My Grandmother's Chinese Kitchen
Page 15
Because of its many ingredients, this very special dish is considered to be a dish of honor that warms the body. It is made with cured Chinese bacon, which is cured with thick soy sauce, rice wine, salt and white pepper. It comes in slabs, usually about 8 ounces each. It will keep refrigerated, for at least 2 months.
2 cups glutinous rice
2 cups cold water
8 cups boiling water
½ cup cured Chinese bacon, cut into ¼-inch dice
½ cup Chinese sausage (lop cheung), cut into ¼-inch dice
2 tablespoons dried shrimp, soaked in hot water 30 minutes to soften
¾ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon light soy sauce
1 teaspoon dark soy sauce
2 tablespoons oyster sauce
3 scallions, finely sliced
2 teaspoons sesame oil
In a pot, wash, rinse the glutinous rice three times by rubbing between the palms, drain well. Place rice in a 9-inch cake pan and add 2 cups cold water. Place pan in a steamer, on a rack. Place rack in wok, turn heat to high, pour in 8 cups boiling water, cover and steam rice, 30 to 35 minutes, or until rice becomes translucent (see steaming directions, page 30). Remove steamer from wok, set aside, drain wok, wash and dry.
Heat wok over high heat for 45 seconds. Put in bacon, stir-fry 30 seconds, push to one side. Add sausage, stir-fry 1 minute, then combine sausage and bacon. Add shrimp, stir-fry 15 seconds, add salt and stir another 15 seconds. Add steamed rice to wok and lower heat, mixing continually for 1 more minute. If rice sticks, add 1½ tablespoons peanut oil. Add two soy sauces, mix thoroughly. Add oyster sauce, stir until rice acquires an even, pale brown color and is thoroughly mixed. Add scallions, mix well. Turn off heat, add sesame oil and mix to combine well.
Pack the cooked rice into small bowls, then up-end them onto plates to create curved mounds of rice. Serve immediately.
SERVES 4 TO 6
THE FESTIVAL OF CHING MING, or “going to the graves,” came in the fourth month, 106 days after the end of the New Year observance, usually near the end of April or the beginning of May. Though widely celebrated as a public holiday throughout China, it was intensely personal as well. It was a time reserved for visiting the graves of one’s ancestors, sweeping their graves clean and presenting them with symbolic foods.
In Sah Gau there were no graveyards, no headstones in the usual sense. All of those who had passed away were buried on family-owned plots of land—in Ah Paw’s case, on a small hill overlooking her rice and sugarcane fields. The gravesite was marked by a half-moon ridge of earth, a backdrop for the pyramid of earth that marked the burial place of her husband and son. Atop the pyramid were two thick circles of sod, the first placed grass-side down atop the pyramid, the second, grass-side up, resting upon the first. Each year these two pieces were replaced to refresh the graves, then the dirt was swept neatly.
The servants, Ah Guk and Sau Lin, and I, would begin cooking early in the morning and in the afternoon walk to the graves on the outskirts of Sah Gau. Ah Paw, because of her bound feet, would not make the journey, but would pray at her altar while we cleaned the grave and made our food offerings.
We would bring white cut chicken, boiled pork, often a whole fish and a vegetarian dish such as Buddha’s Delight as well as three bowls of rice, three pairs of chopsticks, three cups of wine and three cups of tea. Small amounts of tea and wine were poured on the ground at the foot of the earth pyramid, so that those buried could “drink.” Then each of the prepared dishes would be tipped forward at the pyramid so they could “eat,” these followed by similarly tipping bowls full of oranges, tangerines and grapefruit. Candles we had brought would be lighted, incense would be burned. Gold- and silver-embossed white paper money we had brought would also be burned so that those in heaven would have some wealth, some comfort. We would then return home with our food, where the chicken would be cut up, the pork sliced, the Buddha’s Delight tossed, then all served, cold, out of respect for the dead.
Throughout the year there were weddings and births, always times for happy family gatherings, for celebratory banquets. In the years I spent visiting and learning in my grandmother’s kitchen, only male cousins from Ah Paw’s side of the family were married. This being the circumstance, she always gave an informal, but special, dinner about a week before the wedding, just for the prospective groom and his family. There were no particular rituals, just a gathering to eat and to wish my cousin well.
Because I was so young at the time, I recall asking Ah Paw if only boys were given banquets. No, Ah Fei, she said. If I am alive when you marry, you will have a wonderful banquet. As it turned out, when I was married, my Ah Paw had passed away a long time earlier, but I recall telling my husband that he should thank Ah Paw, silently, for what we both thought was a fine wedding party.
The parties Ah Paw threw before weddings were large affairs, too large for her modest house, so they were held in one of the other houses left in her care by her husband. We always served familiar, favorite dishes such as Five-Spice Kau Yuk, Fish Alive raw fish, congees, barbecued suckling pig and always an eagerly anticipated banquet heirloom, the very special Salt-Baked Chicken and all manner of won tons and other noodles.
Won Ton
(WON TON)
No noodle is more famous than the won ton. Though often regarded as a dumpling, the won ton is actually a filled noodle, most often stuffed with pork and shrimp, and served as a first course for such celebrations as this pre-wedding dinner. The skins would be bought at the market in Sah Gau. When I was learning to make won ton, we always made them to eat in the same day because without refrigeration the shrimp and pork filling could not be allowed to rest overnight in our generally warm climate.
FILLING
12 ounces lean pork, ground
4 ounces shrimp (about 8 large shrimp), shelled, deveined and finely
diced
1½ cups scallions, finely sliced
1½ teaspoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon grated ginger
4 water chestnuts, peeled, finely diced, or ¼ cup jicama, finely diced
1 tablespoon Chinese white rice wine, or gin
2 egg whites, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon light soy sauce
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1½ tablespoons oyster sauce
Pinch white pepper
36 won ton skins
3½ tablespoons cornstarch
10 cups cold water
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon peanut oil
Mix together all the filling ingredients, until thoroughly blended. Place in a shallow dish, refrigerate, uncovered, 4 hours, or covered overnight.
MAKE THE WON TON: Skins should be kept at room temperature. Work with one at a time, keeping remainder under a damp towel. Keep a bowl of water at hand to wet edges of skins. Place 1 tablespoon of filling in center of a won ton skin, wet edges, fold in half and seal edges. Wet the folded corners, not the sealed corners, and draw ends together to create a bow-like dumpling, like a tortellini. Repeat until 36 won ton are made. As each is made, place on a cookie sheet dusted with cornstarch.
Place water, salt and peanut oil in a pot, cover and bring to a boil over high heat. Add won ton, stir and cook for about 8 minutes until won ton are translucent, and filling can be seen through the skin. Turn off heat, run cold water into pot, drain. Serve immediately. Leftover won ton should be placed on wax paper to dry thoroughly before refrigerating for later use.
MAKES 36 WON TON
Salt-Baked Chicken
(GUANGDONG YIM GUK GAI)
Salt-baked chicken, in which a whole chicken is essentially baked in an “oven” of salt that encloses it, is a recipe of southern China, a dish loved by the native Cantonese as well as their historic “visitor people,” the Hakka migrants to Guangdong. Our family’s version differed in ingredients. In Ah Paw’s kitchen we added cloves, anise seeds, and a fermented
rose petal spirit, and enclosed the chicken in a strong parchment we called sah ji, or “sandpaper.” Baking the chicken in its salt cover does not make it salty, but instead it keeps it moist.
In my grandmother’s kitchen, the chicken, covered with salt, sat in a wok covered with a wooden wok cover, and was cooked atop a stove over a wood fire. This dish surely fit Ah Paw’s description of a dish that would take a good deal of effort to make, and would show that effort.
Today I cook it, and teach it, differently because we have ovens. It is easier and more simple to make Salt-Baked Chicken in the modern manner. The parchment available these days is not as thick and strong as the Chinese “sandpaper,” so I wrap the chicken in lotus leaves instead, or in two yards of cheesecloth.
5 pounds kosher salt
1 3-pound whole chicken
MARINADE
¾ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon cloves (about 12)
⅛ teaspoon anise seeds
1½ tablespoons Mei Kuei Lu Chiew rose petal spirit, or gin
3 scallions, trimmed, cut in half across, white portions lightly smashed
1 slice ginger, ½ inch thick, lightly smashed
1 tablespoon dark soy sauce
2 lotus leaves, soaked in hot water 10 minutes, until soft and pliable,
rinsed and drained
HEAT THE SALT: Place half the salt in a Dutch oven, half in a roasting pan. Place both in an oven heated to 375 degrees F, for 40 minutes until salt is very hot.
AS THE SALT HEATS, PREPARE CHICKEN: Clean and wash chicken, removing all fat and membranes. Sprinkle chicken with ¼ cup salt, rub well into the bird, rinse under cold water, drain, pat dry with paper towels. Mix the marinade (¾ teaspoon salt, cloves, anise seed and rose petal spirit) in a small bowl. Rub the cavity of the chicken with the mixture, to coat well, then pour remainder into the cavity. Place scallions and ginger in cavity, skewer the opening closed. Rub outside of chicken with soy sauce to coat evenly.
WRAP THE CHICKEN: Lay lotus leaves on flat surface, overlapping slightly. Place chicken breast-side up in center. Fold leaves up over the sides of chicken, then bring up the ends to cover. The pliable leaves should stay in place.
Remove salt from oven. Spread salt in Dutch oven to create a well. Place chicken, breast-side up, in the well. Pour remainder of salt over the chicken to completely cover. Place Dutch oven in 375 degree F oven and bake for 20 minutes. Lower heat to 350 degrees F, bake another 30 minutes. Turn off oven, allow chicken to rest in oven for 5 minutes more. The chicken should be baked perfectly at this point. Take chicken from oven and allow to cool 10 minutes.
Remove wrapped chicken from salt, remove lotus leaves, place chicken on a chopping board. Cut into bite-size pieces. Serve with individual small dishes of soy sauce.
SERVES 4 TO 6
NOTE Unfortunately, this classic dish is often misrepresented. Beware the common inauthentic, pallid imitation of this great historical preparation. Instead of baking a chicken in salt, the bird is often cooked in a heated salt solution, thus making it nothing more than simply a salty, boiled chicken.
WHEN THERE WERE WEDDINGS THERE WERE, in the customary order of things, births. Much was, and is, made of babies in China. There are special dishes to be eaten by women after they have given birth, and different special dishes to celebrate these births.
The first meal a woman eats after giving birth is traditionally a plain fried rice tossed with shreds of gingerroot. This is to instantly begin the process of rebuilding the blood, and giving constant warmth to the body. Directly after that came a period of recurring meals of Boy’s Birth Vinegar, prepared with great zeal when a boy was born.
Boy’s Birth Vinegar
(TIM DING TIM CHO)
This dish is named unequally, in my view. Its name, tim ding tim cho, translates as “sweet vinegar for the birth of a son.” I remember asking my grandmother why girls did not have their own sweet vinegar. Her reply, quite simply, was “Daw see, daw see,” or “You ask too many questions.” She then added that it was for girls, too. That did not really satisfy me, but I kept quiet, because I loved eating it.
This dish was usually made in three-day batches: three days, three meals each day, two eggs each meal, to be eaten every day for one month. During this month, the woman who has given birth will eat the birth vinegar regularly, and only small amounts of pork or fish, with some vegetables, nothing more. When it was made in Ah Paw’s house for her first great-grandson, it was made in vast amounts, because it was meant to be shared with any neighbor who dropped in, carrying an envelope of lucky money in one hand, an empty bowl in the other. In fact, her neighbors would drop by repeatedly, while the vinegar was cooking, to ask when it would be done.
The mixture is strong, and is regarded as a medicine, for females only. However, my memory is that quite a few men ate it as well.
3 pounds young ginger, peeled, cut into 2½-inch pieces, each lightly
smashed
4 28-oz. bottles thick, sweet, black Chinese rice vinegar
4 pounds pigs’ feet, cut into 2-inch pieces
¾ pound sugarcane sugar, or dark brown sugar
18 peeled hard-boiled eggs
Place ginger, sweet vinegar and pigs’ feet in a large pot. Cover, bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to simmer, leaving pot lid open slightly and simmer, 3½ hours. Stir from time to time with a wooden spoon. The pigs’ feet should be tender. Taste the vinegar. It should taste balanced, between sweet and tart. Variations will occur because of differences in batches of rice vinegars. Add sugar to taste, cook until melted and blended. Add hard-boiled eggs, stir, make certain eggs are completely immersed in liquid. Simmer for another 30 minutes. Turn off heat, serve immediately with cooked rice.
MAKES APPROXIMATELY 18 SERVINGS
AT BIRTH, ALL NEWBORN CHILDREN—ah mui, baby girls, or ah jai, baby boys—are given what are called “milk names,” to indicate that they will not have proper names while they are quite young and still drinking milk. I was told that my milk name was Bibi Noi, or simply Little Baby. Nor did I receive my “ginger name,” or given name, for several months until my father, who was away, sent his choice of name for me, Yin-Fei, to our family. A so-called pen name, self-chosen, is usually not taken until a child begins school, but I kept using Yin-Fei until I went to Hong Kong, where I took the English name of Eileen for myself because I thought it sounded pretty in front of Yin-Fei.
When a baby reached one month in age, there was always a banquet marking the occasion, for it was on that day she, or he, received his, or her, given, or ginger, name. I was an exception, not receiving my ginger name for several months, but Ah Paw said that it did not matter because she had prayed earnestly to the nine female goddesses who protect children to keep watch over me.
Praying to them was powerful, Ah Paw would say, telling me repeatedly how her prayers had protected her grandson, Ah Mui, from death, allowing her to outwit a jealous god who wanted to take her grandson. Ah Mui was my only cousin for some time. He had been born to my number-two aunt, who had two earlier boys die in infancy. She, and her mother-in-law, Ah Paw, were convinced that the baby boys had been stolen and killed by a jealous god.
Ah Paw was determined that this would not happen again, so she prayed to Yin Meng, a goddess charged with protecting babies from falling and being hurt. Her strategy, which she was convinced had come directly from Yin Meng, was to deceive the jealous god by declaring Ah Mui a girl, despite his having been born a male. Thus his name, Ah Mui, or Baby Girl. He was called this throughout his life. Even after he was later given a male name, Cheong Yeun, he was known always as Ah Mui in our family even after he married and had his own family.
Ah Paw would tell me this story before every banquet commemorating a baby’s first month. It gave her pleasure to believe that a mortal had been able to fool a god. A happy tale to accompany a banquet for a one-month-old, that always included red dyed eggs, for good luck, at least one dish of noodles, ginger pickle and steamed fish, and
the centerpiece of the observance, Guangfu Chicken.
Guangfu Chicken
(JAH JI GAI)
This classic dish was always part of this family feast celebrating a child’s first month since birth. Its name, Guangfu, translates as “the dish of the Guangdong people,” and like all traditional, elegant chicken dishes, connoted the concept of birth. As with other desirable dishes, it is time-consuming to make, but I always enjoyed the effort when I shared my grandmother’s kitchen making it with her servants, and I continue to enjoy it today. We used a special spice for this chicken called cho guah; the closest approXimation is nutmeg.
1 3-pound whole chicken
¼ cup salt
CHICKEN COATING
1½ tablespoons honey melted with 2 tablespoons boiling water
1 tablespoon Shao-Hsing wine, or sherry
1 teaspoon Chinese white rice vinegar, or distilled white vinegar
½ teaspoon cornstarch
3 pieces 8-star anise
½ whole dried tangerine peel