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 picture doesn’t completely do justice to the sheer size of the tuna – my head could have literally fit in his mouth.

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.

Chris and I regularly eat out at Sichuan restaurants – it is one of China’s best cuisines and the bold flavours especially appeal to a Western palate (as long as you don’t mind spiciness).  One of our favourite dishes is ma po doufu, [...]]]>

Chris and I regularly eat out at Sichuan restaurants – it is one of China’s best cuisines and the bold flavours especially appeal to a Western palate (as long as you don’t mind spiciness).  One of our favourite dishes is ma po doufu, Ma Po Tofu, a spicy tofu dish with a bit of ground pork, lots of chilies, and the signature Sichuan spice – Sichuan peppercorns.

Sichuan peppercorns are not only spicy, but they also have that characteristic Sichuanese tongue-numbing property known as ma la, or “numbing-spice”.  It adds both heat and savory-ness to a dish, as well as a tingling sensation typical of Sichuan dishes.  You can replace Sichuan peppercorns and still get a great-tasting tofu dish, but you won’t have Ma Po Tofu.  The “ma” in the name of this dish is a pun referring both to the ma la taste, as well as the pockmarked old woman (ma po) who first invented the humble Ma Po Tofu, to satisfy travelers who passed by her little cottage.

Chris and I have this dish on average about once every two weeks, and it is a bargain at most restaurants, costing between 5 and 10 yuan (between $0.70 to $1.40 USD).  So why would I want to recreate this dish at home?  Why, to see that I can, of course.

I did a lot of recipe research on the Internet looking for an authentic recipe.  Based on the ingredient lists, most recipes had been altered to suit Western palates and styles of cooking.  But I wanted the real thing – I wanted to taste in my kitchen the same taste I taste in the Sichuan restaurant down the street.  I finally settled on a recipe from Rasa Malaysia – the author learned this recipe from a friend whose mother had studied at the Sichuan Culinary School in Chengdu.  I simplified the ingredient list a bit, because I distrust Chinese chili powder (sometimes it is colored with a red dye that is a banned carcinogen in most countries), and I don’t recall there being fermented black beans in the Ma Po Tofu we are accustomed to having.

And the result?  Astonishing.  I amazed myself.  I thought it would be close, but not this close.  I may never order Ma Po Tofu again.  With a dish of stir-fried greens and steamed rice, this was our very satisfying dinner.

Ma Po Tofu
Adapted from Rasa Malaysia

Most or all of these ingredients are available from your local Asian grocery store.

1 block tofu (not silken)
4 cloves garlic, chopped
2 tbsp vegetable oil (do not use olive oil as it does not have a high enough smoke point)
2 tbsp chili oil
3 tbsp chili bean paste
1 tbsp Sichuan peppercorns (I used whole peppercorns, but if you have powdered Sichuan pepper, that will work too)
½ pound ground pork
1 tsp dried chili flakes or chopped dried red chilies
1 tbsp soy sauce
½ cup water

(To tone down the spiciness, omit the dried chili flakes and halve the Sichuan pepper.)

Drain the tofu and cut it into cubes.  Set aside.

Over high heat, heat the vegetable oil and chili oil.  When hot, add the garlic, chili bean paste, and dried chili flakes.  Make sure your stove hood fan is on, as the spices get very aromatic.  Add the ground pork and stir-fry until cooked.

Add the soy sauce and water, and then carefully add the cubed tofu.  Let it simmer for a few minutes as the tofu steams, then gently stir the tofu into the sauce.  Add the Sichuan pepper, and stir-fry for about 2 minutes until the sauce thickens.  Serve immediately (you can garnish it with a sprinkling of scallions if you like).

Note:  Chris calls Sichuan peppercorns “mind-numbing balls”, and they really are – your first time at least!  If you aren’t used to Sichuan pepper, you probably want to avoid eating any whole peppercorns as they are pretty intense.  We have found that the best way to do this is to use your chopsticks to pick up each cube of tofu from the dish instead of spooning it all into your bowl.  Of course, if using powdered Sichuan pepper, this isn’t a problem.