Pork Congee (粥)

Congee, known as zhou in Mandarin and juk in Cantonese, is a rice porridge popular in many parts of Asia. I recall my grandparents making it from time to time, but my memory for what theirs was like has faded over the years. Until today, I had never attempted to make it, but the cold weather inspired me to give it a go. My research turned up a lot of variation in how it's made, particularly in the rice-to-liquid ratio and the length of cooking time. I'm going for the Cantonese version, which seems to feature one of the lowest (1 to 20) ratios. Over the cooking time, the rice breaks down and thickens the broth. As first attempts go, I think the congee turned out very well, though I have some tweaks in mind going forward and plan to document those.

My recipe here is based on a combination of the basic juk from ArChan Chan's Hong Kong Local cookbook and the pork congee from Chinese Cooking Demystified. I also consulted a few other sources on the internet. As mentioned above, the 20-to-1 ratio appears to be the standard for Cantonese-style juk, which comes to 1/2 cup rice to 10 cups liquid. I think next time I will increase the rice a bit to get a heartier result. Some recipes out there go as low as 7 to 1. The key to achieving the proper texture in the porridge is by breaking down the rice. Traditionally, this is done with a very long cooking time, but some modern recipes (including Chan's) start by freezing the rice overnight to speed that up. Freezing is known to break down fibers in food. Normally, this is a bad thing, which is why people typically advise not thawing and refreezing meat, but here it works to our advantage.

Congee can start with plain water but often uses stock. Here, I made a simple pork stock from a shoulder bone I had in the freezer. When I break down a shoulder for char siu and other things, I save the bone with a good amount of meat left on it. The meat gets super tender and we sometimes just eat them with a little soy sauce and scallions (known as "pork snacks" in our house). It's natural to toss them in the congee. I made the stock the day before and kept it in the fridge. The rest of the seasoning is simple and can be adjusted to taste - salt, white pepper, ginger, scallion, and MSG (if you want). Congee is a bit of a blank slate and there are many possible add-ins and sides. Century eggs are a popular option. I didn't have them on hand, but will be on the lookout.

Upgrade: Portuguese Chicken (葡國雞)

Portuguese chicken (translating literally to pou gwok gai in Cantonese, pu guo ji in Mandarin, and galinha à portuguesa in Portuguese) is a dish that fascinates me endlessly. It's a fusion of east and west that could only have been born in its own specific context. Back when I wrote about it in 2012, I noted that little was written about it (at least in English) on the internet. There's quite a bit more now, but it's still not a widely known dish. It also doesn't show up in any of my Chinese cookbooks. I still don't know if my version is authentic, but I can tell you it tastes good and improves upon my previous one in many ways. One of those can be seen in the photo, where the deeply colored sauce appeals a lot more than the bright yellow of my previous attempt.

Despite the name, Portuguese chicken does not originate in Portugal, but rather the bustling southern Chinese city of Macau, which was an outpost of the Portuguese empire for over 450 years. The food of Macau blends Cantonese cuisine with influences brought from around the world by Portuguese traders. As such, Portuguese chicken features some ingredients not commonly seen in other Chinese dishes. Most recipes feature five main components: chicken, potatoes, onion, coconut milk, and turmeric but diverge from there. Other possible additions include sausage, olives, and bell peppers. Some are simmered on the stovetop, while others are baked as a casserole. In some versions, the casserole includes rice on the bottom or desiccated coconut sprinkled on top. I decided to keep it simple and stay on the stove in a wok. This also makes it easy to thicken and adjust the sauce at the end.

After I wrote my original post, I found out I was not the only member of my family to be a fan of Portuguese chicken. As it turns out, my grandma went to school in Macau for a time and enjoyed it regularly. She informed me back then that my version was incorrect because the chicken and potatoes should be cut into smaller pieces. Cutting smaller does make more sense to eat with chopsticks and also helps everything cook more quickly. Another change I made was to crank up the seasoning and build a more complex flavor in the sauce. I also chose to marinate the chicken this time. Sources vary greatly on what should go in the marinade, but I went with a classic Chinese style. I included just a little dark soy sauce for color - don't overdo it. Some recipes use more spices in the marinade, while I put the into the sauce instead. I did not have any Portuguese chouriço (in fact, I have no idea where one can buy such a thing) but did have some Spanish chorizo on hand that worked well here. Some Cantonese lap cheong would also probably do just fine. The versions I recall from Shanghai did not include any sausage, and that works as well.

Curry Turnovers (咖喱酥)

Curry turnovers are a nostalgic favorite in our family. It was always a great treat when my grandparents showed up with a box of them. A discussion recently got started about reviving the tradition, so I thought it as good a time as any to give this one a go on the blog. I'm so glad I did, because they are just as tasty as I remember. They go by a few different names in Chinese, but the one I went with here, gali su, means "curry pastry."

As it turns out, they are a classic item in Cantonese dim sum and bakeries, with variants popular all over Asia. The good news is that unlike many dim sum items, they are easy to make. They work equally well with afternoon tea, as an appetizer, or a as a late-night snack. This recipe makes about 36 turnovers. We froze some of those (unbaked) for later. Leftovers already baked can be kept in the refrigerator and revived in the toaster oven. In making this version, I referenced several recipes I found online, including Woks of Life and Table for Two. 

Puff pastry variant

The recipe itself is flexible and forgiving. My research online showed that beef is by far the most common filling, but I know grandpa used pork just as often. I used my homemade Chinese pork stock, but whatever is on hand should work fine. For the seasoning, any curry powder is sufficient, as long as it isn't too hot. I added some turmeric for color. One detail I remember watching grandpa make it was that he added a seasoning packet from a package of ramen noodles. I honor this choice with a little MSG (Ajinomoto) for an umami boost. Premade pie dough is a great shortcut that doesn't compromise significantly on the end product. Turnovers can also be made with puff pastry for a flakier variation.

Diced Chicken with Walnuts (桃仁雞丁)

To kick off the summer, we're taking on another recipe from Pei Mei's Chinese Cook Book. This one is adapted from one I found in the Southern China section of volume I. The Chinese name taoren jiding translates to "walnut diced chicken." Interestingly, this recipe bears a striking resemblance to what most Americans picture as Chinese food. American-Chinese cuisine evolved specifically from Cantonese cooking, and this dish is a clear predecessor. Some combination of meat, vegetables, and nuts stir fried together in a sauce is a formula that comes up again and again. Years ago, even I threw together a cashew chicken recipe that's not all that different to this. 

I made a few changes from Pei Mei's original. As with so many of her dishes, she deep fries the chicken. I decided to streamline the process by stir frying the chicken instead, avoiding the hassle of cleaning up so much oil. I might try it that way in the future. She also recommends using hot peppers, while I used bell peppers. Some or all of those can be substituted for something spicier if you so choose. I chose to not salt the sauce ahead of time. You can always add salt at the end if you want to, and I added a few pinches. It's also worth mentioning she approves of cashews a substitute for the walnuts. 

This dish came out well. In the past, I've typically minced ginger, but I liked the bursts of ginger here from the larger slices. I might put in a little more next time. The flavor profile is pretty classic. A little more sugar would likely tilt it in American-Chinese direction, if you're into that. There's also plenty of leeway in the choice of chicken. Pei Mei suggests either deboning an entire (small) chicken or using breasts. I used thighs here. I served with steamed rice to complete the meal.

Shrimp Toast (麵包蝦仁)

Today, I'm pleased to present another creation from the Joyce Chen Cook Book. Shrimp toast is a Cantonese dim sum item I've had a few times in restaurants, but never thought about making at home until now. Like most of Chen's recipes, it's quite simple, but satisfying, and uses ingredients easily found in American supermarkets. Everything in the recipe stores well, so it's another good "Corona Cuisine" option. The Chinese name mianbao xiaren translates to "bread shrimp meat." Once such a thing is possible again, I think these would be great party food to pass around with some cold beers.

The texture of the cooked shrimp mixture is best described as "springy." It's quite unique to and common in Chinese food. Western recipes for ground meat dishes, like hamburgers or meatballs, often warn against overmixing to maintain a loose texture. Chinese meatballs, on the other hand, are dense and springy. The bacon is a clever shortcut to incorporating some fat into the mixture, while also adding flavor. The minced water chestnuts are a great addition, as you get little pockets of crunchiness every now and then. My only real complaint about the dish is that the bread absorbed too much oil and got a little soggy on the bottom. This could be a combination of the very basic supermarket white bread I used and my decision to rest them on paper towels instead of a rack. As such, I'd recommend the latter.

I have basically reproduced Chen's recipe, but with more detailed instructions. She only says to grind the meat with no technique mentioned. The food processor got this done efficiently. Mincing very aggressively with a knife would probably work, as well. As usual, Chen adds some MSG here, which I don't have on hand. Also notable from the book is that there is a companion recipe for shrimp balls, which use the same shrimp mixture, but formed into balls and deep fried. I didn't try that, but it would provide a gluten-free option, if you're into that kind of thing.

Beef Chow Fun (乾炒牛河)

Beef chow fun is a famous Cantonese dish combining wide rice noodles with tender sliced beef. Several years ago, I posted a chicken chow fun recipe using the same noodles. While this is not exactly an "upgrade," this recipe improves upon it with a better marinade inspired by Pei-Mei, and a sauce to tie it all together. This is also a companion recipe to my chow mein recipe from a few weeks ago. Grandpa and grandma would often serve us both in one meal! The name qianchao niu he is interesting. The first part - qianchao means "dry fried," similar to dry-cooked string beans. I'm not sure of the history of this dish, but this name may suggest the beef was originally deep fried. The rest of the name refers to beef (niu) and the wide noodles (he fen) in the dish. I was very happy with how this turned out, but in retrospect, this recipe makes a lot of food. I would probably halve everything next time, but there's nothing wrong with having some leftovers. 

I took the recipe for the beef from "Sliced Beef with Broccoli" in Pei-Mei Volume II. She tosses the beef with some blanched gailan (Chinese broccoli) and a sauce. The beef is phenomenal on its own, and I would happily gobble it up with some rice. When I cook flank steak whole, I typically pan fry it to medium rare to avoid drying it out. Here, the thinly sliced beef is cooked through completely, yet remains super tender. The key is the marinade, which includes baking soda as a tenderizer. If you've never tried this technique before, it will amaze you.

This recipe uses mostly pantry staples and easily found ingredients. The noodles can sometimes be hard to find, though. Rice noodles come in many shapes and sizes. I previously used the super-thin kind for minced "pigeon" lettuce cups. Medium-width rice noodles are used for pad thai. The widest rice, called shahe fen (sometimes transliterated ho fun), are essential to this dish. Part of the problem is that this usually doesn't appear on the package and, unless you know the Chinese word (沙河粉), you'll have to eyeball it. Although dark soy sauce is not typically added at the end of stir frying like it is here, it's essential to achieving the signature brown look for the noodles. Classic beef chow fun usually has mung bean sprouts, which are tragically not sold in Vermillion. I included napa and onion instead, which also makes this into more of a complete meal.

Fish Fillets with Corn Sauce (粟米斑塊)

I've been meaning to write this post since I started No Free Lunch. Fish fillets with corn sauce was one of my childhood favorites, which my dad made somewhat frequently. We just called it "corn fish." It was often one of the meals we had when I came home from college. He apparently discovered the dish in his own childhood in a restaurant in Hong Kong, where he shared a plate with my uncle. While it is not an iconic dish in the pantheon of Chinese cuisine, it certainly is to me. I found a few references to the dish, with the most common Chinese name being sumi bankuai, which I think means "corn grouper fillets." This hints at the fish originally used, so I think any firm, white, ocean-going fish would be appropriate. 

Creamed (or cream-style) corn is an interesting ingredient, though not an uncommon one. Despite the name, it does not contain cream, and the creaminess is all from the corn itself. While we Americans love it, corn is not a popular ingredient in Chinese cuisine. I think it's telling that this is a distinctively Hong Kong dish, which has had a long history of western influence. For the fish, you could use any white fish, but I usually use cod. This is probably the most accessible fish of the type we're looking for, and I had some individually packaged frozen fillets. As with most of my Chinese dishes, I used my homemade Chinese shrimp stock. Any kind of chicken or seafood stock would be also be fine here.

The way Dad always made this was a little different from what I did here. The fish were much larger pieces and battered similar to the fish and chips style. I decided to go the more traditionally Chinese route with a simple marinade and corn starch dredging. This is based on what I did for fish slices with tomato sauce, a similar Cantonese fried fish dish from Pei-Mei's Chinese Cook Book. I like the smaller pieces, as its easier to eat with chopsticks, but the battered version is extra crunchy. You won't go wrong either way.

Steamed Pork Cake (蒸肉餅)

This Cantonese steamed pork cake might be the least photogenic food I've ever made. Despite its humble appearance, though, it's packed with flavor and easy to make. As you might have guessed, this is true home style food. I have some vague memories of my grandparents making something similar, but it was so long ago that I'm not quite sure. The basic concept is a giant pork burger that is something of a blank canvas. This recipe mixes in ham, mushrooms, and water chestnuts. The Woks of Life has done versions with preserved vegetables and salted fish. I think Chinese sausage, sauerkraut, or even shrimp would work, too. Being cooked entirely by steaming, there is no browning and this dish relies on its ingredients for flavor. We get some umami bursts from the mushrooms and a little crunch from the water chestnuts.

This recipe is adapted from the Joyce Chen Cook Book, which is a very interesting piece of culinary history. Published in 1962, it predates even Pei-Mei's books. Chen understood very well that American cooks would have difficulty finding certain ingredients, and builds substitutions into the recipes. For example, she doesn't even bother with Shaoxing wine and goes straight to the sherry substitution. If you can get good Shaoxing wine, go with that, but if not, amontillado is my preferred alternative. It's also a bit odd in that everything is measured by volume, even the pork. I've converted some of the measurements to weight where it makes sense to do so. 

The most notable ingredient here is the ham. Chen discusses this issue at length, saying that getting Chinese ham in the United States is nearly impossible. That is as true now as it was in 1962, especially in South Dakota. It might be possible to get good ham in a Chinatown somewhere, but I'm not sure. Chinese hams are dry cured, so some other similarly-produced ham is the best substitute. Chen recommends Smithfield ham, a dry cured ham from Smithfield, Virginia. The most accessible alternative might be prosciutto. I used regular supermarket ham, which didn't really add much to the dish other than some texture. As with many dishes, Chen also uses MSG here, which I didn't have. I compensated by increasing the soy sauce and mushroom a bit. 

Joyce Chen had a huge role in spreading appreciation for Chinese food in the United States. Her influence was especially felt in Boston, where she ran several restaurants and had a short-lived cooking show with WGBH. Her rebranding of potstickers as "Peking ravioli" is particularly funny to me. Her recipe for Peking ravioli is pretty standard and quite similar to mine. However, it seems that Peking ravioli evolved in Boston Chinese restaurants into their own thing. Ariel says the dumplings she grew up eating are not quite what we make at home, but couldn't quite pin down the difference. When she took her first bite of this pork cake, she exclaimed that it tasted just like Peking ravioli. Next time we find ourselves in Boston, I'll be doing some research, by which I mean eating dumplings!

Fish Slices with Tomato Sauce (茄汁魚片)

Without any premeditation on my part, the last four recipes I've posted have involved pork, so I'd say its time to shift gears and do some fish. Sweet and sour fish is one of those dishes I frequently enjoy when eating out, but had never tried making at home. Along with eggplant Sichuan style, it's often one of the first dishes I try at Chinese restaurants. There are a lot of variations, and I tend to prefer a more vinegar-forward profile rather than a sweeter one. Peimei has a sweet and sour fish recipe found in the Eastern China section of her first book (this refers to Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Anhui provinces, along with the city of Shanghai). This recipe begins with chopping the head off the fish, butterflying and deboning. The fish is battered and fried to spectacular results, and Peimei comments that "most of our foreign friends prefer this way." I did not have a whole fish nor the desire to undertake this. 

What I did have was a pound of assorted cod bits I picked up at Trader Joe's for four bucks. I found another recipe in the Southern China section (Guangdong and Fujian provinces and the city of Hong Kong) that involved fish slices and a very similar sauce, called "fish with tomato sauce." The Chinese name is pronounced qiezhi yupian in Mandarin. I was puzzled by this at first, since the most literal translation would be "eggplant sauce fish slices." This being a southern recipe, I asked Dad for some context and found out the Cantonese pronunciation of qiezhi contains the key: keh jup, thought by many to be the origin of the English word ketchup. The usage of qie here is just an abbreviation for fanqie, the Chinese word for tomato. Amusingly, this literally translates to "foreign eggplant."

The recipe itself is pretty simple. Rather than battering the fish, we simply dredge it in cornstarch after marinating, much like in the sweet and sour pork recipe I posted three years (it's been that long already?) ago. As I mentioned above, I used cod pieces, which were of assorted shapes and sizes. This wasn't ideal, and I would recommend starting with proper fillets and cutting the slices to be more uniform. Cod worked well here, but other fish would do fine. I will probably try it with swai in the future. Overall, I enjoyed the dish, but would make it more vinegar-heavy next time to suit my own preferences.

Ingredients

• 1 lb. white fish fillets (I used cod)
• 1/2 small onion, diced
• 10 (approx.) small black mushrooms
• 1/4 c green peas
• 1/2 c (approx.) cornstarch for dredging
• Vegetable oil for frying

Marinade

• 1 egg white
• 1 Tbs cornstarch
• 1/2 tsp salt

Sauce

• 3 Tbs sugar
• 3 Tbs white rice vinegar
• 6 Tbs water
• 3 Tbs ketchup
• 1 Tbs Shaoxing wine
• 2 tsp cornstarch
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 tsp sesame oil

Instructions

Start out by soaking the black mushrooms in warm water. I press a folded paper towel on top of the mushrooms to keep them covered with water. Check after half an hour. If the mushrooms are still firm, chop in half, remove stems, and resume soaking. When mushrooms are fully softened, squeeze water out and dice.

Fish pieces marinating

After starting the mushrooms soaking, prepare the fish. Cut fish into small pieces, about one inch squares. In a large bowl, mix the marinade ingredients, add fish, and toss to coat well. Let the fish marinate in the fridge for about 30 minutes.

While the fish is marinating, mix all the sauce ingredients in a bowl and keep ready for later. This is also a good time to dice the onion.

Fish after frying

Preheat oil in deep fryer or wok to 375 degrees F. When the oil is ready, spread cornstarch on a plate and dredge the fish slices on both sides. Fry in batches until crunchy. Each batch should take no more than a minute in the oil. Set the cooked fish aside on a paper towel lined plate.

Sauce, ready to add the fish

Heat a small amount of oil in a wok on high heat. Stir fry the onion and mushroom for about one minute. Stir the sauce again and add to the wok. Add the peas and cook for another minute. Add the fish. Turn the burner off and toss to fully coat the fish. 

Notes

This is one of my most faithful recreations of a Peimei dish. I did increase the amount of peas from the original. The amount of mushrooms and peas can be adjusted to personal taste. If I made this again, I would probably also increase the vinegar-to-sugar ratio bring the sourness forward a little more.

Minced "Pigeon" in Lettuce Cups (生菜鴿鬆)

This is one post I'm very excited about. I have flipped past this recipe many times while looking through Pei Mei's books, and had not given much thought until recently. It's called "Minced Pigeon," after all. After trying some excellent versions of it in the Bay Area recently, I decided to give it a go, and I'm so glad I did. I'd venture to say this is almost a perfect dish. It really has it all: three meats, four vegetables, mushrooms, and noodles, all wrapped up in crunchy lettuce leaves. It comes together terrifically, and this is one I'll certainly be making again.

Pei Mei's recipes are almost universally simple. They all fit on one page, with a maximum of about four steps. That being said, this one has a lot going on. As usual, I made some adjustments to the recipe. The main change is replacing the pigeon with chicken thighs (this substitution is in the original recipe). Another big one was reducing the amount of noodles by about half. She recommends using water chestnuts, with bamboo shoots as a substitute, but I went for a mix of both. The Chinese name, shengcai ge song, translates to "lettuce pigeon mince." For the last character, I had to consult dad and grandpa, but overall this was another straightforward translation.

The new exotic ingredients in this recipe are the thin rice noodles. These are often called "rice sticks." There seems to be some variance in the width of the noodles, and I went with the thinnest ones I could get. I haven't tried them in anything else, but my guess is they would work pretty well in soup or pan fried. It's worth mentioning the chicken liver as well, since I've only used them once before. I bought a tub of them, and only used 4. The rest become a fantastic pâté using Jacques Pepin's recipe.

Ingredients

• 3 oz. (approx.) thin rice noodles
• 1 lb. boneless chicken meat
• 3/4 lb. boneless pork shoulder
• 4 chicken livers
• 1 onion (about 1 1/2 cup diced)
• 8 dried black mushrooms
• 1 8 oz. can water chestnuts, drained and chopped
• 1 8 oz. can bamboo shoots, drained and chopped
• 1 cup green peas
• Vegetable oil
• Iceberg lettuce leaves

Marinade

• 1 Tbs. light soy sauce
• 2 tsp. salt
• 2 egg yolks
• 4 tsp. cornstarch
• 1 tsp. sugar

Seasoning Sauce

• 2 Tbs. light soy sauce
• 2 Tbs. chicken stock
• 2 tsp. cornstarch
• 2 tsp. salt
• 2 tsp. sesame oil
• 1/2 tsp. black pepper

Instructions

Soak the mushrooms in warm water for about 30 minutes. The mushrooms will float, so use something to weigh them down and keep them in the water. When done, discard the stems and dice the rest.

While the mushrooms soak, prepare the meat. Trim off excess fat from the chicken and pork, and mince into small pieces, about 1 cm. square. Mince the chicken livers and combine all three meats in a bowl. Add all marinade ingredients and set aside for about 10 minutes.

Heat a few inches of vegetable oil in a wok on high heat. Break up the noodles into chunks that will easily fit in the wok. Once the oil is very hot, carefully place the noodles in the oil. The noodles will immediately and dramatically puff up. Flip over to puff the other side, and set aside to cool. Do this for all the noodles. Allow the oil to cool a bit and transfer to a container. We will use the oil to stir fry the other ingredients later.

In batches, stir fry the marinated meat mixture on high heat until cooked through and browned. I did this in three batches. Set aside when done. Stir fry the diced onion for a few minutes, then add the mushrooms, water chestnuts, and bamboo shoots. Mix all seasoning sauce ingredients in a bowl. Stir fry another minute or two, then add the meat, peas, and sauce. Stir together.

Crush the fried noodles into small pieces. Pour the meat and vegetable mixture over the crushed noodles to serve. Serve with the lettuce leaves, which can be used to wrap the mixture.

Steamed Spareribs with Fermented Black Beans (豉汁排骨)

Greetings, dear readers! It's good to be back. To my shame, it turns out this is only my third post this year. Unfortunately, with a very busy spring semester at IU, the blog suffered. I hope to make up for the deficiency this summer. Pei Mei's Chinese Cook Book is still full of fun, weird stuff I can't wait to try, modernize, and share with you. I've got some exciting stuff planned for the next few weeks, so stay tuned. 

We're starting off with something simple, but a true classic -- dim sum-style spare ribs. I'm a huge fan of dim sum (it's in my blood!) and my attempts to recreate traditional dim sum dishes will always be a big part of No Free Lunch. As far as dim sum goes, it doesn't get any easier than this. This recipe is my own, based on three others: Pei Mei, Chan's Classic Deem Sum, and The Woks of Life. The Chinese name, chizhi paigu (see jup pai gwut in Cantonese) translates to "fermented bean juice spareribs," pretty straightforward, for a change.

There are two notable ingredients to discuss. The first are the ribs themselves. American supermarkets typically don't have spareribs cut up in the way we need. In this case, I found them at an Asian grocery, but if you can find a butcher to cut them up for you, that works too. I have previously made these from a whole rack of spareribs. Cutting up the thick bones is not practical at home, so I used the big end of the rack for braising and cut up the small end (with its softer bones) for steaming. The other ingredient is douchi -- fermented black beans. These are pretty easy to find at Chinese stores. This ingredient has shown up once before, in my stir fried fish recipe. One final note: most recipes include minced hot peppers. I omitted them, but if you like your ribs spicy, put them in.

This recipe is per pound of ribs. I had about 2 1/2 pounds, and adjusted the marinade accordingly. 

Ingredients

• 1 lb. spare ribs, cut into 1-inch pieces
• 1 Tbs. light soy sauce
• 1 Tbs. fermented black beans, rinsed
• 1 Tbs. Shaoxing wine or sherry
• 1 green onion, chopped (white part only)
• 1 tsp. sugar
• 1 Tbs. cornstarch
• 1 tsp. sesame oil
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 Tbs minced hot pepper (optional)

Instructions

To rinse the beans, mix with a little water in a bowl, then pour off the water through fingers or a strainer. Do this twice. Mix all ingredients in a large plastic bag or bowl. Add the ribs, and mix well. Marinate in the refrigerator for a few hours, one if you're in a hurry. Mix about halfway through.

Ready to steam

Prepare the wok for steaming. I use a steamer rack inside the wok, and fill the water to just below the rack. Get the water boiling. Place the rib mixture in a dish or bowl, and place on the rack. Cover and let steam until the ribs are cooked through.

Once the ribs start steaming, get some water boiling on the side. Check the ribs after every 10 minutes for temperature and water level. Add hot water as needed. If you are making a lot of ribs, such that there are multiple layers in the dish, mix them around for even cooking. Larger batches will take longer. Mine took about 30-40 minutes. Serve the ribs on their own or with rice.

Char Siu Reloaded

Char siu (叉燒) is easily one of my "signature" recipes, and was one of my early posts. My original post was based on grandpa's recipe. He was vague, as usual. He took out two jars (bean sauce and fermented tofu) and said to use half and half of each. As an afterthought, he mentioned I could throw in some five spice, but that was optional. In the early days of No Free Lunch, most of my recipes were a recounting of the first time I had made things. Naturally, the recipe has evolved over the last few years, as I've made it countless times.

In the time since the original post, I've seen a lot of char siu recipes, including those in Henry Chan's Classic Deem Sum and the venerable Peimei's Chinese Cook Book. Most of these recipes involve some combination of hoisin sauce, soy sauce, some other flavoring and coloring agents. What they typically don't include are grandpa's main ingredients. While I'm sure these recipes are fine, the combination of fermented tofu and bean sauce gives the meat a deep flavor unlike anything else. It's definitely worth seeking out these unusual ingredients.

This is, ultimately, a simple recipe, and lives and dies by the ingredients. Although you can use almost any cut of pork, I usually shoulder, which has a good mix of muscle and fat. I generally buy a whole shoulder roast and cut up about half for char siu, leaving the rest to become potsticker filling. Some grocery stores also sell "country ribs," which are pre-sliced shoulder or loin pieces that can go straight into the marinade. I don't recommend using pork steaks, as I did in my original recipe, as this tend to be a bit too thin.

Koon Chun bean sauce is a fermented soy bean product from Hong Kong. I've used it in quite a few recipes, so it's an indispensable ingredient in my kitchen. I usually use the chunky version, but the ground one works fine if you have that. Possessing a potent funk, fermented bean curd (a.k.a. fermented tofu) is the real exotic ingredient here. When buying, be aware that there are three kinds: white, red, and spicy. We want the red, non-spicy kind. The most commonly available brand, at least around here, is Wangzhihe. Both of these can be hard to find, and you need to go to a Chinese store. Both are also available on Amazon. 

The last thing to mention is the whiskey. You can substitute, within reason, whatever booze you have. That being said, I always use Jameson's Irish Whiskey. It just happened to be what I had the first time I made char siu, and it just stuck as a tradition. Let's call it my secret ingredient.

The recipe is also now in a more convenient per-pound formulation that can easily be scaled up. 

Ingredients

• Pork shoulder, cut into strips (can substitute other cuts)

Marinade, per pound of meat

• 2 Tbs Koon Chun bean sauce or ground bean sauce
• 2 Tbs red fermented bean curd, mix of liquid and tofu
• 1 Tbs honey
• 1 Tbs whiskey
• 1/4 tsp five spice powder

Instructions

Cut the meat into thick strips. It is important to keep some fat, but you can trim off large chunks on the sides. 

In a large bowl, prepare the marinade. Combine the bean sauce, fermented bean curd, honey, whiskey, and five spice. Mash the tofu and mix everything into a paste. Add the pork, and toss until the meat is well-coated. Cover with plastic wrap and move to the refrigerator. Marinate for at least 5 hours, or overnight.

Bean sauce (left) and fermented bean curd (right)

If using a grill, cook on relatively high flame with the hood open. Turn occasionally, until well browned on all sides. Alternatively, you can broil the pork, turning once. 

Let cool a few minutes before slicing into thin pieces. Char siu keeps well if frozen, and can be defrosted in the microwave. It is excellent on its own, or as part of another dish, like Yangzhou fried rice or a noodle soup.

Turnip Cakes (蘿蔔糕)

Turnip cakes are as classic a dim sum dish as they come. That being said, they've never been a go-to for my family. In my mind, that's all the more reason to give making them a try. I had been thinking about it for a while, but when I saw a huge pile of Chinese radishes at Better World Market (West Lafayette's newest Chinese store), I decided to go for it. Since this is a dish I'm mostly unfamiliar with, I closely (for me, at least) followed Henry Chan's recipe from Classic Deem Sum. Grandpa recently gave me this book, which was also responsible for the baozi of my childhood.

Overall, the turnip cakes turned out great. The Chinese radish has a unique flavor, and the sausage, shrimp, and mushrooms dot the cakes nicely. The cakes are quite dense, and I might experiment by lowering the amount of flour in the future. I will definitely be ordering them next time I go to dim sum.

This recipe features many interesting ingredients, a few of which are new to No Free Lunch. Dried black mushrooms and dried shrimp were both featured in my marathon Shanghai shaomai recipe. The big star here is, of course, the Chinese radish, also known as a daikon. It is a root vegetable that sort of resembles a huge, white carrot. Note that despite the name, this dish does not contain turnips. This recipe also uses rice flour, not to be confused with sweet/sticky/glutinous rice flour, which I used for tangyuan. 

The last new ingredient is one I've been wanting to discuss for a while: Chinese sausage. I have a huge weakness for these greasy little guys. Specifically, I'm using Cantonese lap cheong, which are dried, hard, lightly sweetened. You'll find them in the refrigerator section of most Chinese stores. I chop them up and cook them a bit like bacon - on low to medium heat so the chunks of fat render out. This is great for fried rice, as you can use the grease to cook the rest of the ingredients. I also like them with scrambled eggs.

Ingredients

• 4-6 dried black mushrooms, depending on size
• 1/3 cup dried shrimp
• Warm water
• 1 lb. Chinese radish/daikon (about 1 whole radish)
• 1 cup chicken stock
• 1 Chinese sausage, minced
• 2 Tbs minced scallion (use only the white bottom part)
• 1 Tbs Amontillado sherry/Shaoxing wine
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp sugar
• Pinch of white pepper
• 2 Tbs vegetable oil (substituting for lard)
• 2 cups rice flour
• Vegetable oil to grease pan and fry the cakes

Instructions

Start soaking the mushrooms in warm water to reconstitute. The mushrooms need to soak about 30 minutes. Soak the shrimp in 1/4 cup warm water to reconstitute for at least 10 minutes. Reserve the shrimp water when done. While the dried ingredients soak, peel the radish and remove the ends. Grate the radish. I chopped it up into small pieces and used the grater attachment on the food processor.

Grated radish cooking

Combine the shredded radish with the chicken stock and the shrimp water in saucepan or wok. Cook, covered, on medium-high for about 15 minutes. Stir occasionally.

Minced mix-in ingredients

While the radish cooks, remove and discard the stems from the mushrooms and mince the caps. Mince the shrimp. If you haven't already, mince the sausage and scallions. Add the mushrooms, shrimp, sausage, scallions, wine, salt, sugar, pepper, and oil to the pan. Cover and cook 10 more minutes. 

The finished batter, before flour is added

Remove the mixture to a large bowl and let cool to room temperature. Once cooled, add the rice flour to the mixture and mix in thoroughly. Oil a square cake pan and pour the batter into an even layer. Use a wet spatula to smooth the top. Smoother is better, to get more even browning later on.

Ready to steam

For the next step, you will need to rig up a way to steam the cake. The way I did this was to put a wire steamer rack (available in various sizes at Chinese stores) in the wok and set the pan on top. A high-domed lid will likely be needed to fit everything inside. Bring water to boil in a wok with the rack in place, filling water to about an inch below where the pan will sit.

My steaming setup

Carefully place the pan on the rack and cover. Steam the cake for 50-60 minutes. Keep extra hot water on hand to refill the wok. This is easy to do with an electric tea kettle. Check the water level every 10 minutes and refill as needed. Check if the cake is done by inserting a toothpick. If the toothpick comes out clean, the cake is done.

The finished cake

Remove the pan from the heat and let the cake cool to room temperature. Place a cutting board on top of the pan and carefully flip over, letting the cake drop out of the pan. Cut into pieces as desired. I did 12 rectangular pieces (3 x 4 pieces), which are roughly the size you see in restaurants. You can also make smaller pieces if you want to go for a finger food style.

Cut and ready to fry

Select the pieces you want to eat now, and refrigerate the rest in a sealed bag. In a nonstick pan, heat a little oil on medium-high. Sear the cakes on both sides until golden brown. This is quite fast, maybe a minute on each side and serve immediately.

Sweet and Sour Pork (咕嚕肉)

A lot of Pei Mei's recipes follow the same basic pattern: Marinate meat, deep fry meat, cook aromatics and sauce, and toss meat in sauce. Lovers' Shrimp and Diced Fish with Fermented Black Beans are good examples of this kind of recipe. It's a formula that works well. The one step I usually skip, as I did with both those recipes, is the deep frying. I usually don't think it's worth using so much oil and going through the hassle when the meat is going into a sauce anyway, so I just stir fry the meat. Sometimes, though, the crunchiness that only deep frying can provide is an integral part of the dish. 

I believe sweet and sour pork is one of those dishes where crunchiness is important, so the Fry Daddy (last featured in 2012's "Pub Week") came out to play. I did not make too many changes from the original recipe this time. The salt is lowered a bit, and the pepper-to-pork ratio is a little lower (Pei-Mei's ambiguous "2 green peppers" may have been smaller than mine). The main change is that the whole recipe is scaled up from the original 1 lb. of pork so that I could use up the pork left in the aftermath of last week's shaomai. As usual, I dug into what the Chinese name actually means, and gu lu rou literally means "mumbling meat." Maybe your mouth is supposed to be too full of delicious pork to talk properly. I'm going with that.

The only special ingredient that needs mentioning is white rice vinegar. Compared to black vinegar, this is a lot more common in the international section of the grocery store.

Ingredients

• 1 3/4 lb pork tenderloin
• 2 bell peppers (I used 1 red and 1 green)
• 6 slices canned pineapple
• Cornstarch for dredging
• Oil for frying

Marinade

• 1 Tbs soy sauce
• 2 Tbs cold water
• 2 Tbs cornstarch
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 egg yolks

Sauce

• 5 1/3 Tbs white rice vinegar
• 7 Tbs sugar
• 7 Tbs ketchup
• 8 Tbs cold water
• 5 tsp cornstarch
• 1 3/4 tsp salt
• 1 3/4 tsp sesame oil

Instructions

Cut pork into small chunks, about 1 inch cubes. Toss in a bowl with marinade ingredients to coat. Let rest in refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.

Cut the peppers in half and remove stems and seeds. Dice into small pieces. Cut the pineapple slices into similar-sized pieces. I made 8 small pieces out of each slice. Side all this aside for later. This is also a good time to mix together the sauce ingredients. Use a whisk to combine well.

The mighty Fry Daddy

Heat oil in a wok, deep fryer, or pot. If using a wok, especially on an electric stovetop, you need to be careful about stability. For this reason, I used the Fry Daddy. Dredge each pork piece in cornstarch and deep fry until lightly browned and cook through, about 2 minutes. You will want to work in batches, and let the oil rest slightly between batches, so that it can heat back up. Once all the pork is cooked, let the oil heat up again and fry the pork again until crispy. This will only take about one minute per batch. Set aside.

Pork after second frying

Heat a little oil in a wok on high heat. Stir fry the pepper and pineapple until softened and browned. This will take several minutes. Water will sweat out of the peppers; let this cook off so that they can brown. 

Add the sauce, and cook for 1-2 minutes, reducing to desired thickness. It should be quite sticky. Turn the heat off and add the pork. Toss until pork is thoroughly coated. Serve with rice.

Wonton Noodle Soup

The arrival of this recipe on No Free Lunch is long overdue. Every time I make wonton noodle soup, I strive for it to be "as good as grandma's," and this time came pretty close. In her own words, real Cantonese wonton noodle soup is characterized by thin skins and lots of shrimp inside. These are nothing like the big, doughy wontons you find at the Chinese buffet. Just like any Chinese dumpling, you can make these by the dozens and freeze the ones you aren't going to eat right away. Wontons have a long history in the Wai family. It was always a special treat going to Grandpa and Grandma's house for wontons. Grandpa told us when he was young in Hong Kong, a guy would walk around in front of the apartment buildings selling snack-sized bowls of wontons at night, much to his delight. Take a hint, West Lafayette.

Ingredients

• 1 pound ground pork
• 10 large shrimp
• 2 tbs soy sauce
• 3 tbs chopped chives (or green onions)
• Salt and pepper
• 50 wonton skins
• Chinese egg noodles
• Chicken or seafood stock
• Fresh parsley or bean sprouts
• Chili sauce to taste

Instructions

Remove shells and veins from the shrimp. Cut into small pieces. I sliced each shrimp cross-wise, then sliced each piece in half. Combine shrimp pieces and pork in a large bowl and mix together. Add soy sauce, chives, and a little salt and pepper. Mix thoroughly.

Prepare an open workspace with a large sheet pan and a bowl of water. To assemble each wonton, peel off a skin and spoon a small amount of the filling into the middle. Less is definitely more here. Too much filling and it will be difficult to close the dumpling. Make sure each gets a couple pieces of shrimp.

Dip your finger in the water and run it around the outside edges of the wrapper. Fold each corner together, forming a sort of star shape. Each arm of the star should meet at the middle of the wonton. There are many ways to fold wontons, but this is a simple and easy way to do it. Press each fold firmly to prevent them from opening while cooking.

Bring a pot of water to a boil. Drop the wontons into the water and boil until cooked through. This will take several minutes. One thing you can do to get a feel for it is to drop an unwrapped ball of filling in with the wontons. You can break this open to test for doneness. At the same time, cook the egg noodles for about 3 minutes. When the wontons are done, remove them from the water.

In a large bowl, combine several wontons, noodles, and hot stock. Add chili sauce to taste. I use the ubiquitous Sriracha, but feel free to go stronger if you wish. Top with fresh parsley or bean sprouts. I like to have some kind of greens in the soup, as it adds another dimension of flavor while also being visually appealing. If you want to freeze the remaining uncooked wontons, lay them out on a large sheet so that they are not touching. Once they have been in the freezer a while, you can safely transfer them to a plastic bag, as they will not stick together.