My Grandmother's Chinese Kitchen
Page 14
3 cups water
½ cup peanuts
1 10-pound wintermelon
¾ cup gingko nuts, canned, or 1 cup fresh, to yield ¾ cups (see page
160)
½ cup straw mushrooms, cut into quarters
½ cup dried black mushrooms. soak until softened, washed and stems
discarded, caps cut into ⅓-inch dice
½ cup carrots, cut into ⅓-inch dice
½ cup bamboo shoots, cut into ⅓-inch dice
⅓ cup water chestnuts, peeled, washed, dried and cut into ⅓-inch dice
½ cup green peas, fresh or frozen
1 tablespoon minced ginger
1 teaspoon minced garlic
2 teaspoons salt
4 tablespoons Scallion Oil (page 16)
5½ cups Vegetable Stock (page 14)
In a small pot, bring 3 cups water to a boil. Add peanuts, lower heat, simmer 20 minutes. Turn off heat, drain and reserve.
For this you will need a very large pot, such as a clam pot with a steaming insert, or a large stock pot and a rack. Place wintermelon in large pot: Put a rack on bottom of pot, place melon on it. With a pencil, mark melon where it is even with the top of the pot. Remove melon and rack from pot. Cut melon straight across top at the measurement line. Discard top.
Using a small serrated grapefruit knife, remove pulp and seeds from melon. Create a serrated edge around the top of the melon. Place peanuts and all other ingredients, except vegetable stock, in the melon cavity. Set aside.
Tie the ends of 6 lengths of string to the rim of the rack. Place melon on the rack, bring strings up and over the melon and join together in one knot. The strings should be taut to secure the melon. Pour 2 to 3 inches of water into the pot and bring to a boil.
Lift the melon by the strings, lower into boiling water. Add vegetable stock. Cover pot and steam for at least 1 hour. After that hour, check every 8 to 10 minutes to see if melon is tender. A young melon should cook to tenderness in 1 hour, an older one will require more steaming. As melon steams, check pot to see if more boiling water is needed. Do not overcook or the outer skin of melon will begin to sag. The melon and the soup are done when the inside of the melon is tender.
Turn off heat. Lift melon and rack by the strings and place on a plate. Cut strings and remove. Ladle soup into individual bowls, carefully shaving pieces of melon interior and adding 1 or 2 shavings to each bowl.
SERVES AT LEAST 10
Steamed Eggplant
(JING AI GUAH)
The eggplants in Ah Paw’s garden—for that matter, throughout most of China—were, and are, different from the eggplants that most people are familiar with today. They are not big and bulbous, but rather thin and up to twelve inches long, and either glossy purple or white in color. These days such eggplants are referred to as “Chinese eggplants” and are available in Asian markets.
3-4 (1 pound total) Chinese eggplants, stems removed
2 tablespoons peanut oil
½ onion, cut into ⅛-inch dice
1 tablespoon sesame seed paste
¼ cup Vegetable Stock (page 14)
3 hot red chiles, minced
1 tablespoon Shao-Hsing wine, or sherry
1½ teaspoons sugar
¾ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon Chinese white rice vinegar, or distilled white vinegar
1 tablespoon sesame oil
3 tablespoons scallions, green portions, finely sliced
Prepare eggplants: Place whole eggplants in a steamer. Steam for 6 minutes (see steaming directions, page 30), until a chopstick easily pierces the flesh. Turn off heat, remove from heat and place in a long dish. With a chopstick, “cut” along length of each eggplant to open in half. Then, with chopstick, draw along the lengths again to create strips. Reserve.
As eggplants steam, prepare the sauce: Heat wok over high heat for 30 seconds. Add peanut oil, coat wok with spatula. When a wisp of white smoke appears, add onions. Stir, lower heat to medium and cook 3 minutes, until soft. Add sesame seed paste, stock and chiles, mix well, until paste liquefies, and liquid boils. Add all other ingredients, except scallions, mix together thoroughly. When sauce boils, turn off heat. Pour sauce over eggplant strips, sprinkle with scallions and serve immediately.
SERVES 4 TO 6
Noodles with Young Ginger
(JI GEUNG LO MEIN)
At the New Year, noodles represent longevity. Because of this they were never cut when preparing them, and to serve them was to wish those who ate them a long life. In Sah Gau there were many varieties and shapes of noodles, and for vegetarians there were noodles made without eggs. These are what were served to the nuns, along with that special food that came usually with the onset of the New Year, young ginger, more subtle, less hot than the customary kind. These days this young, often pinkish gingerroot is available year-round. This dish illustrates what a “lo mein” is—that is, a dish tossed together, not precisely stir-fried.
SAUCE
1½ tablespoons oyster sauce
2 teaspoons light soy sauce
1 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon Shao-Hsing wine, or sherry
4 tablespoons Vegetable Stock (page 14)
1 teaspoon sesame oil
Pinch white pepper
8 cups cold water
2 teaspoons salt
8 ounces fresh, flat eggless noodles, like linguine
3 tablespoons peanut oil
4 tablespoons young ginger, shredded (if unavailable regular ginger
may be used)
1 cup scallions, cut into 2-inch pieces, white portions quartered
lengthwise
Combine all ingredients for sauce; set aside.
In a large pot place water and salt and bring to a boil over high heat. Add noodles, cook 45 seconds to 1 minute, or al dente, stirring and loosening them with chopsticks as they cook. Turn off heat, run cold water into pot, drain noodles immediately through a strainer. Place noodles back into pot and fill with cold water. Mix with hands, drain again through strainer. Repeat until noodles are cool. Allow to drain 10 to 15 minutes, loosening with chopsticks. Reserve.
Heat wok over high heat 45 seconds. Add peanut oil, coat wok with spatula. When a wisp of white smoke appears, add ginger, stir-fry 45 seconds. Stir sauce, pour in, mix well, allow to boil. Add noodles, stir, mix so noodles absorb the sauce. Add scallions, stir together for 2 minutes. Turn off heat, transfer to a heated dish and serve immediately.
SERVES 4 TO 6
Red Bean Soup
(HUNG DAU SAH)
This sweet soup has always been a traditional dish of the Lantern Festival, and as such, was a perfect ending to Ah Paw’s dinner for her adopted nuns. It can be eaten hot or warm and, according to my grandmother, was extraordinarily healthy and increased one’s blood supply. Chinese red beans are small, about the size of mung beans, and come in 1-pound packages. This recipe produces a soup that is moderately sweet. It can be made sweeter with the addition of more sugar, to taste.
½ pound Chinese red beans
6 cups cold water
5 ounces rock sugar or brown sugar
Place beans in a pot, cover with cold tap water and wash 2 times by rubbing between palms to remove grit. Drain. Place beans back in pot, add 6 cups cold water, cover and bring to a boil over high heat. Stir beans, lower heat, leave a small opening at the cover and allow to simmer 1 hour until beans are very tender. If beans are not tender, add ¼ cup boiling water. Stir occasionally to avoid sticking.
When beans are tender and breaking apart, add sugar. Cook, stirring until sugar dissolves, about 5 to 7 minutes for rock sugar, immediately for brown sugar. Turn off heat, pour into a heated tureen and serve immediately.
SERVES 4 TO 6
MORE LESSONS FROM AH PAW’S TABLE
Very soon after the nuns had concluded their meal with fresh oranges and tangerines, they prepared to return to their temple compound. But first Ah Paw had to remind the nuns not to forget the envelopes of lai see, lucky money, she ha
d given to them on their arrival. They in turn prayed again to Ah Paw’s ancestors and to all of us, thanking us for their meal, and then they left, their chants and the tones of their gourds, gongs and cymbals turning to whispers the farther away they went. My aunt, the servants and I cleaned the dinner table, then they left for their respective beds and I was summoned by Ah Paw to her bed because, she said, the goodness she felt because of the nuns’presence had reminded her of some tales of behavior that she thought I should be made aware of. These stories were, as was Ah Paw’s custom, personal parables, and as always, she used food to demonstrate her lessons.
A husband, Ah Paw related, went off to a faraway land to earn money for his family, leaving his wife and his mother at home. The wife, it seemed, was not pleasant to her mother-in-law, and would eat the best food, saving only scraps for the mother-in-law. Most often, these were small bits of cartilage, with very little fish meat attached, called yu tau sah, or “fish head sand,” from the heads of the cooked fish.
The mother-in-law knew what was happening, said nothing, but kept saving these bits in a jar, which she showed to her son when he returned. The son, a wise man, disguised himself as a peddler and walked through the village announcing that he was a buyer of f ish head sand. His mother, happy, jumped up with jar, which the disguised son bought for a great deal of money, money she promptly showed to her daughter-in-law. The daughter-in-law changed overnight. Ah Paw said. She began eating those small bits of fish and saving the pieces of cartilage until she had a huge jar of fish head sand, waiting for the peddler to return and buy them. Of course, no peddler ever appeared again, and the mean daughter-in-law was left with her jar of yu tau sah. And what did this mean? Ah Paw asked me - cally. Then she answered that what the story demonstrated was first, that one should not be selfish, should never mistreat anyone and finally, should always see first to the care and comfort of the elderly.
Nor was this story the end to that evening. It seemed that there was another elderly woman, half-blind, who was tended to by a young female servant. The servant, after cooking, always took fan sum, the “heart of the rice,” or best of the pot, for herself and gave that less good to her mistress. The woman complained to her son and said she wanted him to discharge the servant, but the son, also a wise man, said he would solve the problem.
That evening, as they were eating, the son, pretending to be talking only to his mother, but loud enough f or the servant to overhear, mentioned that he had heard from a medical scholar that if a young person ate only the heart of the rice, he or she would develop heart failure. Never again, related Ah Paw, did the servant attempt to deceive the blind woman.
“And this, Ah Fei, means what?” my grandmother asked me. Share equally, I remember answering her, and Ah Paw nodded, but was there not something more? - Never take advantage of anyone, ever. This pleased Ah Paw. But was there not something else I had perhaps forgotten when considering those of whom one should never take advantage? Perhaps the elderly, I said, a simultaneous response and question. To which my grandmother smiled with pleasure. I had at last understood the message.
SEVEN
FAMILY FEASTS AND FOLKLORE FESTIVALS
CLEARLY, THE EXTENDED LUNAR NEW YEAR observance, which ended formally with the Lantern Festival, fifteen days into the new year, was the most important festival of our year. Yet just as important to my grandmother’s family, and thus to mine, were other holidays rooted in religion, mythology, folklore and custom, some observed widely, others simply feasts particular to our family—dates and occasions important to us as a family, many of which involved honoring ancestors. Significant to all of these were the particular foods we ate to observe them.
Many familiar, favored dishes recurred at these festivals, celebrations and family gatherings throughout the year. White cut chicken was always brought to the temple, as well as to the graveyard as an ancestral offering. On the eves of weddings and birthdays the serving of just-killed raw fish, which we knew as Fish Alive, was a given, as were congees of fish and chicken, and traditional steamed fish.
When we were to welcome guests, Ah Paw always preached that we had to pick our best, and cook it with skill and respect for these guests. “Ah Fei, you must always offer your best,” she would say. And more often than not, many of the dishes she would dictate as her choices would be those requiring some effort and time. It was important to her, and an aspect of food presentation she taught to me, that when cooking for guests, whether family or not, the dishes prepared and served should demonstrate respect for our guests and inspire some wonder, even awe. By their very appearance they should indicate that they took time and effort to prepare, thus honoring guests not only with the food, but the effort as well.
Guests would always arrive at Ah Paw’s house expecting the best, she would say, and that is what must be given to them. It was an axiom of hers that only the choicest should be cooked for her visitors. “Han gei, but han yan,” she would teach. “Do not spend for yourself, spend for your guests.” It was a most tangible way of “giving face,” or bei min, that uniquely Chinese expression that is the equivalent of giving respect by demonstrating humility.
With all of these observant dates, family or otherwise, foods would be cooked, then symbolically shared with a god, or with an ancestor, before being cut up and served to family and guests. For example, white cut chicken, offered most often during any year, would be cooked whole, then brought to altar, temple or grave, there to be “shared” with the person or deity being honored, then returned home for final preparation.
One of the earliest celebrations of the year, just about a month after the Lantern Festival, honored Kwan Yin, the revered Goddess of Mercy, also looked upon as a goddess of womanhood. Ah Paw would pray all day to her, fingering her wooden beads, as we prepared a totally vegetarian meal, the highlight of which was her favorite feast in a dish, Buddha’s Delight.
In the middle of the next month, March, we honored the death of Ah Paw’s husband, Ah Gung, whom I never knew. He had been a wealthy landowner, scholar and a respected mandarin, who had died at an early age. A short while after his death, his and Ah Paw’s only son had died as well and, as is Chinese custom, their lives were marked with a family banquet, for Ah Paw believed that they were still with us as spirits. Though it was a day of sad memories, it was as well a celebration of their lives, which is the way Ah Paw wished it.
On the anniversary my grandmother would pray constantly for much of the day, for her departed husband and son, sitting in front of her living room altar upon which rested a traditional altar ornament, a carved wood bar called a sun chiu pa, its face etched, and gold-filled, with the names of her husband and son. She would ask these ancestors, who were surely in heaven, to bless the remainder of their family and intercede with the gods to confer upon us all a safe journey through a long life. Throughout the day, the servants cooked and I helped, and as each dish was completed it would be brought to Ah Gung’s altar, offered, then returned to the kitchen.
In the afternoon, one or more of those Buddhist nuns whom Ah Paw had adopted as friends would come to her house and chant prayers in the memory of Ah Gung. Two banquet dishes were always prepared for this family observance, both using that special treat, Chinese bacon, then available only in the cooler early months. More important, both dishes had been favorites of my grandfather when he was alive.
Boiled Pork
(BO CHI YUK)
This basic dish, made with fresh Chinese bacon, was a favorite of Ah Paw’s and a recurring festive offering. It is called ng far yuk, or “five flower meat,” to describe its half-fat, half-lean texture. Fresh Chinese bacon is quite flavorful when boiled, but should there be a desire for leaner meat, this dish can also be made with a two-pound piece of lean pork loin.
1 piece 2¼- to 2½-pound fresh Chinese bacon, left whole
6 cups cold water
2 teaspoons salt
3 scallions, trimmed, cut into thirds
½ cup coriander, coarsely cut into
3-inch pieces
In a large pot place all ingredients, making certain water covers meat completely. Bring to a boil, uncovered, over high heat. Lower heat, cover pot and simmer for 30 to 45 minutes, until pork is tender. Test by pushing a chopstick into the lean meat; it should go in easily. Turn off heat, allow pork to rest in liquid for 20 minutes. Drain, discard solids and retain liquid.
It was our custom to save the liquid and to use it to reheat the pork after it had been offered whole at Ah Paw’s altar. To reheat, place pork in liquid, bring to a boil and cook until hot, about 5 minutes. Remove from liquid, allow to cool, slice thinly and arrange on a platter. Serve with soy sauce poured into individual soy sauce dishes.
SERVES 4 TO 6
Stir-Fried Glutinous Rice
(SANG CHAU NOR MAI FAN)