I just want them to be tender but to keep their shape, darn it! The trick is to fry them at high heat, until they sear nicely on the outside, making a sort of crust, which keeps the tender insides together. In a traditional upside-down-dome-shaped wok, you can easily almost deep-fry the eggplants in a few tablespoons of oil at the bottom of the wok. But I, alas, have an electric range, and my wok is flat-bottomed. So I just pan-fry them in a bit of oil. Thank you to Appetite For China, whose recipe helped me get it right!

Eggplant in Chili-Garlic Sauce
Slightly adapted from Appetite For China

Be careful not to add any moisture to the eggplant while frying, as it will make the eggplants fall apart.

Sauce
2 tbsp chili bean sauce
1 1/2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp black Chinese vinegar
1/2 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp rice wine or sake
¼ cup chicken stock
a good grinding of fresh black pepper

Eggplant
2 Japanese eggplants, sliced into thick strips
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp ginger, minced
½ tsp cornstarch dissolved in 2 tbsp water
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tbsp sesame oil

Garnish (optional)
sliced spring onions and cilantro leaves

1.  Mix together all the ingredients for the sauce and make sure it’s ready to be dumped in.

2.  Heat the vegetable and sesame oils together in a wok over medium-high heat. When oil is shimmering, add the slices of eggplant. Using tongs, turn them as they fry to ensure each side is well browned and inside is tender.

3.  When surface of eggplants are browned (almost caramelized), add the garlic and ginger and toss until fragrant. Add the sauce, and reduce heat to medium-low. Allow to simmer and boil down until eggplant has absorbed some of the sauce and sauce is somewhat thickened, just a minute or two. If sauce needs more thickening, add the cornstarch-water slurry, and stir briefly until thick and shiny.

4.  Arrange eggplant strips on a plate, and pour remaining sauce over top. Garnish with spring onions and cilantro, and serve along with steamed jasmine rice.

We’re still in Japan, but we have a little free time in our hotel room tonight, so I’m trying to update the blog with some of our culinary experiences here in Japan.  Going to the Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo was one of the most [...]]]> We’re still in Japan, but we have a little free time in our hotel room tonight, so I’m trying to update the blog with some of our culinary experiences here in Japan.  Going to the Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo was one of the most memorable things we’ve done so far – not only is the market fascinating to walk around in, but we also had some of the best sushi I’ve ever had.

We got to the Tsukiji Fish Market at around 9 in the morning – rather late.  Many of the deliveries were starting to wind down, and some stalls were already beginning to pack up.  So if you want to catch all of the action, get there early in the morning.  There is supposed to be a tuna auction at 5am, which is really interesting, but unfortunately we heard that it is now closed to the public.

Nevertheless, we were still able to witness lots of interesting scenes and tons of unique sea creatures – sea urchins, all sizes and colors of crabs, huge tunas, and more.

This guy is filleting fresh eels with astonishing ease.  Everyone had these deadly looking knives which they wielded with amazing skill.

Afterwards, we went to one of the numerous sushi restaurants that fringe Tsukiji Fish Market itself.  This is where you can get the freshest and best sushi in Tokyo at low low prices.

Our bowls of chirashi sushi cost only about $15 USD each, and the quality was such that we would have easily spent three times that much on similar-quality sushi elsewhere.

My bowl was a mixture of firm, muscular dark red tuna and lighter-colored, more buttery tuna.  I hadn’t been a big fan of tuna sushi before, as the kind we get in the Western world is typically a little spongy and pre-frozen.  I had never experienced real tuna sushi before having it at the Tsukiji fish market.  Fresh, springy, and completely, completely delicious.

There is also a large food market surrounding the fish market where you can get all sorts of delicious high-quality food and snacks, from shaved katsuobushi (shaved dried tuna flakes, also known as bonito), pickled vegetables, murderous-looking knives, deep-fried fish bones (a popular bar snack), and more.

So next time you’re in Tokyo, make sure you make time for a trip to Tsukiji fish market.  It’s just a short walk from the Tsukiji subway station and it is well worth getting up early for.  I would say that the fish market, plus the extensive food market and sushi restaurants surrounding it, make the Tsukiji Fish Market one of the best food experiences in Tokyo.

This is a deliciously simple preparation of fresh clams, stir-fried in a deep brown sauce of soy sauce and rice wine. The wine steams the clams open while the soy sauce bubbles, thickening and coating the clams with its savory goodness. Some thinly [...]]]>

This is a deliciously simple preparation of fresh clams, stir-fried in a deep brown sauce of soy sauce and rice wine. The wine steams the clams open while the soy sauce bubbles, thickening and coating the clams with its savory goodness. Some thinly sliced shallots and garlic add another dimension to the flavor, and some chopped fresh red chilies add a bit of a kick.

I learned how to cook this dish from my friend Jane, who has all the credentials of authenticity, having been born in China and cooking for her family since a young age. She has also had the benefit of being well traveled and a great communicator, and studied for her Master’s in Dunedin, New Zealand. I think that she truly has an inventive and open mind when it comes to cooking, reflected in her Chinese food, which draws from Sichuan and Cantonese cuisine as well as her native Fujianese style (and her own imagination!).

I have had the privilege of watching Jane cook several times, and I’ve learned a lot of helpful tips from her – how to cook bitter melon so it’s not too bitter, how to cook Japanese tofu, how to marinate cucumbers to make quick pickles, etc…

I bought these clams at the neighborhood wet market, where they were kept in trays of seawater to keep them alive. I have no idea what kind of clams they are…anyone care to venture a guess?

Serve these little clams as part of a Chinese meal with several other contrasting dishes and steamed white rice.

Jane’s Soy Sauce Clams
Note: When clams are open, they’re done.  Don’t overcook or they may turn rubbery.

1 pound small fresh clams, scrubbed
2 shallots, sliced thinly
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsp reduced-sodium soy sauce (or 1 1/2 tbsp normal – you can always add more later)
3 tbsp rice wine
¼ tsp granulated chicken powder (optional)
1 red chili pepper, chopped
1 scallion (spring onion), chopped
cooking oil

1. In a wok, heat 2 tablespoons of oil over medium-high heat. Add shallots and garlic, and stir-fry until aromatic, being careful not to burn.

2. Add soy sauce – it should start to bubble immediately. Add the clams. Stir around to coat with soy sauce, and then add rice wine and granulated chicken powder (optional). Allow the wine to steam the clams, stirring occasionally, until clams open. Don’t cover the wok – you want most of the liquid to evaporate.

3. Add chopped red chilies. Toss everything together vigorously for 30 seconds to coat clams with sauce. Remove clams to a plate, discarding any that have not opened. Sprinkle with chopped scallions and serve immediately, with steamed white rice.

Chris and I had the good fortune of traveling to Taiwan between semesters, and we have been eating our way across Taiwan for the past 11 days. Don’t be too jealous; I brought lots of goodies, in the form of photos, for you to [...]]]>

Chris and I had the good fortune of traveling to Taiwan between semesters, and we have been eating our way across Taiwan for the past 11 days. Don’t be too jealous; I brought lots of goodies, in the form of photos, for you to drool over.

Taiwanese people LOVE food. The variety of local delicacies available at every town was really astounding. Some of them were a little exotic for our tastes (dried minnows, anyone?), though all were fascinating.

Some of the best places to sample Taiwanese cuisine was at the night markets that we frequented in almost every town. The ideal place to fill up on a variety of xiao chi (“small eats”, or little snacks), the Taiwanese street market is a food lover’s dream. I think it is a truth generally acknowledged that the best food in the world is developed in the crucible of the world’s street markets. Sipping a huge cup of fresh watermelon juice in one hand (for the measly sum of $0.30 USD) and nibbling on a hot grilled Taiwanese sausage in the other…I was in my element. The best thing is, in the Taiwanese street market, everything is made right in the open on grills and portable stoves, so all you have to do is stroll, look, point, and eat.

Taiwanese Sausage

A sweet pork sausage with your choice of dressing is grilled, making the skin crispy and the inside juicy, tender and scorching hot.

Sweet Silky Tofu (Dou Hua)

Yes, tofu as a dessert. Why not? It’s silky, custardy, and delicious – tofu as dessert is the most natural thing! This soft smooth tofu is ladled into a bowl and drowned in a rock sugar soup, and topped with your choice of peanuts, almond agar, tapioca, and other goodies. On a hot night, I seriously craved this, with some crushed ice on top.

Flour-Rice Noodle Soup

This famous food stand at the Ximending district in Taipei specializes in one thing – a thick vinegary soup filled with mian xian (“thread” noodles), pieces of pig intestines, bamboo shoots and other goodies. It may sound and look disgusting, but it’s surprisingly good, especially with some cilantro and hot sauce on top.

Taiwanese Sandwich (Gua Bao)

Chinese people love fatty pork. In fact, at the Taipei National Palace Museum, one of the prize exhibits was a piece of red jade carved to look like a piece of fatty pork (the other prize exhibit was a piece of green and white jade carved to look like a Chinese cabbage). If you haven’t yet found a place in your heart (and stomach) for fatty pork, you have got to try a Taiwanese gua bao. Braised, tender fatty pork is sandwiched in a steamed bun with sweet ‘n’ sour pickled vegetables, crushed peanuts, a sweet sauce, and cilantro. What’s not to like? We got this one at Shin Yeh, an excellent restaurant in Taipei specializing in Taiwanese cuisine.

Fish Balls (Yu Wan) and Pork Floss Rice

We got this amazingly fresh fish ball soup in Kaohsiung near the harbor. We noticed a busy crowd of what looked to be local workers devouring bowls of these with relish, and we had to give it a try. Our hostess deftly made the fish balls (well, more like fish rolls) by hand and tossed them into the soup. Piping hot, the fish balls had a springy texture and super fresh fillings of oysters and fresh flaky white fish.

These fish balls, with a small bowl of pork floss and fatty pork-topped rice filled us near to bursting.  I have to say, I’m not usually a fan of fish balls, but I’ll have a bowl of these any day.

White Wasabi

I always thought wasabi was green.  According to the lady who produces this white wasabi and sells it in her shop, however, freshly grated wasabi is white, and only turns green after other stuff (ie. food coloring) gets added to it.  I couldn’t resist buying a jar, and it’s definitely got more flavor and slightly less hotness than the typical S&B tube wasabi I’m used to.  We got this while visiting AliShan (Ali Mountain), where wasabi root cultivation is a local specialty.

Here are some more dishes we tried but didn’t get a chance to photograph:

Oyster Pancake (O-ah-jian): Perhaps Taiwan’s most famous snack, the oyster pancake is a concoction of a sticky glutinous batter fried with egg, oysters, and lettuce. It’s served with a slightly sweet red sauce.

Stinky Tofu: Sorry, stinky tofu lovers, but I just can’t get into it. Stinky tofu smells like an open sewer, and I just can’t get past the smell. I ate some, and I’m still here, but I’m not sure I ever need to eat it again.

Mochi: Don’t bother buying the prepackaged boxed ones – they’re full of preservatives and not very good. But definitely try the fresh hand-made ones available at almost every street corner. These glutinous rice balls stuffed with peanuts, sesame seeds, red bean paste, and other goodies are one of the most popular snacks in Taiwan.

I grew up eating my mom’s Chinese cooking, but strangely enough have never really explored cooking other Asian cuisines.  Sure, I’m familiar with EATING it – in college I lived off discount take-out sushi (discount sushi? Gross, I know, but I loved it), bibimbap, green [...]]]>

I grew up eating my mom’s Chinese cooking, but strangely enough have never really explored cooking other Asian cuisines.  Sure, I’m familiar with EATING it – in college I lived off discount take-out sushi (discount sushi? Gross, I know, but I loved it), bibimbap, green curry, oyako-don, and other college-priced Asian fare that you can find pretty much everywhere on the streets of Toronto.  But cooking non-Chinese Asian food?  Meh – I never had much interest.  Throwing together a stir-fry was so much easier.  Lately though, I’ve become slightly obsessed with Japanese food.  With a much anticipated trip to Japan coming up, I’ve been reading up like crazy on ingredients to make mochi, matcha-flavored desserts, proper zaru soba, and more.

Well, I promised more Asian recipes, and here I am delivering on the promise! Chicken katsu is a variation of the Japanese tonkatsu, breaded pork covered with panko bread crumbs and deep-fried, and served with sauce. It’s a family-friendly dish that doesn’t have to be unhealthy – just bake it in the oven instead of deep-frying to cut down on the oil and fat.

The ideal is to use boneless chicken thighs – they are much juicier and more flavorful, in my opinion, than chicken breasts. But I was unable to find boneless thighs at my local supermarket, and being the lazy person I am, I just used boneless chicken breasts. Just don’t overcook them and they won’t be too dry.

For the tonkatsu sauce, I used a mixture of ketchup, dark soy sauce, sugar, and Worchestershire sauce. It tasted pretty good, even if it wasn’t exactly like tonkatsu sauce that you get at a Japanese restaurant.

This was a quick and easy meal – after the breading part, I just stuck the chicken in the toaster oven and let the timer take care of the rest. I served the chicken katsu with some potato salad (just the way my mom makes it) and simply sautéed sugar snap peas.

Chicken Katsu (baked)
Serves 2

Chicken
2 boneless chicken breasts
¼ cup flour
1 large egg, beaten
¾ cup panko breadcrumbs
salt and pepper

Sauce
¼ cup ketchup
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp Worchestershire sauce

Preheat oven or toaster oven to 400 F.

Pat the breasts dry with a paper towel. Season on both sides with salt and pepper. Dredge in the flour. Then put into a bowl with the beaten egg and turn to coat with egg. Place the panko breadcrumbs on a plate, then coat the chicken with the breadcrumbs, patting to help adhere.

Place the breaded chicken onto a pan and bake for 20 minutes until cooked through (if poked with a sharp knife, juices should run clear, not bloody). If you want the top to brown more, turn on the broiler for the last minute. Meanwhile, mix together the ingredients for the sauce.

When chicken is ready, let rest for 1 minute, then cut into slices. Drizzle with sauce and serve.

Chinese desserts are quite different from Western ones.  They tend to be based on fruit and/or beans (red or green, generally), and often use glutinous rice, tapioca or sago.  Unlike Western desserts, that often use lots of cream and dairy products, Chinese desserts [...]]]>

Chinese desserts are quite different from Western ones.  They tend to be based on fruit and/or beans (red or green, generally), and often use glutinous rice, tapioca or sago.  Unlike Western desserts, that often use lots of cream and dairy products, Chinese desserts are often water or coconut milk based, with perhaps a bit of condensed or evaporated milk to add that extra bit of creaminess.

My husband, who discovered a whole new world of Cantonese cuisine when he married me, tends to dislike Chinese sweets.  It’s not his fault – he just didn’t grow up with a tradition of sweet red bean soup, egg custard steamed buns, bean paste dumplings, etc…  I guess they ARE a little strange if you’re not used to them.

But he DOES like this Mango Pomelo Sago Sweet Soup.

This fresh fruit dessert is a quintessential Hong Kong dish.  Invented in a Hong Kong restaurant in the 80′s, it has swept the global Asian community, insinuating itself into Asian dessert houses everywhere.  I first had it at a family banquet in Hong Kong, but have since sampled it in several Toronto dim sum restaurants and dessert or tea houses.  The Cantonese name for it is “Yeung Zi Gum Lo”… I have no idea what the name means.

If you live in an area where you can’t get this dessert, don’t fret – it’s easy to make yourself with just a few simple ingredients.  The most difficult thing to find might be the sago balls – you can find this at your local Asian market.  These little globules of sago starch (or tapioca starch – the two words are often interchangeable) look like little white balls of styrofoam, and turn transparent when cooked.

Pomelos are huge Asian grapefruits with a thick skin and a very sweet fruit.  You peel the white inner skin from each segment and extract the flesh.  They come in red and yellow-fleshed varieties.  If you can’t find pomelos (also at your local Asian market), substitute a very ripe ruby red grapefruit.  It will be a little more tart, but close enough.

Mango Pomelo Sago Soup
I referenced GourmetTraveller88 for this recipe.

People who are allergic to milk or lactose intolerant can enjoy this creamy dessert without the dairy.  The coconut milk gives it enough creaminess that the evaporated milk is not essential.

3 ripe medium-size mangoes
150 ml coconut milk
1 cup water
1/2 cup simple syrup (optional)
1/2 cup pomelo flesh, plus extra for garnishing
1/2 cup sago pearls
evaporated milk for drizzling (optional)

1.  Put the sago into a large pot of boiling water, and cook for 15 min until the outsides of the pearls become transparent.  Lower the heat and simmer another 10 minutes or so until the pearls are fully transparent, stirring often to prevent sticking and burning.  Drain into a wire mesh strainer and rinse thoroughly with cold water.

2.  Meanwhile, cube the mangoes.  I like to cut two sides off the mango on either side of the seed, then score the flesh and scoop out the cubes with a spoon.  Then I peel the rest of the mango and slice off the flesh around the seed, chopping it roughly.  Any remaining flesh on the seed is fair game for any marauding mango-loving husbands to devour.

3.  Put 3/4 of the cubed mangoes along with the coconut milk and water into a blender.  Blend until smooth.

4.  Add the drained sago, pomelo flesh, and reserved mango pieces to the mango puree.  Refrigerate until chilled, about 2 hours.

5.  Before serving, taste for sweetness and add a little simple syrup if needed.  Ladle into dessert bowls and garnish with extra pomelo.  If you wish, drizzle a bit of evaporated milk over the dessert.  Chris is allergic to milk, so I didn’t add any.

Yesterday we celebrated the 60th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China – the anniversary of the day Communist forces took over, vanquishing the Kuomintang forces that subsequently fled to Taiwan.  Xiamen, being a more laid back and less political city than others, [...]]]>

Yesterday we celebrated the 60^th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China – the anniversary of the day Communist forces took over, vanquishing the Kuomintang forces that subsequently fled to Taiwan.  Xiamen, being a more laid back and less political city than others, wasn’t TOO crazy, but nevertheless many people were out on the streets, parading Chinese flags (and we eventually joined them).  We were sincerely happy for the Chinese for how far their country has come in the last few years, and grateful too, in a sense, for if the Communists hadn’t won the war, who knows if Chris and I would have come to China at all, and who knows if we would ever have met?  Regardless of our political opinions, we are certainly glad for that.

We celebrated with several of our friends by having a potluck National Day dinner to which, in honour of National Day, I brought homemade Chinese dumplings, or jiaozi (though I cheated by using pre-made skins) and mooncakes, anticipating the Mid-Autumn Festival, which will start tomorrow (click to read an article I wrote about the Mid-Autumn Festival.)

Now, mooncakes aren’t necessarily my favorite, though I did grow up with them.  I do like them more than Chris does, but that’s not saying much.  In Hong Kong I’ve had some good ones – modernized ones with a glutinous rice outer shell (like mochi), and fruit flavoured custard fillings.  And the mooncakes I bought last night were filled with a fruit puree, that wasn’t too bad.  They didn’t have salty egg yolks in them though.  And how can you have a mooncake without a salty egg yolk in the middle?  It’s just not moon-like.  It’s like having a galette des rois without a fève in it.

The traditional mooncakes are made with a cookie-like crust enclosing a filling made with red or green bean paste, or lotus-seed paste, fattened up with lard, and the yolk of a salted preserved egg.  I know, it doesn’t sound too appetizing, does it?  They are heavy and full of cholesterol, which is why you aren’t supposed to eat a whole mooncake by yourself, but cut it into quarters (or sometimes eighths), and share it.  My ideal mooncake wedge has a piece of the salty egg yolk in it, giving relief to the mealy sweet paste that fills the rest of the wedge.  I nibble it slowly over the course of, oh, say, half-an-hour or so.

When I was a kid, my mom would buy paper lanterns and stick birthday candles inside them, us girls would dress up in traditional Chinese costumes, and parade up and down the driveway carrying our lit lanterns.  My mom would buy her favorite brand of mooncake, which was more expensive than all the other brands – almost $30 for 4 mooncakes!  They came in a square tin box decorated with a picture of Chang’e, the lady in the moon.

Anyway, in honour of things Chinese – both National Day and Mid-Autumn Festival, I’ve brought you a basic recipe for Chinese dumplings, also known as jiaozi. Jiaozi are eaten anytime, and not especially for Mid-Autumn festival, but they are quintessentially Chinese, which is why I’m sharing them here.

I didn’t make my own jiaozi skins, but they are easy to make – just flour and water, and a good recipe can be found at Rasa Malaysia.

Sorry I don’t have a picture of the finished product – I was in a rush to get them to the potluck, and then they were eaten before we got a chance to photograph them.

Chinese Dumplings, or Jiaozi

Chinese leeks have a strong and distinctive taste somewhere between spring onion and grass (they’re better than they sound, really).  They are immensely popular as a filling for dumplings, fried pastries, and all sorts of snacks.  If you can’t find them you can substitute ½ cup of finely chopped Shanghai bok choy or Napa cabbage.

1 pack circular jiaozi skins (makes 24 dumplings)
½ pound ground pork (not too lean)
2 tsp Asian (toasted) sesame oil
1 tsp cornstarch
2 tsp soy sauce
1 tsp finely minced fresh ginger
½ cup Chinese leeks, chopped
salt for seasoning

Mix all the ingredients together (except the skins, of course), and add a small pinch of salt for seasoning.  Allow to marinate together for 20 minutes in the refrigerator.

Place a heaping teaspoonful of the meat filling in the center of a jiaozi wrapper.  Dip your finger in a little water and moisten the edges of the wrapper.  Press edges together to seal, forming a semi-circular dumpling.  Place on a lightly floured plate.  Repeat with rest of wrappers.

Heat a pot of water until boiling.  Reduce heat to medium, and then add the dumplings.  Simmer for 2-3 minutes, until the dumplings float to the top of the water.  Drain and serve with seasoned vinegar sauce.

Seasoned Vinegar Dipping Sauce

In a small bowl combine 4 tablespoons of Asian black vinegar with 1 tablespoon of soy sauce.  Add one fresh red chili pepper, finely chopped.  Let the chili pepper marinate in the sauce for 5 minutes, then serve as a dipping sauce for the Chinese dumplings.