Upgrade: Fish-Fragrant Eggplant (魚香茄子)

I first wrote about fish-fragrant eggplant (yuxiang qiezi) back in 2017. That post was already the product of quite a bit of experimentation. In the years since, the dish has remained a family favorite and we've had it many times both at home and from restaurants. In that time, I have continued to tweak the recipe. The basic structure of this new version is consistent with my previous one, but subtle changes can bring great improvements. A great lesson from the upgrades series has been that recipes aren't settled things. Make the food that you like, which is not necessarily what someone else wrote down.

The dish continues to be built around 1 1/2 lb. of Chinese eggplants. Traditionally, the eggplant is deep fried, and that's how you would get it at a Sichuanese restaurant. Eggplants absorb a lot of oil, so they have to be pressed to expel it before continuing on. Getting a pot of hot oil ready is a hassle for what amounts to a single step in the recipe, so I previously got by with stir frying the eggplant. This also takes a long time and doesn't quite achieve the right effect. Instead, I now "air fry" the eggplants to brown them and drive off moisture. This can be done unattended while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. I also do the same for dry-cooked string beans. 

The other big change is in the sauce. In my old version, it's simply too salty, so I cut the soy sauce in half. Instead, I lean into the sweet-and-sour aspect of the dish and bring up both the vinegar and sugar. The result is a more nuanced flavor which is no longer dominated by the soy sauce. I now like to add some ground meat to the dish, a familiar flavoring method seen in other Sichuan dishes like mapo doufu and the aforementioned string beans. Traditionally, only a small amount is used (1/4 lb. would probably be about right), but I like to bulk it up a bit to make this the main event in a dinner for two. In a meal for more people, I would make a separate meat dish. To make this vegetarian, the pork can certainly be omitted and the stock replaced with mushroom broth. As with my other versions of Sichuanese dishes, I split the spicy doubanjiang with Koon Chun bean sauce to take the heat down - feel free to adjust to taste. 

Upgrade: Mapo Doufu (麻婆豆腐)

I first made mapo doufu seven years ago, the first of my many adaptations from Peimei's Chinese Cook Book. Although I love the dish, Ariel did not, and stopped making it for years. Recently, I've reexamined the recipe and come to the conclusion that it needed an upgrade. My new version offers plenty of savory sauce, a well-balanced spice level, and delicious silken tofu, while not being overly oily. I'm pleased to say this one won her over. It helped to leave the mouth-numbing Sichuan pepper on the side and allow individuals to sprinkle it on their own portions. I enjoy it, but not everyone is a fan!

The tofu is the centerpiece of the dish. Peimei recommended deep frying the tofu before adding to the sauce. Not only do I find this completely unnecessary, I think it's wrong. No mapo doufu I've ever had involves that. In my old version, I stir fried it, but I don't do that now. The tofu can remain soft and simply warm up in the sauce. Since I'm not frying it, a firm tofu is also not needed. Instead, I recommend soft silken tofu. It will break up a bit, but that's fine. Silken tofu usually comes in a carton instead of a plastic tub and can typically be found at Asian markets.

Another major change here was increasing the amount of sauce. I like lots of sauce to serve over rice. To balance the spice level, I mix the Sichuan-style hot bean paste (doubanjiang) with Koon Chun bean sauce. This is not traditional, but keeps it balanced. If you like it spicier, feel free to shift the balance towards more doubanjiang. I used the chunky version of the Koon Chun sauce, rather than the ground one. The final major upgrade is the stock. I used my homemade pork stock, made by simmering two pork shoulder blades with ginger and scallion for a few hours. The stock is unsalted; using a salted stock could result in the sauce getting too salty.

Sichuan-Style Braised Spare Ribs (紅燒排骨)

This recipe is based on one I meant to post back in May, but I wasn't quite satisfied with how it turned out. The original was my version of Pei Mei's Sichuan-style beef stew. It is a dish in the hongshao (red cooked) style of braised meat, similar to Chairman Mao's pork belly. This time, though, I decided to adapt it to spare ribs, which I had in the freezer. The result was thoroughly enjoyable. Although I still prefer the pork belly version, this is a nice change of pace. The ribs fall right off the bone and the sauce pairs well with rice. While I'm not sure this would be considered an "authentic" Sichuan-style recipe, I do think I've respected the style, and it turned out well.

The main difference in terms of seasoning between this and Chairman Mao's pork belly is that it swaps out the sugar for doubanjiang, the hot bean paste which is a cornerstone of Sichuan flavor. Using just two tablespoons gives the sauce a background heat, but doesn't take over. It is, however, very salty. This makes it effectively immortal in the refrigerator, but can be overpowering. While the rice does balance this out, I might compensate by cutting the soy sauce back a bit next time. Other than the garlic, everything else here has appeared in my previous hongshao recipes. The pork stock I used is the same as in the Chairman's pork. If you like Sichuan peppercorns, they can also be added. With how big the flavors are in this dish, it works well with a simple green vegetable as a side. We had stir-fried snap peas.

Dry-Cooked String Beans (乾煸四季豆)

Somehow, it's been over two years since I've done an interpretation of a Peimei dish. Since moving to South Dakota, my access to Chinese vegetables has been irregular. The only ones to be found in Vermillion are napa and the big white bok choy. I'm not a huge fan of the big bok coy (as opposed to the smaller, green Shanghai bok choy) and, while I like napa, it's better as a component than as its own dish. As such, I've turned more to broccoli and string beans to fill in. 

Dry-cooked string beans are one of the most recognizable dishes from Sichuan province in western China. The Chinese name ganbian sijidou does directly translate to "dry-cooked string beans." Traditionally, the beans are deep fried, which dries them out and gives them a wrinkly appearance. Much of what I've read about the dish online looks for ways to get around the deep frying, which is kind of a hassle. Interestingly, Kenji uses a broiler. I've chosen to stir fry. 

The interesting exotic ingredients here are the preserved vegetables. Peimei's recipe calls for zhacai, while others I've seen use yucai. Both are varieties of Sichuanese preserved mustard greens. As I don't have access to either right now, I used sauerkraut instead. It didn't occur to me while I was cooking, but it hit me when eating that Peimei's recipe lacks garlic. I think this would really kick it up a notch, so I've included it in the recipe.

Eggplant Sichuan Style (魚香茄子)

This is a post that's been a long time coming. I think back to five years ago, when I would dig something out of the fridge, make whatever came to mind, and throw together a post. I don't do that anymore, and I've become something of a perfectionist when it comes to my recipes. I've made this dish several times over the last year or so, and I finally feel it's ready to see the light. I based this recipe on Peimei's version, with some adjustments for clarity, accessibility, and my own (garlic-favoring) taste.

The name yuxiang qiezi directly translates to "fish fragrant eggplant." As an aside, the character 香 (xiang) is the "hong" in Hong Kong, which means "fragrant harbor." As I understand it, the sauce in this dish was originally associated with fish, but substituted for more readily available ingredients, such as eggplant. Over the last few years, I've tried many versions at local Sichuanese restaurants in both Bloomington and Lafayette, and I often use it as a benchmark when trying a new place. On English menus, it's often called "eggplant with garlic sauce," but to make sure, 魚香茄子 is a Chinese word worth learning!

The stars of the show here are the eggplants themselves. You want to use Chinese eggplants, which are longer and thinner than regular ones. I got the pictured specimens at the farmers' market, but most Asian stores have them. Try to select firm eggplants of similar width. As with the other Sichuan dishes I've done, doubanjiang (spicy bean paste) -- is featured here. Usually, I recommend toning it down to a desired heat by mixing with Koon Chun bean sauce. I generally go half and half, as stated in the ingredient list, but for true-blue Sichuan style, you'd want to use the full 2 tablespoons of the hot stuff.

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lb. Chinese eggplant (about 4 eggplants)
• 2 tsp ginger, minced
• 4 large cloves garlic, thinly sliced
• 1 Tbs hot bean paste (doubanjiang)
• 1 Tbs Koon Chun bean sauce (adjust ratio of bean sauces to desired spiciness)
• 4 Tbs light soy sauce
• 1 Tbs black vinegar
• 2 tsp sugar
• 1 cup stock (chicken, pork, or seafood)
• 1 Tbs sesame oil
• 1 Tbs cornstarch
• Handful green onion, chopped
• Vegetable oil

Instructions

With this dish, it helps to get all your ingredients ready ahead of time. Remove the ends of the eggplant and cut into 1 1/2 to 2 inch long segments. Quarter each piece lengthwise. You should end up with roughly "thumb sized" pieces (Peimei's words). 

Heat oil in wok on high heat. Working in batches, stir fry the eggplant until well browned on all sides. Be careful not to crowd the pan. I recommend 3 batches for 1 1/2 lb. of eggplant. When each batch is done, set aside in a paper-towel lined bowl or plate. You will need plenty of oil, as eggplant is highly absorbent. When done, use paper towels to press excess oil out of the eggplant.

Add more oil to pan and briefly cook the ginger and garlic, just a few seconds. Add both bean sauces and cook a few more seconds while stirring together. 

Add the vinegar, sugar, stock, and sesame oil. Bring to a boil and return the eggplant to the pan. Cook, stirring frequently, until the sauce reduces by about half. Mix cornstarch in a bowl with a little water to form a slurry. Add cornstarch mixture to the sauce and stir to combine. 

Transfer to a serving bowl and mix in green onions. Serve with rice.

Sautéed Chicken Chengdu Style (成都子鷄)

A few days ago, Ariel asked me to make "five spice chicken," which I had apparently made before from a Peimei recipe. Unfortunately, I had no idea what this was and had no recollection of making it. I eventually realized it was an edited version of her "Sautéed Chicken Chengdu Style." The Chinese name (Chengdu ziji - Chengdu chicken) refers to the capital city of Sichuan province. As such, the recipe includes the two classic hallmarks of Sichuanese food: Sichuan peppercorn and hot bean paste. Peimei very rarely uses five spice, but I find it is a useful substitute for the peppercorns if a less pungent flavor is desired. 

This is an interesting recipe coming from Peimei. With no marinade and no deep frying, this one is unusually quick and hassle-free. I follow the basic premise of the dish, but make significant alterations to my own taste; as such, this one is best considered "inspired by" Peimei. While simple, this dish is very nice. The chicken is tender and juicy, and the sauce is great soaked up into a bowl of rice. The five spice itself lends a subtle aroma, as opposed to the assertive Sichuan pepper.

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lb boneless chicken (any parts of your choice)
• 1/2 Tbs five spice powder (can use Sichuan pepper here)
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 Tbs minced ginger
• 2 Tbs bean sauce (use hot bean paste or a combination of the two for a spicier dish)
• 1 Tbs sherry or Shaoxing wine
• 1 Tbs black vinegar
• 1 tsp sugar
• 1 cup hot water
• 2 green onions, chopped
• 1 Tbs corn starch
• Splash of cold water
• Salt to taste
• Vegetable oil

The original recipe suggests using a half chicken. I used thighs instead, and whatever you have on hand should work fine. Oddly enough, Peimei says to cut the chicken into cubes, bones and all. This didn't make much sense to me, so I deboned mine. The spice level can be adjusted by mixing regular fermented bean sauce and hot bean paste (doubanjiang). Going full hot bean is very spicy, and you may wish to experiment with half-hot or quarter-hot. I do this to tone down many Sichuanese recipes, such as Mapo doufu. 

Instructions

Cut the chicken into 1 inch cubes. Remove bones, leave skin if desired (I removed it). Heat oil on high heat. Toss chicken with five spice powder. 

Stir fry the chicken for a few minutes, until lightly browned, but not cooked through. Add the celery, garlic, and ginger. Stir fry briefly. Add the bean sauce and continue cooking for a few more minutes.

Mix wine, vinegar, sugar, and hot water and add to the pan. Bring to boil, reduce heat to medium. Cook, covered, for 5 minutes. Mix the corn starch into a paste with a little water and add to the pan. Reduce for a few minutes and stir in green onion. Salt to taste. Serve with rice.

Steamed Beef with Spicy Rice Powder (粉蒸牛肉)

Fenzheng niurou, translated as "powder steamed beef" (one of the more intuitive translations we've seen so far), hails from the western province of Sichuan. I am still quite a novice when it comes to the various regional cuisines of China, but I'm pleased to say traveling the provinces with Peimei has certainly broadened my knowledge. After dad spotted boxes of spicy rice powder (discussed below) in the Chinese store, I had to give this one a go. He seemed very familiar with the dish, but I don't recall ever eating it before, so we're off into terra incognita with this one. I was immensely pleased with the results. As one of the pictures later shows, the beef goes in fairly dry and emerges as a deep, rich stew, I think in large part due to fat and connective tissue breaking down. I was amazed by how tender the beef was and how well the flavors developed and blended in just 30 minutes of cooking time. 

The unusual ingredient here is the spicy rice powder. This is really a misnomer, as I really wouldn't describe it as a powder, but more like broken up rice. I used prepackaged rice powder. Preparing the powder involves toasting rice with star anise and Sichuan peppercorns, then crushing the rice up. This then becomes a quasi-breading for the beef. Note that the above photo was made with only 1.75 oz of rice powder (one box), but I would double that, as the recipe suggests.

Hot bean paste and Sichuan peppercorn, the staple Sichuan ingredients make their return here, after their first appearance in mapo doufu. These two combine give western Chinese dishes their distinctive heat and aroma. Unlike most of her recipes, Peimei is completely vague on the cut, asking only for "beef" (I did check the Chinese recipe, and it is equally vague). I went with chuck for its good flavor and utility in stews and braises, and this worked out very well. Interestingly, I bought the meat as "western ribs" or "country ribs" -- mostly boneless shoulder cuts of meat sliced into strips, so it was quick to break these down into the slices I needed. Pork country ribs are, by the way, my favorite cut to make char siu.

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lb beef chuck
• 3.5 oz (100 g) spicy rice powder
• 2 green onions
• Sichuan peppercorn powder to taste (optional)

Marinade

• 1 1/2 Tbs minced ginger
• 1 tsp five spice powder
• 2 Tbs hot bean paste (doubanjiang -- see Exotic Ingredients)
• 4 Tbs soy sauce
• 2 Tbs Shaoxing wine or dry amontillado
• 2 tsp sugar
• 1 tsp salt
• 1/3 c vegetable oil

Instructions

Cut beef across the grain into thin slices, 1 to 1 1/2 inches across. Combine the beef and all marinade ingredients in an airtight bag and let stand in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

Spread out the rice powder on a plate and dredge each slice of beef on both sides. 

Steam the beef for 30 minutes. If you have small, shallow bowls that can fit inside a bamboo steamer, then use those. I did not have bowls that fit, so I put the beef in a 10 x 10 inch cake dish and set this inside a wok with boiling water below, then covered with a lid. Whatever your strategy, you need the steam to be trapped over the beef. 

Once the beef is done cooking, add the remaining green onions and dust with peppercorn powder, if desired. Mix together and serve. I served with rice and Chinese vegetables.

Commentary

I made minimal changes to the original recipe. The main thing was that I swapped out star anise for the more readily available five spice powder in the marinade. Other than that, I played with the marinade proportions a little. Peimei also calls for an entire cup of rice powder per 3/4 lb. beef, which seems absurd to me.

As a final note, it's worth mentioning that the way my version turned into a deep and delicious stew does not seem to be universal. The photo in the cookbook looks a lot dryer, as well as others I saw on the internet. 

Mapo Doufu (麻婆豆腐)

My first offering from Pei-Mei's cookbook is Mapo doufu (tofu), one of the most iconic dishes of Sichuan province in western China. It is also one of the more popular Chinese dishes in general, and I ate it with some frequency in Shanghai. My grandparents also made a less spicy version of the dish quite often. The dish is, essentially, tofu and ground meat with a spicy sauce. The word mapo refers to a pockmarked old woman who, according to folklore, invented the dish. I enjoyed making (and eating) this dish, and it reminds me that I really should feature tofu more often on this blog.

As with some of my previous Chinese recipes, it is necessary to discuss some of the more exotic ingredients used. This dish uses two. The first is "hot bean paste," a Sichuan specialty that combines fermented beans and various spices. In Chinese, it is called la dou ban jiang (辣豆瓣酱). The best way to make sure you have the right Chinese product is to compare the actual Chinese words on the can or jar with what you're looking for (incidentally, I also recently used this technique to order dimsum). The second ingredient is Sichuan pepper, sometimes called brown pepper. This spice gives the dish a distinct aroma. I was able to find both of these at the local Chinese grocery.

Hot bean paste and Sichuan pepper powder

Ingredients

• 2 packages extra-firm tofu, 400 grams (14 oz) each
• 1/2 pound ground pork
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 Tbs Hot bean paste
• 2 Tbs soy sauce
• 1 tsp sesame oil
• 1 cup chicken broth
• 2 tsp corn starch
• 2 tsp water
• 1 tsp Sichuan pepper powder
• 1 Tbs green onion, chopped
• Vegetable oil for frying

Instructions

Tofu is packaged with water, and the more you can get out of it before cutting, the better. Slice the tofu into small cubes, about 3/4 inch a side. I cut each big slab into 8 long rods and then each of these into 6 pieces, for a total of 48 cubes. Heat some oil in a wok on high heat, enough to coat the surface. Add the tofu and stir fry for a few minutes. Remove the tofu and set aside.

Full tofu slab and cut-up cubes

Adding more oil as needed, fry the pork. As the pork begins to brown, add the minced garlic. Once the pork is browned, add the hot bean paste, soy sauce, sesame oil, chicken broth, and the previously cooked tofu. Boil the whole mixture for three minutes, which will reduce the liquid.

Mix the corn starch and water into a paste, and stir this into the mixture. Stir in the Sichuan pepper powder, and transfer everything into a serving dish. Finally, sprinkle the green onion on top. Serve with white rice.

Notes

I made a few changes from Pei-Mei's original recipe. She recommends deep frying the tofu rather than stir frying at the beginning. I did not think it necessary to use so much oil, and I also don't think this changed compromised the dish in any way, since the sauce is so strongly flavored anyway. The original recipe also includes 2 tsp salt. I did follow this, and the dish was too salty. As such, I don't recommend this, and have omitted it from the ingredients list. If in doubt, taste at the end and then make the decision. Finally, I doubled the amount of pork, and since this was intended as a main dish, I liked the proportion.

My version of mapo doufu ended up being a little spicy, but not overwhelming at all. The brand of hot bean paste you happen to get will be the determining factor, but you can also crank up the heat by adding chili oil, as recommended by Pei-Mei.