Braised Tendons with Dried Shrimp Roe

Xiāzĭ níujīn 蝦籽牛筋

ZHEJIANG • SERVES 4 TO 6

In the West, the adjectives usually used to describe tendons are not that inspiring: tough, stringy, and tasteless. But they can be tender and delicious and are extremely versatile. Beef tendons aren’t at all greasy and can be used as blank canvasses for a variety of different flavors (see this page and this page ).

In addition to tendons, this recipe uses another unsung ingredient: dried shrimp roe. The roe has a remarkable rust-red color and an alluring aroma. If you’ve never tried shrimp roe before, you’re in for something special. Tossed together with ginger, green onions, and fish sauce, this entrée is always a surprise favorite at the table.

1. Rinse the tendons and place them in a pan wide enough to hold them flat. Cover them with boiling water by at least 1 inch (see Tips ), bring the water to a boil again over high heat, and then cover and lower the heat to a slow simmer. Gently cook them until they relax and can be easily pierced with a chopstick, about 3 hours. The tendons can also be quickly prepared in a pressure cooker in water to cover for 1 hour or until tender. Discard the liquid, cool the tendons to room temperature, place in a resealable plastic bag, and refrigerate them. The tendons can be cooked to this point up to 3 days ahead of when you are going to serve them.

2. Cut the tendons in half lengthwise, then quarter them lengthwise into strips about ½ inch wide all around. Cut these strips into pieces about 1 inch long.

3. Pour the oil into a cool wok and add the roe. Give the roe a few minutes to absorb most of the oil, then raise the heat under the wok to medium. Slowly cook the roe until it looks liquid and bubbly, then add the tendons, ginger, and green onions. Cook for a few minutes to coat the tendons with the roe. Raise the heat to high and pour in the rice wine. As the wine cooks down, add the soy sauce, fish sauce, sugar, and boiling water. Bring the sauce to a boil and then lower the heat to medium. Cook the tendons, stirring occasionally to keep them from sticking, until almost all of the sauce has been absorbed. Taste and adjust the seasoning.

4. Just before serving, cut the leaves of the green onions into thin diagonal strips and add them to the hot tendons along with the sesame oil. Toss quickly and serve while the tendons are still hot.

The tendons will contract into tight balls as the water heats up, and before you know it, they will be as hard as rocks. They must be slowly simmered for about 3 hours (or cooked in a pressure cooker for about 1 hour) until they completely relax and return to their original size.

If you have extra cooked tendons, you can use them in recipes like Clear Beef Soup with Chinese Herbs and Radishes .

Huaidian Smoked Lamb

Huáidiàn xūn yángròu 槐店薰羊肉

HENAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

Huaidian, in eastern Henan, lies very close to Shangqiu, the capital of the Shang dynasty during the second millennium BCE. This dish has been around for at least a century; it’s one of those recipes that doesn’t look particularly intriguing at first glance. In fact, the last time I served this, my guests had a decidedly ho-hum look on their faces. That is, of course, until they took the first bite.

The lamb is brined for a few days, which turns the meat a rosy red and makes it moist and flavorful. The meat is then cooked with a handful of warm spices before being quickly smoked over wood chips. It might sound like a slow process, but there is very little actual work involved, and the results are unparalleled.

1. Start this dish at least 2 days before you plan to serve it. Pat the lamb dry, and if the meat hasn’t been cut into inch-wide strips between the bones, do it now. Bring half the water to a boil, add the salt, and stir to dissolve. Add the rest of the water to the brine and allow it to cool down completely. Place the lamb in the brine, toss it carefully so that each piece is coated and covered by the brine, cover, and refrigerate. Check the lamb after 24 hours; if it has turned a dark red, remove it from the brine and pat it dry. If not, brine it for another 12 to 24 hours, but not much longer than that, as the meat will become too salty.

2. Place the whole spices in a dry wok and stir over medium heat until they smell fragrant and start to pop. Pack the spices in a piece of cheesecloth or a mesh ball and place them in a large saucepan with the brined lamb. Cover the lamb with about 1 inch of water, bring to a boil, and then lower to a gentle simmer. Poach the lamb until it is very tender but not falling apart, about 30 minutes. Remove it from the liquid, drain it thoroughly, and let it cool until it is easy to handle. The dish can be prepared up to this point and refrigerated for a couple of days.

3. Prepare your smoker (see this page ) and place the wood chips at the bottom. Arrange the rack over the chips, spray it with oil, place the lamb on top of the grill with space between the pieces, cover, and then heat the smoker over high until white smoke begins to puff out of the top. After 3 minutes, turn off the heat, remove the smoker from the stove, and let the meat sit in the smoker for no more than another 5 minutes. Take the meat out of the smoker, rub it lightly with the sesame oil, and arrange on a serving platter. Serve warm or hot.

Side Dishes

Oil-Braised Spring Bamboo Shoots

Yóumèn chūnsŭn 油燜春筍

ZHEJIANG • SERVES 4

This dish comes from the bamboo-laced mountains of Zhejiang. It goes by the Chinese name of “spring bamboo shoots braised in oil” and, unfortunately, cooks often take that name a bit too literally, bathing the bamboo in oil. To really do this dish right, the oil should be relatively light: it’s there primarily to help the cooking process, but also to add a savory, creamy note to the stark cleanliness of the bamboo. The dish should not be seasoned with a heavy hand, either, because the delicacy of the stems’ grassy flavor is easily overwhelmed.

You can serve this dish hot, cold, or at any point in between, so it’s a great one to make ahead of time. I prefer to serve it when it is slightly warmer than room temperature. That way, the oil stays in the background of the dish and provides just the suggestion of richness.

1. Start this a day before you plan to serve it. Shred the bamboo shoots into thinnish strips by notching the stem end with a paring knife (go down about ½ inch or so if the stems are a bit hefty) and then pulling the bamboo shoot apart. Try to make all the strips more or less the same size—around ½ inch wide. I like to leave the strips long because I find them prettier that way (the interiors look like ladders), but cut them crosswise in half, if you wish.

2. Place the bamboo shoots, water, oils, rice wine, and soy sauce (but not the sugar) in a saucepan, cover, bring to a boil, and then lower the heat to a simmer. Cook the shoots covered for about 30 minutes, until they are completely tender at the thickest bases. Add the sugar, toss again, and cook over high heat uncovered until almost all of the sauce has evaporated. Cool, cover, refrigerate overnight, and serve the next day warm, cool, or hot.

Fresh bamboo shoots need to be blanched to remove their bitterness. To prepare fresh bamboo shoots, first peel them by slicing up the side with a very sharp blade, pressing down deeper as you reach the tip. Then, peel off the individual sheaths and trim off any tough bits. Next, place the peeled bamboo shoots in a saucepan, cover with water, and bring the water to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook the shoots until the bases are tender, about 1 hour. If there are lots of different sizes of bamboo shoots in there, pluck out the little ones as they are done so they are not cooked to death. Rinse the shoots in cool tap water and drain in a colander. Frozen bamboo shoots have already been blanched, so all you need to do is defrost them thoroughly and rinse.

Bitter Melons in Golden Sand

Jīnshā kŭguā 金沙苦瓜

SHANGHAI • SERVES 4 TO 6

Golden sand is made by mashing up the yolks of brined eggs and then stir-frying them into a buttery sauce. It’s used in a variety of dishes, and the last time my husband and I were in Shanghai, it was popular with many different chefs. Some of the things we had with golden sand were less than stellar—shellfish, for example, which I found too fatty and salty when combined with golden sand—but when it’s used as a textural and flavorful contrast for a clean-tasting and simple main ingredient, the results can be inspired.

My favorite rendition matches up golden sand with bitter melons. The vegetables are cut into thin batons, blanched, cooled down, and then tossed in the sauce. This serves to leach out most of the bitterness and essentially cook the melon very rapidly, which preserves its exquisite color and crispness. The result is a beautiful trio of contrasts: the jade color of the vegetable against the amber, salted egg yolk; the crunchy melon and the creamy sauce; and the slightly bitter and yet slightly sweet flavors mingling with the salty and buttery aromas of the golden sand.

1. Wash and dry the bitter melons and trim off both ends, as well as any damaged areas. Split the melons lengthwise in half and scoop out both the seeds and any pith. Cut the melon halves crosswise into 2-inch or so lengths, then slice these pieces lengthwise into ¼-inch-thick strips.

2. Bring water to a boil in a medium saucepan and blanch the bitter melons for less than 1 minute, until they turn bright green and taste barely cooked. Rinse the bitter melons with cool tap water in a colander set in the sink and then shake them dry.

3. Use a fork to mash the egg yolks. Finely chop the garlic and green onion.

4. Place a wok over medium-high heat until hot and add the oil. As soon as the oil starts to shimmer, add the mashed egg yolks, garlic, and green onion and stir-fry them until the sauce foams up. Add the sugar and salt and then toss in the well-drained bitter melon, mixing it quickly to heat the pieces through. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Pour the melons onto a serving plate and scrape all of the sauce out of the wok on top of them. Serve while still very hot.

A general rule is, the lighter the green of the bitter melon, the less bitter it is.

This recipe calls for brined chicken eggs. If you are using duck or goose yolks, be sure to adjust the quantity accordingly. Also, because duck and goose eggs tend to have a gamy or fishy flavor, I’d recommend cutting each yolk in half, sprinkling them with a bit of white liquor or rice wine, and steaming them for about 5 minutes. Be sure to cool the yolks before mashing.

Four Happiness Gluten and Vegetables

Sìxĭ kǎofū 四喜烤麩

JIANGSU • SERVES 4 TO 6

The first Chinese funeral I attended in Taipei was followed by a banquet at a Buddhist-style restaurant. I had never eaten such good vegetarian food. It tasted like there was meat in most of the dishes, but upon closer inspection, the meat turned out to be clever substitutes made from either bean curd or wheat gluten.

Although wheat gluten has been given short shrift in Western fare, it’s long been incorporated into Chinese cuisine; see for more information on gluten varieties .

Two secrets are key to success here: first, tear the gluten, rather than cut it into cubes. The ragged edges and various sizes will give texture and variety to something that is inarguably a very bland ingredient, and the bigger pieces will sponge up the rich sauce and make each bite intensely flavorful. Second, fry the gluten pieces until brown: the outsides will crisp up and become foils for the moist centers, giving them the mouthfeel that suggests meat.

1. Tear the gluten into pieces about 1 inch square or so; it’s all right if you end up with crumbs and raggedy pieces, too, as these add complexity to the dish. Warm up about 2 inches of oil in a wok over medium-high heat until it begins to shimmer, add a small handful of the gluten, and fry it until it is golden all over. Remove the fried gluten to a plate, and then fry the rest of the gluten in batches of similarly sized pieces, so that the smaller bits don’t stay in too long.

2. Drain the wood ear fungus and tear it into pieces about the same size as the shredded gluten. Slice the bamboo shoot into thin slices and cut these crosswise at an angle. Drain the daylily flowers, remove any tough parts, and tie them in pairs into knots. If the soybeans are frozen, rinse them in a colander under warm water to defrost them.

3. Drain all the oil out of the wok except for about 3 tablespoons and heat the oil over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Add the green onions and ginger and stir-fry them for a minute to release their fragrance. Add the wood ear pieces and bamboo shoot slices and stir-fry them for another minute. Toss in the star anise, soy sauce, rice wine, sugar, and water. Bring to a boil, add the fried gluten, and simmer for about half an hour; all of the ingredients should be soft and flavorful by then. Add the daylily knots and green soybeans to the wok, stir gently, and cook uncovered for about 10 minutes. The sauce should be thick and glossy at this point. If not, use a slotted spoon to remove everything but the sauce from the wok. Simmer the sauce over medium-high heat and stir until it is reduced to the consistency of molasses. Return the gluten mixture to the wok and toss gently to coat. Taste and adjust the seasoning with more soy sauce, sugar, and sesame oil as needed.

4. Allow the dish to come to room temperature before serving. This can be made up to 3 days ahead of time and should be refrigerated if not eaten right away.

This kind of gluten spoils easily, so smell it carefully before you use it and discard it if there’s a sour aroma. If it is not going to be used immediately, be sure to freeze it.

Try this as an appetizer, too.

Slow-Braised Bok Choy

Kàocài 㸆菜

SHANGHAI • SERVES 4 TO 6

There is nothing more emblematic of Shanghai’s cuisine than braised bok choy. It is widely loved in Jiangsu, and this particular preparation is a standby in any Shanghainese restaurant. The vegetables are gently cooked until they’re completely tender, and the soy sauce, sugar, and oil are added in perfectly proportional amounts. This is home cooking at its finest.

1. Prepare this the day before you wish to serve it. Trim the vegetable into small, bite-sized pieces, and discard any tough stems or cores; if using baby bok choy, you may leave them whole or cut them in half. Clean them well, rinse, and drain.

2. Place the vegetables in a saucepan with the rest of the ingredients. Bring the pan to a boil, cover tightly, and reduce the heat to a simmer. Cook the vegetables covered for about 5 minutes, then uncover and stir. Cover and cook for another 5 to 10 minutes or so, until the vegetables are very tender. Taste and adjust the seasoning; they should taste slightly overseasoned since they will be served cold or cool, which will dull the sweet and salty flavors. Let the vegetables come to room temperature, place them and the sauce in a covered container, and chill overnight.

3. Arrange the vegetables attractively in a serving dish. Drizzle the green onion oil over the top and sprinkle with the fried onions. Serve cold or at room temperature.

Molded Ham, Chicken, and Bean Curd Shreds

Jī huŏ zhŭ gānsī 雞火煮亁絲

HUAI YANG • SERVES 4

This classic Yangzhou recipe is an inspired layering of sweet and salty ham, rich stock, delicate chicken, and hearty mushrooms that transfer much of their flavors to a billowy pile of bean curd. Together they create an extraordinary example of Huai Yang sensibilities. I like to let this dish sit overnight and then steam it again before serving: this changes the texture of the bean curd, making it expand and fluff up in a wonderful way. I stumbled on this possibility when I was forced to prepare this recipe so that I could serve it the next day at a friend’s house.

1. The day before you plan to serve this, remove the skin and excess fat from the chicken and place it in a medium saucepan. Add the boiling water, ginger, and whole green onions. Bring the water to a boil again, lower the heat to a simmer, and slowly cook the chicken for about 10 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat, cover it, and let the chicken sit in the hot bath for about 15 minutes. Take the chicken out of the pan and let it cool down until it can be handled easily. Use your hands to shred the chicken into thin pieces and save the cooking liquid for something else.

2. While the chicken is cooking and cooling down, prepare the rest of the ingredients: trim the stems off of the mushrooms, cut the caps horizontally into thin slices, and then cut these into very thin (⅛-inch-wide) matchsticks. Trim any fat or skin off of the ham, cut it against the grain into thin slices, and then across once again into matchsticks the same size as the mushrooms. Place the chicken stock and rice wine in a medium saucepan. Add the mushrooms and cook for a few minutes until they are tender, pluck them out with a slotted spoon, and pile them up in the center of a heatproof 4-cup bowl. Add the julienned ham to the hot stock and cook for a couple of minutes until it is soft, then remove it with a slotted spoon and arrange it in a ring around the mushrooms. Finally, add the shredded chicken to the stock and bring it to a boil before removing the chicken with the slotted spoon and arranging it in a circle around the ham.

3. Cut the bean curd into very thin (⅛-inch-thick) slices and then across into very thin (⅛-inch-wide) matchsticks. Place the bean curd into a colander and pour boiling water over it to quickly blanch it and remove any beany aromas. Gently slide the bean curd into the hot stock and slowly simmer it for about 5 minutes before using a large slotted spoon to remove the matchsticks to the bowl with the mushrooms and so forth. Pile the bean curd in a thick layer on top of the mushrooms, ham, and chicken. Taste the stock and adjust the seasoning with salt and more rice wine, if needed, before pouring it over the bean curd. Let the bowl come to room temperature, cover, and chill overnight.

4. About 30 minutes before serving, cover the bowl lightly with foil so that no water enters the stock and steam it (see this page ) on high until heated through. Pour all the stock out into a measuring cup, taste, and adjust the seasoning a final time, if needed. Invert a rimmed plate over the bowl and then invert the bowl and plate together. Remove the bowl, pour the stock over the bean curd, and serve.

Lively Bean Curd

Huó dòufŭ 活豆腐

JIANGXI • SERVES 4

No one I know can really explain how this dish came to be called “Lively Bean Curd.” It’s a specialty of Jiujiang, a town in Jiangxi Province located right on the edge of the Yangtze.

I like this dish for its contrast in textures more than anything else. Soft bean curd holds center stage here, but squeaky bits of black wood ear and pale yellow daylily flowers serve as interesting counterpoints. The meat, green onion, and stock offer very nice flavors, but really this recipe is all about the dynamic textures at play.

1. First, soak the daylily flowers in boiling water while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. Later on, after they have gotten fat and look once more like blossoms, discard the water before picking off any hard parts at the stem end and then peeling them lengthwise into 3 or 4 strips. Cut or tear the wood ears into dime-sized pieces, discarding any tough bits.

2. Place the meat in a small work bowl and toss it with the soy sauce, rice wine, and cornstarch. Let the pork or chicken marinate while you get the final ingredients ready.

3. Cut the green onion into ½-inch lengths. Drain the water off of the bean curd and rinse it lightly under cool tap water. Cut the block of bean curd lengthwise in half and then crosswise into ¼-inch-thick squares.

4. Set a wok over high heat and add the oil. When the oil is hot, swirl it around in the wok and toss in the meat and all of the marinade. Stir-fry until the meat turns from pink to gray and even has a bit of browning on the edges. Add the green onion, toss, and then add the daylily flowers and wood ears. Continue to stir-fry these until the flowers just start to wilt, then pour in all of the stock. Bring the stock to a boil and slide in the sliced bean curd, fanning it out across the stock so that it heats evenly. When it comes to a boil again, lower the heat and simmer the ingredients for about 5 minutes to heat the bean curd through. Taste and adjust the seasoning, sprinkle in the sesame oil, and serve hot in a bowl or rimmed plate.

Chestnut Bean Curd

Lì dòufŭ 栗豆腐

ANHUI • SERVES 4

Occasionally in Chinese cooking, a simple ingredient will be treated in such a way that it takes on a completely different character. That is what happens in this dish. Silky soft bean curd abandons its custard-like texture and bland taste to become something much fluffier and more delicious. It is flavored with three different kinds of meat—chicken stock, pork, and ham—and paired with three beloved southern Anhui ingredients: that ham, as well as a winter bamboo shoot and chestnuts.

This is great cold-weather fare. You can make this dish particularly refined if you discard the pork belly and charcuterie after simmering them with the chicken stock—by that stage, most of their flavor will have been transferred to the sauce. However, frugal home cooks can rarely afford such luxury, and so, for family dinners, these two meats can be chopped finely and returned to the sandpot just before serving.

1. Simmer the chicken stock with the pork belly, ham, and ginger in a covered saucepan for about an hour. Strain out the solids and pour the stock into a small (4-cup) sandpot. If you like, chop the meats into fine pieces, but discard the ginger and any skin on the cured pork.

2. While the stock is simmering, place the bean curd in a small saucepan and cover with boiling water. Bring the water to a boil again over high heat and then lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Slowly cook the bean curd for about 5 minutes to rid it of excess water and firm it up a bit, then cut it into ¾-inch cubes. Peel and cut the bamboo shoot into ¾-inch cubes. Cut or break the chestnuts in half.

3. Add the bean curd, bamboo shoot, and chestnuts to the hot strained stock. Bring the stock to a boil over high heat before lowering it to a gentle simmer. Add the soy sauce and sugar. Simmer these for about half an hour, then taste and adjust the seasoning. You can prepare this dish in advance up to this point, let it come to room temperature, and then cover and refrigerate it for up to 3 days. Before serving, bring it to a boil once more, stir the cornstarch mixture into the sauce until it thickens, and then toss in the reserved chopped meats, if you like. Sprinkle the top with the green onion, cover the sandpot briefly to wilt the onion, and serve.

Frozen chestnuts that are already shelled and peeled can be found in most Chinese supermarkets.

Fried Lotus Chips

Zhá ǒupiàn 炸藕片

HUBEI • MAKES AS MANY AS YOU WANT

These are not only tasty—they are also absolutely beautiful. Plus, they possess the faint taste of lotus, making them even more delicious than potato chips, and are super simple to make. You can serve them like regular chips or pile them around roast chicken for a special treat.

A mandoline is extremely handy here for cutting the roots into wafer-thin slices. What I do is trim off the end of one root and leave the other end on as a handle; then, I just shave the root into as many slices as possible until I reach the untrimmed end. Of course, as with all sharp blades, use care when slicing things on a mandoline, as fingers can get cut in a flash.

One odd thing about lotus roots that you should be aware of is that they produce a hairlike juice that makes it look like you have very fine follicles among your slices, even after the slices have been fried. So, don’t be alarmed if you see what looks like blond locks weaving in and out of the chips—they are totally harmless and melt on the tongue.

1. Peel the lotus roots with a potato peeler and remove any soft or brown spots. Rinse off any mud that might have worked its way into the roots (see this page ). Shave the roots into thin slices using a mandoline or a very sharp knife.

2. Place a plate covered with a paper towel next to the stove. Heat a few inches of oil in a wok over medium-high heat until a wooden chopstick inserted in the oil bubbles all over. Add a handful of the lotus root slices to the hot oil and stir them around with the chopsticks so that they don’t stick to one another. Stir and fry them until they are a light golden brown all over. Use a slotted spoon to remove them from the oil and place them on the paper towel to drain. Sprinkle the hot chips with the salt to taste. Repeat with the rest of the lotus root slices until done.

3. Cool to room temperature and either serve immediately or store in a resealable plastic bag, preferably with a paper towel to absorb any moisture or extra oil.

Starches & Street Food

Crab Shell Pastries

Xièkéhuáng 蟹殼黃

ANHUI AND SHANGHAI • MAKES 48

As with so many wonderful foods in the Jiangsu area, Crab Shell Pastries had their beginnings in Anhui. The pastry of these stuffed biscuits tastes very much like Shaobing , and the juicy green filling is mildly oniony. They were brought to Shanghai by the wealthy merchants who visited from the remote but beautiful Huangshan region in southern Anhui. These pastries are still just as popular back in Huangshan, where they are almost a required dish at banquets.

I would always try to nab these fresh out of the oven at my favorite Shanghainese bakery in Taipei. When made right, they are hard to beat.

1. Place the pork in a large work bowl and use chopsticks to mix in the salt, pepper, and green onions. Divide the filling into 48 pieces and roll these into balls.

2. Line 2 baking sheets with a nonstick baking mat or parchment paper. Place your oven racks in the center of your oven and heat the oven to 350°F. Pour the sesame seeds into a wide bowl and have the cooled sugar water ready, along with a pastry brush. Working on 1 pastry at a time, flatten the ball of puff pastry out into a disk about 3½ inches wide, then place a ball of filling in the center and close the pastry around it (Steps 6 to 9 plus 13 on this page ). Roll the ball lightly and press it seam-side down on a lined baking sheet before covering it with plastic wrap. Repeat with the rest of the puff pastry and filling.

3. Use a pastry brush to swab some of the sugar water on top of each pastry before immediately flipping the pastry over into the bowl of sesame seeds. Press down lightly to make the seeds stick to the sugar water, turn the pastry over, and return it to the baking sheet. Place the pastries at least ½ inch apart, as they will rise a little bit.

4. Bake the pastries, rotating the sheets back to front halfway through the cooking time, for about 25 minutes, until the pastries are a golden brown and puffy. Remove the pastries to a cooling rack and repeat this step with the rest of the pastries until all have been baked. Cool and store in an airtight container in the refrigerator; heat them up briefly in a 350°F oven before serving.

Crusty Vegetable Rice

Càifàn 菜飯

SHANGHAI • SERVES 2 AS A MAIN DISH, 4 AS A SIDE DISH

In addition to their xiaolongbao , Sōngjílóu 松吉樓 , a restaurant run by old Jiangsu soldiers, made this dish incredibly well. I first learned about it when I watched a happy old Shanghainese gentleman order a bowl of caifan and tell the waiter to give him extra crust.

This is basically an eastern Chinese version of fried rice, but it is both much simpler and much more texturally interesting. The only important ingredients in here besides the rice are the vegetables and green onions. It is how the rice is cooked that turns this into a Shanghainese favorite: the rice is gently toasted on the bottom, then flipped and browned some more. This gives the dish a great crunch and also a delicate, toasty flavor.

1. Cut off the ends of the bok choy and separate the heads into leaves. Trim off any discolored bits and wash the vegetables carefully in a pan of water; rinse the leaves and make sure that no dirt is clinging to them. Shake them dry and coarsely chop the leaves into pieces no larger than ½ inch long. Cut the green onions into smallish pieces.

2. Heat ¼ cup oil or fat in a wok over high heat. Add the optional ham and the salt, swirl the wok to melt the salt, then add the chopped onions and bok choy. Stir-fry the veggies until the bok choy stems become translucent. Scoot them up the side of the wok, allowing the oil to drain back into the bottom. Add the cold rice to the wok and use a metal wok spatula to break up any clumps. Toss the rice in the hot oil, adding more oil as necessary to keep the rice from sticking. Use the spatula to lift up the rice from the bottom and shake it so that even the smaller clumps fall apart. When the rice is completely heated through, toss it with the cooked vegetables.

3. Next, make a crust form on the bottom of the rice by smoothing it into an even layer in the wok and turning the heat to medium-low; do not disturb the rice for about 5 minutes. When the rice makes a faint popping sound and smells like popcorn, lift up an edge to check. If it is golden brown, flip the rice over so that the crust is on the top. Allow the rice to form another crust on the bottom, adjusting the heat as necessary to brown the rice without burning it. When you have as much crunchy stuff as you like, toss the rice around to break up the crust and then serve it up while it is still very hot.

For the bok choy in this recipe, I recommend the variety called wūtācài 烏塌菜 , or “black prostrate vegetable.” It’s called “black” because the leaves are a very dark green, and “prostrate” because the leaves grow out at a low angle to the ground, instead of straight up like most other bok choys.

You can boost the flavor a notch by adding ham and using some rendered fat for the oil.

Xiaolongbao

Xiǎolóngbāo 小籠包

HUAI YANG • MAKES 40

Xiaolongbao are tiny steamed buns filled with hot stock and ground meat. My favorite place to eat them in Taipei was Songjilou, the restaurant run by former soldiers from eastern China (see this page ). They cooked simple things from Jiangsu that were more like street food and snacks than regular meals. They were most renowned for their xiaolongbao , a Chinese name that simply means “little steamer basket buns.” These filled parcels were designed to be dipped in black vinegar and draped with fresh ginger. You would eat them with a soupspoon, cradling them underneath so as not to waste a single drop of their juice.

I have played around considerably with the original recipe, in particular by adding the black vinegar and fresh ginger to the filling. It’s much more pleasurable to eat them this way, I find, rather than having a harsh blast of vinegar on the tongue and threads of ginger slipping around.

Once you get the hang of cooking these, consider making extra jelly and freezing it. You can also make larger batches of these buns and freeze them just after they are wrapped.

1. Make the chicken stock jelly by bringing all of its ingredients to a boil and then lowering the heat to a bare simmer. Cook the stock for about 2 hours, strain, discard the solids, and let the jelly cool to room temperature. Chill until solid. Reserve 1½ cups of the chicken stock jelly and freeze the rest for something else.

2. Mix the filling ingredients together by hand, using your hand as a paddle as you stir the filling in one direction until it is light and fluffy (see this page ). Keep the filling cold to prevent it from separating. When it is chilled and just before filling the xiaolongbao , divide the filling into 40 pieces and roll these into marbles; cover and keep them cold.

3. Prepare steamer baskets by lining them with steamer cloth or paper. You can also use large napa cabbage leaves, which must be steamed first to make them limp, but which make a great nonstick surface. Have your steamer ready (see this page ).

4. Now make the wrappers: place the flour in a small work bowl and stir in the boiling water to form a hot ball of dough that will quickly cool down. Knead the dough on a smooth surface, adding more flour if necessary to have a soft dough that feels like an earlobe when pressed. Cover the dough, let it rest for about 20 minutes, and then divide it into 40 pieces. Fill the xiaolongbao (see this page to 407) by rolling each ball of dough out into a circle that is about 3 inches in diameter. Place a marble of filling in the center, then pleat the edges around the filling—many tiny pleats are preferable, as they make the xiaolongbao more evenly shaped—until the filling is completely enclosed so that the juices will not leak out. Gently twist the topknot to seal it securely. Place the filled xiaolongbao in your steamer baskets (but not over the heat yet) and cover. Repeat until all of the xiaolongbao have been filled. Only cook as many as you will serve immediately and freeze the rest (see Tips ).

5. Steam fresh xiaolongbao for about 10 minutes and frozen ones for about 15 minutes. They can stay in the steamer for a short while longer without overcooking. Count on at least 10 xiaolongbao per person as the main course of a meal; as an appetizer, just a few will suffice.

To freeze the xiaolongbao , place them in a single layer on baking sheets lined with plastic wrap, freeze them solid, and then store them in resealable freezer bags.

Fried Green Onion Noodles

Cōngyóu bànmiàn 蔥油拌麵

SHANGHAI • SERVES 4 TO 6

Don’t let the simplicity of this recipe fool you; Fried Green Onion Noodles are seriously delicious. In the wake of my first attempt, my husband requested these noodles three days in a row. The fried onions and oil can be made ahead of time, and I recommend making extra because both are fantastic on just about anything savory: poached chicken, steamed fish, even fried eggs. This recipe can be scaled up easily, and it’s great for parties.

1. Clean and trim the green onions, pat them dry (this is important as you don’t want them to spatter in the oil), and then slice them into either thin rounds or on an angle into long, thin ovals.

2. Line a plate with a paper towel and place it next to the stove along with a slotted spoon. Heat the oil in a wok over medium-high heat. When the oil just begins to shimmer, add a few pieces of the onion. What you want is for the onions to gently bubble, so adjust the heat as needed and then add the rest of the onions. Stir the onions every minute or so and let them slowly cook, giving them a chance to release their fragrance and gradually dry out. Keep an eye on the onions, and as soon as they start to smell toasty and a few begin to brown, stir them almost constantly so they toast evenly.

3. Once almost all of them are brown, remove them from the oil with the slotted spoon and place them on the paper towel. Set the wok with the hot oil aside if you’re going to continue the recipe immediately; otherwise, let the seasoned oil (which is the same as green onion oil ) cool, then pour it into a clean glass jar and store in the refrigerator.

4. Pour the soy sauce and stock into a large work bowl and stir in about ¼ cup of the flavored oil. If you are using the dried shrimp, drain them, discard any sandy veins or foreign matter, and chop them into fine pieces.

5. Put the water in a large pot, add the salt, and bring to a boil. About 5 to 10 minutes before you want to serve this dish, stir the noodles into the water and gently swish them often so they don’t stick together. As soon as the water starts to boil, lower the heat to a simmer and cook the noodles until they are barely done. Place a colander in the sink and drain the pasta into it, but don’t rinse it, as the starch on the noodles will help to thicken the sauce and allow it to evenly coat each strand.

6. Put the cooked noodles into the work bowl with the sauce (and optional minced shrimp) and toss them well. You want the noodles slightly soupy since they’ll absorb some of the sauce, so add more stock if needed. Taste and add a bit more soy sauce or green onion oil, if you want.

7. Divide the noodles and sauce among your serving bowls, garnish with all of the fried onions, and serve.

Hangzhou-Style Noodle Soup

Pià’r chuān 片兒川

ZHEJIANG • SERVES 4 TO 6 AS A MAIN DISH

This easy dish is from Hangzhou, a city along the Yangtze that is known for its fine culinary culture. The people there are selective even when it comes to a simple bowl of noodles, and this snack is a good example.

One interesting thing about this dish is its use of bamboo pith fungus (see this page ), a beautiful mushroom that grows in bamboo groves. These mushrooms are delicately fragrant and smell wonderful as they plump up in hot water, but they are mainly prized for their crunchy texture.

1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil while you are working on the pasta, then reduce the heat to the lowest setting. Make the noodles according to the directions on this page , cutting them to a width of ⅛ inch, or have the store-bought pasta ready.

2. Slice the meat (pork or chicken) about ¼ inch thick, place in a small work bowl, and toss with the salt, cornstarch, and rice wine; let the meat marinate while you ready the vegetables and cook the noodles. Place the bamboo pith fungus in a heatproof work bowl and cover with boiling water; when it’s plumped up, pour off and toss the water. Cut off and discard the pinched bases as well as the frilly tops and then carefully rinse any foreign matter off of the main stalks. Chop the fungus into pieces about an inch long. If you are using fresh bamboo, peel it (see Tip ), slice it thinly, simmer in boiling water until barely tender, drain, and rinse well. If using defrosted shoots, just thinly slice them. Place the salted greens in a sieve and rinse thoroughly under cool tap water; squeeze the greens dry and chop any large pieces.

3. Next, cook the noodles: have a large, clean work bowl next to the stove along with some chopsticks and a Chinese spider or slotted spoon. Shake the extra flour off of the pasta and then toss half of the pasta into the boiling water. Let the water come to a full boil again, stirring occasionally. Be sure not to let the water boil over. When the noodles are barely done—chewy, yet cooked—use your chopsticks and spider to remove them to the clean bowl. Toss them with half of the sesame oil to keep them from sticking. Repeat with the rest of the noodles and sesame oil.

4. Finally, cook the soup ingredients. Heat a wok over high heat until it barely starts to smoke, then pour in the oil. Swirl it around and then toss in the meat and any marinade. Stir-fry the meat, breaking apart any clumps, until it loses its pink color and just barely starts to brown; add the meat to the noodles. Pour out all but about 2 tablespoons of the oil and return the wok to high heat. Stir-fry the bamboo shoots and salted greens for about 20 seconds, then pour in the stock and the bamboo pith fungus. Bring the soup to a full boil and add the meat, noodles, and soy sauce. Taste and adjust the seasoning, bring the soup to a full boil again, and then divide among individual bowls. Serve very hot.

Stir-Fried Rice Cakes Two Ways

Chǎo nián’gāo (liǎngzhŏng) 炒年糕 (兩種)

ZHEJIANG • SERVES 2 AS A MAIN DISH

This recipe comes from Ningbo, a coastal city in Zhejiang Province. “Rice cakes” is one of those horrible translations that manages to supply all the wrong images, but there really is no equivalent in Western cuisine. Nian’gao like these are made of sticky rice that has been cooked, pounded into a paste, shaped, cooled, and then sliced. If you are fond of mochi , you will like nian’gao . The name actually means “year cakes” because various forms of these rice pastes are traditionally eaten in China during the Lunar New Year.

Nian’gao are fairly bland and offer only the natural sweetness of rice itself, but they match up well with other things. When stir-fried, as in this recipe, they will remain bouncy and chewy. My favorite preparation is the first recipe here, a vegan dish with wonderful textures: crisp bamboo shoots, green soybeans, and salted Shanghainese greens.

If you are more of a carnivore, though, the second recipe is for you. In that one, the robust flavors of the black mushrooms and pork get absorbed by the rice cakes. In other recipes, nian’gao might be thrown into a soup at the last minute in place of noodles. They’re a wonderful starch and can be used in a variety of ways.

1. Place a wok over high heat and add the oil. Toss in the green onions and stir them around to release their fragrance. Before they start to brown, add the bamboo shoot and soybeans. Toss these in the hot oil for about 1 minute to heat them through, then add the salted greens. Toss these together for about 30 seconds and then add the rice cakes.

2. After you stir-fry the rice cakes for a minute or so, pour the rice wine and boiling water around the edge of the wok. Continue to toss the rice cakes until most of the liquid has been absorbed. Taste and adjust the seasoning, if necessary. Serve hot in bowls.

RICE CAKES WITH PORK AND VEGETABLES

Shànghǎi chǎo nián’gāo 上海炒年糕

1. Place the pork in a small work bowl and mix it with the soy sauce, rice wine, and cornstarch. Let it marinate while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Stem the mushrooms and cut the caps into thin julienne. If using a fresh bamboo shoot, cut it into thin julienne, and place in a small saucepan. Cover with water and simmer until barely tender, then pour off the water and rinse well with cool water to stop the cooking. If using a defrosted bamboo shoot, simply cut the shoot into thin julienne. Cut the napa cabbage in half, discard the core, and cut it against the grain into fine strips. Shred the ham and the green onion into fine strips and keep them separate.

3. Place a wok over high heat and add the oil. Stir-fry the pork and marinade until the pork loses its pink color, then remove it and the crusty marinade from the wok to a clean work bowl, leaving the oil in the wok. Still over high heat, add the salt and then the ginger and green onions to the wok and finally the ham and mushrooms. Stir-fry these for a few seconds to release their fragrance before adding the bamboo shoots and cabbage. Stir-fry these until the cabbage starts to wilt and then add the rice cakes. Continue stir-frying, drizzling in the stock around the edge of the wok to keep the rice cakes from sticking. As soon as the rice cakes are tender, toss in the pork and sesame oil. Taste and adjust the seasoning before serving.

Gold and Silver Fried Rice

Jīnyín zǐcài yāoguŏ chǎofàn 金銀紫菜腰果炒飯

JIANGSU AND ZHEJIANG • SERVES 2 AS A MAIN DISH, 4 AS A SIDE DISH

The Yangtze region straddles the line between northern and southern China, and so both wheat and rice dishes are beloved here. This being eastern China, even fried rice is infused with a delicate sensibility, and Gold and Silver Fried Rice is an excellent example of the region’s inspired approach to food.

Fried rice is generally eaten either as a snack or at home. It is never served as one of the main courses during a formal Chinese dinner; it would appear only as a final dish to fill up any understuffed bellies (see this page ). And so, when you are offered it (or any other starch) at the conclusion of such a banquet, do your best to refuse, claiming you are too full for another bite. This will give your host great pleasure, and you will be considered an excellent guest.

1. If you do not have 2 cups cold cooked long-grain white rice, make some fresh. And if you do not have a rice steamer, you can easily cook it on the stove by following the directions on this page . Scrape the rice out into a thin layer on a rimmed baking sheet and let it cool completely, tossing it lightly now and then to release the steam. Refrigerate it when it has cooled to room temperature. (The rice can be made ahead of time and either refrigerated or frozen. Defrost completely before proceeding.)

2. Lightly chop the cashews until they are the size of peas. Dry-fry them in a wok over medium heat until they start to brown on the edges and smell fantastic. Remove the nuts to a bowl.

3. Pour ¼ cup of the oil into the hot wok and swirl it around. Add the ½ teaspoon salt and all of the rice. Toss the rice over medium to medium-high heat until it starts to steam and turns golden in places. Add the laver seaweed and toss to make the seaweed start to break apart.

4. Make a well in the center of the rice, pour in the remaining 2 tablespoons oil, and then add the beaten eggs. Cook them in your oil well until they look curdled and are about half done. Add the nuts and toss everything together. Taste and adjust the seasoning with a sprinkle more salt. Drizzle the sesame oil over the top, give the rice a final toss, and serve.

Use pine nuts, or other nuts, if you prefer. Whatever nuts you use, they should be slightly soft so that they don’t contrast with the texture of the rice too much.

Laver seaweed, or nori, is most easily found in Japanese or Korean grocery stores. The little individual packets are expensive, so buy the larger sheets, preferably freshly toasted. Chop the seaweed with kitchen shears.

A little sprinkle of sea salt at the end makes a world of difference in this dish. How much you add will depend on the saltiness of the seaweed, and your palate.

Sweets

Too Soft a Heart

Xīn tài ruǎn 心太軟

SHANGHAI • MAKES 36

For a short while, my husband and I had a fun teahouse we’d go to in Taipei. As soon as we were seated, we would be served some hot towels and a couple of complimentary saucers filled with roasted peanuts and seasoned melon seeds. Then we would get down to the business of selecting our tea and the sweet and savory snacks that would accompany it. Too Soft a Heart was one of the confections available, and it has just the right balance of textures to go with a bracing pot of green tea.

This recipe is basically Chinese red dates stuffed with a mochi -like filling. The stuffed dates are fried, covered with a sauce made out of osmanthus blossoms, and steamed. They are best if eaten immediately, but they can be held for an hour or two. Do not refrigerate the dates once they’ve been cooked, as the rice dough will become hard and almost impossible to soften.

1. Soak the dates in boiling water to cover for about 10 minutes, until soft and pliable, and then drain. If you have pitted dates, use a pair of kitchen shears or a paring knife to cut a slit down the length of one side of each date to make sure no pit shards are hidden inside. If you are using dates that still have the pits in them, use a paring knife to cut one side of each date open lengthwise and remove the pit.

2. To make the filling, place the wheat starch in a small bowl, add the boiling water, and stir with a fork or chopsticks to make a paste. Add the rice flour and cool water to the paste and knead the mixture until a soft dough forms. Use only enough cool water to prevent the dough from sticking to your hands or the board. Place the dough back in the bowl and cover it with a piece of plastic wrap.

3. Put the rock sugar (or sugar or honey) and water in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Lower the heat to a simmer and let the sauce gently bubble away until the sugar water has reduced to a thick syrup. Remove the sauce from the heat and add the optional osmanthus blossom syrup or the lemon juice and zest.

4. While the syrup is bubbling away, divide the dough into 36 pieces and roll each piece into a small marble. Stuff each date with a dough marble and gently close the date around the dough. Lay a sheet of parchment paper on a baking sheet and set it next to the stove along with a slotted spoon.

5. Pour about 2 inches of oil into a wok and place over medium heat. When a wooden chopstick dipped in the hot oil begins to bubble all over, add a handful of the dates, one at a time, being careful not to crowd them. Fry them until the rice dough puffs up: they don’t need to brown; they just need to cook lightly all the way through. Remove the fried dates to the parchment paper to drain while you fry up the rest. These dates are at their absolute best when they are just out of the oil—they will still be slightly crispy—but you can prepare them an hour or so ahead of time up to this point and keep them in a relatively warm area.

6. Place all of the fried dates in a shallow, heatproof bowl. Pour the sauce over the dates and toss well. Serve them while they are still hot, or let them cool to room temperature.

Get the largest and softest dried dates you can find. Press them gently through their plastic bag to make sure of their texture. If possible, try to smell them through the plastic, too; fresh ones will smell sweet.

Some red dates at the store are not only pitted but also cooked in sugary water and then redried. They are meant to be snacks, but they work great in this recipe, as well. Just make sure that you adjust the sweetness accordingly.

Lotus Leaf Eight Treasure Rice

Héyè bābǎofàn 荷葉八寶飯

NORTHERN FUJIAN • SERVES 8 TO 10

What I’ve been told over the years is that Chinese dishes are often built around eight ingredients because eight is a lucky number. My own interpretation is that this is really just a good excuse to add lots of tasty things to a dish.

Eight treasure rice is one good example. It’s found throughout much of China, and just about everyone has his or her own take on how it should be made. I’ve come to prefer a lighter confection, like the following version, which is an unabashedly personal riff off of a recipe from Northern Fujian.

In this recipe, the rice is tossed with black sugar, osmanthus blossom syrup, and browned butter. Eight treasure rice is usually filled with red bean paste, but I prefer to fill the rice with cooked pineapple, as its tartness provides a nice counterweight to the sweet rice. This is definitely not traditional, however, so I’ve included directions for the more common filling, as well. Either way works. The whole thing is wrapped in a lotus leaf, which lends the dessert a lovely summery feel.

1. Rinse the rice in a strainer and then soak it in cool water for about 2 hours, until it passes the fingernail test (see this page ). Steam the rice in 2 steamer baskets lined with cloth (see this page ) for about 40 minutes, until it is tender but still nicely chewy. Brown the butter in a small saucepan or frying pan and then scrape it into a medium work bowl. Add the salt, sugar, and syrup to the butter. Add the cooked rice to the work bowl while the grains are still very hot so that the butter and sugar melt and form a nice goo that envelops the rice as it cools; taste and adjust the seasoning.

2. To make the filling, thinly slice the pineapple, place in a small saucepan, and add the sugar and salt. Bring the pineapple to a boil and then lower the heat to a simmer. While the pineapple is cooking, toast the coconut in a dry frying pan over medium heat, tossing it carefully so that it doesn’t burn. When it is lightly toasted, remove the coconut to a small work bowl. As the pineapple cooks down, the sugars will start to caramelize and bubble, so use a silicone spatula to continually scrape the bottom of the pan to keep the sugar from burning. When the pineapple is cooked and the syrup is nice and thick, scrape the pineapple and syrup into the coconut.

3. Rinse the now-pliable lotus leaf well and pat it more or less dry. Select an 8-cup heatproof bowl and lay the leaf, green-side down, in the bowl: this will be the top of the dessert when you unmold it. Spray the stem side of the leaf with oil.

4. Now comes the fun part: decorating and filling the rice pudding. For directions on this, as well as serving the dessert, see the diagram below.

5. Place the bowl in the steamer and steam over medium heat for about 1 hour. Cool the dessert for 10 minutes or so, as this will help stabilize the rice. Bring the leaf-covered mound to the table and unveil it dramatically so your guests can enjoy the design before you all dig in.

If you want to make this the traditional way, use 5 tablespoons sugar in the rice instead of the brown sugar and syrup. Also melt 3 tablespoons lard and use it in place of the butter.

The most common filling is sweet red bean paste. To get rid of the metallic taste of the canned paste, set a wok over medium heat and add about 2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil. Stir in 1 cup sweetened red bean paste and ½ teaspoon sea salt. Fry the bean paste in the oil until the oil has been completely absorbed by the paste. Let cool before using. I also recommend that you reduce the sugar in the rice by half. You can also use the red bean paste , with or without the chestnuts.

The lotus leaf is optional. For plain eight treasure rice, coat the inside of an 8-cup heatproof bowl with lard or white shortening and then proceed to decorate and fill as directed.

Rice Pearl and Tangerine Petal Sweet Soup

Júgēng tāngyuán 橘羹湯圓

JIANGXI • SERVES 4 TO 6

Sticky rice is popular all over China. It is especially prominent in dishes from the southern coastal zones, where it has turned into a staple of many local cuisines. Outside of these areas, though, it mainly appears as a flour that is mixed with cool water to form a paste, which is then either boiled, steamed, or fried; this is often referred to as cíbā 糍粑 in the southern regions (this page ) or “rice cakes” in other places. It is even popular in North China, where it regularly appears in the local sweets, such as Rolling Donkeys . The paste is also used to make tangyuan , the rice-dough balls that are beloved in so many parts of China and are an integral part of both Winter Solstice and Lunar New Year celebrations. Large or small, stuffed or plain, sweet or savory, deep-fried or boiled, these chewy delights are invariably delicious.

But one of the most unusual recipes for sticky rice paste that I’ve come across is this one from Jiangxi Province. Virtually unknown outside Jiangxi, Rice Pearl and Tangerine Petal Soup is truly worthy of greater fame. The following recipe features canned mandarin segments, a slightly sweet broth, and plain little rice pearls. Because of the tangerines in the soup, which are a sign of good luck, this dish is often served for New Year. To make it even more festive, I’ve colored the rice flour with a touch of red food coloring.

1. First make the rice pearls by placing the rice flour in a medium work bowl. Make a small well in the flour, stir the optional food coloring into the water, and mix this with the flour to form a soft dough. Place the dough on a smooth surface and knead it briefly. Roll the dough into a long rope about ½ inch thick, then break or cut the rope into about 36 pieces. Roll each piece into a small ball. These can be made ahead of time and frozen (see Tips ).

2. Bring the water to a boil in a medium saucepan and then add the rice pearls in loose handfuls so that they do not stick together; stir after each addition to help separate the little balls. As soon as the water comes to a boil again and the pearls rise to the surface, add the can of mandarin orange segments and their juice and the sugar to the rice balls. Bring to a boil once again and add more sugar or agave syrup to taste. Serve immediately so the rice pearls do not soften.

There are many different brands of canned mandarin (tangerine) segments out there; get a high-quality one with light syrup.

The rice pearls can be made ahead of time and frozen on a baking sheet lined with plastic wrap. Try not to let them stick to one another and clump up. As soon as the rice pearls are hard, place them in a freezer bag and freeze them for up to a couple of months. If the balls look cracked or if the bag is full of ice crystals, discard them and make a new batch.

Sea Moss Sandies

Táitiáo sū 苔條酥

JIANGSU • MAKES 84 TO 96

One of my favorite local cookies when I lived in Taiwan was flavored with sea moss. I know that doesn’t sound like the most tantalizing flavor in the world, but the sea moss brings with it a faint echo of the ocean and a salty edge that cuts the sweetness of what would otherwise be a plain, one-note cookie.

I experimented with these flavors a bit, and what I ended up with are buttery shortbread wafers with an unabashedly moss green hue. In addition to this gorgeous color, the saltiness and delectable aroma of the main ingredient remain highlighted here.

When you open your package of sea moss, it will look for all the world like you have a couple hanks of green hair. I’ve found that the best way to deal with this ingredient here is to toss the whole bunch into a food processor and pulse away until the sea moss is broken down into little shards. You can then proceed to make the rest of the cookie dough in the processor. It ends up taking no more than a few minutes to put together.

1. Pull the sea moss apart into manageable strands, shake them to dislodge any sand, and place them in a food processor. Pulse the sea moss until coarsely chopped. Add the flour and powdered sugar and grind these dry ingredients together until the sea moss is reduced to a fine powder. Add the butter and pulse the mixture until a crumbly mass forms.

2. Divide the dough in half and place each piece on a sheet of plastic wrap. Form each half into a smooth log a little over 1 inch in diameter. Wrap the logs in the plastic wrap and either roll them up in silicone baking mats or slide them into empty paper towel tubes, which will help the logs keep their shape. If you have neither, roll the dough again on a flat board just before cutting it to make logs as round as possible. Freeze the dough for about 1 hour to make it easier to slice.

3. Heat the oven to 350°F. Cut the dough into ¼-inch-thick slices. Place them about 1 inch apart on baking sheets lined with nonstick baking mats or parchment paper.

4. Bake the cookies for 12 to 15 minutes, until the edges are golden; rotate the sheets back to front halfway through the baking time. The cookies will be fragile, so cool them on the baking sheets before removing them. If you wish, dust the cookies with a little powdered sugar before serving. The cookies taste best after they have cooled completely, as they are crispier and the sea moss flavor is more pronounced.

5. Store the cookies in an airtight container; freeze for longer storage.

Sea moss, or taitiao (moss strands), is becoming more and more common in Chinese groceries (see this page ), so look for it next time you’re at an Asian grocery. It will probably be near the dried seaweed.

Crystal Lychees

Shuĭjīng lìzhī 水晶荔枝

NORTHERN FUJIAN • SERVES 6 TO 8

During the Tang dynasty, imperial consort Yang Guifei was renowned for her appetite as much as she was for her beauty. She was a favorite of Emperor Xuanzong, and it is said that she loved lychees with such passion that a relay delivery system was instated by the emperor to quickly transport these fragile tropical fruits from southern China to the capital, Chang’an, in the north. Yang Guifei wanted them to be as fresh as possible, and if you’ve ever had a perfectly ripe lychee (or litchi), you’ll understand why.

In Taiwan I was always more than willing to put up with the excruciatingly humid July weather just to eat fresh lychees. At their pinnacle of ripeness, they have a delectable sweet-and-sour taste that seems gently carbonated. Lychees are in season for only a very short time during the summer—about six weeks—so take advantage of their availability while you can.

1. Chill a 5- to 6-cup container in the freezer while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. If you have fresh lychees, reserve about 6 of the prettiest ones unpeeled as a garnish. Rinse the rest of the fresh lychees, peel, and use a paring knife to remove the pits. Be sure to cut the fruit over a bowl so that you save any juices. If you’re using canned lychees, drain the fruit and reserve the syrup. Measure the syrup and add enough water to make 4 cups liquid.

3. Pour ¼ cup of the water into a medium work bowl, sprinkle the gelatin on top, and let soften for 3 to 5 minutes. If using fresh lychees, bring the remaining 3 cups water to a boil in a saucepan. If using canned lychees, bring the syrup-water mixture to a boil in a saucepan. Remove the boiling liquid from the heat. Add the sugar to the gelatin mixture, then stir in the boiling water to dissolve the sugar and gelatin. Taste and add more sugar, if needed. Allow the liquid to come to room temperature and then add the lemon juice.

4. Arrange the lychees in the bottom of the chilled mold so that the cut sections face inside. This way you will have only smooth, rounded surfaces showing when you unmold the jelly. Pour a thin (½-inch) layer of the gelatin over the fruit and immediately refrigerate the mold for about 10 minutes, until the gelatin has solidified. Pour the rest of the gelatin into the mold, cover, and refrigerate for a few hours until the gelatin firms up.

5. Just before serving, briefly run warm tap water over the bottom of the mold to loosen it. Swiftly turn the mold over onto a plate and gently shake the mold again so the jelly plops down onto the serving plate. If it doesn’t, run more warm water over the outside of the mold and try again. Garnish the jelly with the optional reserved lychees. Clean and dry some citrus leaves, if desired, and arrange them around the jelly. Serve immediately.

Candied Kumquats

Jīnjú táng 金橘糖

ANHUI • MAKES ABOUT 2 POUNDS

Candied kumquats are always one of the highlights of Chinese New Year. Good-quality ones are hard to find outside of China, but you can make them at home. Kumquats are given three hot baths to remove the bitterness from their skin and to tenderize them so that they will soak up the syrup later on.

The challenge with this recipe is keeping the fruits from bursting, because you want the finished candy to retain that lovely kumquat shape. The secret to this is pricking the fruit all over to allow steam to escape. The other key is not to boil them for more than a moment. Poaching and soaking the kumquats in hot syrup between boilings gives the skins time to toughen up again, which lends the candied skins their characteristic chewiness.

1. This recipe will take a couple of days of leisurely preparation interspersed with long rests. Wash the kumquats carefully and discard any that don’t look perfect. The ends of the stems can be left on the fruit if they are trimmed very short. Prick the kumquats all over (at least 10 times) with a pin or skewer. Place the kumquats in a 2-quart saucepan and cover with cool water. Bring the water to a boil, cover the pan, and remove it from the heat. Allow the water to cool down a bit (at least half an hour), pour off the water, cover the kumquats with fresh cool water, and bring the pot to a boil again. Boil and rest the kumquats 3 times. You can do this part ahead of time, if you wish, and refrigerate the cooked kumquats for a day or two.

2. In the same pan, combine the kumquats, sugar, water, salt, and cream of tartar. Bring the mixture to a full boil, then reduce the heat to very low so that there is almost no movement in the pan (the kumquats will be very tender at this point and can fall apart easily). Slowly cook the fruit for about an hour, until it looks translucent and dark. Remove from the heat, cover, and let the fruit sit overnight in the syrup.

3. The next day, bring the syrup and fruit to a boil, cover the pan, and turn off the heat. Let the kumquats and syrup return to room temperature. Do this 3 times until the kumquats look like balls of pure amber.

4. Thoroughly drain the kumquats (reserve the syrup for something else; see Tip ) on a wire rack overnight. Place about 1 cup of sugar on a rimmed plate or tray and roll a few of the sticky kumquats at a time in the sugar until they are completely coated. Place the sugared kumquats in an airtight container with extra sugar around them and store in a cool, dark place.

The syrup can be used over pancakes or waffles, like a runny marmalade. It can also be used as a flavoring for sparkling water or as a delicious coating for baked ham. Use any broken kumquats for cooking (like in Lotus Leaf Eight Treasure Rice ) and save the pretty ones for serving with tea.

Sweet Stuffed Lotus Roots

Jiāngmĭ lián’ŏu 江米蓮藕

JIANGSU • SERVES 6 TO 8

October is the best time of the year for lotus roots—or so I was told by a lotus farmer in Modesto, California, many years ago. He scoffed at the tubers that were for sale the rest of the year and told me they had been in storage for too long or weren’t ripe enough. Surrounded as he was by ponds full of insanely beautiful lotus blossoms of every imaginable color, I figured he knew what he was talking about.

Lotus roots are actually long tubers that grow horizontally in the mud under the lotus plants; the real roots are the hairs that bristle out from between the white segments. Peeled and cut into slices, these tubers are lacy and perfectly patterned. You can cube them and then blanch and pickle the cubes , thinly slice them and deep-fry the slices to make chips , or use them as meaty chunks in Lotus Root and Pork Rib Soup .

This recipe is less sweet than most versions. I prefer to let the distinct aroma of the lotus root and rice shine through. If you would like it sweeter, add more rock sugar toward the end. As with all chilled desserts, keep in mind that the lotus root will taste less sweet when it is cold.

1. Using a potato peeler, peel the lotus roots and trim the joints at either end so that they lie flush with the root. Cut off about ¾ inch from one end, which will serve as a cap. Rinse out the insides with cool tap water, use a chopstick to scrape off any mud you see, and then drain the roots (see this page ).

2. Place the rice in a sieve and rinse under running water; shake dry. If using black Thai rice, grind it very coarsely in a mini food processor or mortar so that the grains are chopped more or less in half. For directions on how to stuff and cook the lotus roots, see the diagram .

3. Continue to cook the lotus roots for another hour, adding more water only if the sauce boils down too quickly. After the roots have been cooked for a total of 3 hours, remove them to a container to cool off. Add the osmanthus blossom syrup (or the lemon zest plus the extra sugar and the salt) to the pan and boil the sauce down rapidly until it is the consistency of maple syrup. Cool the sauce to room temperature and pour it over the lotus roots. Cover and refrigerate overnight or longer.

4. To serve, remove the caps and cut off the other ends. Cut the roots into slices about ½ inch thick. Arrange the slices, overlapping them, on a rimmed serving plate. Pour the sauce over the slices and serve with hot green tea.

Traditionally, round sticky rice fills the holes in the lotus root, but I prefer Thai black rice. It smells divine as it cooks and turns everything a beautiful shade of purple.

Beverages

The Perfect Pot of Chinese Tea

Rúhé qīhǎo Zhōngguó chá 如何汔好中國茶

EVERYWHERE IN CHINA

Tea made its way into China centuries ago, and it has long been the national drink of the Chinese people. Basically, there are three main kinds of tea leaves: green (unfermented), oolong (semi-
fermented), and black (fermented). Green tea (lǜchá 綠茶 ) has long needles with a fresh green color; oolong (wūlóng 烏龍 ) is dark olive and is curled from being rubbed before fermentation; and black tea (hóngchá 紅茶 ) tends to be wrinkled and inky. In addition, you can also find white tea (báichá 白茶 ), flower teas (huāchá 花茶 , see this page ), and a large family of compressed black teas, which includes varieties like pu’er (pŭěr 普洱 ) and the bowl-shaped tuocha (tuóchá 沱茶 ). And that’s just the start of it.

The most important factors in tea preparation are water quality and temperature. Hard water tastes harsh, but if you use a water softener, the water will be salty. Use a good filter or spring water for the best results. When it comes to temperature, in general, the darker the tea leaves, the hotter the water should be. Green teas need to be brewed at temperatures between 140°F and 185°F in order to avoid dissolving their tannins. With oolong teas, strive for about 200°F, which can be achieved by bringing the kettle to a full boil and then letting it sit for a few minutes. Water must be at a full boil for black teas. Experience and personal tastes will outweigh any advice that can be given, however, since all of these teas have quirks that influence the end result. For example, the age of a tea and how the tea has been stored will determine the ideal water temperature and steeping time.

Get your loose-leaf tea from a reputable tea merchant, if possible, and see whether you can sample it before deciding. With the exception of compressed black teas (see Butter Tea , which are often aged for decades before reaching their peak potential, most teas are best when they are fresh. This is why you should not buy too much tea at one time, and keep what you do buy in an airtight container in a cool, dry, dark place.

Chrysanthemum Tea

Hángzhōu júhuāchá 杭州菊花茶

ZHEJIANG • SERVES 4

Hangzhou is famous for its dried chrysanthemums, which are brewed as an herbal tea that smells of honey and is traditionally drunk as a steaming hot beverage in autumn. But the dried chrysanthemums are available all year-round, if you know where to look.

Lots of people slap the name “Hangzhou” on the package when they wrap up these little golden flowers, so look around for a quality Chinese dried-foods or herb shop that sells the real deal. The blossoms should be compressed into a little brick, and when you hold it up to your nose, it should smell intensely of fresh chrysanthemums. Keep the blossoms in a dark cupboard and use them up within a couple of months so that their flavor doesn’t fade away.

1. Place the blossoms in a saucepan or teapot. Cover them with freshly boiled water, swirl the flowers around to release any dust or flotsam, then dump out all the water. Immediately cover the blossoms with about 4 cups of slightly less hot water (bring the water to a full boil and then let it sit for a few minutes), cover, and let steep for about 5 minutes.

2. These blossoms are naturally honey flavored, but they certainly go well with whatever sweetener you like. Serve this tea hot or ice-cold. The flowers can be brewed one more time before their flavor is exhausted.

Red Date Nectar

Hóngzǎo lù 紅棗露

SHANGHAI • MAKES ABOUT 8 CUPS

Chinese red dates have an unfortunate English translation: “jujubes.” I much prefer calling them red dates to avoid dredging up memories of movie theater candies that are not even remotely as delicious as these beautiful mahogany fruits.

1. Rinse the dates and discard any imperfect ones. Slash each date in several places so that they fall apart easily as they cook. Place the dates in a large saucepan, add 8 cups of the water, and bring the water to a full boil. Lower the heat to a simmer, cover, and cook the dates slowly for an hour. Let the dates sit in the hot water until they are completely cooled down.

2. Strain the juice to remove the pulp, skins, and pits, and then press down lightly on the pulp. Return the solids to the saucepan, add the remaining 4 cups water, and simmer the dates covered for another 20 minutes or so to extract every last bit of flavor. Let the pan cool down, strain out the solids, and add this liquid to the first batch.

3. Taste the juice and add honey to taste, remembering that the nectar will taste less sweet when it is cold. Cover and chill the nectar for a couple of hours and serve it chilled.

THE COASTAL SOUTHEAST

THE HAKKA · CHAOZHOU · SOUTHERN FUJIAN · TAIWAN TAIWAN’S MILITARY FAMILIES · HAINAN · GUANGDONG AND SOUTHERN GUANGXI PEARL RIVER DELTA · MACAU · HONG KONG

N estled along the southeastern coast of China lies a group of cuisines that share a deep love for poultry and pork, for both dried and fresh ingredients, for soups of any kind, and for the rich, savory flavors that only the region’s fermented ingredients can provide. The coastal territories of this area—and they constitute the vast majority of the region—are well known for their delicious methods of preparing seafood. Meanwhile, further inland, in Southern Fujian and along the northeastern edge of Guangdong, cooking styles are still influenced by the ancient ingredients and techniques of the North China Plains.

The lower half of China’s Coastal Southeast is home to what the West refers to as “Cantonese food,” and which the Chinese call “the Guangdong School.” Canton is actually the old name for the capital city of Guangzhou, which was derived from the Portuguese name for the city, Cantão. Its cuisine was shaped by the agricultural output of the enormous Pearl River, and it is known for its ethereal, delicate dishes. The food culture here has its heart in Guangzhou, and the dishes of this old city have gradually trickled south and west. As a result, the Pearl River Delta, Southern Guangxi, Hong Kong, and Macau are now home to intriguing interpretations of Guangzhou’s dishes.

In the northeastern half of Guangdong and in Southern Fujian, the cooking styles are vastly different. Here, among the rocky hills and rough coastlines along the South China Sea, a more down-home style of cooking is exhibited by three major cuisines: Hakka, Chaozhou, and Southern Fujian. These culinary traditions incorporate the indigenous cooking styles and fermented ingredients of the North China Plain, and they have served as a template for the foods on Taiwan and Hainan. Both of those islands have had many other culinary influences, as well, and over the past seventy years, Taiwan has become a second home to a kaleidoscope of cuisines, turning the island into a microcosm of everything China has to offer.

THE HAKKA

Almost two thousand years ago, wars and civil unrest on the North China Plain dislodged groups of Han Chinese and forced them into the south’s less settled lands. These refugees were the ancestors of the people now known as the Hakka. Over the centuries, waves of people continued to flee south, and the Hakka developed communities in northeastern Guangdong’s hill country and the surrounding areas. They also developed a cuisine that would become the backbone of southern China’s heartiest foods.

Unlike most cuisines in China, Hakka food is defined by a group of people rather than a geographical region. The majority of the Hakka live in China’s southeast quadrant, with the main concentration near Meizhou in northern Guangdong. Although no conclusive evidence exists proving exactly where the Hakka people originated, many scholars think they first migrated from the Yellow River in the north and arrived in Guangdong as early as the second century BCE. The fragile welcome they received was enshrined in the nickname locals gave them: Hakka, or “guest families.”

The Hakka had to make do with whatever unclaimed territory they could find, and so frugality became a defining characteristic of their foods. Their dishes are simply seasoned with a variety of dried and fermented ingredients, which give recipes such as Pork Belly with Preserved Mustard Greens and even a simple Salted Radish Omelet their characteristically satisfying range of flavors and textures. With the exception of Hakka feast foods like Salt-Baked Chicken , expensive proteins are generally used as garnishes for starches and vegetables, as in Hakka Tamales . Echoes of their former homeland in the north can still be tasted in foods like Braised Stuffed Bean Curd , in which bean curd stands in for the wheat wrappers of Shandong-style jiaozi . Over time, the Hakka spread throughout the Coastal Southeast, and, as a result, some of their homey dishes can be found in the neighboring cuisines of Southern Fujian and Chaozhou.

CHAOZHOU

The river port of Chaozhou lies in eastern Guangdong, about halfway between the Hakka highlands and the Fujian coast. And so, while the greater Chaozhou area (also known as Teochew or Chiuchow) lies within the borders of Guangdong, its foods are most heavily influenced by the cuisines of the Hakka and Southern Fujian. In fact, these three cuisines are so closely related that they often claim one another’s recipes as their own (this often happens with Sesame Oil Chicken Soup ). The reason is simple: their adherents most likely have common ancestors. Although they arrived at different times, all three groups are believed to have descended from the Han Chinese who fled here from the North China Plain.

Chaozhou cuisine is most notable for the way seafood is prepared. Textural contrast is particularly essential here, as can be seen in Whole Dry-Fried Flounder , where the flatfish’s frilly fins fry up like crispy potato chips. But flavor is important also, and two distinctive seasonings define most local foods: shacha (Chinese satay sauce) and fish sauce. Shacha is a complex mixture of dried ingredients: ground fish, scallops, shrimp, chilies, sesame seeds, and coconut, as well as fresh shallots. It adds a mysterious depth to Stir-Fried Rice Noodles and Satay Beef . Fish sauce, on the other hand, supplies a xianwei (see this page ) boost to buttery Chaozhou Shrimp Skewers .

SOUTHERN FUJIAN

Isolated from each other by forbidding mountains and a craggy coastline, the upper and lower expanses of Fujian Province developed independent cultures and dialects. Their foods are deliciously different, too: Northern Fujian’s cuisine (see this page ) echoes the sweet, wine-infused flavors of its neighbor Zhejiang, while Southern Fujian’s dishes resonate with the preserved and dried seasonings of Chaozhou and the Hakka. The cuisine in the south often contrasts strongly seasoned sauces or fillings against a gentle background of rice paste, rice noodles, or steamed rice, as can be tasted in Diced Braised Pork over Rice . Seafood makes its way into almost every meal. While it often appears as a straightforward panfried fish seasoned with a simple dash of salt, dishes such as Oyster Spring Rolls offer more creative formulations. And every part of the pig is prized in Southern Fujian.

More than anything else, however, Southern Fujian’s clear soups, thick chowders, and dipping sauces set its cuisine apart. These broths are usually based on pork or poultry and seasoned with ginger and medicinal herbs, as in Angelica Duck Soup . Many of its other soups are breathtakingly simple: for example, one night-market favorite involves giving fresh oysters a quick bath in boiling water and then seasoning this broth with slivered ginger and rice wine. And then there are Southern Fujian’s delicious dipping sauces. Used in dishes like Blanched Squid with Garlicky Dipping Sauce and those Oyster Spring Rolls, these sauces offer a bright contrast to the clean flavors of the meat or seafood they accompany.

TAIWAN

The majority of today’s ethnic Taiwanese can trace their ancestry back to the cities of Quanzhou, Zhangzhou, and Xiamen in Southern Fujian (see this page ). All of these places happen to be located to the northeast of Chaozhou, which is one reason why the foods of Taiwan and Chaozhou share many flavors. Clear broths like herb-infused Sesame Oil Chicken Soup are typical here, as well as rich, savory favorites such as Diced Braised Pork over Rice . Even the sweets seem related: the recipe for The Wife’s Cookies of Chaozhou , for example, closely resembles the Taiwanese recipe for Sun Cookies . In addition to Southern Fujian and Chaozhou’s influences, Taiwanese food is imbued with the flavors of the Japanese, who occupied the island from 1895 to 1945. This is clearly evidenced in dishes such as Cold Bamboo Shoots with Mayonnaise and by the local penchant for sprinkling dried bonito (katsuobushi ) shavings over Bean Curd with Pine Flower Preserved Eggs .

But Taiwan’s traditional cuisines were reshuffled at the close of China’s civil war in 1949, when countless Mainlanders followed Chiang Kai-shek, the leader of the Republic of China, into exile on the island. Suddenly, for the first time ever, the cooking traditions of every region in China became available in one place. This is one of the reasons why many people in Taiwan now consider certain dishes that have incredibly distant origins, such as Yunnan’s Cod with Crispy Bean Sauce , Shandong’s Soymilk , Lanzhou Beef Noodle Soup , or Chaozhou’s Whole Dry-Fried Flounder , as nothing less than Taiwanese specialties.

TAIWAN’S MILITARY FAMILIES

Juàncūncài 眷村菜 , or “military family dishes,” is a unique school of Taiwanese fusion cookery. These laid-back, home-style recipes often combine flavors from different regions throughout China. This cuisine emerged in Taiwan’s military compounds, where officers and enlisted men lived with their families. These people came from different provinces, and the eateries they opened close by their homes mixed together cuisines from all over the country. The new dishes they created were highly savory and also economical. In Stir-Fried Grilled Breads , for example, an abundance of vegetables and starches stand in for the lack of meat, and satisfying pasta dishes such as Zhajiang Noodles and Sesame Noodles make for hearty and affordable meals all by themselves.

HAINAN

The foods of this subtropical isle located near the Gulf of Tonkin seem like a mix of the cuisines of Chaozhou, Southern Fujian, and Hawaii. Coconut and peanuts season the local Taro Rice , and the Lemon Cashews taste a bit like the salted, preserved snacks that Hawaiians call “crack seed,” which, by the way, were originally a Chaozhou treat. Sweets here are often made of sticky rice flour and steamed, as evidenced by the mochi -like creations called Ciba that are also popular throughout the Coastal Southeast.

Since the island is almost directly connected to the Chinese mainland via the Leizhou Peninsula, some of Hainan’s recipes have a distinct Cantonese cast. These are almost always the dishes with the lightest seasonings. One of Hainan’s most famous foods, for example, is Hainan Chicken and Rice , which appears to be a local variation on Guangdong’s White-Cut Chicken . As would be expected on a South China Sea island, seafood and tropical fruits are hugely important. Crab, in particular, is a famed local ingredient and finds its way onto most of Hainan’s tables. When it comes to fruit, jackfruit is very popular and is often combined with things like chicken in simple stir-fries.

G uangdong and its related cuisines are grouped together here because all of them boast dishes with ethereal textures. Their delicate flavor spectrums also tend to be in stark contrast to the heartier cooking traditions of the Hakka, Southern Fujian, and Chaozhou. The following four stellar cuisines have all evolved in low wetlands and seaside metropolises within comfortable reach of Guangzhou. It is no wonder that Guangdong is the undisputed queen of southern China’s cuisines.

GUANGDONG AND SOUTHERN GUANGXI

The Guangdong School invariably centers on the foods of the capital city. Straddling the network of rivers, channels, and streams that crisscross the Pearl River Delta, Guangzhou is home to fish dishes of every type, as well as to some of the country’s best recipes for poultry and pork. To the west of Guangdong is the province of Guangxi. Because its lowermost flatlands used to be part of Guangdong, Southern Guangxi’s dishes mirror those of its neighbor to the east, as in Wuzhou Paper-Wrapped Chicken , while Northern Guangxi (see this page ) and its tribal people are more aligned, taste-wise, with the spicy foods of the Central Highlands.

In Guangdong, simply treated fare like Guangdong-Style Steamed Fish and White-Cut Chicken are paeans to the beauty of a single ingredient, while preserved ingredients provide powerful xianwei punches in dishes such as Steamed Minced Pork with Salted Fish . Guangzhou is known, too, for its dim sum, such as Cheong Fun . This ancient metropolis is also where many of China’s finest roast meats first emerged, including Char Siu . Rice is always found on the table in Guangzhou, and it often forms the foundation of a meal, as in Congee and Crusty Rice with Charcuterie .

PEARL RIVER DELTA

Downriver from Guangzhou is a marshy land with an especially enchanting cuisine. A braided network of rivers and channels defines this region, which was home to the silk industry over five hundred years ago. Countless mulberry trees were planted to feed the silkworms, and the land beneath these trees was devoted to aquaculture. As a result, fish are a major staple of the region’s cuisine (along with produce and, surprisingly, dairy cattle). The hub for all this abundance is Shunde, a town thought to be home to 80 to 90 percent of the Guangdong-style chefs in China.

Freshwater fish is so plentiful around here that it is sometimes substituted for other ingredients. For example, in Shunde Braised Fish Puffs , carp takes the place of bean curd in a startlingly delectable way. Another exciting dish from this cuisine is Shunde Raw Fish , in which paper-thin slices of uncooked grass carp are tossed in with fried garlic, dried laver seaweed, sesame seeds, toasty taro, and more. Few places in China adore fresh dairy as much as people do here, and cow’s milk is used in inventive dishes such as Stir-Fried Milk with Crab and Ginger Milk Pudding .

MACAU

Perched on the southern edge of the mouth of the Pearl River, Macau is composed of a tiny peninsula and two islands. For almost 450 years, until 1999, it was a Portuguese colony and, as a result, its foods demonstrate the most European influences of any Chinese cuisine. But the influences in Macau are not strictly Iberian. As one of the legacies of Portugal’s colonial history, many international elements can be found in Macau. For example, you can taste the flavors of Goa, another former Portuguese colony on the west coast of India, in Portuguese Chicken , a creamy dish seasoned with curry and coconut milk. And the origins of African Chicken , a perennial local favorite in Macau, can possibly be traced back to Portugal’s foray into Angola. More traditional Portuguese flavors can be tasted in recipes like Macanese Bacalau , a salt cod dish that is cooked with potatoes and black olives, as well as such Chinese touches as coconut cream and ginger.

HONG KONG

Hong Kong’s dishes are the most well-known offspring of Guangzhou cuisine. The lingering culinary influence of Great Britain, which controlled this city on the northern edge of the Pearl River estuary until 1997, is one of the things that makes its foods so unique. Hong Kong Milk Tea is a good example of Britain’s influence. After the Chinese Civil War, many of the finest chefs from Guangzhou, the Pearl River Delta, and Chaozhou relocated here, and the presence of all these different cooking styles has fostered a culture of innovation and experimentation. Classic Hong Kong cuisine often emphasizes clear, fresh flavors, as in Savory Crab and Cellophane Noodles and Typhoon Shelter Crab . Over the years, however, Hong Kong’s tastes have moved toward clever reinterpretations of Guangzhou’s specialties, such as Steamed Fish with Three Kinds of Olives .

M y late father-in-law was the eldest son of a county governor. He was expected to marry the country girl his father had selected for him and inherit his father’s prominent position in life. Despite this grooming and the relative luxury of his home in a Hakka village not too far from Meizhou, Huang Lung-chin left it all behind when he joined the fight against the Japanese invasion of his homeland in 1937. He became a decorated fighter pilot in the Nationalist Air Force, was severely wounded in one of his numerous dogfights, and was one of the few officers invited to Japan’s official surrender in Nanjing in 1945.

In 1949, along with his young bride and their children, Huang Lung-chin left the Mainland for Taiwan, along with many other Nationalists. The Communists were closing in on Guangzhou, and my father-in-law and his family escaped on one of the last planes leaving the city. Chiang Kai-shek, the leader of the Nationalists, had promised that this exile would be temporary, and Huang Lung-chin assumed that he would return to his hometown one day. But the years passed, and the possibility of a return became more and more remote. He never saw his parents again.

When I finally met my father-in-law, he was a retired colonel with a shy smile. Gonggong, as I called him, had a tiny apartment in Los Angeles’s Chinatown, where he cooked delicious Hakka- and Guangdong-style dishes. He reserved the most laborious ones for his Chinese New Year’s Eve dinners, when all of the family would gather together. I was the only one who liked to help him in the kitchen, so I became his apprentice of sorts. He taught me how to cook fish perfectly, and through him, I fell in love with the savory dishes of his hometown.

It was at Gonggong’s side that I first began to learn about Chinese cooking traditions. He was very generous with his knowledge, and he taught me the things his parents had once taught him. He turned out to be a fount of ancient culinary information. But perhaps more important, Gonggong taught me about self-reliance and perseverance: despite the historical and cultural hurdles he was forced to reckon with in his lifetime, Gonggong managed to fashion a life of his own design. He refused to be hemmed in by traditions or external forces that would have kept him bound to one place or one time or one way of living. Instead, he lived large and free, fearlessly pursuing his own path. He is, without doubt, my greatest inspiration. •

Appetizers & Small Plates

Cold Bamboo Shoots with Mayonnaise

Liángbàn zhúsŭn 涼拌竹筍

TAIWAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

Taiwan spent fifty years under Japanese occupation, from 1895 to 1945, and the culinary influence has never left. The fresh seafood available on the island is part of the reason why the Japanese cuisine there is so wonderful, but I’m also fond of it because it has been inflected with Chinese flavors.

To make this local specialty, fat winter bamboo shoots are cooked until barely tender, chilled, and then drizzled with ribbons of Japanese mayo. Overall, it’s a very simple dish, but make sure you check out the entry for winter bamboo shoots in the glossary (see this page ) for help in selecting the main ingredient.

1. Start this recipe at least 4 hours—and up to 3 days—before serving. If using fresh bamboo shoots, peel them (see Tip ). Trim off any less-than-perfect bits and cut the shoots into chunks about 1 inch all around; this uniform size will help them cook evenly.

2. Rinse the shoots and place them in a medium saucepan. Cover with water and add the salt. Bring the water to a full boil over high heat and then reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cook the shoots until the thickest piece can be easily pierced with a paring knife, about 15 minutes for frozen shoots and about 30 minutes for fresh. Drain, rinse with cool tap water, and drain again in a colander. Allow them to cool to room temperature and then refrigerate for a couple of hours to chill them completely.

3. Just before serving, clean and dry the optional lettuce leaves and arrange them on a serving plate. Mound the chilled bamboo shoots on top of the lettuce and drizzle them with the mayo.

Another way to prepare your bamboo shoots is to cook them in salted, defatted chicken stock. If you like, you can season the stock with rice wine, ginger, and green onions. The bamboo shoots will be much more flavorful this way, and they won’t need any garnish.

Lemon Cashews

Níngméng yāoguŏ 檸檬腰果

HAINAN • MAKES ABOUT 2 CUPS

One of Hainan’s more interesting crops is the cashew, which grows in areas that are too dry for anything else. These nuts are actually seeds that grow on the bottom of a pear-shaped fruit, so each cashew must be individually harvested and shelled. In Hainan, they are sometimes deep-fried and then tossed with lemon, powdered hawthorn fruit (shanzha ), and a light syrup. The resulting bar snack is wonderfully tart and salty.

1. Scrub the lemon well, wipe dry, and zest it with a fine grater. Cut the lemon in half and squeeze out 3 tablespoons juice. Use a spice grinder to pulverize the hawthorn fruits, then shake them through a fine sieve to remove anything that isn’t reduced to a powder, as the seeds can be extremely hard and have been known to crack teeth. Combine the hawthorn powder with the lemon zest and black pepper in a small bowl.

2. Place the cashews in a wok and barely cover them with cool oil. Turn on the heat to medium and slowly fry the nuts, stirring often, until they are golden brown. Adjust the heat as necessary to keep them bubbling nicely without burning. Don’t walk away from the stove, as cashews brown very quickly. When the nuts are cooked through, empty the oil and nuts into a sieve set over a large, heatproof work bowl. Let the cashews drain while you prepare the syrup. Spray a large platter or rimmed baking sheet with oil.

3. Wipe out the wok and return it to the stove. Place the sugar, water, salt, and lemon juice in the wok and bring them to a boil over medium-high heat. Boil this mixture until it bubbles and becomes very thick, then add the fried cashews. Toss the nuts continuously in the syrup to coat them well; don’t stop tossing until almost all of the syrup has been absorbed. At the last minute, add the lemon zest mixture. Toss again and turn the cashews out onto the platter to cool. Store in a tightly closed container, preferably in the refrigerator.

Shunde Raw Fish

Shùndé yúshēng 順德魚生

PEARL RIVER DELTA • SERVES 4 TO 6

Raw fish is usually known outside of China by its Japanese name, sashimi. But raw preparations are popular in China as well, where they’ve been enjoyed for at least two thousand years. They are particularly common in the Coastal Southeast, and my favorite rendition is this recipe, which comes from the Shunde area of the Pearl River Delta.

A visually stunning dish, this appetizer is usually reserved for a banquet. The fish slices are arranged in a single layer, often on a frozen platter or a large bed of ice. Unlike Japanese sashimi, the raw fish of Shunde are given a wide variety of complements: peanuts, sesame seeds, deep-fried taro, fried garlic, and other seasonings are served on the side for diners to use as garnishes. Here, though, I toss them all together, so that each bite has a delicious range of flavors and textures.

1. Chill a platter or individual salad plates for serving. Then make the seasoned ginger: place the ginger in a small work bowl. Mix together the sugar, vinegar, and water and microwave for about 30 seconds. Stir the liquid until the sugar dissolves and then pour it over the ginger. Marinate for at least 1 hour.

2. To make the fried garlic chips, first soak the garlic in cool water to cover for about 5 minutes and then rinse it until it feels slippery; this gets rid of the sticky juice that would otherwise make the garlic clump up. Drain the garlic well and pat the slices completely dry. Place a wok over medium heat, pour in half of the oil, and test how hot it is with a slice of garlic: if it floats and is immediately surrounded by bubbles, the oil is ready. Add all of the garlic and stir gently with chopsticks so that the slices float freely in the oil. Have a slotted spoon and plate lined with a paper towel ready. When the garlic turns a light golden brown, start paying close attention; as soon as it is a uniform golden brown, scoop it out with the spoon, shake off the oil, and spread the slices out on the paper towel. Immediately pour the garlic oil into a measuring cup and let it cool. To fry the cellophane noodles, heat the remaining oil in a wok over medium-high until it starts to shimmer. Break the cellophane noodles apart in a paper bag so that they don’t shoot out all over your kitchen. Line a large work bowl with a paper towel and have a Chinese spider or slotted spoon ready. Drop one noodle into the oil, and if it immediately puffs up, the oil is ready; if it browns, lower the heat. Fry the noodles in small handfuls, removing them from the oil as soon as they are puffy and white. Finally, to fry the taro, sprinkle it into the hot oil and gently stir until the taro is lightly browned along the edges, then remove the taro and let it cool off on a paper towel.

3. Prepare the fish by removing the skin and any dark areas (unless you like the flavor of the dark meat, of course). Slice the fluke very thinly on the diagonal, which will give you nice, wide pieces. If you are using yellowtail, slice it on the diagonal into pieces about ⅛ inch thick. Arrange the fish slices on a plate, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate immediately.

4. Toss the fried garlic and the dry condiments together in a small work bowl. Toss the moist condiments together in a medium work bowl and keep them chilled.

5. Just before serving, drain the ginger and reserve the seasoned vinegar. Add the ginger, the dry condiments, and the raw fish to the moist condiments. Toss the mixture lightly together; your hands are the best utensils for this. To make the dressing, combine all of the ingredients in a small work bowl, adjusting the ingredients to taste. Drizzle the dressing into the fresh mixture and toss again as gently as possible. Taste and add whatever seasoning you think the dish needs, then serve it immediately on the chilled platter or chilled plates.

Excellent-quality farmed carp are not yet widely available here in the United States, but I have found two very good substitutes: farm-raised yellowtail (often sold under its Japanese name, hamachi ) and the flatfish known as Korean fluke (or hirame ). Yellowtail is very good in this dish: it is buttery and has a wonderful texture. However, if I’m being really meticulous, I would have to go with the fluke, which is a leaner fish and can be sliced much more thinly. You should be able to find both at Japanese-style fish shops.

Macanese Bacalau

Zhá mǎjièxīu qíu 炸馬介休球

MACAU • SERVES 4 TO 6

Pretty much a riff on Portugal’s ethereal bacalau (salt cod) croquettes, this dish is best made in the spring, when salt cod is freshest and most available in Italian and Portuguese delicatessens. Like many dishes from Macau, it displays a delicate balance of Chinese and Portuguese flavors. I’ve made a few slight alterations here, using coconut cream instead of whipping cream and tapenade instead of olives. I suggest serving this on a lightly dressed pile of spring greens.

1. Start this recipe at least 2 days before you wish to serve it. First, soak the salt cod in cool water to cover in the refrigerator, changing the water at least once a day. After 2 days, rinse the fish, pat it dry, and run your fingers over it carefully. Use tweezers to remove any errant bones, and pull off any silver skin you find. Flake the fish, tearing apart any tough sections; if a piece is too difficult to tear easily with your fingers, discard it. Coarsely chop the fish. You should have about 2 cups flaked fish.

2. Peel the potato and cut into quarters. Place in a saucepan, cover with water, and bring to a full boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the potatoes are tender. Drain the potatoes and return them to the pan over low heat to cook off the excess moisture. After a few minutes, remove them from the stove, add the butter, and mash with a potato masher until smooth. (Do not use a food processor, as it will make the potatoes gummy.)

3. Scoop the mashed potatoes into a medium work bowl and add the flaked fish, green onions, garlic, ginger juice, soy sauce, egg, pepper, tapenade, and cilantro. Lightly mix everything together and then fold in the coconut or heavy cream. If you have the time, cover the mixture and chill it for an hour or two to make it easier to handle.

4. Next, prepare the coating, which consists of three layers. Place the potato starch in one work bowl, the eggs in another, and the bread crumbs in a third. Put 2 spoons each in the potato starch and the bread crumbs, plus a fork and a spoon in the eggs. (I like to use plastic spoons as they are thin and smooth.) Keep the utensils for each bowl separate so that they do not become heavily coated.

5. Now coat the croquettes: first, use the spoons from the potato starch bowl to scoop up about 2 tablespoons of the cod mixture. Form the cod into a rough ball and drop it into the starch. Toss the ball around to coat it, then shape it into a croquette (a long oval) between the palms of your hands. Lower this into the beaten eggs and gently roll it around to coat it completely. Lift it up with the fork so that most of the egg dribbles back into the bowl, then place the croquette in the bread crumbs. Use the 2 spoons in that bowl to gently roll the croquette around until it’s covered completely. Shape it once again between the palms of your hands and then place it on a baking sheet. Repeat with the rest of the cod and coatings. The croquettes can either be refrigerated or frozen at this point, if you wish; they will not have to be defrosted before they are fried, but reduce the heat and extend the cooking time as needed to cook them through.

6. To fry the croquettes, set a large frying pan over medium heat until the edges are hot. Pour about ¼ inch oil into the pan. Sprinkle a couple of the bread crumbs in the oil; if they bubble immediately, the oil is ready. Reduce the heat to medium-low and gently slide in as many of the croquettes as you wish to fry, or as many as will fit without touching. While the croquettes are slowly frying, heat an oven to 250°F and line a clean baking sheet with some parchment paper or paper towels. Fry the croquettes until they are a deep golden brown—but not dark brown—on the bottom. Use a spatula to carefully turn each croquette over and fry the other side; each one will take about 5 minutes’ total frying time. Remove them as they are done and place on the lined baking sheet. Keep them hot in the oven while you prepare the salad.

7. In a large bowl, mix together the vinegar, garlic, mustard, salt, and oil. Add the greens, toss well, and taste and adjust the seasoning. Distribute the salad among individual serving plates, piling it up in the center of each plate. Just before serving, arrange an equal number of the croquettes around the salads. Sprinkle with the sesame seeds. Serve immediately. The croquettes can be eaten with chopsticks or with a knife and fork.

Oyster Spring Rolls

Cuìpí héjuǎn 脆皮蚵卷

SOUTHERN FUJIAN AND TAIWAN • MAKES 12

This dish is a stunning appetizer and a wonderful accompaniment for cocktails or beer. Oyster Spring Rolls were probably invented in Quanzhou, in Southern Fujian, where so many of China’s best oyster dishes originated. I like to serve them with little more than a simple dipping sauce of soy sauce, catsup, and garlic.

1. First, make the sauce by mixing the catsup with the garlic and soy sauce. Taste and adjust the seasoning, then let the sauce mellow at room temperature while you make the rest of the dish.

2. To make the filling, rinse the oysters, taking care to remove any shell bits. Place them in a small saucepan, add water to cover, and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down to a low simmer and cook the oysters for about 2 minutes; drain and discard the water. Allow the oysters to cool off while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. Coarsely chop the oysters if they are larger than ½ inch.

3. Chop the pork belly coarsely and place it in a mini food processor. Process the pork until it has been ground into tiny pieces. Rinse and shake the bean sprouts dry, then lightly break them up with your fingers into smallish pieces. Chop the green onions into ¼-inch pieces and place in a small work bowl. Place the cilantro and bean sprouts in a medium work bowl.

4. In a dry wok, stir-fry 2 tablespoons flour over medium heat until it starts to take on a golden tinge; this will remove any raw taste. Scrape the flour out into a small work bowl, rinse out the wok, and place the wok over medium-high heat. Add the pork without any additional oil and stir-fry until it is no longer pink, then toss in the green onions. Stir-fry these until they start to wilt, then add the five-spice powder, lots of black pepper, rice wine, soy sauce, and toasted flour. Toss everything together and then scrape it out into the work bowl with the cilantro and bean sprouts.

5. In a small bowl, make a paste out of the 2 teaspoons flour and 1 tablespoon water. Open your spring roll wrapper package and remove 12 wrappers; keep them covered with a tea towel at all times, as they will dry out and crack easily. (Any wrappers you won’t be using should be placed in a resealable plastic bag and refrozen immediately.)

6. Wrap the spring rolls one at a time (for directions, see the diagram below). You can freeze the spring rolls at this point, in a single layer on some plastic wrap. When they are frozen solid, transfer them to a resealable freezer bag. They do not have to be defrosted before frying; simply lower the heat under the oil to medium-low to give them a bit more time to cook.

7. To fry the spring rolls, set a wok or frying pan over medium heat and pour in about ½ inch of oil. (If you have to cook these in batches, heat an oven or toaster oven to 275°F and have a small baking sheet lined with parchment paper or paper towels ready.) When the oil is hot, add as many spring rolls as will fit comfortably without touching. Fry them on one side until golden, then turn them over and fry the other side, 5 to 6 minutes total. Remove them to the paper towels, slice in half on the diagonal, and serve immediately with the dipping sauce.

Soups

Flower Mushroom Soup

Qīngdùn huāgū tāng 清燉花菇湯

GUANGDONG AND HONG KONG • SERVES 6 TO 8

The secret to this dish is procuring the right mushrooms. They’re called “flower mushrooms” (huagu ), and the best ones have traditionally come from Japan as high-grade shiitakes, though other places are beginning to produce them. The caps have natural furrows that look sort of like tortoise shells. Some places try to sell imitation versions, but if you look closely, you’ll see that the real ones have little bumps and ridges, while the knockoffs have had their caps sliced with razors.

This is one of those rare cases in which dried ingredients outshine fresh ones. I recommend going to a Chinese herbalist for the mushrooms, if you have one in your area. Most times, if you are polite about it and ask permission, you will be allowed to poke and prod the dried mushrooms, which are usually sold loose. This allows you to check whether the flower mushrooms are genuine.

1. Start this recipe the night before you want to serve it by rinsing off the dried mushrooms in a colander and then placing them in a medium work bowl. Cover them with about 2 cups of the water and let them soak overnight. (You can cover them with boiling water if you’re in a huge hurry, but neither the flavor nor the texture will be as good if you do so.)

2. The next day, cut the stems off the mushrooms using a pair of kitchen shears. Save the stems for your stockpot (see this page ) and reserve the soaking water for this soup. Place the trimmed mushrooms in a medium saucepan and carefully pour the soaking water through a fine-mesh sieve into the pan.

3. Add the remaining 6 cups water to the pan, as well as the ginger, whole green onions, rice wine, sugar, and soy sauce. Bring the water to a boil and then lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Cook the mushrooms for 30 to 45 minutes, until tender. Taste the stock and adjust the seasoning before removing the onions and adding the chicken fat. Serve very hot.

Sesame Oil Chicken Soup

Máyóu jī tāng 麻油雞湯

SOUTHERN FUJIAN, CHAOZHOU, AND TAIWAN • MAKES 3 TO 4 QUARTS

This soup, whose smell reminds me of Taipei, is often given to nursing mothers as a part of zuò yuèzi 坐月子 (literally, “a month of sitting”). During this period, the new mom is supposed to relax and take care of herself and her new baby. She also gets to eat a lot of nourishing food courtesy of her own mother, mother-in-law, and aunts.

Believed to encourage blood flow and produce breast milk, this soup is one of the dishes most commonly served during a mother’s confinement. The wood ear fungus is thought to combat high cholesterol, which many women suffer from after giving birth, and the ginger warms the blood, while the wolfberries act as an overall tonic. Traditional uses aside, I like to make this throughout the year, especially when anyone is feeling down or in need of a little extra TLC.

1. Pat the chicken dry and get rid of any extra fat or pinfeathers, and then use a cleaver to cut it into large pieces before whacking it across the bones into inch-wide chunks.

2. Place a wok over medium heat. When it is hot, add the oil and then the ginger. Stir the ginger occasionally as it fries so that it turns an even, golden brown. As it starts to brown a bit darker, scoot it up the sides of the wok, out of the oil, and then add all of the chicken. Turn the heat up a bit and brown the chicken on all sides, then mix the ginger back in.

3. When the chicken is nicely browned, add the rice wine, raise the heat to high, and bring the wine to a boil. Add the optional wood ears and wolfberries and then lower the heat to a gentle simmer and cook the chicken for about 30 minutes, until tender. Taste the soup and add the soy sauce only if necessary. (Be careful not to add too much—this dish might already be very savory, because cooking wines like Taiwanese mijiu contain salt.) If you wish to serve the soup over rice noodles, boil the noodles until barely tender and place them in the bottom of your soup bowls before ladling in the soup and chicken. Noodles or not, serve this very hot.

The black-skinned chickens called “silkies” in English and “black bone chickens” (wūgǔ jī 烏骨雞 ) in Chinese are considered especially nutritious and can often be found in the freezer case at Chinese groceries.

Taiwan-style rice wine is what gives this dish its distinctive flavor. The brand I use comes in a green glass bottle, has 1.5 percent salt, and says, in English, “Cooking michiu distilled spirit of rice, not for sale or use as a beverage.”

Angelica Duck Soup

Dāngguī yā 當歸鴨

SOUTHERN FUJIAN, CHAOZHOU, AND TAIWAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

In China, food and medicine have long been seen as intimately related (see this page ), and some of the tastier Chinese medicinal herbs are also employed as seasonings. In certain cities, entire restaurants are devoted to nothing but restorative dishes that feature judicious pairings of meats, vegetables, and curative herbs.

Angelica Duck Soup, which is considered particularly good for the common cold and for any time a person feels weak and rundown, is often featured at such restaurants. It incorporates wolfberries, ginger, cinnamon, and other traditional Chinese herbs, like angelica and lovage root. The end result is a warming, wholesome, and healing meal.

1. Chop (or have your butcher chop) the duck into 1-inch-wide pieces. Pat the pieces dry with a paper towel; remove any pinfeathers and viscera. Cut off and reserve the large lumps of fat around the neck and bottom of the bird. Melt the fat in a wok over medium heat until rendered; discard the solids.

2. Raise the heat to medium-high and add the ginger to the fat. Fry it until it turns a nice brown, then transfer it to a medium work bowl. Use the melted fat to fry the duck pieces in about 4 batches until brown, starting with the fattiest pieces so that the fat continues to render, and then transfer the browned duck to the bowl. Pour any fat in the bowl back into the wok but beware of the juices, which will spatter. Use a screen to protect yourself as necessary. Repeat with the rest of the duck until done and then pour out and reserve the fat.

3. Pour the rice wine into the wok and add all of the herbs and spices and the boiling water. Bring the water to a boil again and then lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Cover the wok and slowly simmer the flavor out of the herbs and into the broth for about 30 minutes.

4. Add the duck, fat (if you wish), and ginger to the broth. Bring the liquid to a boil again and then lower the heat to a simmer. Cover and simmer for about 1 hour. Taste the broth and add the soy sauce only if needed, then toss in the wolfberries, cover, and let the duck sit for another half hour to absorb the flavors. Taste and adjust the seasoning a final time. The duck can be prepared in advance up to this point, cooled, and refrigerated. Skim off the fat, if you wish.

5. To serve, heat the duck and broth to boiling, and at the same time bring a large pot of water to a boil and add the rice vermicelli. Bring the pot to a boil again, then lower to a simmer. When the vermicelli is barely done, drain it and divide it among large soup bowls. Ladle the duck, broth, and herbs over the noodles and serve.

Pork Rib and Dried Bok Choy Soup

Páigŭ gāncài tāng 排骨乾菜湯

GUANGDONG • SERVES 4 TO 6

Whenever you drop into an authentic Guangdong-style shop and order something like Crusty Rice with Charcuterie , this is most likely the soup that will be served on the side. Cheaper places will often skimp on the ingredients, but somehow the soup, which is customarily referred to as lǎohuǒ tāng 老火湯 (slow-cooked soup), is always flavorful. For this recipe, I like to soak the dried bok choy overnight and then chop it finely before adding it, which gives the vegetable a chance to break down a bit and become tender. After it is cooked, the bok choy ends up tasting slightly fermented and savory. I also add extra wine, which supplies the stock with a nice vibrancy, and throw in diced carrots, for their color as well as their sweetness.

1. Start this soup a day before you plan to serve it. Place the dried bok choy in a large pan or work bowl and cover with warm water. Let it soak overnight. The next day, drain off the water, rinse the boy choy gently, cut off the tough stem ends, and then chop into ½-inch pieces.

2. Separate the pork ribs, if necessary, and place them in a 4-quart saucepan. Cover with water and bring to a boil. Simmer the pork for about 5 minutes, dump out the water, and then rinse both the pork and the pan of any scum. Either chop the leek or split it in half lengthwise and tie it into 2 knots. Return the pork to the pan and add the ginger, leek, half of the rice wine, the bok choy, and water to cover. Bring the pan to a full boil and then lower the heat to a simmer. Cook the soup for at least 1 hour, until both the pork and the bok choy are very tender. Toss in the carrots and cook them for only a few minutes before pouring in the rest of the rice wine. Add pepper and either salt or mushroom powder to taste. Serve hot.

Another good cut for this soup is pork neck. Have the butcher chop it into bite-sized pieces.

Meaty Bone Soup

Ròugŭ chá 肉骨茶

CHAOZHOU AND SOUTHERN FUJIAN • SERVES 4

One of the most popular soups in Malaysia and Singapore is called bak kut teh , which means “meaty bone tea” in the Southern Fujian dialect. In Mandarin Chinese, the soup is called rougu cha . This aromatic and soothing dish was most likely brought to Southeast Asia by the Chaozhou travelers who eventually settled there. Like many soups from the Coastal Southeast (see this page and this page ), it is seasoned with Chinese medicinal herbs, and it’s cheap and easy to make. Traditionally, the pork ribs are simply tossed into boiling water with the herbs and some garlic, but I have fooled around with the recipe to add extra depth and color.

The flavor of this soup is established by its herbs and spices—and there are quite a lot of them. The most common inclusions are Solomon’s seal root (yuzhu ), anise, angelica root, Chinese dates, licorice root, and star anise. But some cooks like to add wolfberries, aged tangerine peel, stick cinnamon, whole cloves, arhat fruit, and dried longans, among others. It all depends on how much underlying sweetness and fruitiness you’re aiming for.

Luckily, you can find herb packets particularly designed for this soup in most well-stocked Chinese grocery stores. If you can’t locate one of these packets, visit a Chinese herbalist and say that you need herbs and spices for rougu cha . You should be aware that this herbal broth will taste bitter and harsh at first. During the braising process, however, the broth will mellow as it encounters the flavors of the meat, sugar, wine, and soy sauce. Serve as is or over noodles along with a side of greens.

1. Slice between the spareribs so that each bone is surrounded by meat. Place the riblets in a small work bowl, toss with the soy sauce, and let them sit in a cool area for an hour or so.

2. While the pork is marinating, rinse the whole dried herbs in a sieve, rinse off the little cloth sack that should have come in the herb packet, and then pack the sack with the herbs. (If there is no sack, use a mesh ball or wrap the herbs in cheesecloth.) If there is another sachet in the packet filled with the smaller herbs and spices, rinse this off as well. Place both sacks of herbs in a 3-quart saucepan, add the 8 cups water, cover, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to a gentle simmer and cook for 1 hour to make an herbal broth. Discard the herbs.

3. While the herbs are simmering, turn your attention to the dried ingredients. Drain the mushrooms and add their strained soaking liquid to the herbal broth. Remove the stems from the mushrooms and cut the caps in half. Place the daylily flowers in a small bowl and cover them with boiling water; after a few minutes, drain them and discard the water. Tie pairs of the blossoms into simple knots so that they don’t fall apart. (These first three steps can be done ahead of time, if you like.)

4. Place a wok over high heat. Add 2 tablespoons of the oil and swirl it around. Drain the ribs (you can add any leftover soy sauce to the soup in Step 5) and slide them into the hot wok. Adjust the temperature as needed to fry these up so that the marinade caramelizes and all sides of the ribs are browned. Remove the ribs from the wok and place them in a medium (8- to 10-cup) sandpot or casserole. Pour the remaining 1 tablespoon oil into the wok and fry the garlic and ginger over high heat until they are golden brown, then toss these into the pot along with the mushrooms and daylily blossoms.

5. Add the rice wine and rock sugar to the sandpot, then pour in just enough of the herbal broth to come up to the top of the ribs, but not so much that the broth bubbles out. Cover the sandpot and bring to a boil over medium heat, then reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cook the ribs for 2 to 2½ hours, adding more of the herbal broth as needed to keep the ribs covered. (You will need most, if not all, of it; discard any extra.) Taste and adjust the seasoning before serving.

I like the rougu cha herbal mixtures from Taiwan, but there are many different versions available. You can try them all and see which ones you prefer. Check the package to see how much meat is called for and adjust the recipe accordingly.

If you prefer chicken to pork, use a pound of chopped-up chicken legs instead and simmer for only 1 hour instead of 2 hours.

Entrées

Braised Stuffed Bean Curd

Niàng dòufŭ 酿豆腐

HAKKA • SERVES 4

One of the truly classic dishes of the Hakka people, Braised Stuffed Bean Curd is also a family favorite; my late father-in-law would prepare it for the Chinese New Year. We would drive down to his little apartment in Los Angeles’s Chinatown, where every imaginable surface would be covered with stuffed plastic bags from the local markets. After a hasty greeting, he would head back to work, happy in his element, working slowly but steadily on the New Year’s feast.

For this dish, bean curd is cut into triangles and then stuffed with a meat filling. My father-in-law was particularly methodical when it came to the stuffing. He would deliberately scrape out the curd with one finger, taking five minutes with each tiny hole. One day, exhausted by this snail’s pace, I banged out seven filled triangles in the same amount of time it took him to finish one, and then showed them to him in triumph. He looked over my triangles, nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose in disgust, and then proceeded to redo all of them.

He used equal parts ground pork and fish paste in his filling. I am leery of the grayish stuff that passes for fish paste in most Chinese markets, so I add dried salted fish packed in oil instead. It has a wonderful saltiness, and its aroma blends nicely with the richness of the pork, the spiciness of the ginger, and the blandness of the bean curd.

1. This dish is great the day it’s made, but it’s even better the next. First, make the sauce: put all of the ingredients into a medium sandpot or casserole and bring to a boil over high heat. Lower the heat to a constant but very low simmer, cover, and let the flavors mingle while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Place the ginger and rolled oats in a food processor and process until very finely chopped. Add the pork and pulse a few times. Pick over the fish carefully, removing all of the bones, which can catch in the throat, and any hard skin. Flake the fish a couple of times, running your fingers through it to find any last bones, and then add it to the processor. Toss in the green onions and pulse everything together until mixed; divide the filling into 8 pieces and roll these lightly into meatballs.

3. Pat the bean curd dry with a paper towel and cut it into quarters. Cut each square on the diagonal to form 8 triangles total. Use the small end of a melon baller (or a small spoon or a paring knife) to scoop out about one-third of the bean curd from the middle of the longest (diagonal) edge of each triangle, then sprinkle the inside of the scooped-out areas with cornstarch and pack a meatball firmly into each one. Dip the filled edge of each triangle into the cornstarch so that it covers the meat completely.

4. Heat a frying pan over medium heat and film the bottom with oil. When the oil starts to shimmer, place your triangles in the hot oil with the diagonal sides down. Fry those sides until golden brown. There is no need to fry the other sides, or even to drain the bean curd; when the filled side is fried, just gently deposit them in the sauce. Try to arrange the triangles so that the filled sides face up, as this will help to keep the meat from falling out. Bring the sauce to a boil and then lower it to a gentle simmer. Cover the sandpot and simmer for 25 to 30 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning, but keep in mind that the salted fish in the filling will provide a nice jolt of salt when you bite into the meatballs, so be careful not to overseason the sauce. Serve hot.

Fried Custard with Mushrooms

Xiānggū dàndòufŭ 香菇蛋豆腐

GUANGDONG • SERVES 4 TO 6

Custard is treated with special respect in Guangdong. Sweet or savory, steamed or baked, even the most basic custard dishes from this region are something to behold. This one is a personal favorite.

1. First, lightly beat the eggs with the stock and salt. Spray an 8-inch square pan (or an 8-inch round one, depending upon the size of your steamer ) with oil. Pour the egg mixture through a sieve into the pan, as this will help to ensure an exceptionally smooth texture. Steam over medium-low heat for 15 to 20 minutes, until the custard is set. Remove the pan from the steamer, let it cool to room temperature, cover, refrigerate until chilled, and then cut the custard into 1-inch squares. Don’t worry about any broken or strangely shaped pieces, as they can be fried first and placed in the bottom of the serving dish, where no one will notice.

2. About 20 minutes before serving, prepare the bok choy. Heat a wok over high heat until it starts to smoke and then swirl in the oil and salt. Add the bok choy and toss until the vegetables are just barely cooked and still crunchy. Remove them to a serving platter and shape them into a nest.

3. Toss the cubed custard in the cornstarch and shake off the excess. Heat a large, flat frying pan over medium-high heat. Add the oil to a depth of about ¼ inch. When a speck of cornstarch added to the oil immediately bubbles up and disappears, start with the less presentable pieces of custard and add just enough of them to the pan so that they are not crowded. Fry them on one side until golden, then turn them over. When they are completely browned, place them in the center of the bok choy nest. Repeat with the rest of the custard until done.

4. While the custard is frying, make the mushroom sauce: clean the wok and place it over high heat. Add the oil and then the ginger, green onions, and garlic and toss these together for about 10 seconds to release their fragrance. Throw in the mushrooms and toss until everything is coated with the oil. As the mushrooms start to brown, add the rice wine, soy sauce, sugar, and stock and adjust the seasoning. Swirl in the cornstarch slurry, pour the resulting mixture on top of the custard, and serve immediately with a sprinkle of green onions.

Crispy Basil Omelet

Jĭucéngtǎ hōngdàn 九層塔烘蛋

HAKKA • SERVES 4

This omelet is a great everyday Hakka dish. Easy, cheap, and delicious, it’s a good option if you’re in a pinch, because all of the ingredients tend to be on hand. What makes this dish extraordinary is the quality that the basil takes on once it’s fried: its peppery notes are toned down, and its texture becomes crispy. Try this omelet with Congee for breakfast, or serve it alongside other dishes during lunch or dinner. Be sure to check out the salted radish and green onion variations, too.

1. Rinse the basil and pick the leaves off of the stems. Dry the leaves in a towel. Have ready a plate and a slotted spoon.

2. Pour the oil into a wok and heat over medium-high heat until a bamboo chopstick inserted in the hot oil immediately bubbles all over. Add a handful of the basil leaves to the hot oil and quickly stir them around until they quiet down. Immediately use the slotted spoon to scoop out the fried leaves; let them sit on the plate while you fry the rest of the basil in the same fashion.

3. Beat the eggs in a medium work bowl until they are frothy, then toss in the salt. Pour off all but a few tablespoons of the oil in the wok. (Reserve the poured-off oil as a nicely seasoned finishing oil, if you like.) Set the wok over high heat until the oil starts to shimmer. Reserve a few of the fried basil leaves as a garnish. Toss the rest into the raw eggs and then pour the egg mixture into the hot oil. Fry the omelet on the bottom, moving the eggs around with your chopsticks and turning the wok this way and that so that the eggs cook all over. Then lift the omelet a bit so that any raw egg can flow underneath and cook.

4. When the bottom of the omelet is golden brown, carefully flip it over and fry until the other side is brown. Remove to a plate, garnish with the reserved fried basil leaves, and serve immediately.

SALTED RADISH OMELET (càipú dàn 菜脯蛋 )

One of the mainstays of any Hakka meal is an omelet made with salted radishes (caipu ). This ocher ingredient can usually be found chopped and packed in plastic bags. To make this variation, use ⅓ cup chopped salted radishes in place of the basil and salt. Place the radish in a sieve and rinse it carefully under running water. Taste a piece and rinse it again if it is still very salty. Pat it dry and then fry it in oil before adding the beaten eggs; do not add extra salt.

GREEN ONION OMELET (cōnghuā dàn 蔥花蛋 )

Follow the directions for a Crispy Basil Omelet, substituting 3 green onions for the basil. Trim the onions and slice them into thin rounds, then proceed as directed.

Guangdong-Style Steamed Fish

Guǎngdōng qīngzhēngyú 廣東清蒸魚

GUANGDONG • SERVES 4

Guangdong-style restaurants flourished in Taipei when I lived there, in large part because Taiwan boasted some of the freshest fish around. Freshness is and always has been key for recipes like this; with something so light and simple, nothing can be hidden. I always use my best soy sauce here, and I like to finish the dish with rice bran oil for its buttery flavor.

1. Clean the fish, removing the guts and gills, and then scale it; leave the head, tail, and fins attached. Use a sharp knife to cut 3 deep diagonal slashes on both sides of the fish (see this page ). Rub the salt into the cavity and the slashes, as well as on the outside. Place the fish on a platter that fits in your steamer. Set up your steamer equipment (see this page ).

2. Have the ginger ready and cut the green onions into fine julienne. Keep these in separate piles.

3. To make the sauce, stir together the soy sauce, water, rice wine, and sugar in a small work bowl until the sugar dissolves. Measure out the oil into a separate cup and have it next to the stove.

4. Pour water into the steamer, but don’t let it reach the top of the trivet. Cover and bring to a full boil. Put a good pinch of the ginger inside of the fish’s cavity and then sprinkle the rest along the top of the fish. Place the fish inside the steamer, cover, and steam on high. Start checking the fish at around 8 minutes, though it may take more than 12 minutes before it is perfectly done. Look inside of the slashes: when the bases are no longer pink, the fish is cooked. Make dead certain it’s ready by plunging a chopstick through the thickest part; if it goes through it like it was piercing butter, remove the fish from the steamer. Drain off the salty liquid in the platter.

5. Sprinkle the green onions over the top of the fish. Pour the oil into a small saucepan set over high heat, and when it just starts to smoke, drizzle it down the length of the fish so it immediately cooks the green onions. Give the sauce a swirl and then pour it down the length of the fish, too. Serve immediately.

When you find a good fish, make sure the fishmonger leaves the head, tail, and fins on. They’ll make the dish look nice, and there is a lot of fat located at the bottoms of the fins and in the head. The tail is always a joy to eat, too: it tends to have a firm, lively texture. Be sure to tell the fishmonger to leave any roe (that is, fresh caviar) he or she finds in the fish, too—it’s delicious.

Try to buy a relatively small fish—a bit over a pound is ideal. You want it to steam quickly, and it must fit easily into your steamer. At home, I place the fish on a platter that barely fits inside a wide wok I have reserved just for steaming; a trivet holds the platter steady above the water, and a glass cover allows me to keep a close eye on the progress. Learning to calculate correctly when a fish is perfectly done takes a bit of practice and experience, but having a setup like this makes life a whole lot easier.

You don’t have to use flatfish for this recipe, but it is a good fish to learn with, and the amount of sauce and so forth called for here is calibrated for this variety and size. Once you master flatfish, though, try orange roughy or rock cod or even sea bass.

Steamed Fish with Three Kinds of Olives

Sānlǎn zhēngyú 三欖蒸魚

HONG KONG • SERVES 4

Hong Kong has adopted many of Guangzhou’s and Chaozhou’s methods for cooking seafood and incorporated its own unique spins. Here, for example, a decidedly Western ingredient—extra virgin olive oil—joins the traditional seasonings of cured Chinese olives and olive vegetable. Together, this trio gives the fish a sublime aroma.

Because all three seasonings are oily and two contain salt, I like to use a relatively lean fish here. Flatfish are terrific; you can use either a whole fish or fillets. However, feel free to substitute something richer, like salmon, which also turns out quite tasty. I add a bit of lemon juice to lend a touch of tartness and balance out the mellow flavors.

Start this recipe at least an hour ahead of time so that you can prepare the preserved olives. The rest comes together in a flash.

1. This first step can be done far ahead of time, and you can even multiply the quantities if you like this seasoning as much as I do. Set up a steamer . Place the olive corners, including any broken bits and pieces, in a sieve and rinse them well under tap water. Shake the olive corners dry and place them in a small heatproof bowl. Toss them with the olive oil, sugar, and ginger. Steam the olive corners for about 45 minutes, tossing them with a spoon every 15 minutes. Remove the olive corners from the steamer, cool, and refrigerate them in a covered jar until needed.

2. Prepare the fish about 30 minutes before you cook it. If you are using a whole fish, scale and gut it, remove the gills, and peel out any dark lining inside the cavity. Cut slashes through the thickest part of the fish’s body so that it cooks evenly (see this page ). Rinse the whole fish or fish fillets and pat dry. Place the fish on a rimmed heatproof plate and rub the fish with the salt. Just before you proceed to the next step, discard any water that has accumulated on the plate. Bring the water in the steamer to a full boil.

3. Chop the preserved olives roughly, then place on top of the fish. Arrange the olive vegetable, ginger, and jalapeño along the top of the fish to create an attractive pattern of black, white, and red. Drizzle the olive oil evenly over the top. Place the fish in the steamer; steam the fillets for about 10 minutes or whole fish for about 15 minutes, until just cooked through. Squeeze the lemon juice over the fish and serve immediately.

Chinese olive corners (lǎnjiǎo 欖角 ) can usually be found in Guangdong-style markets and shops specializing in dried and preserved foods. They are available in plastic bags or in jars on the counter, where they are sold by the ounce.

Olive vegetable (lǎncài 欖菜 ) is typically stocked in the sauce aisle of Chinese grocery stores. Whole pits are often hiding inside, so be sure to chop the vegetable finely before using.

Whole Dry-Fried Flounder

Gānjiān lónglì 乾煎龍利

CHAOZHOU • SERVES 4 TO 6

It’s taken me quite a while to figure out where this dish originated, but it most likely came from Chaozhou. Whole Dry-Fried Flounder is a direct translation of the most common Chinese name for this dish, ganjian longli , although once in a while you find it referred to as xiāngjiān lónglì 香煎龍利 (fragrant fried flounder).

The emphasis here is on “whole” and “dry.” It’s important that the fish be whole, because when you fry it, the tiny bones in the fins turn into crunchy needles that are every bit as lovely as the meat. (The tail can be enjoyed, too, but the rest of the bones should be avoided.) The fish is “dry” because it’s not coated with anything before it’s fried; it’s just wiped down and carefully placed into a pan over superhigh heat with lots of oil.

1. Clean the fish, removing the guts and gills, and then scale it. Leave the head, tail, and fins attached.

2. Pat the fish dry with a paper towel or two and lay it on a cutting board. Slash down the length of both sides of the body (see this page ).

3. Lay the fish on a platter and rub the salt into both sides. Sprinkle it with the rice wine and let it marinate for 10 to 20 minutes. At the end of this time, drain off all of the marinade and pat the fish very, very dry. Wipe out even the inside of the head and cavity so that there are no drops of water to explode in the hot oil. Lay the fish on a dry paper towel while you prepare everything else.

4. To make the sauce, in a small pan, heat the oil over high heat until it is sizzling, then add the green onions. Stir them quickly over high heat to release their fragrance, then add the rice wine, water or stock, soy sauce, and sugar. Bring the sauce to a boil, taste, and adjust the seasoning. Remove from the heat.

5. Pour at least 1½ inches of frying oil into a wok; you want enough hot oil to fry the fish rapidly and make it both crispy on the outside and succulent on the inside. Heat the oil over high heat until it starts to smoke. While you are waiting, have ready a serving platter, a pair of cooking chopsticks, a wok spatula, and either a spatter screen or a large lid.

6. While the oil is heating, turn off your phone and clear the kitchen of children and pets and anyone else who will get in your way.

7. Holding the fish by the tail in one hand and either the spatter screen or the lid in the other, slide the fish into the hot oil and immediately cover the wok with the screen or lid, as the water in the flesh will start to explode. This will die down fast, and if you can, keep your grip on the tail so that you can slide the fish around and give its entire body a chance to brown. Keep the tail raw as long as possible, as holding it will allow you to control the fish. If you have used enough hot oil, there is no need to flip the fish over; just lightly press down on it with your spatula and scoot it around so each part has a chance to be submerged. When the top of the fish looks done, slide the tail end in so it gets fried, too. This is a very thin part of the fish, so it will fry up fast.

8. Depending upon your fish, the heat of your stove, and the depth of the oil, the fish will be ready in 7 to 10 minutes. It should be golden brown all over, the fins and tail should be browned and crispy, and the meat should have pulled away from the bones where you slashed the flesh. Place your platter next to the wok. Use your chopsticks to steady the tail end as you lift up the fish with your spatula, drain off the oil, and place it carefully on your platter. If you feel uneasy about this, use two spatulas, or even ask someone to help. When you’re done, turn off the heat and push the wok to the back of the stove, out of harm’s way, to let the oil cool completely.

9. Bring the sauce to a quick boil and pour it over the fish. Serve immediately.

Do not use a fish that is much larger than a pound here, unless you have a restaurant-sized wok and stove. The ratio of fish to hot oil is important, and if the fish is too thick or too long, it won’t cook quickly enough and will start to steam and crumble.

Be sure to use a large amount of oil here. This is crucial to rapidly achieving the correct balance of crisp edges and juicy meat. If you use too little oil, the fish will gently cook all the way down to the skeleton and dissolve into a sodden mess.

The oil can be reused, since flounder and other flatfish are very mild flavored. Strain the cooled oil and store it in the fridge. Throw it out whenever it starts to darken or has a strong aroma.

Salting the fish helps draw out more of its moisture, which is good, since water explodes in hot oil.

Once you master this dish, make it your own. Season it with other aromatics or even change the sauce. It’s up to you.

Shunde Braised Fish Puffs

Shùndé huì yúfŭ 順德燴魚腐

PEARL RIVER DELTA • SERVES 4 TO 6

In this dish, flaked fish is combined with beaten eggs and seasonings, then fried up into little golden spheres. This may not seem like much, but these fish puffs are easy, versatile, and remarkably delicious. They can be mostly made ahead of time, too, which allows the final braise to come together quickly. My father-in-law used to make fish paste dishes like this, and the aroma always reminds me of his tiny kitchenette and the great food that emerged from it.

Shunde’s dishes tend to be designed for freshwater fish like carp or dace, since those are the most common species in the region’s surrounding waterways and fishponds (see the drawing of just such a village). If those fish aren’t available, use a mild saltwater fish. Any type of rockfish, flatfish, or even eel will work here, because the flesh is reduced to a pulp and its character disappears into the eggs. The fish mostly serves to create a nice consistency and add a gentle seasoning to the puffs.

1. Rinse the fish and pat it dry. Remove any tiny bones or silver skin, then finely chop the fish into a paste, first using the blade side of your Chinese knife and then the back (see this page ). Scoop up the fish paste and place it in a medium work bowl, add the salt, and use chopsticks to stir it rapidly in one direction for a few seconds to dissolve the salt. Beat in the garlic, green onion, pepper, rice wine, and cornstarch until fluffy. Finally, stir in the egg yolks until everything is fully incorporated. In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites with a whisk until they form soft peaks. Fold the whites into the fish mixture with a silicone spatula until you have an even, cloudlike mass.

2. Set a clean plate and a Chinese spider or slotted spoon next to the stove. Place a wok over medium-high heat. When it’s hot, add the oil to a depth of about 2 inches. Swirl the oil in the wok to coat the inside about halfway up and then lower the heat to medium. Use a clean spoon (plastic ones from the frozen-yogurt shop work well here) to scoop up a scant tablespoon of the fish mixture and use another spoon to scoot it into the oil as a ball. Gently fry the fish puff until it is golden on both sides. Add as many balls of the fish mixture as will fit very loosely in your wok, remembering that they will swell up as they cook; I cook about 8 balls at a time. Use chopsticks or the spider to remove the puffs to the waiting plate. Repeat with the rest of the mixture until it’s all been fried. Set aside 12 of the puffs for this recipe and refrigerate the rest. The recipe can be done ahead of time up to this point.

3. Stem the mushrooms and cut or tear the cups into halves or quarters so that they are similar in size to the fish puffs.

4. Clean the wok and place it back over medium-high heat. When it is hot, add the 2 tablespoons oil. Swirl the oil in the wok to coat the inside about halfway up and then lower the heat to medium. Add the ginger, let it brown, and then raise the heat to high. Add the white parts of the green onions and toss them quickly in the scented oil before adding the mushrooms and carrot slices. Sear everything in the hot oil until the mushrooms are very lightly browned and then add the wine, oyster sauce, sugar, stock, and fish puffs. Bring the liquid to a full boil and reduce the heat to medium-high. Cover the wok and let the puffs braise for about 10 minutes, until most of the sauce has been absorbed. Uncover the wok and quickly reduce the sauce further over high heat until there is only a mere slick at the base of the wok. Taste and adjust the seasoning and then add the green parts of the onions. Toss everything together gently until the onions begin to wilt slightly. Serve hot in a wide bowl.

Blanched Squid with Garlicky Dipping Sauce

Tàng yóuyú 燙魷魚

SOUTHERN FUJIAN AND TAIWAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

A specialty of the best seafood stalls in Taiwan when I lived there, this dish is easy to make once you learn how to slice and blanch the squid into tender, frilly blossoms. And after that, you may incorporate it into a variety of dishes, like Kung Pao Scallops .

You can buy cleaned squid bodies, or you can clean a whole squid yourself and use both the tubes and the tentacles. To prepare the squid, peel off the thin skin, cut the tentacles off below the eyes, squeeze out the beak, and then cut between the tentacles, slicing them lengthwise in half, if necessary.

The sauce below is merely one suggestion. You can just as easily use another chili sauce or this page , for example) and add soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, garlic, or whatever you like before thickening it slightly so that it clings to the slippery squid.

1. First, cook the sauce: in a small pan, bring all of the ingredients quickly to a boil, stir until smooth, and then scrape the sauce out into a clean serving bowl. This can be done up to a couple of hours ahead of time if you cover and refrigerate the sauce. Don’t make it too far ahead, though, as the garlic will turn gassy and overwhelm the other flavors. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding chopped chilies or whatever else you like.

2. Defrost the squid tubes, if necessary, and clean them out, removing any bits of skin or membrane on the outside, and then drain the tubes. (For directions on how to cut “squid blossoms,” see the diagram .)

3. In a medium saucepan, bring the water to a full boil over high heat and have a slotted spoon and a bowl of ice water ready if you plan to serve your squid later. If you want to eat it warm, skip the ice water, have a rimmed plate ready, and serve immediately.

4. Drop no more than a handful of the squid into the boiling water and cook them only until they turn opaque, which should take just seconds. Do not under any circumstances overcook them, as this short blanching is what makes the squid so tender. As soon as the squid pieces turn from translucent to white, they are done. Scoop them out with the slotted spoon and toss them either in the ice water or onto the rimmed plate, and bring the water to a boil again before tossing in the next handful. This goes pretty quickly, so if you are planning to eat the squid right away, have everyone sitting at the table by the time the last handful has been thrown into the pot. Drain off the excess water and serve your squid with the dipping sauce. If you have cooked the squid in advance, bring a large pot of water to a full boil just before serving, toss in the squid, and after about 2 seconds, dump them into a colander placed in the sink. Serve posthaste.

Typhoon Shelter Crab

Bìfēngtáng chǎoxiè 避風塘炒蟹

HONG KONG • SERVES 4 TO 6

This stunning recipe from Hong Kong’s boat people is deservedly famous among dining cognoscenti. The sweetness of the shellfish contrasts beautifully with a crunchy layer of garlic studded with chilies and black beans. This dish does not even have to involve crab: shrimp or prawns work equally well. Vegans could use deep-fried bean curd and it would still be fantastic, because the element that draws diners back time and again is not the protein but that brittle, spicy, garlic-laden blanket.

The traditional way to prepare this delicious sauce is to fry up a bunch of chopped garlic, season it, and serve it on top of the crab. This requires an exhorbitant amount of garlic in order to cover the crab, however, and its flavor becomes overwhelming. To resolve this dilemma, I mix fried garlic with panko , or Japanese dried bread crumbs. This lightens up the topping while maintaining its crispy texture. And here’s another tip: if you are going to use a whole lot of chopped garlic, rinse it in a bowl of water after you chop it, as this gets rid of the stickiness that makes the garlic clump together.

Finally, when you fry garlic, don’t overdo it. Garlic quickly turns from aromatic to acrid in hot oil, so fry it over a fairly low temperature until it is a light golden brown, then scoop it out with a fine sieve and let it cool down fast in a wide work bowl. It will continue to cook in the residual heat, so err on the side of undercooking. Then, if you find you still need to cook it a bit more, just return it to the oil.

1. Clean and prep the crab(s) by removing the top shell and the legs (for directions on how to prepare a crab ). Clean out the body with your fingers, but leave any roe or tomalley you might find. Rinse the body well and chop both it and the legs into bite-sized pieces. Drain well in a colander. Just before cooking, toss the crab with the cornstarch, being especially careful to coat the cut edges that expose the flesh. If using shrimp or prawns, prepare as directed in Steps 1 and 2 on this page , and then toss with the cornstarch. If you are using bean curd, just have it hot and ready, and skip the frying in Step 5. Keep the crab or other shellfish chilled.

2. Put the chopped garlic in a medium work bowl and cover it with cool tap water. Rinse the garlic thoroughly in a fine sieve and then dump it out onto a couple sheets of paper towels to dry completely.

3. Have a fine dry sieve set over a dry work bowl next to the stove. Set a wok over high heat and pour in the oil. Add the drained garlic, and when the oil starts to bubble around the edge of the pan, reduce the heat to low or medium-low, and stir often so that the garlic browns evenly. Don’t rush this step, since gently fried garlic is the most important component in this dish. When the garlic turns a pale brown and floats to the surface—which means that all of the juices have transferred from the garlic into the oil, making the garlic nice and crunchy when it has cooled—empty the garlic and oil into the sieve. You will be left with about ½ cup fried garlic. Shake the oil off so that the garlic drains completely and turns crispy. You will have extra garlic oil by the end of this recipe, which is a mingyou (finishing oil) that is delicious in lots of other dishes.

4. Place the oil-slicked wok over medium-high heat and immediately add the black beans, jalapeños, bread crumbs, and ¼ cup of the garlic oil. Toss these together, drizzling just a little more of the garlic oil around the edge of the crumbs, if needed, to keep them from sticking and to ensure that they fry up an even, crispy brown. The secret to making this topping truly great is to add very little oil, so that the bread crumbs do not soak it up and turn heavy—you want to have nothing but light, crispy, super-crunchy flakes. Once this has been achieved, toss in the fried garlic and green onions, fry these together for a few seconds to incorporate them, and add the ground chilies, salt, and sugar. Taste and adjust the seasoning, then empty the topping back into the work bowl.

5. Immediately rinse out the wok, dry it over high heat, and then add about ¼ cup of the garlic oil. Quickly stir-fry the crab (or shrimp or prawns) until the shells turn a rosy pink and the flesh turns opaque; do not overcook the shellfish. Pour off any oil left in the wok, dump all of the garlicky crumbs back in, toss everything together to combine, and then immediately plate on a large serving platter. Serve right away with lots of napkins and an empty bowl or two for the shells. If you are using bean curd, simply toss it with the garlic mixture and serve.

Some people serve this with the same topping that is used on Cod with Crispy Bean Sauce .

Stir-Fried Milk with Crab

Dàliáng chǎo níunǎi 大良炒牛奶

PEARL RIVER DELTA • SERVES 4

Many Chinese people have difficulty digesting milk, but it is hard to say whether lactose intolerance is the reason that dairy products never gained a foothold in China. Grazing land has always been in short supply there, and cattle require large expanses of grass for fodder. Whatever the reason, milk has never been a part of most Chinese cuisines, which is why lard has always been favored over butter.

But there are exceptions to this rule: in southwestern China, whole milk is formed into dried “milk fans” (see this page ), which have a texture similar to bean curd skins and soy batons. Out in the arid regions of western China, the yogurt and kefir of Central Asia has made its way into the local cuisines. In fact, the best yogurt I’ve ever tasted (this page ) was in Xinjiang’s capital, Ürümqi.

The Pearl River Delta is one of the few places in China where milk is eaten fresh, though it is consumed with a distinctly Chinese twist. In the Daliang area, for example, dairies have traditionally flourished, and so milk is used in various local dishes, including Ginger Milk Pudding , the egg custard known as double-skinned milk (shuāngpínǎi 雙皮奶 ), and its strange but delicious stir-fried milk. There are different interpretations of this recipe in the Pearl River Delta—some feature shrimp or pork or chicken, for example—but I love this crab- and almond-studded version.

1. First, toast the almonds: place a wok over medium heat and film the bottom with the oil. Add the nuts and toss, adjusting the heat as necessary, until they are golden and smell toasted. Scoop them out onto a plate covered with a paper towel.

2. Bring the milk to a boil (either in a saucepan on the stove or in a measuring cup in the microwave), let it cool down until just warm to the touch, and stir in the cornstarch until smooth.

3. Pick over the crabmeat carefully, removing any shells or cartilage but keeping the meat in pieces as large as possible. Place in a medium work bowl, add 1 tablespoon of the oil and the salt, and toss to mix.

4. Cut the lop chong into a small (⅛-inch or smaller) dice. Place the pieces in a wok or pan without any oil and fry them over medium heat until they render their fat and are lightly crispy. Remove them to a plate covered with a paper towel and wipe out the wok.

5. Lightly beat the egg whites in a medium work bowl until they are broken apart and only very slightly foamy. Stir in the milk mixture, crab, fried lop chong , and mushroom seasoning or fish sauce. Place a serving bowl or small individual bowls next to the stove, warming them first if possible.

6. Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons oil in the wok over medium heat until it starts to shimmer and then pour in the crab mixture. Use a silicone or wooden spatula to stir the crab gently over the heat, making sure to run the spatula along the bottom of the wok to keep the milk from burning. As the liquid heats, it will start to form curds. Drizzle in a bit more oil around the edge if it starts to stick. As soon as the liquid has turned into curds, immediately scoop the mixture out into the bowl(s); if there is extra liquid, drain it off and enjoy it yourself, since it tastes great but just doesn’t look very nice. Sprinkle the crab with the toasted almonds and serve with spoons.

If you were wondering what to do with the crab body meat leftover from the Savory Crab and Cellophane Noodles , this is a great option.

One change I’ve made to the original recipe is the addition of toasted almonds instead of the traditional tropical kernels called Indian olives, or lǎnrén 欖仁 , which come from the Terminalia catappa tree. I have done this only because it’s difficult to find Indian olives in the United States, and slivered almonds work well as a substitute.

If you want, roasted duck, bits of ham, or mushrooms can be substituted for the lop chong .

Savory Crab and Cellophane Noodles

Pángxiè fěnsī bào 螃蟹粉絲煲

HONG KONG • SERVES 4

I grew up near San Francisco and, as a result, my idea of a crab dinner was invariably a plate of cold steamed Dungeness. But Chinese crabs are smaller and have thinner shells than San Francisco’s, and they are usually whacked apart with cleavers and then stir-fried with seasonings.

This dish is all about the flavor of crab, and yet the most difficult thing here is ensuring that the cellophane noodles are cooked properly. They are notorious for dissolving into gummy clumps, but if you follow these directions closely, you should be fine.

This recipe calls for Dungeness crab, and because Dungeness crabs are generally sold already cooked, I’ve designed the recipe to account for this. However, if you are lucky enough to have your own live local crabs, I have included instructions in the Tips section for preparing them.

1. First, soak the cellophane noodles in warm water for 10 minutes. Then rinse them in a colander under cold tap water to immediately stop them from softening any further. Shake all of the water off the noodles and them dump them onto a clean tea towel. Lightly pat the noodles all over to get rid of the rest of the moisture and let them sit uncovered while you prepare the other ingredients. (This step is most important, because it ensures that the noodles will have the right chewy texture.)

2. Rinse the dried shrimp well, cover them with hot water, and let them soak until soft. Drain the shrimp, clean them as needed, and chop them finely.

3. If you are using only crab legs, separate the large lower (and middle, if needed) sections from the rest of the legs. Keep the meatier top sections whole and unshelled, but lightly crack them all over. Remove the meat from the lower sections, working over a bowl to catch all the juices and tiny flakes of crab (see Tips ), and discard these shells. You should end up with about half of the crab legs whole and the other half shelled. If you are using a whole crab, crack and separate the legs into manageable lengths and completely remove all of the shells and cartilage from the body, which will also leave you with about half unshelled crab and half shelled. Keep the carapace intact, if you like, to decorate the final dish. Place the parts of the crab that are still in the shell (including the carapace, if you’re using it) in a heatproof dish and steam over high heat for 5 minutes (see this page ).

4. Prep the shallots, ginger, and white parts of the onions and add them to the shrimp. Mix the sesame oil, soy sauce, sweet soy sauce, rice wine, and pepper in a small bowl. Cut the cellophane noodles into pieces approximately 2 inches long. Have a medium sandpot or casserole ready for serving.

5. Place a wok over medium-high heat, and when it is hot, add half of the oil and swirl it around. Sprinkle in the shallot mixture and fry it until it starts to brown. Lower the heat to medium, add the rest of the oil, and when the oil is hot, toss in the noodles. Stir-fry the noodles carefully, being sure to scrape up any that stick to the bottom of the wok; if needed, add a bit more oil. Fry the noodles for 2 or 3 minutes, until they start to become transparent. Add the crabmeat and the crab in its shell plus half of the seasonings; toss these together until the noodles have absorbed all the sauce and then add the rest. Toss a bit longer, taste and adjust the seasoning, and sprinkle the crab with the onion greens. Toss once more and pour into the prepared sandpot or casserole. Decorate with the crab carapace, if desired. Serve hot.

As you check over the Dungeness crab legs, use the butt of your knife to crack any pieces that are still thick and solid. I tend to use a 3-inch paring knife to wiggle the meat out of the legs. It also allows me to work my way into the joints and scoop out every last bit of fat and meat.

If you are using smaller, live crabs, follow these directions: Start with Steps 1 and 2; omit Step 3. Kill and clean the crabs (see this page ). A good way to kill the crabs with a touch of mercy is to place them in a plastic bag and stash it in the freezer until the crabs have drifted off to sleep. Make sure you take them out before they are fully frozen, however. If the shells are relatively small, use a cleaver to chop the crabs into quarters so that each piece has a quarter of the shell and two legs. With raw crabs, dust all of the meaty cut edges with flour before frying. This will keep the meat from drying out. After the cut edges have browned, continue to fry the crabs until the shells have turned completely pink. Remove them and then proceed to Step 4.

Once you’ve mastered this dish, you will probably want to play with the seasonings a bit: add ginger or chilies, or use curry powder. Just make sure that you don’t drown out the flavor of the crab.

Chaozhou Shrimp Skewers

Cháozhōu kǎoxiā 潮州烤蝦

CHAOZHOU • SERVES 4

The seasonings in this dish are classic Chaozhou: fish sauce mixed with garlic, chilies, and green onion. They provide the basis for the compound butter that bastes and seasons the shrimp as they bake. Bamboo skewers keep the crustaceans nice and orderly during the cooking process, and the shrimp come out looking stunning. The skewers have another purpose, too: they stop the shrimp from curling up and dumping out the butter.

These spicy shrimp are fantastic for any part of a meal; I like to use them as appetizers or bar snacks. The sauce is so delicious that I sometimes serve this dish with a bowl of rice on the side, so diners can avoid wasting a single drop.

1. Soak 12 short bamboo skewers in warm water for at least 30 minutes; this will keep them from burning up in the oven.

2. Clean the shrimp (for directions on how to prepare shell-on shrimp , then cut them down the back about halfway through their bodies. Pat the prepped shrimp dry with a paper towel and place them in a small work bowl. Toss the shrimp with the salt, rice wine, and oil and let them marinate while you prepare the compound butter.

3. Finely chop the garlic, pepper, and green onion. Place them in a small work bowl and stir in the butter and fish sauce.

4. Place a rack in the oven (a toaster oven is perfect here) 2 to 3 inches from the heating element, then heat the oven to 450°F. Spray the bottom of a small baking pan with oil. Drain the shrimp. Hold a shrimp upside down in one hand and thread the skewer through the length of the body just behind the feet. Repeat with the rest of the shrimp and skewers until done. Fill the opening in the back of each shrimp with the compound butter. Arrange the filled shrimp on the prepared pan and place them in the oven. Bake the shrimp for 5 minutes and then turn each shrimp over. Bake for another 3 or so minutes, until the shrimp are pink and beginning to brown. Remove the shrimp to serving plates or a platter and serve immediately. Eat with the hands. The skewers are easily removed if you first twirl them slightly inside the shrimp.

Portuguese Chicken

Púguó jī 葡國雞 or Galinha à Macau

MACAU • SERVES 6 TO 8

This recipe most likely arrived in Macau via Goa, Portugal’s former colony on the west coast of India. It might have been slightly altered along the way by a few cooks from another former Portuguese colony, East Timor, which lies next to Indonesia. The result of all this globe-trotting is a dish with a wonderful diversity of flavor.

I’ve played around with this recipe a bit, replacing the curry powder with Japanese curry cubes, which give the dish a more predictable flavor. Curry powders also vary in intensity to such an extent that it is challenging to prescribe a specific amount. The cubes add just the right amount of salt, and they give the sauce a nice texture. Of course, feel free to use curry powder or canned curry paste if you prefer, but be sure to adjust the seasoning and the thickness of the sauce, too.

1. Chop the chicken into 1-inch pieces. (You can do this with or without the bones and skin in the mix.) Toss the chicken with the cornstarch, fully coating each piece. Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a wok over high heat, add the chicken, and stir-fry until browned and cooked through. Remove the chicken to a work bowl. Clean the wok.

2. Cut the onion into 1-inch cubes and then separate the cubes into single layers. Peel the potatoes, cut them into 1-inch cubes, and either microwave or boil them until tender. Heat the remaining 1 tablespoon oil in the wok over high heat, add the onion pieces, and stir-fry for a few minutes, until soft. Add the rice wine, stir quickly to evaporate the alcohol, and then add the water. Toss in the curry cubes and bring the sauce to a boil. Add the potatoes and return the sauce to a boil. Add the coconut milk and the chicken, then taste and adjust the seasoning, if necessary. The dish can be made ahead of time up to this point and refrigerated.

3. About 15 minutes before serving, place a rack in your oven about 4 inches from the heat element and heat the broiler. Spray a 10-inch round broiler-proof casserole about 2 inches deep with oil. Bring the chicken mixture to a boil in the wok or a saucepan and pour it into the casserole. Place the casserole under the broiler and brown the chicken; it is ready when lovely leopard spots cover the top. Serve hot.

The secondary ingredients in this dish can be played around with as you like. Some people like to add tomatoes and raisins and carrots. Others throw in shredded coconut or sprinkle Parmesan cheese on top.

Although this dish is often served with steamed rice, it sometimes appears in Macau with baguette slices on the side.

White-Cut Chicken

Báiqiē jī 白切雞

GUANGDONG • SERVES 8

The Chinese name of this dish and its English translation don’t sound very exciting, which might be why such an iconic southern way of poaching chicken has remained a secret to many outsiders. It works like this: instead of actually cooking the chicken in water over an open flame, the bird is boiled for only ten minutes and then left to sit in the hot water for an hour or so. During that rest, the heat travels into the center of the chicken, slowly but fully cooking the flesh while preserving all the juices. The resulting chicken is served with two simple dipping sauces made of ginger and green onion.

1. Start this recipe at least 10 hours or even a day before you plan to serve it. Remove all of the viscera stuck in the back ribs of the chicken, pluck out any stray pinfeathers, and remove any extra fat. Pat the chicken dry with paper towels and place it in a medium work bowl. Rub the salt and white liquor all over the outside and inside of the chicken. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let the chicken marinate in the refrigerator for 8 to 24 hours. Remove it from the fridge about 1 hour or so before you start to cook, then tie the chicken as directed on this page .

2. Note that you should not refrigerate the chicken after cooking, so plan your cooking time accordingly. Select a pan that is wide enough to just hold the chicken and tall enough that the chicken can be covered by at least 3 inches of boiling water—a pasta pot is a good bet here. Fill it with water, bring it to a boil, and carefully lower the chicken into the boiling water, adding more water as necessary to cover it by at least 3 inches. Cover the pot with a close-fitting lid, boil the chicken over high heat for 10 minutes, and then turn off the heat. Let the chicken sit in the covered pot for 1 hour. Check to see that the chicken is cooked through by piercing the thickest part of the thigh. If the juices run clear, the chicken is ready. If the juices are pink, return the pot to a boil, turn off the heat, and let the chicken sit in the covered pot for 10 to 15 minutes, until the juices are clear.

3. Prepare an ice bath that is large enough to hold the chicken and place it next to the pot. Gently remove the hot chicken from the stock, drain off all of the hot liquid from the bird, and lower it into the ice bath. (Reserve the stock for something else.) Roll the bird around in the ice water until the skin cools and tightens. Drain the chicken well, pat it dry, lightly rub sesame oil all over the skin, and place on a rimmed plate. Cover the chicken lightly and place it in a cool spot. Don’t refrigerate it unless it’s absolutely necessary.

4. When the chicken is completely cool, you can prepare it a number of ways. If you are eating it at home with friends and family, serve it whole and let everyone rip off their own pieces (see Tips ). Traditionally, however, the chicken is chopped into 1-inch pieces (for directions on cutting up a chicken properly, see this page ). If you are serving this at a fancier dinner, remove as many bones as possible without destroying the skin or shape of the chicken; the drumsticks and wings can keep their bones. Cut each boneless part into ¾-inch pieces and arrange the meat on a serving platter so that it looks like a complete bird. Place the wings and drumsticks in their appropriate positions.

5. To make the dipping sauces, cut the green onions as finely as possible, place them in a heatproof small bowl, add half the salt, and rub the salt into the onions. Grate the ginger as finely as possible, remove any long fibers, pile it into another small heatproof bowl, add the rest of the salt, and rub the salt into the ginger.

6. Heat the oil in a wok over high heat. When it starts to smoke, pour half of it over the onions and half over the ginger. Lightly stir each bowl, then serve these alongside the chicken.

I recommend that you serve the chicken whole and let diners cut off pieces at the table. I don’t really like slicing up the bird before serving it because the bones are sometimes still a bit red, and there’s nothing like blood leaking out of the marrow to ruin an appetite. When the meal is finished, the carcass can be tossed back in the pot to make a flavorful broth.

If you do decide to chop up the bird and run across some bloody parts, you can either quickly steam them or drop them back into the hot poaching liquid to quickly cook the marrow.

Hainan Chicken and Rice

Hǎinán jī fàn 海南雞飯

HAINAN • SERVES 4

If you’ve ever been to Southeast Asia, you’ve probably tried Hainan Chicken and Rice. It is the most famous dish to have emerged from China’s second-largest island, and it was most likely brought to the more tropical parts of Southeast Asia by Chinese immigrants. It developed out of another local specialty, Wénchāng jī 文昌雞 (Wenchang village chicken), a similar dish that is also popular on Hainan.

This recipe is basically the same as White-Cut Chicken , but it includes rice that has been cooked with the leftover chicken stock. As with White-Cut Chicken, the secret lies in the timing: the bird must be poached all the way through but not cooked so much that it begins to dry out. I recommend serving this with any—or even all—of the four dipping sauces described here.

1. Prepare the chicken as directed for White-Cut Chicken up through Step 3. Do not cut it up yet and reserve the poaching liquid for cooking the rice.

2. Rinse the rice and drain it well. Heat the oil in a wok over high heat until it starts to shimmer. Add the bay leaves, ginger, green onions, and salt. Mix them around in the oil until you can smell their fragrance, then toss in the raw rice. Stir-fry the rice until it begins to turn opaque. Stir in the stock, bring the mixture to a boil, cover, and reduce the heat to very low. Slowly cook the rice for 17 to 20 minutes, until the stock has been completely absorbed and the rice is fluffy. Turn off the heat, cover the wok, and let the rice steam while you prepare the rest of the meal. Just before serving, pluck out and discard the bay leaves, ginger, and green onions.

3. You can make as many of the sauces as you like. To make sauces A, B, and C, combine all of their respective recipe ingredients in a small pan and cook lightly and quickly over high heat. You just want to take off the raw edge of the aromatics and seasonings, so as soon as they come to a boil, pour each sauce into a separate small heatproof bowl and taste and adjust the seasoning. To make sauce D, slice the limes and coarsely chop the cilantro. (Diners can squeeze the lime over the chicken and sprinkle the cilantro over top.)

4. If you want to serve the chicken cut into pieces, now is the time to do it (for directions on how to properly cut up a chicken, see this page ), but that’s not how I like it. If you’re like me and prefer to make this chicken even juicier, heat up the stock to a simmer, turn off the heat, and then place the whole chicken back in the stock for a minute or two to warm it up. Remove the chicken, reserving the stock, then place it on a rimmed plate. Pull off all the meat with your fingers and reduce the meat to bite-sized pieces. Cut the skin into thin shreds. Return the bones to the stock and serve this broth at the end of the meal.

5. Have ready 4 dinner plates, and a single rice bowl to use as a mold. To serve, scoop a quarter of the rice into the bowl, smooth off the top, and then turn the bowl upside down onto a dinner plate to unmold. Repeat with the rest of the rice and plates. Arrange the chicken alongside and on top of the rice. Serve while everything is still hot, and pass around whatever dipping sauces you’re using.

Salt-Baked Chicken

Yánjú jī 鹽焗雞

HAKKA • SERVES 4 TO 6

Rarely available outside the homes of good Hakka cooks (read: grandmas), this is a dish to master and enjoy. Long ago a version of this dish was served to wealthy Hakka salt merchants, whose cooks would actually bury the chicken in hot salt, without any wrapper. They would then rinse off the chicken and serve it with a dipping sauce on the side. About two hundred years ago, someone came up with the clever idea of shrouding the bird in paper to keep the salt out and the juices in, and this is how the dish is still prepared today.

Some Hakka or Guangdong-style places will offer this dish on the menu, but I have rarely found an authentic version at a restaurant. This is probably because the dish requires a bit of work, and chefs know that the majority of their diners will be satisfied with White-Cut Chicken . However, baking the chicken in salt on a stove top gives it a completely different texture, one you will instantly recognize once you’ve tried the real thing. The most distinctive seasoning in this recipe is sand ginger, so be sure not to leave that out.

1. Before you start prepping the chicken, place the coarse salt in a rimmed baking sheet and heat it in a 550°F oven—or as high as it will go. The salt should be red hot—so hot that you cannot hold your hand over it by the time you are ready to use it. Do not rush this step, as it is the secret to making this dish a success.

2. Wipe the chicken dry (inside and out) with paper towels. If you are using the giblets, pat them dry, too. Cut 2-inch-long incisions under each wing, and then poke the outer two segments of the wings into the body so that the wing drumsticks lie flush against the body (see this page ). Place the chicken breast-side up on a work surface and press down firmly on the breast to flatten it so the bird is as compact as possible. Mix the salt and pepper, five-spice powder, and sand ginger together in a small bowl. Sprinkle half into the chicken cavity and rub it around; stuff the giblets, sliced ginger, and green onions into the chicken, then tie the ends of the legs together with butcher’s twine. Rub the outside of the chicken with the rest of the spices.

3. Spray a 30-inch-wide sheet of parchment paper with oil and have two 30-inch-wide sheets of foil ready. Place the chicken upside down on the oiled parchment paper and wrap up the chicken tightly in paper. Turn the bird right side up again and wrap it in a sheet of foil—sealing the edges as much as possible—before turning it upside down on the last sheet of foil and again sealing the edges to keep all the juices in and the salt out.

4. Scoot any children and pets out of the kitchen and turn off your phone before you start working with the hot salt. Select a large sandpot or covered casserole dish that easily holds the chicken with room to spare for the salt. Place a trivet in the bottom of the sandpot and very carefully pour about a quarter of the hot salt into the bottom. Arrange the wrapped chicken in the center (breast-side up) and very carefully cover it completely with the remaining hot salt. Cover the sandpot and place the pot on the stove; the heat under it should be between low and medium-low so that the salt stays hot and the chicken slowly bakes.

5. Cook the chicken this way for 1½ hours, remove the pot from the burner, and let it cool down until you can touch the pot and bird without being burned. Again, make your kitchen free of all distractions. When you open the pot up, pour off at least half the salt and then lift out the chicken to a rimmed plate.

6. Unwrap the chicken layer by layer, discarding any salt that is sticking to the wrappings. When you get to the parchment paper, carefully dust off any salt. There will be lots of juices in the final wrapper, so be sure to corral them all in the plate. Check if the chicken is done by piercing the thickest part of the thigh with a chopstick; the juices should run very clear. But don’t worry, as any meat that is still pink can be cooked quickly in the last step with the sauce.

7. To make the optional but absolutely delicious sauce, melt the fat in a wok over medium-high heat and add the dry-fried salt and pepper and the sand ginger. Drizzle in any juices from the chicken and bring the sauce to a boil. The traditional way to serve this chicken is to cut off and hand-shred the meat and skin. Toss the meat and skin with the hot sauce until every piece is coated, then arrange these on the serving plate over the bones. Serve hot or very warm.

African Chicken

Fēizhōu jī 非洲雞 or Galinha à Africana

MACAU • SERVES 4 TO 6

Like Portuguese Chicken , this dish could be considered a colonial casserole of sorts, as it pulls together influences from around the globe. African Chicken usually has a side of rice or French bread to soak up the tasty sauce. As my husband said when he first tried this recipe, “This does not taste Chinese.” And it doesn’t. It doesn’t taste like it is from Africa, either. It tastes like Macau.

1. Pat the chicken dry, cut it into serving-sized pieces, and slash the thicker parts of the meat so that the seasonings can penetrate it. Mix together the chilies, shallots, paprika, five-spice powder, and salt in a resealable plastic bag. Add the chicken, seal the bag closed, and massage the seasonings into the chicken through the bag. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours and up to overnight.

2. Spray an 11-cup casserole with oil. Set a wok over high heat, and when it is hot, add the oil and swirl it around to coat the bottom and sides. Add the chicken pieces in small batches so that they fit on the bottom, drizzling in more oil as necessary. Turn the heat down to medium and brown the chicken on all sides until it is cooked through. Place the browned chicken pieces in the casserole as they are ready. Peel the potatoes and cut into thin wedges (no larger than ⅛ inch on the outside edge) and either microwave or simmer them until tender; drain and set aside. Place a rack in the middle of the oven and heat the oven to 450°F.

3. To make the sauce, clean the wok, return it to medium heat, and melt the butter. Add the shallots, garlic, and peppers, cover, and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft but not browned. Stir in the paprika, coconut milk, flaked coconut, peanut butter, stock, and bay leaves. Bring the sauce to a boil uncovered, stirring the bottom constantly. Reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer and cook until the sauce has reduced to the consistency of sour cream. Season with salt.

4. Add the potatoes to the casserole. Pour the sauce evenly over the chicken and shake the container gently to spread the sauce around everything. Bake the casserole uncovered for about 20 minutes, until the sauce has browned and turned very bubbly. Dust the top with the parsley and serve hot.

You will need about 12 ounces total of shallots for this recipe. A food processor is useful here to reduce the shallots, garlic, and bell peppers into a finely chopped state.

Wuzhou Paper-Wrapped Chicken

Wúzhōu zhǐbāo jī 梧州紙包雞

SOUTHERN GUANGXI • SERVES 4

Southern Guangxi doesn’t have many famous dishes of its own; for the longest time it was part of Guangdong. This delicious way with chicken is one of the few exceptions. Honored as one of China’s finest dishes at a 1983 national competition, it is named after Wuzhou, a city near the Guangdong border. Wrapping seasoned chicken in paper before deep-frying it is popular throughout China, but this recipe is particularly seductive.

1. Pat the chicken dry and remove any excess fat or bonier parts. Chop the chicken into bite-sized pieces (about 1 inch square) and place them in a resealable plastic bag.

2. Place the ginger, garlic, and green onions in a small blender or food processor and pulse until they are ground, scraping down the sides of the container as needed. Add the remaining aromatics and all of the marinade ingredients and whirl these together to mix. Taste and adjust the seasoning as desired. Empty this marinade into the bag holding the chicken, and squish everything together so each piece is coated. Seal the bag and refrigerate the chicken for at least 4 hours and up to a day.

3. Ready 8 sheets of parchment paper, each 8 by 12 inches, and 8 sharp, round toothpicks. Lay the parchment sheets on a clean work surface, with a point of each sheet aimed at you (see the diagram for Oyster Spring Rolls ). Divide the chicken and marinade evenly among the sheets, and fold up the chicken in the paper to form a compact, fairly flat package. Squeeze out any extra air as you go so you end up with a neat rectangle. Secure each package with a toothpick.

4. Pour the oil to a depth of 2 to 3 inches into a wok and heat over medium-high heat. When the oil shimmers, add half of the packets and reduce the heat to medium-low to maintain a merry bubbling, with the largest bubbles around ¼ inch in diameter. Use tongs to turn the packets over every 5 minutes or so until the paper takes on a golden hue, which will take about 15 minutes. Lift each packet out of the oil and hold it horizontally as you transfer it to a rimmed serving platter. If you turn it this way and that, you will release lots of the juices. Unwrap the chicken in front of your guests, using the paper as nests. Dust each portion with the garnish, if desired.

Chopping up chicken wings will usually result in some bone shards, so use boneless thighs if you are serving this to children.

If you don’t have parchment paper, clean brown-paper lunch bags can be cut up. Just make sure that whatever paper you use doesn’t have any wax or plastic on it. Also make sure your toothpicks are strong enough to pierce the paper. Or, just use foil.

Three-Cup Chicken

Sānbēi jī 三杯雞

TAIWAN’S MILITARY FAMILIES AND JIANGXI • SERVES 6 TO 8

In Taipei, during the early 1980s, there was a strip of little dives at the upper end of Zhongshan North Road. This was in a neighborhood called Tianmu, a rather posh enclave where most of the foreigners lived. Unlike most of the area’s other establishments, which catered to expats, these “beer houses,” or píjĭu wū 啤酒屋 , had a solidly Chinese clientele. They served what can best be described as Asian tapas. These little shacks were decorated with folk art and bamboo paneling, and they offered lots of good beer. But the real draw was the food.

On Friday nights, my husband and I would sometimes meet friends at one end of the beer-house section and eat and drink our way up and down the hill. The dish I looked forward to the most was this Jiangxi recipe filtered through a Taiwanese lens. The bird was served on the bone with a sticky, savory sauce, as well as with plump garlic cloves, fresh chilies, green onions, chewy ginger slices, and a big handful of basil leaves.

1. Trim off the tip sections of the chicken wings (use these for stock) and cut the rest of each wing into 2 pieces. I also like to whack the wing pieces in half crosswise to make bite-sized morsels. Slice the ginger paper-thin; you should have about ½ cup. Peel the garlic cloves and trim off the hard ends but leave the cloves whole.

2. Pour the peanut or vegetable oil into a sandpot and set it over medium heat. As soon as the oil starts to shimmer, toss in the ginger slices and fry them, stirring often, until they are golden and crispy; use a slotted spoon to remove them. Add the chicken to the ginger-scented oil and stir as you fry it until the chicken is golden all over. Pour in the oyster sauce or soy sauce and the optional sugar, rice wine, and sesame oil and toss in the fried ginger and the whites of the green onions.

3. Bring the pot to a boil, cover it, adjust the heat to medium-low, and then simmer the chicken until it is tender and the sauce has been reduced by more than half. Add the garlic, re-cover, and continue to cook gently until only the oil remains at the bottom of the pot. The dish can be made ahead of time up to this point and reheated just before you add the final ingredients.

4. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning. Toss in the optional chilies and the green parts of the onions. Sprinkle the optional basil over the top, place the lid back on the pot, and serve immediately.

The Taiwanese seasonings here are oyster sauce, green onions, chilies, and basil. Jiangxi style calls for soy sauce and rock sugar in place of the oyster sauce.

Spareribs with Garlic and Plum Sauce

Méigāojiàng bào páigǔ 梅糕醬爆排骨

CHAOZHOU • SERVES 4 TO 6

Sweet-and-sour ribs are popular all over China, and each region has its own take on the master recipe. But this one from Chaozhou is right up there with the best. Its secret? Sour plums. The traditional recipe calls for the sauce in name, a Chaozhou mainstay called meigaojiang , literally “plum paste sauce.” True meigaojiang is practically impossible to find in the United States at the time of this writing, so I’ve substituted bottled plum sauce combined with vinegar and a dash of soy sauce. Garlic and ginger are also thrown in here; you end up with a lovely sauce that is sweet, sour, and savory.

1. Pat the ribs dry, then trim off any extra fat and discard. Cut the ribs apart between the bones. Place the ribs in a resealable plastic bag with the marinade ingredients, squeeze out most of the air, seal closed, and then massage the marinade into the ribs. Refrigerate for at least a few hours and up to overnight. Before frying the ribs, rinse them in a colander set in the sink to rid them of most of the salt. Drain the ribs and then pat them dry with paper towels so they don’t send the hot oil flying when you deep-fry them.

2. Heat the oil in a wok over high heat until a chopstick inserted in the oil immediately begins to bubble all over. Add about half of the ribs (to keep the oil from cooling off too quickly) and shake and flip them as they cook so they brown evenly. Once they are nicely caramelized on the edges, use a slotted spoon to remove them to a platter covered with a paper towel. Repeat with the other half.

3. Pour off most of the oil, leaving only about 2 tablespoons in the wok. Heat the oil again over high heat, add the garlic, and stir-fry for about 10 seconds to release its fragrance. Add the plum sauce, vinegars, soy sauce, water, and the fried ribs and quickly stir-fry everything together until the sauce thickens and becomes a nice gloss on the meat. Toss the ribs with the chopped green onions and serve.

If you get your ribs at a butcher shop, you can ask the butcher to slice the whole side of ribs in half using a band saw—although eating them whole is fun, too, and just as tasty.

I like Lee Kum Kee brand plum sauce here, but taste the different varieties and find one that pleases you.

Char Siu

Chāshāo 叉燒

GUANGDONG • MAKES 3 POUNDS OR SO

Char siu can be found in almost every American Chinatown. But Guangdong-style delis in the United States rarely use good-quality pork, and the best char siu is all about the flavor of the meat. It’s a simple dish to make: just get a good cut of heritage pork, slice it and marinate it correctly, and then let the oven do the rest of the work.

I’ve made a few modifications to the original recipe over the years. First, I like Fujian’s red wine lees for their scarlet color and delicious aroma. Also, instead of sugar and maltose, I use agave syrup, which is much lighter and less sweet. It works perfectly to season the meat and give it that crispy charring.

1. Have a large work bowl and resealable plastic bag ready. Remove the strings from the pork and find a natural opening in the side of the roast. Use a sharp knife to cut the roast or an unrolled shoulder into long ¾-inch-thick strips nicely marbled with fat. Cut the strips into whatever lengths you want. Use a sharp fork or knife to stab them all over so that the marinade can penetrate the flesh easily.

2. Mix together the rest of the ingredients except the spray oil in the large work bowl and add the pork. Toss it gently in the marinade to coat it thoroughly. Dump the meat and marinade into the plastic bag, press out most of the air, and seal it. Place the meat in the refrigerator for 6 to 8 hours to give the flavors time to penetrate the pork. If you have the time, take the bag out every hour or so to massage the meat through the plastic and turn it over.

3. Place a rack in the center of your oven and heat it to 350°F. Prepare the bottom of a broiling pan or other large rimmed pan and a large cake rack that fits easily into the pan by spraying both with oil. Remove the pork from the marinade, but reserve any leftover sauce. Lay the slabs of meat on the cake rack so that they do not touch one another and roast the pork for about 15 minutes. Turn the pieces over, baste with some reserved marinade, and roast for another 15 minutes. Raise the heat to 400°F and pour a shallow layer of water into the pan so the marinade doesn’t burn, but do not let the water touch the rack. Continue to roast the meat, turning it occasionally and brushing on more of the marinade each time, until the pork is lightly charred all along the edges, about 45 to 50 minutes more. Let it come to room temperature and slice it thinly before serving. Leftovers can be stored in a clean resealable bag in the refrigerator or frozen for later use.

The shoulder (sometimes labeled “pork butt”) is the best cut. There’s lots of good meat in the shoulder, as well as marbled fat, which keeps this dish moist. If you get a boneless shoulder already trimmed and rolled up for a roast, that is even better, because half of your work is done.

Pork ribs are great cooked this way, too: simply slash them diagonally on the meaty side, marinate, and roast as directed.

Look for Lee Kum Kee brand char siu sauce. Or, instead of store-bought char siu sauce, you can make hoisin sauce by heating together 5 tablespoons regular soy sauce, 1 tablespoon toasted sesame paste , 3 tablespoons agave syrup, 2 tablespoons sweet wheat paste, 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar, 1 clove garlic (minced), 1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil, and 2 tablespoons chili oil . This makes around 1 cup.

Pork Belly with Preserved Mustard Greens

Méicài kòuròu 梅菜扣肉

HAKKA • SERVES 4 TO 6

This dish most likely originated around the Shaoxing area of Jiangsu, where it is still popular (see this page ), but this recipe uses pale Hakka-style “plum vegetable,” or meicai , which it borrows from the Pearl River Delta. There is a darker, heavily seasoned version of meicai made in the Shaoxing style, but that requires a different way of cooking and seasoning and, as a result, cannot be used as a substitute here.

1. You don’t have to worry about any fine hairs, as they will be burned off later, but thick hairs on the pork belly should be plucked out (see this page ). Place the pork in a medium saucepan, cover it with water, and bring the water to a full boil over high heat. Lower the heat to medium and simmer the pork for about 10 minutes to remove any impurities. Drain the pork, rinse off any scum, and let it cool down.

2. To prepare the mustard greens, soak them in warm water until pliable and then cut them into small pieces (½ inch or less). Carefully rinse the mustard greens, squeeze them dry, place them in a medium saucepan, and cover with water. Cook the greens until they are completely tender and then boil down the water until only a slick of sauce remains.

3. Pat the cooled-down pork with a paper towel until it is totally dry. Rub the skin all over with the dark soy sauce. Heat a frying pan over medium heat, add the oil, and then carefully slide the pork skin-side down into the hot fat (don’t fry the other sides of the meat). Fry the pork skin until it is a nice mahogany brown with bubbles and blisters all over the surface. Use a spatter screen to protect you from flying fat. Remove the pork to a cutting board and let it cool down a bit. With the skin-side down on the board, use a sharp knife to cut down through the meat and fat all the way up to—but not through—the skin, making ⅜-inch-wide slices. Place the pork skin-side down in a heatproof 4-cup bowl.

4. Stuff the pork slices with the greens, packing as much as possible into and around the meat. Arrange the green onions and ginger on top. Pour the oil, rice wine, and regular soy sauce over everything; if you like this dish slightly sweet (which I certainly do), add up to 5 tablespoons agave syrup. Seal the bowl with foil and peak it up in the center a bit so that the steam will roll off the top rather than trickle into the bowl. Place the bowl in a steamer and cook over medium heat for 4 hours, adding more water to the steamer as necessary.

5. Take the pork out of the steamer and carefully pour the sauce into a measuring cup. Remove most of the fat from the sauce, if desired. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning one last time. Invert a rimmed plate over the bowl and invert the bowl onto the plate; carefully lift off the bowl. Pour the sauce around and over the meat and serve immediately.

Diced Braised Pork over Rice

Lŭròu fàn 滷肉飯

SOUTHERN FUJIAN AND TAIWAN • SERVES 6 TO 8

Whenever I get homesick for Taiwan, I make this dish. It’s the kind of home-style food that grandmas always seem to have bubbling on the stove over there. It’s also not hard to make. The pork and sauce are served over a bowl of steaming rice with an egg, a sprinkle of chopped cilantro, and a couple of slices of that yellow Japanese pickled radish known as takuan zuke . This last fillip is probably an inheritance from Taiwan’s colonial days, when the Japanese controlled the island.

1. Start this dish at least a day before you want to serve it. Blanch the pork in simmering water for 10 minutes, discard the water, and cut the meat into small (½-inch) dice.

2. Fry the raw shallots and garlic in the oil until they are light brown. Add the pork and fry until it begins to brown, too. Stir in all of the sauce ingredients, topping them off with more boiling water as needed to cover. Bring the pot to a boil, reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer, cover, and let it cook for about half an hour.

3. Taste and adjust the flavor with salt, wine, and sugar as needed. Add the eggs, bring the pot to a boil again, and then let it simmer, uncovered, for about 30 minutes. Allow the sauce to come to room temperature, then cover and refrigerate it for at least overnight for the best flavor. Try to submerge the eggs so that they take on an even golden color.

4. The next day—or even better, after a couple of days—scrape most of the fat off of the top before bringing the pork and eggs to a boil again. Reduce to a gentle simmer and cook uncovered for about an hour, turning the eggs occasionally so that they tan evenly. Remove the eggs from the sauce and bring the pork and sauce to a boil to reduce the sauce to about ½ cup.

5. To serve, place about a cup of hot steamed rice in a large soup bowl, put an egg on top of the rice and a mound of the pork next to it, and then decorate the top with a couple of slices of pickled daikon and a healthy handful of fried shallots. Dribble a bit of the sauce over the pork and egg. Throw some chopped cilantro on top and serve.

Steamed Minced Pork with Salted Fish

Xiányú ròubĭng 鹹魚肉餅

GUANGDONG • SERVES 4

When making this dish, Guangdong cooks include a strip of salted fish on top of the minced pork. The fish acts as a seasoning, its rich flavors working their way into the pork. In general, I think of salted fish as a condiment: on its own it’s pretty overwhelming, but if it’s used in small doses, it can be a delicious addition to many savory dishes, like fried rice .

When I lived in Taiwan, the preferred garnish for this dish was brined egg yolks , not salted fish. Other families mixed in some chopped pickles (the huagua pickles work well). The main aim—no matter what you use—is to provide a salty, xianwei contrast to the rich flavors of the pork.

1. Place the pork in a medium work bowl and mix in the green onions, garlic, ginger, sugar, mushroom seasoning, soy sauce, rice wine, and shallot oil. (Your hand is probably the best tool for this.)

2. Shape the meat into a patty and place it in a shallow bowl that fits easily into your steamer . Smooth down the top of the patty and squish the salted fish into the center. Place the bowl in the steamer and steam the patty on high for about 35 minutes. Insert a chopstick into the center of the meat; if the juices run clear, it’s done. Serve hot with steamed rice.

Oil-packed salted fish is often available in Guangdong-style grocery stores, but I’ve found that vacuum-packed fillets of salted yellow croaker work well as a fresher component for this dish. I put the croaker in a medium canning jar, submerge the fish in fresh oil, cover the jar with foil, and steam it for about an hour. When it has cooled, I replace the foil with the jar’s cover (one that will not rust) and store the jar in the refrigerator, where it keeps well as long as the fish is covered with oil. Look for salted yellow croaker fillets in grocery stores specializing in southern Chinese foods.

Another delicious way of making this dish is to flake half of the salted fish, mix it in with the meat, and then place the rest of it on top.

If you opt for brined egg yolks, stick the whole or halved yolks into the pork just before steaming.

If you’re going the pickle route and you don’t want to make huagua pickles, pick up a jar of Taiwanese yìnguā 蔭瓜 , which is often roughly translated on the label as “Oriental pickling melon.” These are basically hard squashes prepared almost exactly like huagua pickles. Add some of the liquid from the pickles to the mix instead of the mushroom powder and soy sauce.

Side Dishes

Water Spinach with Bean Curd “Cheese” and Chilies

Fŭrŭ kōngxīncài 腐乳空心菜

GUANGDONG • SERVES 6 TO 8

Fermented bean curd “cheese” looks sort of like feta cheese and has a similar tang from the brine it’s soaked in. Its seasoning, though, depends on where it was made. Fujian Province has a gorgeous scarlet dòufŭrŭ 豆腐乳 that is made with its local red wine yeast. Taiwan has a creamy sweet version that comes from the town of Sanxia. Guangdong and Guangxi have a couple of very funky versions, as well as some milder ones (this page ) and a few that are spiked with chili. They are all delicious—just think of them as cheese, rather than bean curd.

This recipe calls for the addition of a fresh chili to the “cheese,” but if you’d rather have garlic in there, go right ahead. There are no set rules: the flavors can be adjusted depending upon what you like, what you’re serving this dish with, and what kind of doufuru you’re using.

1. Wash the water spinach carefully and trim off the ends, as well as any tough stems. Cut the bunch in half where the leaves start to grow more thickly.

2. Cut the bottom half of the stems into 2-inch pieces and put them into one pile; cut the leafy stalks into 2-inch pieces and set them in another pile. Place the bean curd “cheese,” or doufuru , in a small bowl with the brine and mash it with a fork.

3. Heat the oil in a wok over high heat until it starts to smoke. Add the ginger and quickly stir-fry it until it begins to brown. Add the jalapeño pepper and then the water spinach stems and toss them in the hot oil until they turn a brilliant green. Add the leafy stalks and stir-fry the leaves quickly until they barely wilt. Pour the mashed doufuru into the wok and use the rice wine to rinse out the bowl into the wok, as well. Quickly toss everything together and taste, adjusting the flavor with more doufuru or a dash of sugar or soy sauce if needed. Sprinkle the sesame oil over the water spinach and serve hot.

Gailan with Oyster Sauce

Háoyóu jièlán 蠔油芥藍

GUANGDONG • SERVES 4 TO 6

Known as Chinese flowering kale in English and jièláncài 芥藍菜 in Mandarin, gailan is best served in spring when it is still young and tender. If you are a devotee of dim sum, you’ll recognize gailan as one of the few green items regularly wheeled around the room. This recipe is a classic at teahouses and extremely easy to prepare.

First, the gailan is given a quick dip in boiling water with a bit of oil. After the stalks are blanched to a gentle crispness, they are stacked up parallel to one another and cut in half crosswise. A drizzle of oyster sauce is added as a final touch. When I make this dish, I also add some rice wine, sugar, and sesame oil. The vegetable can be steam-fried, as well; see Step 2 for directions on that.

1. If the stalks need no more than a light trim on the bottom, take care of that and place the gailan in a colander; the stalks should be 6 to 8 inches long. If, on the other hand, they have thick skins, use a paring knife to peel the skin off, as well as any tougher leaves. Rinse the veggies under running water and lightly shake dry.

2. If you are blanching the stalks, bring a large pot of water to a boil and drizzle in a bit of oil. Dunk the gailan in the boiling water for only as long as it takes to turn them a brilliant emerald. Use a Chinese spider to pluck them out and drain. If you are steam-frying the gailan , heat the 3 tablespoons oil in a wok over high heat and add the veggies. Quickly stir-fry them until the color starts to change. Cover the wok with a lid or the colander and let them steam for a minute or two until they turn a bright green. However you’ve cooked them, center the veggies on a serving platter and arrange the stalks parallel to one another, with the leaves all pointing in the same direction. Cut them in half across the middle.

3. Add the rice wine, oyster sauce, sugar, and sesame oil to the wok and bring to a fast boil over high heat. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning. Pour the sauce over the gailan and serve hot.

When you go shopping for gailan , there are a couple of things to keep in mind, so check out the suggestions on this page .

Garlic Chive Flowers with Pressed Bean Curd

Jĭucàihuā chǎo dòufŭgān 韭菜花炒豆腐乾

HAKKA • SERVES 4

The Hakka are adept at making lovely meals out of simple ingredients, and this dish is particularly representative of their austere, yet comforting, cuisine. Garlic chive flowers, which are crisp, sweet, and slightly oniony, match up perfectly with the pressed bean curd. The dish is rounded out with salt as it is flash-fried in oil. Carnivores can substitute julienned pork for the bean curd; just marinate it in a mixture of rice wine and grated ginger before tossing it into the hot wok.

1. Snap off or trim off any tough ends on the chive flowers, rinse, and then cut them into 1-inch lengths.

2. Rinse the pressed bean curd, then cut each square horizontally into slices about ⅛ inch thick. Cut the slices crosswise into julienne about ⅛ inch wide. They should be about the same size as the cut chive flowers (see the sidebar ).

3. Set an empty wok over high heat until it smokes, add the oil and salt, and swirl them quickly to melt the salt. Add the bean curd and toss it over high heat until it sears and browns lightly. Remove the bean curd to a plate, keeping as much oil in the wok as possible. Add the chive flowers to the wok and toss them quickly until all are lightly coated with the oil. Pour the rice wine over the chives, cover the wok, and let them steam-fry for about 30 seconds. When you remove the lid, the chives should be emerald green and tender. Toss in the bean curd, taste and adjust the seasoning, and serve hot.

Crispy Silk Gourd Crêpes

Cuìzhá sīguā jiān 脆炸絲瓜煎

CHAOZHOU • SERVES 6 TO 8

In the West, silk gourds mainly appear in their dried form, as loofah (or luffa) sponges. But when these squashes are still tender, they are soft, sweet, and wonderful when simply stir-fried with garlic, salt, and a splash of rice wine. In Chaozhou, silk gourds are given a special treatment that I haven’t seen anywhere else: fried into crêpes with a handful of tasty condiments that play havoc with your taste buds.

1. Remove the skin on the silk gourd with a potato peeler and cut off the stem and flower ends. Cut the squash into ¼-inch-thick slices. Place a large frying pan over medium-high heat and pour in about 3 tablespoons oil. Arrange a layer of the slices in the hot oil and fry on both sides until browned and soft (adding more oil as needed), then remove them to a small work bowl. Repeat this step with the rest of the squash. You should end up with about 2 cups cooked squash.

2. Rinse the salted radish in a sieve and shake it dry. Chop the peanuts into small pieces (less than ¼ inch across), about the same size as the radish. Mix together the sweet potato starch, eggs, and water to form a batter with the consistency of heavy cream. Stir in the peanuts, radish, fried squash (as well as any juices), green onions, fish sauce, sugar, sesame oil, and pepper.

3. Return the frying pan to medium-high heat and pour in about 3 tablespoons oil. Ladle a quarter of the batter into the pan and shake the pan to distribute the squash and crunchy bits evenly. Shake the pan again after about 20 seconds to loosen the crêpe and then turn it over when the underside is a golden brown. If you’re like me and prefer the crêpe to have a crispier exterior, fry both sides until they are dark brown.

4. Transfer the cooked crêpe to a clean cutting board and sprinkle it lightly with salt. Repeat Step 3 with the rest of the batter until all of it has been fried. The crêpes can be made ahead of time up to this point and reheated in a 325°F oven until crispy right before serving. To serve, slice each crêpe into 4 to 6 wedges and garnish with the cilantro.

Starches & Street Food

Yi Residence Noodles

Yīfŭ miàn 伊府麵

GUANGDONG • SERVES 8

This dish is named for Yi Bingshou, the famous Qing dynasty calligrapher. One day, when Yi was stationed as a bureaucrat in Guangdong, he invited some guests over for dinner. As the story goes, his chef was running behind schedule and accidentally dumped some cooked noodles into a pot of boiling oil. There was no time to correct the error, so the chef poured some seasoned broth over the fried noodles and served them. The dish was a hit, and it became known as “noodles from the Yi residence,” or Yifu mian .

This pasta is so easy to prepare that it is now credited as the precursor to today’s instant noodles. The only challenge is finding good prepared yifu noodles, which can be difficult even in a busy Chinese supermarket. The good news is that yifu noodles can be made at home: all that is required is a simple egg dough, which can be cut as thickly or as thinly as you like. I prefer noodles about ¼ inch wide—sort of like fettuccine.

This dish also makes for a terrific bowl of birthday noodles: in China, the traditional celebratory dish is not cake and ice cream, but soup noodles with an egg on top. The egg symbolizes birth, and the noodles (which should be thin and as long as possible) signify longevity.

1. Place a large platter next to the stove, cover it with parchment paper or paper towels, and have chopsticks and a Chinese spider ready. Place a wok over medium-high heat, add the oil, and when a chopstick inserted into the oil is immediately covered with lots of bubbles, grab a handful of the noodles and lower them gently into the hot oil. Immediately use your chopsticks to stir them around, as they will start to puff up and double in size. Turn them over and continue to fry them until they have hardened but not yet browned, then remove them to the platter to drain. Repeat with the rest of the noodles, continuing to fry them in small batches until all have been fried. The noodles can be cooled off completely and stored in resealable plastic bags in the refrigerator for up to a week or so.

2. About 30 minutes before serving this dish, prepare the toppings and the stock: cut the shrimp horizontally in half (so that you have 2 large shrimp-shaped pieces per shrimp) and slice the fish into pieces about ¾ inch wide. You can keep the skin on, if you like. Place the shrimp and fish in a small bowl and toss with ¼ cup rice wine. Pick over the yellow chives, removing any withered or slimy leaves, and then trim off the stem ends, wash carefully, and drain. Shake the chives dry and cut them into 1-inch lengths.

3. Set the wok over medium-high heat and add the oil. Swirl it around and add the ginger. Let the ginger sizzle for a couple of seconds until it smells great, then raise the heat to high, drain the shrimp and fish, and add them to the hot oil. Toss them in the oil for a few minutes until the shrimp is pink and the fish is opaque. Scoop them out into a medium work bowl, leaving most of the oil in the wok. Return the wok to high heat, add the chives, and toss them around until they are barely wilted. Scoop them out and place them on top of the shrimp and fish.

4. Without bothering to rinse out the wok, return it to high heat, add 4 cups of the stock and half each of the soy sauce, rice wine, fish sauce, sesame oil, sugar, and vinegar. Bring to a full boil and then add all of the fried noodles. Toss the noodles in the stock and cook them over high heat, stirring occasionally, for 5 to 10 minutes, or until the stock has been absorbed. Empty the noodles out onto a rimmed serving platter.

5. Put the remaining 2 cups stock in the wok along with the remaining soy sauce, rice wine, fish sauce, sesame oil, sugar, and vinegar. Bring to a boil and then add the shrimp, fish, and chives. Bring back to a boil, taste and adjust the seasoning, and then toss in the cilantro. Toss to mix well and pour over the noodles. Serve immediately.

Sesame Noodles

Májiàng miàn 麻醬麵

TAIWAN MILITARY FAMILIES AND BEIJING • SERVES 4

I have adored this simple street food ever since I took my first bite of it at a little stand on Nanhai Road, just a block or so away from my workplace. It was a very simple affair—just fresh noodles tossed with little more than toasted sesame paste, plus a dash of black vinegar, sugar, and soy sauce—but I always luxuriated over this quiet, solitary lunch.

Over the years I have messed around with this dish quite a bit, as I found it to be another one of those basic templates that ought to be tinkered with until you find your sweet spot. Peanut butter found its way into the mix to provide another layer of nutty creaminess and more complexity to the flavors. Garlic soon lent its fragrance, as did homemade chili oil with lots of goop, which can make this taste a whole lot like Sichuan’s dandan noodles (dāndānmiàn 擔擔麵 ). Like stone soup, this just gets better as more delicious things are added.

1. First make the sauce: in a wok, mix together the sesame oil (or chili oil and goop), sesame paste, peanut butter, garlic, onion whites, soy sauce, vinegar, and sugar. Heat this slowly over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until the sauce is slightly cooked through, then taste and adjust the seasoning.

2. Bring a saucepan filled with water to a boil, add the wheat noodles, and cook until barely done. Scoop out the noodles and add to the wok, reserving the pasta water. Toss the noodles until they are all well coated, adding some of the hot pasta water as needed to keep them from clumping up. (To be honest, this will take more water than you expect.) Divide the noodles among the bowls, sprinkle on the onion greens, and serve hot. I like to offer small bowls of the cooking water on the side as a simple soup that can be used to thin down the sauce as needed.

Stir-Fried Grilled Breads

Chǎobĭng 炒餅

TAIWAN’S MILITARY FAMILIES AND NORTHERN CHINA • SERVES 4 TO 6

As you can tell by these recipes, my favorites of all the Taiwan Military Family dishes are their pastas. Whenever stewed tilapia was on the museum’s staff lunch menu, I would usually opt to visit one of the little stands down the road, where an elderly Mainlander would whip up a small bowl of hot pasta like this, along with a little saucer of blanched celtuce leaves. Afterward I would take a walk through the nearby botanical gardens and watch the turtles and dragonflies dart among the swaying lotuses. It was a magical ninety-minute lunch break.

The pasta in this dish, called làobĭng 烙餅 , looks somewhat like a thick crêpe. It’s cut into strips and then stir-fried with vegetables and a bit of pork or eggs. Nowadays, I much prefer this recipe with fresh black mushrooms instead of pork, but it’s all a matter of taste.

1. Slice the grilled breads into pieces ½ inch wide and keep them covered with a dry tea towel.

2. If using mushrooms, remove the stems and slice the caps into thin pieces; for pork, thinly slice it against the grain and then crosswise into matchsticks. Place the mushrooms or pork in a small work bowl and toss with the soy sauce and rice wine. While the mushrooms or pork is marinating, prep the vegetables: trim off the bases of the chives, rinse the stalks, and then cut them crosswise into ½-inch lengths; shake the pieces dry in a colander. Rinse the bean sprouts in another colander and shake dry.

3. Place a wok over high heat, and when it is hot, add half the oil plus the ginger. Drain the mushrooms or pork, reserve the marinade, and add the mushrooms or pork to the wok. Stir-fry the mushrooms until they are slightly browned, or the pork until it turns white, then toss in the chives and bean sprouts and continue to toss over high heat to sear the vegetables. When the bean sprouts are still crisp but do not taste raw, scoop everything out into a clean work bowl.

4. Return the wok to high heat and add the remaining ¼ cup oil. Swirl the oil around in the wok and then add the eggs. Tip the wok this way and that to form a large omelet. Turn the omelet over to cook briefly on the second side and then remove to a cutting board. Slice the omelet into ½-inch-wide strips.

5. Add the sliced breads to the hot wok and toss them without adding any extra oil, as this will crisp them up a bit. When they are hot, toss in the contents of the work bowl and the eggs, as well as the reserved marinade and the sesame oil. Taste, adjust the seasoning, and serve.

Cheong Fun

Chángfěn 腸粉

PEARL RIVER DELTA • MAKES 6 ROLLS

This dish, with its soft rice sheets wrapped around fat, fresh shrimp, is a mainstay at most dim sum restaurants. Some places substitute shreds of roast duck, savory ground pork, or char siu for the shrimp, while others insert only a crispy Chinese cruller and call the dish zháliǎng 炸兩 . I’ve always had a very difficult time deciding between the different versions, so in this recipe, I’ve gone all out and combined the sweet-savory flavors of a traditional meaty roll with the crunch of zhaliang . I’ve also added fried cellophane noodles, a sprinkle of almonds, and a sweet-salty sauce.

If you have a vibrant Vietnamese or southern Chinese community in your area, you might be able to substitute store-bought unsliced fresh rice noodles (héfěn 河粉 ). If not, these rice sheets, which are also often called cheong fun , are easy to make. It took me a long time to figure out the right way to do it because almost everyone says to use rice flour, which gives you mushy and grainy results. What you want are silky sheets, something that can be achieved only by grinding soaked rice into a soft slurry, with a touch of wheat starch and tapioca flour to bind everything together just right.

1. Rinse the soaked rice in a sieve, shake it dry, and toss it into a blender. Add the water, wheat starch, tapioca flour, oil, and salt. Blend on high speed until you have a very thin, smooth batter. Spray 2 pans (either 8 × 8 inches or 9 × 7 inches) with oil. Pour 3 or more inches water into a wide braising pot and bring the water to a boil. Place 1 of the oiled pans in the pot for a few seconds to heat up its bottom then remove pan from pot.

2. Measure out a scant ¼ cup of the rice batter, pour it into the heated pan, and swirl the pan around so that the batter completely and evenly covers the bottom. (The heat will set some of the batter and make it easier for it to grip the bottom.) Place the pan in the pot (no trivet is needed, for it will float like a little boat) and cover the pot. S team the batter for a few minutes. It will be done when bubbles puff up from the bottom of the batter and the sides pull away from the pan. Use a dry towel or oven mitt to remove the hot pan from the pot. Place it on a heatproof counter. While it is cooling off slightly, repeat this step with the other pan.

3. While that second pan is cooking, loosen the edges of the cooked rice sheet with an offset spatula. Tilt the pan on its side, nudge one end, and the sheet should just roll up onto itself like a carpet. Remove the sheet, lay it out flat on a large plate, and let it cool off. If the sheet doesn’t come out easily, the pan needs to be cleaned, dried, and oiled well before the next batch. Repeat with the rest of the batter until done. You should have 6 sheets total.

4. While the sheets are cooling off, prepare the duck or pork. If the meats are fatty or flabby, heat them in a 425°F oven on a rack to crisp up the skin and meat, and to melt off the extra fat. Cool the meat slightly, then shred or cut it into thin strips.

5. To fry the cellophane noodles, pour oil to a depth of 2 inches into a wok and heat over medium-high until the oil starts to shimmer. Break the noodles apart in large pieces in a paper bag so that they don’t shoot out all over your kitchen. Line a large work bowl with a paper towel and have a Chinese spider or slotted spoon ready. Drop 1 noodle into the oil, and if it immediately puffs up, the oil is ready; if it browns, lower the heat. Fry the noodles in small handfuls, removing them to the prepared bowl as soon as they are puffy and white. (This step can be done ahead of time.)

6. Lay one of the rice sheets out on a flat work surface with the shiny side on the bottom and the dull side on top; if it is not a square sheet, have one of the shorter edges in front of you. Layer a sixth of the duck or pork along the closest edge, sprinkle on a sixth of the almonds and a bit of the cilantro or green onions, and place an inch-high layer of the fried cellophane noodles on top. Roll the sheet up as tightly as you can without crushing the noodles; the sheet should stick to itself by the time it is rolled up. Place it on a serving platter and repeat with the rest of the sheets and filling. Use kitchen shears to cut each roll into 3 or 4 pieces.

7. Heat the sweet soy sauce and oil together in a saucepan until they boil; pour this sauce over the stuffed rice sheets and serve.

Stir-Fried Rice Noodles and Satay Beef

Shāchá níuròu chǎohé 沙茶牛肉炒河

CHAOZHOU • SERVES 2 AS A MAIN DISH, 4 AS A SIDE DISH

In this tantalizing dish, fresh rice noodles, called hefen , support rich slices of steak, crunchy mung bean sprouts, and the unmistakable sauce known as satay, or shacha , a staple of Chaozhou cuisine.

Here are my secrets for perfect hefen : First, the rice noodles should be really fresh and soft. Second, they must first be tossed in soy sauce; it is the soy sauce that browns in the wok, not the noodles themselves. Third, when the noodles are thrown into the wok, they must be seared quickly and with lots of oil. The oil can be poured off at the end, but it’s important that there is plenty during the cooking process, so that the noodles can move freely.

1. First prepare the steak: Cut the meat against the grain into thin slices, keeping any fat on. Place the meat in a small work bowl and add the garlic, cornstarch, and oil; toss and let the steak marinate while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Empty the rice noodles into a large work bowl and separate the strands as much as possible. Toss with the soy sauce. Rinse the sprouts and shake dry. Remove the stems from the mushrooms and save those for stock; cut the caps into ¼-inch-thick slices.

3. Set a dry wok over high heat. Have a clean plate next to the stove. Add about a third of the sprouts to the wok and toss them quickly until they sear but are still very crisp; remove them to the plate and repeat with the rest of the sprouts in two batches until all are cooked. (Cooking them without oil gives them great contrast to the rest of the ingredients.) Add the oil to the wok, and when it is hot, add the ginger and green onions and heat for about 10 seconds to release their fragrance. Toss in the mushrooms and steak and stir these quickly just until the meat has lost its pink color. Use a Chinese spider or slotted spoon to transfer the solids from the oil to the bean sprouts.

4. Mix together the sauce ingredients in a small work bowl. Return the wok to high heat and add the rice noodles. Toss them only until they start to brown, then drain off almost all of the oil. Add the sauce and toss with the noodles. Return the meat and vegetables to the wok and toss everything again. Serve immediately.

Crusty Rice with Charcuterie

Bàozǐ fàn 煲仔飯

GUANGDONG • SERVES 1 (see Tips )

Written baozi fan (rice boiled in a little pot) in Cantonese and làwèi fàn 臘味飯 (charcuterie-flavored rice) in Mandarin, this one-pot wonder is a great winter comfort dish. In this recipe, I have added fresh black mushrooms and some white liquor, as well as a drizzle of sesame oil to hasten the browning. It’s the rice that is the real treat: crunchy and golden, it fries up in the charcuterie drippings and sesame oil, emitting delicious aromas as it cooks.

1. Prepare a small covered sandpot, preferably one with a handle, by rinsing it out. Place the rice in a sieve, rinse under cool tap water, and drain.

2. Rinse the sausage and pork belly and pat them dry with a paper towel. Cut both sausages on a sharp diagonal into thin slices. Remove and discard the skin from the pork belly and slice the meat on a sharp diagonal, as well. Remove the stem from the mushroom and thinly slice the cap.

3. Place the rice in the sandpot and flatten it into an even layer. Place the meats and mushroom on top however you wish. Sprinkle the ginger over them and then pour in the white liquor, soy sauce, and water. Cover the sandpot, place it on one of the smaller of your stove’s elements, and turn on the heat to high (see Tips ). Bring the liquid in the sandpot to a boil, then cover the sandpot and lower the heat to the lowest setting. Set the timer for 17 minutes, then peek inside the cover to make sure the rice is fully cooked and the water has been absorbed. If not, cook 2 to 3 minutes longer and check again.

4. Pour the sesame oil into the center of the sandpot, re-cover, and raise the heat to medium-high. At this point you have to rely on your ears and nose to tell you when the rice is done: listen for the light crackling noises of the rice being fried to a crisp and keep your nose attuned to the smell of popcorn, which tells you that the rice has been toasted. When it sounds and smells ready, remove the sandpot from the heat and use a wide spoon to lift up one edge of the rice. It should be a toasty brown color. If not, return it to the heat and keep watch. Serve the dish while it is still hot and crackling.

This recipe is for one serving, but you can make as many as you wish. Just be sure to have a small covered sandpot for each person. Also, you will need a small stove burner for each sandpot, because large burners will focus too much of their heat around the edge of the pot and make it too hot to touch.

Jasmine rice is the preferred variety here. Basmati could be used in a pinch, but it has a looser texture.

Any sort of Cantonese charcuterie ) can be used here—whatever you like and is available will do.

If you have only two small stove burners and you want to make more than two servings, prepare your extra sandpots ahead of time up to Step 3 and keep them hot in a warm oven. Then, just before serving, brown the bottoms as in Step 4.

Fried Rice with Chicken and Salted Fish

Xiányú jīlì chǎofàn 鹹魚雞粒炒飯

GUANGDONG • SERVES 2 AS A MAIN DISH, 4 AS A SIDE DISH

Any number of fried rice dishes might appear on the menu of a Guangdong-style restaurant, but as far as I’m concerned, this one is the best. The salted fish adds a delicious edge to what might otherwise be a rather ordinary plate of chicken fried rice, deepening the flavors and amping up the xianwei factor. And then there is that handful of shredded lettuce: few cuisines would be able to take something so boring and turn it into a culinary star, but the chefs of Guangzhou make it happen. Drizzle a little sesame oil on top of everything and you’re all set for a great meal.

1. If you do not have 2 cups cold cooked long-grain white rice, make some fresh, either in a rice steamer or on the stove (this page ). Refrigerate it when it has cooled to room temperature. The rice can be made ahead of time and either refrigerated or frozen. Defrost it completely before proceeding, but be sure to make this with only cold rice.

2. Place a wok over medium-high heat, and when it is hot, add 1 tablespoon of the oil. Swirl the oil around before adding the chicken and fish. Fry these, stirring often, until they are golden brown. Scrape them into a small work bowl.

3. Pour 3 tablespoons of the oil into the hot wok and swirl it around. Break up any large clumps in the rice and add it to the wok. Toss the rice over medium to medium-high heat until it starts to steam and turn golden in places.

4. Make a well in the center of the rice, pour in the remaining 2 tablespoons oil and then add the beaten eggs to the oil. Let the eggs set for a moment, then cook them in this well until they look curdled and are about half done. Add the fried chicken and fish and toss everything together gently but thoroughly. Taste and adjust the seasoning with a sprinkle more salt or some fish sauce. Just before serving, add the shredded lettuce and green onion. Drizzle the sesame oil over the top, give the rice a final toss, and serve.

Taro Rice

Hǎinán yùfàn 海南芋飯

HAINAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

Whenever I serve this, my guests act like they’re having dessert for dinner. This inspired combination of chewy rice, creamy taro, crunchy peanuts, rich coconut, and ample aromatics makes it seem like there’s nothing else on the table.

1. Rinse the rice in a sieve and then soak it in cool water for about 2 hours, until it passes the fingernail test . Drain the rice and then steam in a steamer basket lined with cloth (see this page ) for about 40 minutes, adding more water if necessary, until tender but still nicely chewy.

2. While the rice is steaming, peel the taro and cut into 1-inch dice (wear gloves if you are allergic to raw taro). Steam the taro until it can be easily pierced. Turn the taro out onto a cutting board and coarsely chop it.

3. While both the rice and taro are steaming, spread the coconut on a small tray and toast in a toaster oven at 300°F just until it begins to turn golden and smells wonderful. Empty the coconut into a large work bowl to stop the cooking. Finely chop the garlic, add it to the coconut along with the salt and green onions, and then work all of the ingredients together, preferably with your fingers, to release their fragrances. Add the hot cooked rice and taro and toss together well. Scoop the rice out into a serving dish, sprinkle the peanuts on top, toss lightly, and serve immediately.

Sticky Rice Two Ways

Yóufàn, mĭgāo 油飯、米糕

SOUTHERN FUJIAN AND TAIWAN • SERVES 8 TO 10

If you ever happen to be at a feast in southern Fujian or Taiwan, there is a good chance that a big bowl of savory sticky rice will appear. Bits of pork, black mushrooms, and crispy shallots mingle with seasoned rice in this dish, making it something like a deconstructed Chinese tamale. Molded sticky rice is almost the same thing, but it is normally served in individual portions as street food. You can, in fact, wrap either of these recipes in bamboo leaves (for directions on wrapping Chinese tamales ) and then steam them for the perfect zongzi , maybe even sneaking in a couple of brined egg yolks as a special treat.

My favorite place to eat migao was at a little hole-in-the-wall in the Taipei suburb of Shipai, which was operated by a middle-aged Taiwanese lady. She seemed to make the best migao anywhere, and it is her recipe that I have attempted to re-create. She would steam the dish in bamboo cups that had been used for so many years that they were deeply saturated with layer after layer of soy sauce and oil. I bought cups just like hers in Taipei, but they cracked in the dry air of California. I’ve since devised a great substitute: glass jelly jars. They’re cheap, perfectly sized, and you can use them for other things in between your sticky rice celebrations.

1. For both recipes, use the following directions: The night before you plan to make this dish, place the mushrooms and shrimp in separate bowls, rinse them with tap water, then cover each ingredient with cool water (use at least ½ cup water for the mushrooms). Let them plump up overnight. You may also prepare them the same day as the rice by covering them with boiling water.

2. Trim off the mushroom stems and reserve the soaking liquid; cut the caps into thin slices. Pick out and discard any shrimp that are discolored, drain off and discard the soaking liquid, and cut off any sandy veins that you see, but keep the shrimp whole.

3. Rinse the rice in a sieve and dump it into a medium work bowl. Cover with cool tap water and soak for about 2 hours, until it passes the fingernail test (see this page ). Drain the rice and then steam in a steamer basket lined with cloth (see this page ) for about 40 minutes, until tender but still nicely chewy. Remove the rice from the steamer. Cut the pork against the grain into thin slices and then crosswise into julienne. Place the pork in a small work bowl with the soy sauce, rice wine, and lots of black pepper and allow the meat to marinate while you work on everything else.

4. If you are making molded sticky rice, reserve 16 mushroom slices and 8 shrimp for garnish. Chop the remaining shrimp and add them to the rest of the mushroom slices. If you are making the savory sticky rice, chop all of the shrimp and add them to the mushrooms. Drain off and reserve the meat marinade.

5. Set a wok over medium-high heat and add the oil as soon as the wok is hot. Toss in the chopped shrimp and mushroom slices and stir-fry them for a couple of minutes to release their fragrance. Add the drained meat and fried shallots, continue to stir-fry until the pork is almost done, and then add half of the mushroom soaking liquid, the reserved marinade, and the steamed rice. Toss together well, allowing the liquid to loosen the clumps. Drizzle in the rest of the mushroom liquid when the rice becomes dry.

6. If you are making the savory sticky rice, add the stewed peanuts and toss to mix. Sprinkle on the sugar, toss again, and taste and adjust the seasoning. (The molded rice will be served with soy paste, so be sure not to oversalt it.) Pile the mixture into a serving bowl and sprinkle on some cilantro. Serve hot.

7. If you are making molded sticky rice, spray 8 jelly jars with oil. Place 2 mushroom slices and 1 shrimp in the bottom of each jar. Divide the rice among the jars and pat it down gently so that there are no air pockets. Steam (see this page ) for about 10 minutes, until heated through. Turn the jars over into individual rice bowls, sprinkle with the chopped cilantro and peanuts, and drizzle on soy paste to taste (about 1 tablespoon per serving). Serve hot.

8. Both recipes freeze well and can be steamed until piping hot before serving.

Congee

Guǎngdōng zhōu 廣東粥

GUANGDONG • MAKES ABOUT 4 QUARTS

There are as many recipes for congee as there are for good chicken soup. The first one here comes from a nurse friend who fell in love with the version served on the night shift when she worked in Guangzhou. The other variations are equally delicious. I realize that a gallon of anything might seem like a terrifying amount, but this is good stuff and it goes down quickly.

1. Rinse the rice in a sieve until the water runs clear, then place it in a large, heavy-bottomed pot. Mix the salt and oil into the rinsed rice and let sit for at least an hour, until the grains are gently seasoned and tenderized. This will smell fantastic.

2. Add the water and any of the optional seasonings to the pot, stir, and bring to a full boil. Lower the heat to a gentle simmer and cook, stirring occasionally and always scraping the bottom of the pan with a flat silicone spatula, for 40 minutes or so, until the grains have bloomed and the liquid has thickened. The congee will be ready when the grains have blossomed into soft little puffs. Don’t overcook the rice to the point that it becomes gluey.

3. Divide the congee among 6 or more large soup bowls, leaving enough room for a generous assortment of garnishes. If you want, let people decorate their own bowls.

LOTUS LEAF CONGEE (héyè zhōu 荷葉粥 )

This gorgeously scented rice porridge is a specialty of the Yangtze River area, and it is usually served cool or lukewarm during hot weather. Normally accompanied by little side dishes (see the appetizers selection on this page for some good ideas), it’s an elegant and tasty way to beat the heat. A good alternative to the lotus leaves are bamboo leaves. Make the plain congee but add either 1 dried lotus leaf or 2 dried bamboo leaves that you have soaked until pliable and wiped clean. Remove the leaves before serving.

CHAOZHOU-STYLE CONGEE (Cháozhōu mí 潮州糜 )

Follow the directions above for the basic congee, but only use 12 cups water, which will give you a thicker, glossier rice porridge that will serve around 4 people. (This is also the go-to recipe for people who are not feeling well.)

SWEET POTATO CONGEE (hóngshŭ xīfàn 紅薯稀飯 )

This is a specialty of Southern Fujian and Taiwan, where whole restaurants are dedicated to nothing but this delicious congee and the small dishes that accompany it. Make the Chaozhou-style congee, but while the rice is cooking, peel 2 or 3 red sweet potatoes and cut them into large (1-inch) squares. Steam the sweet potatoes or simmer them in a small amount of water until they are barely cooked through, then add them to the congee 10 or 15 minutes before it is done; add more water if necessary to make the congee as thin or thick as you like it.

PORK AND PRESERVED EGG CONGEE (pídàn shòuròu zhōu 皮蛋瘦肉粥 )

Flavor plain congee with 1 tablespoon mushroom seasoning. Toast 2 Chinese crullers (youtiao ) in a toaster oven until crisp. Meanwhile, heat ¼ cup toasted sesame oil over high heat and add ¼ cup peeled and julienned fresh ginger; fry the ginger until crisp and remove it to a small dish. Add ½ cup julienned pork to the hot oil and stir-fry until it has lost its pink color, then divide the pork and oil among 4 to 6 large soup bowls. Cut 4 preserved eggs into thin wedges and divide them among the bowls. Heat the congee until it almost starts to boil, then divide it among the bowls (extra congee can be added to the bowls halfway through the meal). Sprinkle the bowls with ½ cup finely chopped green onions and ¼ cup fried peanuts . Cut the crullers into thin rings and serve on the side as crunchy bits that diners can add to the congee as they eat. An even tastier way to make this is to shred roast pork (siu yuk , or shāoròu 燒肉 ) from a Cantonese deli and use that instead of the stir-fried pork.

SAMPAN CONGEE (tǐngzǐ zhōu 艇仔粥 )

This version calls for good Guangdong-style deli meats. Flavor plain congee with 1 tablespoon mushroom seasoning. Divide ½ cup julienned braised pork stomach (lŭ zhūdŭ 滷豬肚 ), ½ cup julienned deep-fried pork skin (zhá zhūpí 炸豬皮 ), and either ½ cup julienned braised cuttlefish (lǔ mòyú 滷墨魚 ) or ½ cup blanched squid among 4 to 6 large soup bowls. Soak 1 skein dried rice vermicelli in warm water until soft, chop it coarsely, and divide it among the bowls. Heat ¼ cup toasted sesame oil over high heat and add ¼ cup peeled and julienned fresh ginger; fry the ginger until crisp and remove it to a small dish. Warm the congee until it almost starts to boil and then divide it among the bowls (extra congee can be added to the bowls halfway through the meal). Sprinkle the bowls with ½ cup finely chopped green onions, ¼ cup fried peanuts , and the fried ginger and sesame oil.

ROAST DUCK CONGEE (kǎoyā zhōu 烤鴨粥 )

Flavor plain congee with 1 tablespoon mushroom seasoning. Chop 3 stalks of Chinese celery (or 1 stalk Western celery and a small bunch of cilantro) into small pieces and divide among 4 to 6 large soup bowls; grind lots of black pepper into each bowl. Toast 2 Chinese crullers in a toaster oven until crisp. Meanwhile, heat ¼ cup toasted sesame oil over high heat and add ¼ cup peeled and julienned fresh ginger; fry the ginger until crisp and remove it to a small dish. Chop ¼ Guangdong-style roast duck into thin slices (bones and all), reserving the juices (the duck can be warm or cold; it doesn’t matter). Warm the congee until it almost starts to boil and then divide it among the bowls (extra congee can be added to the bowls halfway through the meal). Arrange the duck across the top of each bowl, sprinkle the top with the ginger and oil, and drizzle on the reserved juices. Cut the crullers into thin rounds and serve alongside the congee to provide some occasional crunch.

Broken jasmine rice is one of the great pleasures of the Chinese grocery store. It is cheap, and because it has been broken up into small pieces during milling, it cooks down quickly into congee. It also has an unequaled fragrance and lends the dish a terrific perfume. Get the Thai brand with three ladies on it.

For the soy batons, I use the broken pieces at the bottom of the bag. You will always have these no matter how careful you are. If you don’t have soy batons on hand, fresh or frozen soy skins are fine, too; just use an approximately equal amount.

Hakka Tamales

Kèjiā bǎnzòng 客家板粽

HAKKA • MAKES 24

The Dragon Boat Festival (see this page ) occurs on the fifth day of the fifth month of the lunar calendar. In Taiwan, signs of its imminence are unavoidable, for in the weeks leading up to the big event, there are always ladies sitting outside and assembling their own version of these tamales. For dessert, check out the sweet rice tamales .

1. Wash the bamboo leaves carefully, being sure to avoid cutting yourself on their sharp edges (consider wearing rubber gloves). Cover the leaves (along with the grass ties, if you are using them) with very hot water. Mix the marinade ingredients together in a saucepan. Stem the mushrooms and cut the caps into ½-inch cubes. Cut the gluten batons into ¼-inch dice. Simmer the mushrooms and gluten in the marinade ingredients until the liquid is thick and syrupy. If you are using toon leaves, rinse and wipe them dry before crumbling them into a small bowl. Crumble the soy skin into smallish pieces in another small bowl. Cut the pressed bean curd into ¼-inch dice and set aside in yet another small bowl.

2. Dry-fry the sesame seeds (see this page ) in a wok over medium heat until they are just turning gold; remove them to a large bowl. Pour the oil into the wok and heat over medium heat. Separately fry the toon leaves for around 10 seconds, the soy skin until it puffs up, and the bean curd until it browns, scooping each one out with a slotted spoon or Chinese spider and adding them to the sesame seeds. Drain the mushrooms and gluten (reserve the marinade), add them to the hot oil, and cook until browned, then scoop them out and add them to the bowl, too.

3. Drain the oil out of the wok. Return the contents of the large bowl to the wok along with the peanuts, shallots, and about ¼ cup of the reserved marinade. Stir them over medium-high heat for about 5 minutes, until heated through, then let them cool down.

4. In another large bowl, mix together the rice flour, Chinese flour, and salt. Add the water in ½-cup increments, stirring in just enough water to form a barely damp dough. Knead the dough in the bowl until it is shiny, then divide the dough into 24 pieces and roll each piece into a ball.

5. Pat the bamboo leaves dry. Select the 24 nicest leaves, reserve any extra, and cover all of the leaves so they remain soft and supple. Drain and rinse the grass ties, if you’re using them, and place them under the covering, as well. Before you wrap the tamales, add the filling and egg yolks to the rice dough ball as shown in the diagram below, coating your hands with peanut oil as needed to keep the balls from sticking to your fingers. Then wrap the dough balls in the bamboo leaves as directed on this page .

6. Bring the water in your steamer to a full boil and place the tamales in the steamer. Steam over high heat for about 10 minutes, then lower the heat to medium and steam for another 20 minutes.

7. Let the tamales cool until they are barely warm or even room temperature before unwrapping; this will help them keep their shape and not stick to the wrappers. Serve as is with some sweet chili sauce on the side for dipping. You can store the tamales in the refrigerator for about a week or freeze them for a longer period of time. Just steam them for about 15 minutes (30 minutes for frozen ones) and let them cool down again before serving.

Sweets

Ginger Milk Pudding

Jiāngzhī zhuàng nǎi 薑汁撞奶

PEARL RIVER DELTA • SERVES 4

The name for this magical dish translates literally as “ginger juice bumping milk,” because the fresh ginger juice used here actually causes the hot milk to congeal into a soft and creamy pudding. It’s worth making this dish just to watch that fascinating process occur. It’s also delicious, of course.

There are a few keys to making this dessert shine. First, you need to have fresh ginger juice. This is relatively easy to make: all you need is a coarse grater and a fine sieve. I love my bamboo ginger grater for this, and you can find your own in a Chinese hardware store, though any good grater will do. Second, use the best full-cream milk you can find; if possible, get something local and fresh. Finally, although this dish is served warm in traditional recipes, I recommend chilling it, as the pudding takes on a firmer texture in the fridge.

1. Grate the ginger and squeeze the pulp over a fine sieve placed on top of a small measuring cup until you have ¼ cup ginger juice. Set out 4 dessert bowls, each a little larger than ½ cup. Stir the juice and pour 1 tablespoon into each bowl.

2. Add a small pinch of salt and 1 tablespoon agave syrup or 1 teaspoon or more of sugar to each bowl.

3. Heat the milk in a microwave or on the stove until it almost boils, then, from 6 inches away, pour ½ cup hot milk into each of the bowls. Don’t stir the milk, as it will automatically mix with the ginger juice and sweetener as it cascades into the bowl. Let the mixture set up into a pudding-like texture, which takes only a minute, and be sure not to stir or disturb it. Serve the puddings either warm or cold, with a swirl of agave syrup on top, if desired.

Select the plumpest, heaviest “hands” of ginger you can find: they will have the most juice. Hawaiian ginger is good and often organic.

Young ginger will have a mild heat, while older ginger packs more of a punch.

If for some reason your pudding doesn’t set up, take heart, as it can be rescued. Sprinkle 1 envelope (2½ teaspoons) powdered gelatin on ½ cup cold milk and wait for 3 to 5 minutes until the gelatin blooms. Bring the ginger pudding mixture to a boil in a microwave or on the stove. Remove it from the heat, stir in the gelatin mixture until the gelatin completely dissolves, and then distribute the pudding among the bowls once more. Let cool and refrigerate until set.

Honey is tasty here, but it doesn’t dissolve fast enough in the hot milk. And if you pour it on top of the cold or cool pudding, it seizes up into a sticky clump. Agave syrup behaves better.

Baked Coconut Tapioca Custard

Yēzi xīmĭ jú bùdīng 椰子西米焗布丁

GUANGDONG • SERVES 6 TO 8

Puddings and custards were not a big deal in Guangdong prior to the arrival of the British, but they have caught on since then and been altered by the local cuisine in interesting ways. This recipe has a distinctly Chinese bent to it, and the results are wonderful. Part of what makes this pudding special is its texture: chewy tapioca combines with creamy cubes of taro, all against a background of smooth custard.

1. Peel the taro and cut into 1-inch chunks (wear gloves if you are allergic to raw taro). Place the taro in a saucepan, add water to cover, and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium and simmer until the taro can be easily pierced. Drain, rinse the taro in cool water, and cut it into small batons about ¼ × ¼ × 1 inch.

2. To cook the tapioca, bring the water to a boil in a medium saucepan over high heat. Add the tapioca, stir until the water begins to simmer, and then lower the heat to medium and simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 20 minutes, until the tapioca is transparent. Remove the pan from the heat and drain the tapioca into a fine-mesh sieve.

3. To make the coconut custard, bring the ½ cup water to a boil in a medium saucepan and add the sugar. As soon as the sugar dissolves, stir in the salt, butter, and coconut milk. When the butter has melted, add the cornstarch slurry and stir constantly until the liquid has thickened. Remove the pan from the heat and whisk in the beaten egg and egg yolk and then stir in the cooked tapioca and taro.

4. Heat the oven to 450°F and place a baking sheet on the middle rack in the oven. Grease a 6-cup baking dish with butter. Pour in half the tapioca custard and spread it evenly over the bottom. Dot the custard with the bean paste and cover it with the rest of the tapioca mixture. (The custard can be made ahead up to this point, cooled down, covered, and refrigerated for up to a day. Gradually heat the chilled custard in the oven so the container does not break.)

5. Dot the surface of the custard with the butter, then place the casserole on the baking sheet in the oven. Bake the custard for about 20 minutes, until it is bubbling and the top is brown. If it doesn’t brown readily but is nevertheless bubbling, brown the top with your broiler (if the container is broiler-proof) or a chef’s kitchen torch. Serve the custard warm.

The Wife’s Cookies

Lǎopó bĭng 老婆餅

CHAOZHOU • MAKES ABOUT 48

These filled cookies long ago traveled from their probable home, Chaozhou, to the teahouses and bakeries of Guangzhou. From there they were dispersed like dandelion seeds into the repertoires of many other southern cuisines, where they morphed into distinct but related pastries. For example, in Taiwan, winter melon jam filling has been replaced with a simple sugar center, creating the locally beloved Sun Cookies . The original cookie, though, is luscious evidence of Chaozhou’s abiding love for sweets. The recipe takes a bit of time, but it can be spread over a day or two. A digital scale is helpful here for weighing out the pieces of dough and filling.

1. Use a food processor to puree the winter melon. If you don’t have one, use a fine grater to reduce it to pulp. Dump the puree into a wide, heavy-bottomed saucepan and add the sugar, lard or shortening, and salt. Cover the pan with a spatter screen, bring the puree to a boil, and then reduce the heat to medium or medium-high so you maintain a steady simmer. Stir the puree occasionally with a silicone spatula, being sure to scrape the bottom to keep it from burning. As it reduces to a very thick jam, it will require almost constant stirring. When it is a deep yellow-green and the edges of the jam start to have what looks like white frosting on top, it should be thick enough for you to scrape down the center and see the bottom of the pan for a few seconds before the hot jam oozes back in. Scoop it into a wide bowl to cool off. You should have about 1⅓ cups jam.

2. To make the filling, first place the rice flour in a microwave-safe bowl and heat it in the microwave for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring every minute or so, to rid it of its raw taste. Try a tiny taste of the flour; it should have a neutral, pleasant flavor. Scoop it out into a wide work bowl so that it can quickly come to room temperature. Prepare the rest of the filling ingredients while the flour cools down.

3. Mix together the winter melon jam with the filling ingredients to form a light paste. Refrigerate the filling until it is slightly firm, then divide it into 48 balls, each weighing about 22 grams. Cover the balls with plastic wrap and refrigerate them if your kitchen is warm.

4. Place 2 racks in the center of the oven and heat the oven to 350°F. Line 2 baking sheets with nonstick baking mats or parchment paper.

5. To shape the cookies, make the puff pastry circles as directed in Steps 2 through 6 on this page , working on 1 pastry at a time. Place a ball of the filling in the center of the pastry circle, then wrap the edges of the circle up and over the filling, pinch the edges together, and lightly and gently roll the filled pastry between your palms to smooth the surface. Place on a clean surface with the smooth side up and lightly roll out the cookie until it is about 2½ inches wide. Cover with plastic wrap and repeat with the remaining puff pastry and filling. Place as many of the cookies as will fit on the baking sheets so that they are about ½ inch apart (they won’t spread); you will have to do this in a couple of batches.

6. Brush each cookie with the egg yolks and sprinkle with about 10 or so sesame seeds. Then, using a small knife, cut 2 slashes, about ½ inch apart and about ½ inch from the edges (see the illustration ), down the middle of each cookie, cutting through the top layer of pastry to the filling. This will prevent the cookies from ballooning in the oven. Place the cookies in the oven and bake, rotating the sheets back to front halfway through the baking, for 20 to 25 minutes, until the tops are golden brown. Remove the cookies to a rack to cool, then store in a tightly covered container or in a resealable bag in the freezer.

Hakka Nine-Layer Confection

Kèjiā jǐucēnggāo 客家九層糕

HAKKA • SERVES 8

On the island of Hainan, fragrant pandan leaves are used instead of the dark sugar used here, giving this dish alternating layers of white and emerald green instead of ivory and warm brown. Note that the recipe calls for regular rice flour, which makes each bite melt on the tongue.

1. Mix the rice flour and water together in a large measuring cup until you have a smooth slurry. Pour 1½ cups of the slurry into a measuring cup and stir in the white sugar and optional banana extract. Stir the black sugar into the remaining slurry until the sugar is more or less dissolved.

2. Line the bottom of an 8- or 9-inch pan (round or square) with parchment paper and spray the inside of the pan lightly with oil. Place it in a hot steamer .

3. When the pan is hot, pour ¼ cup of the dark slurry into it, moving the pan around so that the slurry coats the bottom evenly. Steam this for about 2 minutes. Pour 6 tablespoons of the white slurry evenly on top of the brown layer and steam for another 2 minutes. Repeat these two steps, alternating brown and white slurries, until you end up with 9 layers.

4. Steam the cake over medium-high heat for 15 minutes, cool, and cut it into diamonds. Serve warm.

Sun Cookies

Tàiyáng bĭng 太陽餅

TAIWAN • MAKES 36

Taiwan is famous for two local pastries: the pineapple-filled shortbread called fènglísū 鳳梨酥 and these delicious sweets. Like The Wife’s Cookies , Sun Cookies feature Southern Chinese puff pastry wrapped around a sweet filling. The difference is that these cookies feature a slightly sticky center surrounded by an even shorter dough, resulting in lighter, flakier cookies. Their surface is not given an egg yolk wash, and so I stamp this whiteness with a decorative red mark (see Tips ).

1. First make the high-fat dough: combine the flour and fat in a food processor and pulse until a smooth mixture forms. Divide it into 36 pieces (about 19 grams each) and roll each piece into a ball; chill the balls and keep them cold as much as possible while you make the cookies. (I do this by chilling the balls in a metal work bowl and covering it with a plate at all times.) You don’t need to clean out the processor between the different doughs.

2. To make the low-fat dough, pulse together the flour, fat, and sugar until evenly mixed, then pour in the ice water and pulse to form a firm yet soft dough. Divide the dough into 36 pieces (about 29 grams each) and roll each piece into a ball; cover the balls with a piece of plastic wrap or a clean tea towel to prevent them from drying out.

3. To make the filling, pulse together all of the ingredients in a food processor until they clump together. Scoop the filling out, divide it into 36 even pieces (about 14 grams each), roll into balls, and cover with a piece of plastic wrap or a clean tea towel.

4. Place 2 racks in the center of the oven and heat the oven to 350°F. Line 2 baking sheets with nonstick baking mats or parchment paper. To create a stamp to decorate the tops of the cookies, cut the carrot or radish into a baton about ¼ × ¼ × 1 inch. Notch one end of the baton with a cross, and you will be left with a nifty little stamp that will decorate your cookies with four tiny squares. Place the red food coloring in a small bowl or even a bottle cap; be careful with it, as the coloring is concentrated and will stain everything that it touches.

5. To shape the cookies, using the low-fat and high-fat doughs, make the pastry circles as directed in Steps 2 through 6 for southern-style puff pastry , working on 1 pastry at a time and rolling out the first circle 3½ inches wide. Place a ball of filling in the center, then wrap the edges up and over the filling, pinch the edges together, and lightly and gently roll the filled pastry between your palms to smooth the surface. Place on a clean surface and roll out into a circle about 3 inches wide, turning the pastry over as it starts to curl to keep it flat. As the cookies are shaped, place them on the prepared baking sheets, spacing them about ½ inch apart, and cover them with plastic wrap to prevent them from drying out.

6. When you have filled a baking sheet with cookies, decorate them. Dip the carved end of your vegetable baton into the food coloring, gently tap off the excess, and then lightly stamp the center of each cookie.

7. Bake the cookies for about 20 minutes, until they puff up but not do not begin to color. The cookies should remain pale. Use a spatula to transfer them to a cooling rack. Repeat with the rest of the cookies until all have been shaped, decorated, and baked. Store the cooled cookies in sealed containers. They are very fragile, so I like to crumple up pieces of parchment paper between the layers and not pack more than 3 layers of cookies in a box. These cookies are at their best within 3 days of baking; refrigerate or freeze them if you must keep them longer.

It’s always a good idea to decorate pure white foods like this with a touch of red, especially if they will be served to Chinese people. White is the color of funerals in China, and it’s associated with bad luck. Red, on the other hand, is the sign of good fortune and happiness.

Cook the flour to remove its raw taste by microwaving it in 1-minute blasts until it has a pleasant flavor, but is not yet browned, about 2 to 3 minutes.

Malay Sponge Cake

Mǎlāgāo 馬拉糕

GUANGDONG AND HONG KONG • SERVES 8 TO 12

This fluffy confection looks very much like an English sponge cake, so it’s my guess that Chinese cooks tweaked a European recipe to fit local tastes. Soy sauce gives the cake its rich color and adds a subtle suggestion of xianwei to this dim sum teahouse classic.

1. Prepare a steamer . Heat the water in the steamer to boiling, then reduce the heat to low. Spray an 8- or 9-inch round cake pan with oil and line the bottom with parchment paper.

2. Use a mixer to whisk the eggs until light and airy, and then slowly beat in the sugar until the mixture is light and lemon colored. Beat in the oil, milk, vanilla, and soy sauce. In a separate bowl, toss together the flour and baking powder and then beat them into the egg mixture until the batter does not have any lumps.

3. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and steam the cake for about 15 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool the cake in the pan on a rack, then turn it out of the pan and cut it into wedges to serve.

Guangdong-Style Moon Cakes

Guǎngdōng yuèbĭng 廣東月餅

GUANGDONG • MAKES TEN 3-INCH MOON CAKES OR THIRTY 1-INCH MINI CAKES

In Beijing and the rest of the north, moon cake pastry is white and flaky and known as fānmáo 翻毛 , or “ruffled fur.” In the areas around the Yangtze River, people make moon cakes out of puff pastry. And in the southern areas around Guangdong and even farther west, bakers prefer to use a cookie dough that is scented with caramel, as in this recipe.

Moon cakes are traditionally eaten during the major Chinese holiday known as the Mid-Autumn or Moon Festival. You can buy moon cakes in most Chinese markets, but they do not hold a candle to homemade ones.

1. To make the dough, place the flour in a medium work bowl. Make a well in the center and pour in the oil and caramel syrup. Mix these together gently to form a very soft dough. Sprinkle about 2 tablespoons flour on a smooth work surface and roll the dough into an even 20-inch rope; cut the rope into 10 pieces, each 2 inches long. If you are making mini cakes, roll the dough into an even 15-inch rope and cut it into ½-inch pieces. Roll each piece into a soft ball; cover the dough you are not immediately working on.

2. Place a rack in the upper third of the oven (to prevent the bottoms of the cakes from burning) and heat the oven to 325°F. Line 2 baking sheets with nonstick baking mats or parchment paper. Have 2 pastry brushes, a thin spatula, your moon cake mold, and a pastry scraper ready. Dust the inside of the mold heavily with flour and knock out the excess.

3. Large moon cakes: Working on 1 pastry at a time, pat out 1 piece of dough into a 5- to 6-inch circle, making the center slightly mounded. Place a ball of filling of about 3 inch diameter in the center and wrap the dough around it (see this page ). Lightly roll the ball between your palms so the soft dough evenly covers the filling. Roll one side of the ball in some flour, then place the ball flour side down in the moon cake mold. Press lightly but firmly on the ball so it fills the mold. Turn the mold upside down and whack it on your counter to release the pastry; it may take a few tries before it comes loose. Transfer the pastry to the prepared baking sheet. Use 1 pastry brush to dust off any excess flour and the other to coat the moon cake all over with the glaze. Repeat this step with the rest of the dough, filling, and glaze until you have 10 moon cakes.

4. Mini moon cakes: Follow the directions in Step 3, but roll out the dough into circles about 3 inches wide and shape the filling into balls roughly 1 inch in diameter.

5. Bake the moon cakes, 1 baking sheet at a time, until they are golden brown, about 25 minutes for the small cakes and 35 to 40 minutes for the large ones. Let the pastries cool completely on the pans, and then cut into wedges to serve, preferably with cups of hot tea.

Liquor seasons the fillings for these pastries and also provides moisture that is easily evaporated as the moon cakes bake. If you don’t want to use alcohol, add a little more caramel to thin out the yolk in the glazes and to bind the filling ingredients.

Store the moon cakes in resealable plastic bags. Try not to stack them, as they are easily squashed.

Moon cake molds—both big (3 inch) and small (1 inch)—can be found in Chinese kitchenware shops and online. Traditional molds are carved out of wood, but newer plastic molds have little plungers that make it easier to dislodge the filled cakes.

Water Chestnut Gelée

Mǎtígāo 馬蹄糕

GUANGDONG • SERVES 6 TO 8

I adore the delicate desserts of China’s southern regions, particularly those of Guangdong. This might have something to do with the infamous sweet tooth my late father-in-law sported and all of the treats he introduced me to. He was a devotee, in particular, of thin black sesame candies, which he swore kept his hair black (though I’m pretty sure that was just an excuse to keep a stash handy). This cool, very gentle sweet was another favorite of his. With its crunchy bits of fresh water chestnuts and its subtle lavender or rose exterior, this light, translucent confection is great to serve at the end of a big meal or during an afternoon tea break.

1. Oil an 8- or 9-inch pan (square or round). Prepare a steamer that easily holds this pan.

2. Peel the water chestnuts, rinse, and coarsely chop them. You should have about 2 cups.

3. Place ½ cup of the water, the sugar, the butter or shortening, and the salt in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil. Whirl the water chestnut flour in a food processor until it is very fine. With the processor running, add the hot liquid mixture to the flour. Pour the mixture into the saucepan and stir over medium heat until a thick, bubbly batter has formed.

4. Add the water chestnuts to the batter. If you’re using the food coloring, pour half of the batter into the pan and steam it for 5 minutes to set it. Add the food coloring to the remaining batter, mix well, pour it over the set layer, and steam it for another 30 minutes. If you’re not using food coloring, pour all of the batter into the pan and steam it for 30 minutes.

5. Remove the pan from the steamer and let it cool. Cover with plastic wrap and chill for at least an hour. Cut the pudding into diamond shapes or squares and serve cold. Leftovers can be stored in the refrigerator in a covered container for a few days.

Fresh water chestnuts are becoming increasingly available in supermarkets. I strongly encourage you not to resort to canned ones, which taste more like can than water chestnut. Instead, hunt down frozen water chestnuts, or use jicama as a replacement.

Water chestnut flour is available in most Chinese markets and can be purchased online. Be sure to crush the flour in a food processor or blender because, right out of the box, it tends to have a crumbly texture that lumps when water is added.

I add a bit of red food coloring to one layer of this pudding because I think it’s prettier that way, but the dessert looks good without it, too.

Icy Green Mangoes

Qíngrén guŏ 情人果

TAIWAN • SERVES 6 TO 8

The recipe is extremely easy if you can find green mangoes, which are often stocked in Chinese, Southeast Asian, and Filipino markets. My husband and I would often eat this dish at the restaurant Hǎibàwáng 海霸王 , in Taipei and Tainan.

1. Wash, peel, and slice the mangoes (see the diagram below). Place the sliced mangoes in a colander, sprinkle the 2 tablespoons salt over them, toss well, and then let the bitterness leach out of the mangoes for about an hour. Rinse the mangoes well and drain. (If they are green-fleshed mangoes, repeat this step at least 2 more times.) Taste a slice of mango to ensure there’s no lingering bitterness. If there is, salt and rinse the mangoes once again.

2. Combine the sugar, water, and the remaining ½ teaspoon salt in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Remove from the heat and add the lemon juice. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Cool.

3. Add the mangoes to the cooled liquid and toss gently. Seal everything in a heavy-duty freezer bag and freeze it for a couple of hours. Squish the bag with your hands to break up the crystals a bit and freeze it again.

4. About 30 to 60 minutes before serving, remove the mangoes from the freezer, let them soften up a little, and then smack the bag once more. Serve the mangoes and slush in bowls with forks or toothpicks, and be sure to slurp the slush.

+1 LINE

Sweet Coconut Soup

Yēzhī xīmǐ lù 椰汁西米露

HAINAN • SERVES 8 TO 10

This has to be one of the most refreshing of all Chinese desserts. It is perfect for when the weather is hot and melons are at their best. You can use any type of melon you like, or even a mixture of them (green honeydew alongside orange cantaloupe and red and yellow watermelon, for example) to make this a riot of color. Or substitute another tropical fruit, like ripe mangoes.

My twist on this classic is to add a dash of coconut rum to kick up the tropical edge. Chill the soup for a couple of hours before serving, and thin it out with some ice water if it seems too thick.

1. Bring 2 cups of the water to a boil in a 3-quart saucepan. Stir in the tapioca pearls and keep stirring until the water comes to a boil again. Lower the heat to medium-low and stir the tapioca occasionally until it has swelled and the mixture is very thick. Add the remaining 1 cup water, which will turn the pearls translucent with little white centers. Bring the pot to a boil again, then remove from the heat. Add the sugar and stir until dissolved (or add the agave syrup to taste). Add the ice water to further shock the tapioca and loosen up the pearls, and then stir in the coconut milk, melon, and the rum, if desired.

2. Pour the soup into a covered container, let cool, and chill for a few hours before serving. If the soup is too thick, stir in some ice water until the desired consistency is achieved. On really hot days, float an ice cube or two in the soup, garnish with some mint, and get ready to feel refreshed.

Beverages

Pearl or Bubble Tea

Bōbàchá 波霸茶

TAIWAN • MAKES 4 CUPS

Pearl tea was invented in Taichung, a big city in central Taiwan, but since then it has become an international hit. This drink is nothing more than sweetened tea and big, chewy balls of black tapioca called boba . The only thing you need in addition to the special tapioca is a fat straw, so you can suck up the tapioca balls.

Once you get the hang of this drink, you can make endless variations using fruit juice, milk, coffee, or even milkshakes instead of the sweetened tea. Play around with this recipe until you find the perfect mix. This version happens to be my favorite.

1. Cook the boba according to the package directions. (Many different varieties are now available; some are quick cooking and others take a bit of time. The label should tell you what to do.) Add the lychee juice or agave syrup to the hot tapioca and its liquid, stir, and let the boba soak up the flavor for a couple of hours.

2. Place the tea leaves in a sieve and rinse them with about 1 cup boiling water. Put the leaves in a large heatproof bowl and pour the 6 cups boiling water over them. Steep the tea for about 10 minutes, then strain the tea through the sieve into a pitcher. Chill for a couple of hours.

3. To serve, mix together the tea and boba . Add the lychees and condensed milk to taste. Put a few ice cubes in each glass and then distribute the tea, boba , and lychees evenly among them. Stick a fat straw and a long spoon into each glass and serve.

Boba pearls turn hard and powdery if they are chilled, so keep cooked boba at room temperature.

If you need to hold the cooked boba for longer than a few hours, refrigerate the pearls in their liquid. Then microwave the boba and liquid with short blasts until the pearls return to their desired texture.

Experiment with the different kinds of boba that are out there. Some are made with taro and have a warm, tropical flavor, while others are filled with liquid.

You can use small Chinese tapioca (see this page ) if you want a gentler texture. Little children in particular will handle these better than the large boba , which might be a choking hazard.

Hong Kong Milk Tea

Xiānggǎng nǎichá 香港奶茶

HONG KONG • MAKES 4 CUPS

Milk tea is a product of England’s colonial rule over Hong Kong, which lasted from 1841 to 1997. At its most basic, this drink is a mixture of good black tea and a drizzle of sweetened condensed milk. The traditional way of preparing the tea is to brew the loose leaves in a muslin bag. This makes the tea so well filtered that it is known locally as “silk stocking tea.”

1. Place the tea leaves in a sieve and rinse them with about 1 cup boiling water. Place the leaves in a muslin bag or mesh ball. Put the bag in a medium saucepan and add the 4 cups boiling water. Bring to a boil over high heat, cover, reduce the heat to the lowest setting, and simmer for about 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and let steep for 5 minutes.

2. To serve hot, distribute the tea evenly among 4 cups and offer condensed milk on the side. Each diner then stirs in the milk to taste.

3. To serve cold, add as much of the condensed milk as you like to the hot tea, then cool the tea to room temperature. Chill the sweetened tea and serve it over ice, if desired.

Some prefer evaporated milk and sugar instead of sweetened condensed milk. Fresh full-fat milk is good, too, though not traditional.

Yuanyang Tea

Yuānyāngchá 鴛鴦茶

HONG KONG • MAKES 4 CUPS

Mandarin ducks, or yuanyang , are a symbol of marital bliss because they always appear in pairs. Conversely, because they traditionally constitute a pair of opposites—male and female—they are also used to describe foods that display stark contrasts. Whenever sticky rice dough, or ciba , is rolled up into layers of dark and light, for example, it is often referred to as yuanyang . So, too, is this drink, which is a mixture of Hong Kong Milk Tea and American black coffee.

Coffee is also used in some of Hong Kong’s more inventive dim sum dishes (my favorite being deep-fried pork riblets that are coated with a sweetish coffee sauce). No coffee recipe, however, is more popular in Hong Kong culture than this beverage. If you have already made the milk tea, this one will be very easy to whip up.

1. Mix together the milk tea and coffee.

2. Serve hot or chilled.

THE CENTRAL HIGHLANDS

SICHUAN · HUNAN · YUNNAN · GUIZHOU · NORTHERN GUANGXI

C hili peppers made their way from the Americas to China several hundred years ago. In the landlocked Central Highlands, they have long since completely altered the way people eat. Raw, cooked, dried, pulverized, fermented in sauces, pickled in vinegar, or infused into oils, they unify the cuisines of the entire region. But not all of these cuisines use chilies in the same way. Sichuan’s chilies are known for their numbing heat, Hunan’s for their salty heat, Yunnan’s for their sweet heat, Guizhou’s for their sharp heat, and Northern Guangxi’s for their raw heat.

Despite their popularity, chilies are rarely involved in the more refined banquets of the Central Highlands. Formal meals tend to feature restrained seasonings that reflect the ancestral tastes of the area’s Han settlers. Originally hailing from the northern and eastern parts of China, the first of these immigrants arrived in the Central Highlands a little more than two thousand years ago. Their presence is still reflected in classically flavored dishes like Camphor Tea Duck and Bean Curd Quenelle Soup .

What sets this region’s cuisines completely apart from those of the rest of China, however, are the foods of its many indigenous peoples. Since prehistoric times, the Central Highlands have been home to a number of ethnic minorities, including the Zhuang, Buyei, and other Tai speakers, as well as the Miao, Yi, Dong, Yao, Bai, and many others. These were the original inhabitants of the Highlands, and they also settled much of what are now Thailand, Myanmar, Laos, and Vietnam. As a result, the foods of this region often display the hallmarks of Southeast Asian cuisines, including open-fire grilling and an abundance of raw, aromatic herbs.

The most renowned Central Highlands dishes come from Sichuan, a massive province perched on the Qinghai-Tibetan Plateau, right next to the headwaters of the Yangtze. We’ll begin by looking at its cuisine, a member of both the Eight Great Cuisines (this page ) and the elite Four Great Cuisines (the North by Shandong, the East by Suzhou, the South by Guangdong, and the Center by Sichuan).

SICHUAN

Most of this province is composed of arid plateaus and mountains. The east, however, is fertile, humid, and densely populated. This is where most of Sichuan’s cuisine evolved, and its cooking styles are aligned, more or less, with its three major cities: Chengdu, Chongqing, and Zigong.

At the far west end of the Sichuan Basin, near one of the Yangtze’s many tributaries, is the capital city of Chengdu. Dishes here tend to be relatively refined and conservative, with subtle flavors balancing out the seasonings, as in Lotus-Wrapped Spicy Rice Crumb Pork . At the other end of the spectrum are the city’s everyday foods and street snacks, which have a definite lip-numbing edge thanks to the Sichuan peppercorn. Mapo Doufu and Wontons in Chili Oil are good examples of this.

To the southeast of Chengdu is the vast metropolis of Chongqing, where an increase in heat is balanced by a more restrained use of the numbing peppercorn. Chongqing’s kitchens love chilies, and the foods here have more of a swagger. The most popular dish here is the local fiery hotpot, slicked with chili oil and swimming with beef tripe, fish, or dog meat. Few places can match Chongqing for its range of complex flavors, as evidenced in Mouthwatering Chicken , Fish-Fragrant Prawns , and a very spicy version of Chili Chicken .

And then there is Zigong, an old salt-production center near the Fuxi River, a tributary of the Yangtze. The city’s most famous culinary contributions are beef dishes devised by its salt workers. Water buffalo were used for over two millennia to extract salt from Zigong’s deep saline wells, so beef has traditionally been a plentiful ingredient there. The toughness of the beef led to the creation of the “boiled” dishes of Zigong, which were little more than slices of meat cooked in a plain broth and seasoned with the local salt. Nowadays, though, any recipe with the characters shuǐzhǔ 水煮 (“boiled in water”) in its name usually means that the meat will be cooked in a sea of searing chili oil.

HUNAN

Settlers and refugees formed the first wave of Han Chinese to set down roots in this south-central province. But as Hunan increased in wealth, its grand feast foods started to reflect the aesthetics of the Han elite, which helped this province become a member of the Eight Great Cuisines. Hunan’s culinary prowess has given us alluring dishes like Honey Ham , which combines local charcuterie with Zhejiang’s penchant for sweetness. Farther south, chilies reign supreme in everyday foods, though they are usually balanced by fermented black beans and/or garlic, as in Raw “White Jade” Bitter Melon and the relatively modern Peng Family Bean Curd .

Hunan’s celebrated foods mainly come from three areas: the capital city of Changsha, the northern fens of Lake Dongting, and the mountainous areas of western Hunan. Changsha is home to classic Hunan-style cooking, and its charcuterie (see this page ) ranks among the best in the country. To its north, the Lake Dongting area is known for dishes involving lotuses and water chestnuts, and for magnificent culinary inventions like Flash Fish Soup , in which translucent slices of freshwater fish are splashed with boiling stock at the dining table so that they appear to emerge out of the ether. The foods of the western mountains, meanwhile, reflect the tastes of the minorities who live in the region, including the Tujia, Miao, Dong, Yao, Zhuang, and Bai peoples.

YUNNAN

The third best-known cuisine in this region belongs to Yunnan, a name that means “south of the clouds.” Stretching from the windswept steppes of Tibet down to the jungles that border Myanmar, Laos, and Vietnam, these mountainous lands are a gold mine of unique flora and fauna. Yunnan is anthropologically diverse as well, with more ethnic groups than any other region in China. For centuries, hill tribes such as the Dai, Bai, Yi, and Naxi have traversed their ancestral homelands on the once-amorphous border between China and its southern neighbors. As a result, fragrant combinations of herbs and spices have found their way into local dishes like Lemongrass Chicken , in which a whole bird is tied up with the citrusy plant before being grilled over a fire.

Other beloved aromatics include cilantro, Vietnamese coriander (rau ram ), perilla leaves, and pandan fronds. Mushrooms are highly popular, too. Wild porcini, morels, black truffles, matsutake, “chicken fir” mushrooms that grow on termite mounds, tiger paws, and bamboo pith fungus (see this page ) are just some that local cooks use. And then, of course, there are the inevitable chilies, though the dishes here tend to have a sweet edge to them, which is another culinary tendril connecting this region to Indochina.

An introduction to the cuisine of Yunnan would not be complete without a mention of “milk fans.” Invented by the Bai people (see this page ), this unique food is created by frying or braising the skin that forms on soured milk. Milk fans are often used to wrap other ingredients, like sweet bean paste.

GUIZHOU

Remote and subtropical, Guizhou is a land of extraordinary natural beauty. Nestled in the high ranges between Sichuan, Hunan, Guangxi, and Yunnan, its terrain is split by soaring peaks into complex mazes that leave little room for fertile flatlands. The intrepid farmers of Guizhou have nevertheless covered many of these mountains with undulating terraces of rice and tea. With so little arable land, the cooks of Guizhou have been forced to do more with less.

Some of the best local foods are therefore often simple delights, like Spicy Mung Bean Jelly Shreds , which contrasts cool jelly with the crunch of fried soybeans. Another great dish is Gold Hooks Hanging on Jade Plaques , in which chili powder is fried in hot oil and then made into a savory sauce that bathes bean sprouts and smooth bean curd squares. Simple, cheap ingredients like these make up the bulk of Guizhou’s dishes, which favor local vegetables, rice, potatoes, pig blood, and snails, with the occasional dog, chicken, or pig reserved for major feasts. Like the other areas of the Central Highlands, Guizhou is also home to high-octane white liquors made from rice and sorghum, including maotai (see this page ).

NORTHERN GUANGXI

As noted in the section on the Coastal Southeast (see this page ), food from the southern half of Guangxi tastes like an extension of the food of Guangdong, while the dishes of mountainous Northern Guangxi have been influenced by the foods of its many indigenous peoples, particularly the Zhuang (see this page ). This is not a province per se, but an entity named after this ethnic group: the Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region. The culinary center of this area is the beautiful tourist magnet Guilin, which is famed for its spire-like hills. Guilin is best known for three ingredients: a white liquor called “three flowers” (sānhuā 三花 ), white bean curd “cheese” , and Guizhou fermented hot sauce .

The dishes of the mountainous northern area look and taste very much like what is prepared in Guizhou, Guangxi’s northwestern neighbor. Red meats, especially pork, are thrown into the pot here, and the resulting broth is often enjoyed with a Chaozhou-style pasta, as in Guilin Rice Noodles . That Chaozhou connection is also evident in the sticky rice dough called Ciba , which is often folded around sweet fillings and wrapped in banana leaves before being steamed.

L ike so many people of my generation, I first became interested in eating well thanks to Julia Child and her groundbreaking The French Chef series on PBS. I watched her show in high school, and I have to admit that if it were not for her, I probably never would have thought much about food at all. But if it were not for China, the Julia Child we know and love might never have existed. Nowadays we associate her almost exclusively with classic French cuisine, but she first discovered the joys of dining not in Europe, but in China’s Central Highlands.

In the 1940s, Child worked for the Office of Strategic Services (the precursor to the CIA). During World War II, the OSS dispatched her to Ceylon—now Sri Lanka—and it was there that she first encountered foods like durian (which she described as smelling like “dead babies mixed with strawberries and Camembert”). While in Ceylon, she worked with Paul Child, the man who would become her husband and partner in culinary exploration. Together, they were transferred to Yunnan’s capital city, Kunming, where Child learned about a variety of Chinese cooking styles and fell in love with the country’s cuisines.

Although she later spoke of her fondness for China’s foods, she did not continue to study them in any serious way, perhaps because in the United States, in the early 1950s, there were few books and even fewer teachers who could have taught her much about them. Still, it’s fun to imagine a parallel universe where Julia Child somehow became our guide to China’s food traditions, instead of France’s. Just think of it: Julia Child on black-and-white television, whacking roasted ducks into pieces with a giant cleaver and frying bitter melons. I, for one, would have been entranced, and our culinary landscape would most certainly look a whole lot different today. •

Appetizers & Small Plates

Spicy Mung Bean Jelly Shreds

Guìzhōu liángfěn 貴州涼粉

GUIZHOU • SERVES 6

Mung bean jelly is used all throughout south-central China and is another one of those ingredients prized for its texture rather than its inherent flavor. A vibrant sauce is necessary, therefore, to add to its allure. In Beijing, mung bean jelly is often draped with a subtle sesame paste dressing. But in this recipe from Guizhou, it’s lashed with chili oil, ginger, and garlic to make one of my favorite things to eat.

1. Prepare a square 4-cup pan by rinsing it out and setting it next to the stove along with a silicone spatula; also prepare a shallow bowl of cold water that is large enough to hold the pan, as this will be used as a bath to quickly cool down the jelly.

2. Mix the mung bean powder with ½ cup of the water to form a smooth, thin slurry. Bring the remaining 2½ cups water to a boil in a wide saucepan or very clean wok over medium heat. Stir the water with a whisk while you pour the bean slurry into it. Continue to stir the mixture as it quickly thickens and bubbles and regulate the heat to maintain a gentle bubbling. Cook the mixture for a minute, until it is glossy and translucent. Use the spatula to scrape it into the square pan. Shake the pan to settle the paste and then set the pan in the shallow bowl of cold water. When the mixture has cooled to room temperature, remove the pan from the water and place it in the refrigerator for about an hour, until it turns into an opaque jelly.

3. Turn the pan upside down onto a very clean cutting board and lift off the pan. Slice the jelly into thin pieces and then into long batons. You can also use a wavy-bladed knife to make it fancy or a Chinese-style grater to produce long ribbons. Arrange the jelly on a rimmed serving platter or wide bowl and keep it cool.

4. Coarsely chop the fermented black beans and place them in a clean wok with the water. Bring the water to a boil and stir the beans around in it to form a thin sauce. Add the ginger and garlic, mix them up quickly, and toss in the chili oil, soy sauce, vinegar, and sesame oil. Quickly bring the sauce to a boil once more, taste, and adjust the seasoning. Feel free to make it saltier with more soy sauce, sweeter with a dash of sugar, tarter with more vinegar, or spicier with a whole lot more chili oil. Pour the hot sauce over the cool jelly ribbons, garnish with the green onions and fried soybeans (or peanuts or sesame seeds), and serve. These ribbons are very slippery, so cradle them with a wide serving spoon as you pluck them up with the serving chopsticks. Toss them with the toppings before eating.

VARIATION

You can also use a northern-style sesame paste dressing that is pretty much identical to the one used in Manchurian Chicken Salad ; just omit the mustard. Pour this over the jelly and then sprinkle it with toasted sesame seeds, chopped green onions, and cilantro.

Use a very clean wok (or pan) when making the jelly, because any blackened bits will mar it. Store leftover jelly in a plastic container in the refrigerator and use it by the next day.

Use a wire whisk to mix the paste.

Raw “White Jade” Bitter Melon

Liángbàn báiyùkŭguā 涼拌白玉苦瓜

HUNAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

Bitter melon gets a bad rap because it can be very astringent; bitterness is an acquired taste. When you select the right bitter melon, though—one that is gently sweet and very pale—it will not be that harsh. The best time to find one is during autumn. This is also the only time that the beautiful variety called “white jade” (baiyu ) shows up in Chinese markets.

These melons are served raw in this wonderful appetizer. A subtle bitterness comes from the melon, of course, but everything else is found in the sauce, which features fermented black beans, soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, cilantro, jalapeños, and garlic. Traditionally offered at the beginning of autumnal banquets, this dish came to be one I adored whenever it was ordered by the director of the history museum as part of one of his memorable Hunanese meals.

1. Wash the bitter melon, trim off the stem end, and cut the melon in half. Scoop out the seeds, saving the red coverings, if there are any.

2. Thinly slice the melon halves about ⅛ inch thick and either on the diagonal or straight cut, keeping the slices together so the shape of the melon is preserved. Lay them on a rectangular or oval platter and then fan them out slightly so they separate a bit. Cover the platter and chill.

3. Remove the stem from the pepper, cut it in half, and discard both the seeds and fleshy ribs. Cut the pepper into small dice (about ⅛ inch) and place in a small work bowl. Peel and finely chop the garlic. Trim the green onion and then cut it into very thin rounds. Add both the garlic and onion to the bowl. If you like cilantro, chop some finely and add that, as well. (You can make this dish an hour or two ahead of time up to this point, but don’t add the cilantro until just before serving.) Cover and chill.

4. Rinse and lightly chop the fermented black beans. Place them in a small work bowl and add the soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, sesame oil, and salt. Mix well, taste and adjust the seasoning, and then add the pepper mixture and any red seed coverings you might have. Toss everything lightly, taste again, and tweak with whatever is needed. Pour the sauce over the middle of each melon half so that it drips attractively down the slices. Serve chilled.

Cold Tossed Jellyfish

Liángbàn hǎizhétóu 涼拌海蜇頭

HUNAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

The Chinese love jellyfish primarily for its texture. I recommend using “jellyfish heads” (haizhetou )—the fringy oral arms that cascade down from beneath the bowl-shaped hood—for this dish, because they have a wonderful crunch. The thin hood, which the Chinese refer to as “jellyfish skin” (hǎizhépí 海蜇皮 ), is a suitable option as well.

Jellyfish are usually sold cleaned, salted, and packed in clear plastic bags. Often there is no English description on the label—just “jellyfish”—but it’s easy to figure out what is what: jellyfish skin is smooth, thin, and generally folded up, while the heads are fatter and look like beige cauliflower florets.

1. Start this recipe 3 days before you plan to serve it. Rinse the jellyfish and place it in a container with at least 4 inches of headroom. Add water to cover by about 2 inches and refrigerate for 2 days, changing the water twice a day. On the third day, drain the jellyfish, arrange it in a single layer in a colander or sieve, and douse it with the boiling water, shaking the jellyfish around so that every bit is evenly blanched. When the fringes spread out, the jellyfish has cooked enough. Rinse and drain. Slice the spiky fronds into a thin julienne.

2. To make the dressing, set a wok over medium heat, pour in both oils, and swirl them around. Quickly fry the ginger, garlic, jalapeño, and onion whites until they sizzle, and then add the stock, vinegar, and soy sauce or soy mixture. Turn up the heat to high and bring to a boil. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Reduce the dressing until it is syrupy, then chill it.

3. An hour or two before serving, cut the cucumbers into thin shreds about the same size as the sliced jellyfish. Toss the cucumbers with the salt in a colander, wait until they are limp, and then squeeze them gently to remove most of the salt.

4. To serve, toss the jellyfish in a medium work bowl with the dressing, cucumbers, optional pepper, onion greens, and optional cilantro. Mound the jellyfish on 1 or 2 small serving plates and sprinkle with the sesame seeds. Serve chilled.

You can make whatever dressing you like for this dish, but I suggest one that is slightly tart, full flavored, and spiked with aromatics. Rich, smoother dressings will muffle the jellyfish’s crunchy texture.

Dry-Fried Chicken Wings

Gānpēng jīchì 乾烹雞翅

SICHUAN • SERVES ABOUT 4

Most fried chicken has a thick coating, but these wings, simply dusted with cornstarch, offer a nice, light crunch. When making the sauce, be sure to caramelize the sugar properly: as soon as the vinegar has boiled down and large bubbles start to form, watch the sauce carefully and swirl it around so that it heats evenly. The sugar can burn easily, so this part of the process requires close attention. Once the sauce is done, it should be sticky and syrupy.

1. Start this recipe at least 6 hours before you want to serve it. If you are using whole wings, cut off the tips and use them for stock, and then cut the wings between the first and second joints so that you have 12 pieces. Place the wing pieces in a work bowl and sprinkle the cornstarch over them. Toss the wings in the bowl until each piece is thoroughly coated.

2. Place a cake rack on a large plate or small baking sheet, then arrange the wings, not touching, on the pan. Refrigerate uncovered so the cool air slightly dries out the wings. Refrigerate for at least 6 hours and up to 1 day.

3. Pour the oil into a wok and heat over high heat until a wooden chopstick inserted in the oil is immediately covered with bubbles. Hold a spatter screen in one hand while using the other hand to carefully add half of the wing pieces to the hot oil. Cover with the screen to reduce the possibility of burns and mess. As soon as the wings are golden on one side, turn them over, adjusting the heat as necessary. Remove the wings to a large work bowl once they are nicely browned and cooked through (see Tips ). Repeat with the other half of the wings.

4. Drain off all but 1 tablespoon of oil from the wok (or put 1 tablespoon of the oil in a saucepan), place it over medium-high heat, and add the garlic, ginger, onions, and chilies. (Smoked paprika can be used instead of, or in addition to, the chilies.) Toss them in the hot oil to release their fragrance, and then add the rest of the ingredients. Turn the heat to high and quickly boil down the sauce. Just before it turns syrupy and starts to caramelize, taste and adjust the seasoning. Once it is the consistency of maple syrup, remove from the heat. Toss the wings in the sauce to coat them completely. Arrange the wings on a serving platter and eat while hot.

My preference here is for the middle section of the wings, which offers a nice ratio of crispy skin to juicy chicken.

Chicken wings will generally take 10 to 15 minutes to cook through. The wings will be done when they are a lovely golden brown all over. Blood will seep out of the core if they are not completely cooked, so check them in the work bowl before you toss them with the sauce.

Thank you Mission Street Food for this dandy way to coat wings.

Mouthwatering Chicken

Kŏushuĭ jī 口水雞

SICHUAN • SERVES 6 AS AN APPETIZER OR 2 TO 3 AS A MAIN DISH

This dish is basically chilled poached chicken, but the sauce turns it into a genuine Chongqing classic. It features an inspired combination of spicy, sweet, tart, nutty, and savory flavors, along with an abundance of aromatics. Mouthwatering Chicken is great for a big dinner, as it comes together easily and is a stunning way to start off an evening. It’s also perfect for family meals—sometimes I make a meal out of topping a green salad with the chicken, sauce, and crunchy tidbits.

1. If the chicken thighs have not been boned and skinned, do so now and use the bones and skin for something else. Place the chicken in a pan, cover with water, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for about 7 minutes, remove the pan from the heat, take out the chicken, and let it come to room temperature. Tear the chicken into thin shreds and then cover and chill it.

2. Mix together all of the sauce ingredients in a saucepan or wok and heat over medium-high heat until the mixture comes to a boil. Taste and adjust the seasoning.

3. Shred the onions into very fine strips. Toss the chicken with the onions and pile this mixture into a serving bowl or rimmed plate. Pour the hot sauce over the chicken and sprinkle the peanuts and sesame seeds on top.

Big, Thin Slices of a Pig’s Head

Dàbáopiàn 大薄片

YUNNAN • SERVES 8 TO 12

This was our favorite item at Yúnnán Rénhéyuán 雲南仁和園 , a restaurant in downtown Taipei. Traditionally, this dish is made with an entire boned pig’s head: face, snout, jowls, ears, and tongue. I prefer to make it with only the meaty jowls (i.e., the cheeks), however. Pig jowls come precleaned, which saves you a lot of hassle, and for my money they are the tastiest part of the head. The jowls look for all the world like a nice piece of pork belly: a thick cut of meat interwoven with white fat, with a good layer of skin on top. Most Chinese restaurants treat the jowls as if they were fresh bacon, just like the Italians do when making guanciale ; you can even consider substituting pig jowl for pork belly in other recipes. It is generally cheaper because most people are not familiar with it, and it’s just as delicious.

1. Rinse the jowl and pat it dry. If there are hairs poking out of the skin, wait until later to pull them out, as they can easily be dealt with once the pork skin has been cooked. Place the jowl in a medium saucepan and cover with water. Bring the water to a boil and simmer for about 10 minutes, then dump out the water and scum, rinse the jowl and saucepan, return the jowl to the pan, and cover the meat with water once again. Add the white liquor, green onions, ginger, and salt. Enclose the Sichuan peppercorns and fennel seeds in either some cheesecloth or a mesh ball and toss this into the pot, too. Bring the water to a boil, lower the heat to a gentle simmer, and cook the jowl, uncovered, for about 3 hours, adding more water as necessary. Check to see if the jowl is done by poking a chopstick through the skin into the meat. It should offer absolutely no resistance, but the meat and skin should not fall apart, either. Let the meat cool in the broth and then remove the jowl to a clean covered container. Refrigerate it overnight and for up to a couple of days. The broth can be strained, the solids discarded, and the broth used for something else.

2. Before you do anything else, pull out any hairs you find in the skin at this point, since they will now be easy to remove with either tweezers or a paring knife (see this page ). Once that is done, cut the jowl against the grain into very long, thin slices while it is still chilled and easy to handle. Arrange the slices on a platter and then let the meat and silky fat come to room temperature before serving.

3. While the jowl is gradually softening, prepare the sauce: stem and seed the peppers and cut them into tiny dice. Finely chop the onions and garlic. Place all of these aromatics in a small work bowl. Stir in the soy sauce, vinegar, and sesame oil. Adjust the seasoning and then either serve the sauce alongside the meat or pour it over the room-temperature slices just before serving.

Pig jowls are not always available in Western butcher shops, so if I want to make this, I ask my butcher to set them aside for me whenever he brings in a whole hog. You can, of course, use a whole boned pig’s head here. But make sure you multiply the recipe ingredients by three, because you will have around 7 pounds of pork to contend with.

The white liquor, ginger, and spices work to tame the natural gaminess of the jowls. What you should end up with is a mildly flavored meat.

As with French headcheese, this dish benefits from a tart, aromatic sauce. The chili peppers can be as hot as you like. I’d caution against adding sugar to the sauce.

Soups

Bean Curd Quenelle Soup

Dòufŭ yuánzi tāng 豆腐圓子湯

SICHUAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

This recipe looks like it will take forever to make, but with the help of a food processor, it is not at all difficult, and it’s a particularly excellent option when you want to serve something special for dinner. Be sure not to bring the soup to a full boil or the quenelles will disintegrate. The soup will still be delicious, just not very pretty.

1. Soak the cellophane noodles in cool water for at least 10 minutes, until soft, and then cut them into 3-inch (or so) lengths with kitchen shears. Slice the mushrooms and bamboo shoot into thin pieces; if you’re using a fresh bamboo shoot, peel it before you slice it and then boil or steam it. Cut the spinach into 3-inch lengths.

2. To make the quenelles, cut the bean curd into large chunks and toss it into a food processor with the pork, rice wine, cornstarch, salt, a sprinkle of pepper, and the egg. Process until the mixture is light and fluffy, stopping the processor once or twice to scrape down the sides.

3. To make the soup, place a 6-cup saucepan over medium heat and add the sesame oil. When it begins to shimmer, add the ginger and green onions, stir-fry for a couple of seconds until fragrant, and then pour in the rice wine and stock. Bring to a boil and add the mushrooms and bamboo shoots. Reduce the heat and simmer the vegetables for about 5 minutes, until tender. Taste and adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper.

4. A few minutes before you are ready to serve, drop the noodles and spinach into the saucepan and bring the soup to a bare simmer. Make golf-ball-sized spheres out of the bean curd mixture (to make the balls using the “tiger’s mouth” technique, see the diagram ), gently dropping each ball into the soup as it is made. Serve as soon as the balls float to the top.

Flash Fish Soup

Shàngtāng yúshēng 上湯魚生

HUNAN • SERVES 6 TO 8

Raw fish doesn’t make a whole lot of appearances on Chinese dinner tables (see this page for a delicious exception), but this brilliant soup from the northern reaches of Hunan is one occasion where it does—briefly. At first, the fish hovers in the background, carefully arrayed along the inside of the tureen, hiding behind greens and toasted Chinese cruller slices. But then, at the dining table, boiling hot broth is poured over everything, and the fish appears in a flash, as if conjured into being.

1. Chill the fish in the freezer for about 10 minutes, until very firm. This will make it easier to slice thinly. Using a sharp knife, cut the fish against the grain and on the diagonal into razor-thin slices, plucking out any tiny bones you find along the way. Place the slices in a pretty, thin-walled, 6-cup serving tureen, add the rice wine, and toss to mix well. Let the fish marinate at room temperature while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Slice the cruller into ¼-inch-thick rounds, scatter the rounds on a baking sheet, and toast them at 275°F until golden and crispy. (A toaster oven is perfect for this.) Remove the stems from the mushrooms, and cut the caps into ¼-inch-thick slices. Trim the lettuce, then finely shred against the grain. Trim the cilantro and coarsely chop; you should have about ¼ cup.

3. To make the broth, bring the stock to a boil in a saucepan over high heat and add the ginger, chicken fat, rice wine, and salt. Add the sliced mushrooms, turn down the heat to medium, and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove and discard the ginger. Add the vinegar to the stock and taste and adjust the seasoning.

4. While the broth is simmering, arrange the fish in the tureen (for directions on arranging everything, see the diagram ) and sprinkle with black pepper and the sesame oil. Keep the bowl in a cool place, but do not refrigerate, as this would make the soup cool down too quickly in Step 5 and the fish would not cook.

5. Taste the broth one last time. Place the tureen and a serving ladle on the dining table, along with individual soup bowls and spoons, close to where you will stand to prepare the dish in front of your guests. The crullers will become soggy if you hesitate during this performance, so have everything ready, then bring the broth to a full boil, carefully rush it to the dining table, and dramatically pour it into the tureen. Make a quick swirl with your ladle and immediately serve the soup.

Shredded Pork and Pickle Soup

Zhàcài ròusī tāng 榨菜肉絲湯

SICHUAN • SERVES 2 AS A MAIN DISH OVER NOODLES, 4 TO 6 AS A SOUP COURSE

This is one of those dishes that’s great as is or over a bowl of noodles. The only real variable is the saltiness of the pickled tuber, or zhacai . After it’s been blanched for the first time, give it a taste and make sure it’s not too salty. Traditionally, pork shreds are added to the simmering pickles; I’ve substituted black mushrooms for half the pork to provide some extra xianwei . Because the meat is so lean, I stir-fry it in oil with garlic and ginger, which gives the soup more depth and a luxurious texture.

1. Place the meat in the freezer for about 30 minutes to make it easier to slice.

2. Rinse the pickled tuber under cool running water, pat it dry, cut it into slices ⅛ inch thick, and cut the slices into matchsticks. You should have about ½ cup. Place in a medium saucepan, add about 4 cups water, and bring to a boil over high heat. Turn down the heat to a simmer and cook for about 10 minutes. Taste both the broth and the pickled tuber. If either is too salty, discard half of the water and add 2 more cups water to the pan; bring the broth to a boil again and then slowly simmer the pickles while you prepare the rest of the ingredients, adding more boiling water as necessary to bring the pan back up to 4 cups liquid.

3. Slice the meat very thinly against the grain and remove any fat or gristly pieces. Cut the slices into a julienne the same size as the pickles. Remove and discard the mushroom stems and julienne the caps.

4. Place a wok over medium-high heat until hot, and add the oil. When the oil is shimmering, toss in the garlic and ginger and fry them for about 10 seconds to release their fragrance. Add the pork and mushrooms and stir-fry until the meat starts to brown. Scrape the pork mixture into the broth, add the rice wine, and bring the soup to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for about 5 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning and then sprinkle on the sesame oil and green onions. Serve very hot.

5. If you are serving the soup over noodles, bring a pot of water to a full boil, add the fresh noodles, stir, cook until barely done, and drain. If using cellophane noodles, soak them in cool water to cover until just softened and drain. Divide them among the soup bowls, and ladle the finished soup over the top.

Yunnan Ham and Wild Mushroom Soup

Yěgū Yúntuĭ tāng 野菇雲腿湯

YUNNAN • SERVES 8

I like to make this soup with as many different mushrooms as possible: porcini, morels, the netlike bamboo pith fungus (see below), hen-of-the-woods, and whatever else I can find. In Yunnan, chefs pair all of these fungi with a local ham, but at the time of this writing, true Chinese hams are impossible to find in the United States. Until that beautiful charcuterie makes its way into our markets, I recommend prosciutto or Hunan-style charcuterie (see this page ).

1. Melt the fat in a 4-quart pot over medium-low heat and add the ginger. Slowly brown the ginger before tossing in the ham. Stir the ham around in the fat to release its fragrance, then immediately pour in the rice wine, bring to a boil, and add the stock. Bring the stock to a full boil and then lower the heat to a simmer.

2. While the stock is simmering, cut or tear the mushrooms into bite-sized pieces: about ¼ inch wide for porcini, morels, and other thick mushrooms, or into separate “feathers” for hen-of-the-woods, oyster, and other stemmed mushrooms. If you are using rehydrated mushrooms, cut them into slightly smaller pieces, since they will be chewier, and be sure to strain their soaking liquid and add it to the stock. Rinse the bamboo pith fungus, cut off the tough bottoms and fringed tops, and chop the stalks crosswise into 1-inch pieces. Add all these mushrooms to the stock and simmer the soup for about 20 minutes, until the thickest mushrooms are tender. Taste and adjust the seasoning with salt, pepper, and sugar. If you’d like to add a slight edge, stir in the rice vinegar just as you take the soup off of the heat. Toss in the chopped ham and sprinkle on the green onions or cilantro. Serve immediately.

Entrées

Gold Hooks Hanging on Jade Plaques

Jīn’gōu guà yùpái 金鈎掛玉牌

GUIZHOU • SERVES 4 TO 6

Because Guizhou has traditionally been a province with relatively low incomes, cheap proteins like bean curd and bean sprouts play a significant role in its cuisine. This classic Central Highlands dish combines the two ingredients perfectly, with the chewy texture of the bean curd acting as the ideal foil for the crunchy bean sprouts. But it’s the sauce that truly distinguishes this dish.

1. Pluck off the hairy ends from the soybean sprouts . Remove any skins clinging to the seed ends, but leave on the yellow heads, as these are your “gold hooks.” Rinse the sprouts and drain.

2. Trim any tough edges off the bean curd and cut the block into even quarters to form the “jade plaques.” Slice each quarter into 5 even tiles, for a total of 20 pieces.

3. Place the bean sprouts in a wide pan and add the water and salt. Bring the pot to a boil and then lower it to a simmer. Cook the sprouts for about 5 minutes, layer the bean curd tiles on top, and gently swish the pan (don’t stir it or flip the bean curd, as it will break) for about 3 minutes, until the bean curd is cooked. Carefully drain off all of the water and arrange the sprouts and bean curd on a serving platter.

4. While the sprouts are cooking, place the sliced green onions and the sesame oil in a heatproof measuring cup that will hold the sauce. Place a wok over medium-high heat and add the peanut or vegetable oil. When the oil is barely shimmering, turn down the heat to low. Sprinkle in the dried chilies and ground peppercorns and slowly cook the spices for about 2 minutes, until their fragrance has been released. Remove the wok from the heat and stir in the soy sauce, which will boil and bubble. Pour this spicy oil and all of the crumbly bits into the measuring cup and stir. Taste and adjust the seasoning as needed before scraping the sauce into a small bowl.

5. Serve the dish while both parts are still hot. To eat, pick up a square of bean curd along with a couple of sprouts and dip them lavishly into the sauce.

Peng Family Bean Curd

Péngjiā dòufŭ 彭家豆腐

HUNAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

A relatively new recipe in Hunan’s canon, Peng Family Bean Curd was created by Hunanese chef and restaurateur Peng Changgui at his restaurant Peng’s Agora Garden, in Taipei. When I would eat there with folks from the National Museum of History, we would order things like Honey Ham sandwiched in Lotus Leaf Buns , smoked pork charcuterie with green garlic, and Flash Fish Soup ; this dish, though, was a favorite on visits with my husband, when we would gravitate toward food that was more homey than fancy.

1. Cut the bean curd block in half lengthwise and then cut crosswise into squares ¼ inch thick. Place them in a single layer on a clean tea towel and pat the tops with the towel. Let them drain while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Place the pork in a small work bowl and toss it with the rice wine and cornstarch. Cut the leek or green onions on the diagonal into ½-inch-wide strips.

3. Place a wok over medium-high heat, and when it starts to smoke, add the oil. Swirl the oil around in the wok and then lay in half of the bean curd squares in a single layer. Cook these until they are golden brown on one side, shake them loose, and then flip each one over and cook the other side. Remove the now-golden squares to a plate, leaving as much oil in the wok as possible, and repeat with the other half of the bean curd. Pour out about half of the oil.

4. Raise the heat under the wok to high. Add the leeks (or green onions) and garlic to the hot oil and stir-fry for about 10 seconds to release their fragrance. Toss in the pork and its marinade and stir-fry until the meat is no longer pink. Add the peppers and black beans, stir them quickly to heat them through, and then pour in the hot water, soy sauce, and sugar. Toss everything together and then scoot the vegetables up the side of the wok.

5. Arrange the browned bean curd squares in the sauce, cover, reduce the heat to medium-low, and simmer for about 5 minutes. Turn the squares over, drizzle the cornstarch mixture around the edges, and then gently shake the wok to mix everything together while the sauce thickens. Toss in the sesame oil and serve on a rimmed platter.

Chicken can be used instead of pork—or both can be left out if you prefer this meatless. Black mushrooms are a good substitute.

Zhuang-Style Stuffed Bean Curd Balls

Zhuàngjiā niàng dòufŭ 壯家酿豆腐

NORTHERN GUANGXI • SERVES 6 TO 8

In the West, you rarely hear much about the Zhuang people of southern China, but they are the largest minority in the country, numbering around 18 million. Most of them live in the mountains of Guangxi’s northern half, or in eastern Yunnan. Zhuang dishes tend to be heavily seasoned with chili peppers; this mild dish is an exception. What makes this recipe so remarkable, though, is the way it stretches a small amount of meat into a meal big enough for a large family.

1. Wet a fine piece of muslin or cheesecloth and drape it over a colander set in the sink. Put the bean curd in the cloth, break it apart with your fingers, and then squeeze it into a fine mush. Sprinkle the salt over the bean curd, toss it around, and then let it drain while you work on the meatballs.

2. If your pork isn’t already ground, chop it finely. To do this by hand, chill the meat, cut off any tendons or silver skin, thinly slice the meat and fat, and then chop it with a sharp, heavy knife (see this page ). Otherwise, use a food processor to chop the chilled pork. Place the meat in a medium work bowl. Stem the mushrooms and finely chop the caps. Add them to the meat along with the rest of the meatball ingredients. Stir the mixture in one direction until it’s bouncy (see this page ).

3. Roll the meat mixture between your palms into marbles about ½ inch in diameter. The best way to form these meatballs is to use the “tiger’s mouth” method (see the diagram . You should end up with 45 balls, more or less. Keep them in a cool place.

4. Next it’s time to wrap each meatball in the mashed bean curd (see the diagram below). This is a lot easier than it sounds, since the bean curd actually behaves pretty well if it has been properly squeezed and drained. It should feel sort of like mashed potatoes at this point.

5. Once the bean curd balls have been formed, heat about ½ inch of oil in a wok over medium-high heat until a chopstick placed in the oil is immediately covered with bubbles. Place the cornstarch in a small work bowl and coat each ball just before you fry it. Gently slide the balls into the hot oil, frying them in small batches to prevent them from sticking to one another. Shake the wok once the bottoms are fried so the balls roll around; continue to do this until they are a golden brown all over. Remove the fried balls to a clean plate and repeat with the rest until all have been fried. You can prepare the dish ahead of time up to this point. Let the balls cool to room temperature and then refrigerate in a covered container.

6. About 15 minutes before you want to serve this dish, make the sauce. Combine the ginger, water, soy sauce, rice wine, fat, and sesame oil in a medium saucepan or the wok and boil over high heat until the liquid thickens. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Add the fried balls to the sauce, return the sauce to a boil, and then lower the heat to a simmer. Stir in the cornstarch slurry and adjust the seasoning.

7. After about 5 minutes, use a slotted spoon to transfer the meatballs to a heatproof rimmed serving plate or bowl that fits easily in your steamer . Any scrappy-looking fried bean curd balls should be placed at the bottom of the serving dish, with the pretty ones piled on top. Steam the balls over high heat for about 10 minutes, until they puff up a little. Bring the reserved sauce to a boil and then lower to a simmer. Stir the sauce occasionally to keep it smooth, and taste and adjust the seasoning. Remove the bean curd balls from the steamer, pour as much of the sauce over them as you wish, and sprinkle with the chopped green onions and cilantro.

Mapo Doufu

Mápó dòufŭ 麻婆豆腐

SICHUAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

More than a century ago, a pockmarked woman (which is what mapo means) named Chen invented this bean curd dish at her stand outside the northern gates of Chengdu. The dish quickly caught on, and because it could be cooked so fast, it became something like the fast food of its time. Travelers and local workers filled up on the widow’s specialty before entering the capital city’s gates. The dish was so famous that it even attracted the local literati, who willingly rubbed elbows with the working class in order to eat at Chen’s stand.

1. Place the bean curd in a small saucepan, cover with the boiling water, and add the salt. Bring the water to a boil again and then lower the heat to a gentle simmer and cook the bean curd for about 10 minutes to heat it and prevent it from falling apart. Gently transfer the bean curd to a colander set in the sink and let drain thoroughly.

2. Place the ground beef on a cutting board and use a heavy knife to chop it until it is light and fluffy (see this page ). Heat a wok over high heat and add the oil. When the oil shimmers, swirl it around and then toss in the beef and the ginger. Stir constantly as the beef cooks so that it does not stick to the wok. As it starts to brown nicely, season it with the salt and then scoot the meat up the side of the wok.

3. Add the black beans, bean sauce, and chilies to the hot oil at the bottom of the wok and fry them together for a few seconds to release their fragrance. Toss the beef with the bean sauce in the wok and pour in the stock. Add the bean curd, leek, and sweet soy sauce (or soy sauce and sugar) to taste. Bring the bean curd and sauce to a full boil.

4. Reduce the heat under the wok to medium. Thicken the sauce by adding the soybean or cornstarch slurry in three parts: the first time, the sauce will absorb the slurry, but the bean curd will continue to release water, so add the slurry a second time. After each addition, do not stir the ingredients. Instead, shake the wok gently yet firmly over medium heat, as this will mix in the thickener without breaking up the bean curd. Add the slurry a third time to stabilize the texture.

5. Remove from the heat, sprinkle on the ground peppercorns and green onion, and then transfer to a rimmed dish or a bowl. Serve hot.

Cod with Crispy Bean Sauce

Dòusū xuěyú 豆酥雪魚

YUNNAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

The basic ingredients for the bean sauce used here are the smashed, dried, and salted beans known as dousu , or “crispy beans.” They are directly related to the Burmese fermented soybean disks called tua nao . This crunchy, deeply savory sauce is an instant hit whenever it is served, and I have come to pile more and more of it onto the fish as the years have gone by just to make people happy.

1. Rinse the fish and pat it dry. Place it on a heatproof plate, rub it all over with the salt, then sprinkle the wine over it. After you have prepared the rest of the ingredients, steam the fish while you prepare the sauce, allowing 10 to 20 minutes for it to cook depending how thick it is and how hot your steamer is. If the fish is done before the sauce is ready, cover it lightly to keep it warm.

2. If you are using packaged dried crispy soybeans, first make a small slit in the plastic bag so the vacuum is released, then break up the soybean brick into smaller parts inside the bag. Use the handle of your cleaver to crush the soybeans into a powder; it’s all right if there are clumps left, as these will fall apart as they’re fried.

3. About 10 minutes before you wish to serve this dish, put the oil into a cold wok and add the ginger and chilies. Slowly heat the oil over medium heat so that the ginger and chilies can season the oil without burning. As soon as the ginger has fried to a pale tan and the chilies are not yet browned, add the dried crispy soybeans and optional garlic. If you want, remove half the sauce as soon as the beans absorb the oil and set it aside for another day. It will keep well if refrigerated in a covered jar. If you are using store-bought sauce, simply add it to the wok along with the garlic.

4. Raise the heat to medium-high and fry everything until the beans are brown and crispy. Sprinkle the sugar over the beans and stir it in. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning. Pour off and discard any liquid surrounding the fish, then drizzle it with the sauce, which should cause a delectable popping sound. Sprinkle the green onions over the dish and serve it immediately with a spoon.

Nowadays, you can often find dried dousu already crushed into a powder. There is even a bottled version that requires you to do nothing more than fry the dousu before serving. The best product is Master brand’s Fried Crispy Soy Bean from Taiwan.

The most common way of serving this sauce is over steamed cod, but you can serve it with other foods, as well. It’s delicious over a plain omelet or steamed soft bean curd. For the omelet, simply cook 4 beaten eggs into a round omelet, plate, and pour half of the sauce over the eggs. For the bean curd, cut it into large cubes and steam it until it is heated through, being careful to pour off as much water as you can before adding the sauce.

This recipe makes a lot of sauce, but it’s easy to scoop out half just after you have added the ground beans and save it for later.

Smoked Whole Fish Hunan Style

Shēngxūn yú 生薰魚

HUNAN • SERVES 6 TO 8

The Chinese name for this way of cooking says it all: shengxun , or “raw smoked.” In most smoked Chinese dishes, the animal is first cooked—usually by steaming or braising—and then gently smoked. In those cases, the smoking simply flavors the meat. This dish is one of the few in which the smoke actually cooks the fish. Wood chips are used here in the initial smoking because they burn more slowly. The second smoking seasons the fish with tea, sugar, and rice.

1. Start this dish a couple of hours before you plan to serve it. Clean and scale the fish, remove the gills and fins (leave on the head and tail), and rinse it thoroughly under cool running water. Pat it dry with a paper towel and then either slash the fish in the “willow leaf” pattern or make 2 long gashes down each side parallel to, and about 1 inch from, the backbone.

2. Mix together the grated ginger, green onions, Sichuan peppercorns, and salt. Rub a third of this mixture on the inside of the fish and the rest all over the outside, paying particular attention to the gashes. Place the fish in a large resealable plastic bag and pour the wine inside the bag, streaming it down both sides of the fish. Seal the bag, place it on a plate, and refrigerate it for 2 or more hours to marinate.

3. Prepare your smoker (see this page ): spray the rack that rests over the center of the smoker with oil. For the first round of smoking, which will cook the fish, scatter the dry wood chips in an even layer on top of the foil. Place the covered smoker to the rear of your stove, turn the fan on high, open some windows for cross-ventilation, and turn your burner up to high.

4. While the smoker is heating up, remove the fish from the bag and knock off all of the aromatics from both inside and outside the fish, including from the gashes. When the smoker starts to emit steady tendrils of smoke, place the prettiest side of the fish face up on the rack, immediately cover the smoker, and lower the heat to medium-high. Smoke the fish for 25 to 30 minutes, until it is almost—but not quite—done.

5. For the second round of smoking, which will further season the fish, mix together the rice, tea leaves, sugar, and salt. Remove the rack with the fish on it and sprinkle the rice mixture over the embers in the smoker. Return the rack with the fish to the smoker, cover it, return it to smoke for another minute or two at medium-high heat, and then immediately take the smoker off the heat. Let the smoker cool down with the lid on and the fish inside it, which will allow the fish to be slowly seasoned by the tea smoke. The fish can be prepared up to this point ahead of time, cooled to room temperature, and refrigerated. When you are ready to serve it, warm the fish in a 275°F oven until it is heated through.

6. While you are waiting for the fish to smoke, prepare the various condiments: combine the ginger and vinegar in a small bowl, and use other bowls or saucers to hold the cilantro, chili oil, and salt.

7. Remove the fish to a serving platter. Just before serving, heat the sesame oil in a wok until it starts to smoke, then pour the hot oil all over the fish. Serve it with the condiments. To eat, use chopsticks to pluck off chunks of the fish and dip them in the various seasonings as desired.

Fish and Bean Curd in Fermented Bean Sauce

Dòufŭ dòubàn yú 豆腐豆瓣魚

SICHUAN • SERVES 4

A favorite place of my husband and mine to eat on the outskirts of Taipei was a Sichuan-style restaurant near the river port town of Tamsui. It was always packed, and almost everyone ordered this dish, which was the house specialty. Before we ate, though, we had to walk over to the restaurant’s aquarium and select the fish that would end up on our plate. When I first started doing this, it felt rather grisly, but as time went on, it made me more fully appreciate the origins of my meal.

Those in the know would finish their fish and send the plate back to the kitchen with most of the sauce still on it. The kitchen would return the plate with a second round of either regular white bean curd or with “red bean curd” (see the sidebar ).

To my mind, there is no fish recipe more quintessentially Sichuanese than douban yu . It’s traditionally made with a whole fish, but because it is sometimes hard to find whole fish in American markets, I’ve come to rely on the occasional salmon fillet, which is perfectly tasty here and firm enough to stand up to a simple braise.

1. If using a whole fish, clean and scale the fish, remove the gills and fins (leave on the head and tail), rinse thoroughly under cool running water, and pat dry. Slash the sides in one of the patterns . If using fillets, leave the skin on and cut the fish against the grain into strips as wide as you want them.

2. Place a wok over medium-high heat, add the oil, and swirl it around before adding the ginger. As soon as it is fragrant, lower the heat to medium and place the fish skin-side down in the oil. Leave the fish to brown, and as soon as it moves easily when you shake the wok (see this page ), turn the fish over and add the whites of the onions and garlic to the oil. When the second side is lightly browned, remove the fish and aromatics to a plate.

3. While the fish is browning, cut the bean curd and/or blood into 16 pieces. (I like batons or rectangles, but it’s up to you.) Place the bean curd and/or blood in a small saucepan, cover with the boiling water, and add the salt. Bring the water to a boil again and then lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Cook the pieces for about 5 minutes and gently drain into a colander in the sink.

4. Remove all but about 2 tablespoons oil from the wok. Set the wok over medium-high heat and add the bean sauce. Stir for about 30 seconds to get the sauce hot and smelling terrific and then add the fermented rice lees and liquid, sweet soy sauce (or soy sauce and sugar) to taste, and the stock. As the mixture comes to a boil, add the bean curd and/or blood and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes, until they are cooked and flavorful. Make a well in the center of the wok and nestle the fish and its aromatics in the well. Heat the fish on both sides in the sauce, then swirl in the vinegar; taste and adjust the seasoning. Dribble the cornstarch slurry around the bubbling edges of the sauce, swirl the wok around to mix it in, and then plate the fish, with the white or red cubes decorating the sides. Dust the top with the Sichuan peppercorns and green onions and serve immediately.

Fish-Fragrant Prawns

Yúxiāng duìxiā 魚香對蝦

SICHUAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

The sauce for this dish is called yuxiang in Chinese, which literally means “fish aroma.” Some cookbooks say that it got this name because it’s often used for fish, which is not a bad explanation. But I’ve found that the traditional recipe for yuxiang included chilies fermented with crucian carp, which gave the sauce a deep, anchovy-like flavor; hence, perhaps, the name.

I emphasize using pickled chilies here, which can be easily prepared at home or purchased in a Chinese market. They have a purity of flavor that is hard to beat, although some Chinese chefs now rely solely on Sichuan hot bean sauce. I use only a dab of the bean sauce in addition to the chilies to give the sauce good color and body.

1. Peel the prawns, if necessary, leaving the tail segments intact, and then devein them (see this page ). Pat them dry with a paper towel, place them in a medium work bowl, add the egg white, salt, and cornstarch, and toss to coat. Let the prawns marinate while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

2. Trim the water chestnuts. Remove and discard the stems and hard bits from the mushrooms or wood ears. Chop these ingredients into fine (⅛-inch) dice and place them in a small work bowl. Slice the pickled chilies into thin rings and chop the garlic into very small pieces. Slice the white parts of the onions into thin rings and place these and the ginger in a small work bowl. Cut the green parts of the onions into thin rings and keep them separate, as they will be added to the prawns at the last minute.

3. To make the sauce, mix the sugar, vinegar, soy sauce, water, and cornstarch together in a small bowl, but don’t add the bean sauce yet.

4. Have ready a Chinese spider or slotted spoon, a heatproof bowl for the hot oil, a small work bowl to hold the cooked prawns, and a small serving platter. Place a wok over high heat, add the oil, and when it shimmers, swirl it around and then add the prawns. Stir them in the hot oil for a minute or two until their tails are pink and their bodies have turned opaque. (Don’t overcook them, as they will continue to cook from the residual heat and will also cook a tiny bit more when added to the sauce.) Remove the prawns from the oil with the spider and place them in the work bowl.

5. Drain off all but 2 tablespoons of the oil from the wok. With the heat still on high, add the chilies, garlic, whites of the onions, and ginger and stir-fry them for a few seconds to release their fragrance. Toss in the Sichuan hot bean sauce and mix everything together for a few seconds until the sauce boils and cooks through. Add the water chestnuts and mushrooms or wood ears. Quickly toss these until the mushrooms start to look cooked, then add the prawns and sauce. Working very fast, stir them over the heat until the sauce thickens, which should take only a couple of seconds. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Add the green parts of the onions, toss once, and arrange the prawns on your serving platter. Serve immediately.

This classic preparation works with any number of main ingredients. Try this sauce with shredded pork, which can be julienned, briefly stir-fried, and then added to the sauce.

For a fantastically delicious meatless version of this dish, use eggplant: Cut the eggplant into batons, salt them, and then drain them in a colander. Deep-fry or roast the eggplant (see this page ), or else blanch them for a few minutes in boiling water until barely cooked through. Proceed with the rest of the recipe as directed above. The fried or roasted eggplant will taste and feel meaty, while the blanched eggplant will be soft and delicate.

Kung Pao Scallops

Gōngbǎo gānbèi 宮保干貝

SICHUAN • SERVES 4

Kung pao chicken is standard fare at most American Chinese restaurants, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that it is lacking in merit. I don’t believe chicken is the best candidate for the recipe, though: it’s too bland, and doesn’t match the vibrancy of the sauce. To my mind, something with a bit more personality is needed, which is why I love to use fresh scallops in this dish.

Small bay or big diver scallops work great here (see the ingredients list for other suggestions). I also add fresh black mushrooms to deepen the seasoning that the Chinese describe as having a lychee flavor; you can heighten this fruity suggestion by adding a bit more sugar. Homemade sweet soy sauce works well, too. You can use twice the amount of scallops and eliminate the mushrooms if you like, or vice versa, if you want to go the meatless route.

1. Clean the scallops, leaving bay scallops whole and slicing diver scallops horizontally into 3 or 4 pieces. (If using squid, use the “blossom cut” on the bodies as directed, and then cut them into 1 × 2–inch rectangles; cut the trimmed tentacles into bite-sized clumps. Leave medium shrimp whole or cut large ones in half horizontally through the back to increase their surface area and make them easy to eat. Cut the chicken into ¾-inch cubes.) Place the scallops (or other main ingredient) in a small work bowl. Mix together the soy sauce, rice wine, and cornstarch, toss with the scallops, and let marinate while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. Discard the marinade just before Step 4 and allow the scallops to drain in a sieve set in the sink. (Having them relatively dry will allow them to sear quickly, rather than stew.)

2. Stem the mushrooms, then tear or cut the caps into pieces that are about the same size as the scallops. Remove the strings and leaves from the celery and cut the stalks into ½-inch lengths. Combine the ginger and garlic in a small bowl. Cut the green parts off the green onions, chop them into ¼-inch pieces, and save as a garnish. Cut the white parts of the onions into ¼-inch-wide rounds and add them to the ginger and garlic. Place the chilies in a sieve, rinse, and shake them dry.

3. Mix the sauce ingredients together in a small bowl or measuring cup, adding the sweet soy sauce (or soy sauce plus sugar) to taste.

4. Place a wok over medium heat and pour in the oil when the wok is hot. Swirl the oil around and add the Sichuan peppercorns. When the peppercorns have toasted to a very dark brown, use a slotted spoon to remove and discard them. Turn up the heat under the wok to high. Add the chilies to the oil, fry them until they start to brown, and add the ginger, garlic, and whites of the green onions. Stir-fry these for a few minutes to release their fragrance.

5. Add the mushrooms and stir-fry them until they start to brown, and then add the celery and toss it with the mushrooms. Fry only until the raw edge of the celery is gone. Scoot the vegetables up the side of the wok. Add the scallops (or other protein) and fry them quickly in the oil at the bottom of the wok until they barely brown, adding more oil as needed to keep them from sticking to the wok. Toss them with the vegetables.

6. Pour the sauce ingredients around the edge of the scallops and vegetables. Toss these together quickly until the sauce thickens and forms a sheen over all of the ingredients. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Toss in the onion greens and peanuts and then serve immediately.

Steampot Chicken

Qìguō jī 氣鍋雞

YUNNAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

Yunnan steampots are found throughout most of south-central China. They’re made of smooth clay, with a funnel-shaped opening on the bottom (see the diagram ). The steampot is filled with meats, vegetables, seasonings, and broth and then placed over a pan of boiling water. The steam moves through the funnel and into the pot, creating a flavorful stock while cooking the meats and vegetables.

Traditional recipes call for a very large steampot and a whole chicken, but I prefer to use a smaller, 6-cup-capacity steampot and boneless chicken. If you don’t have a steampot handy, simmer the soup in a large covered sandpot or casserole and add another cup or two of unsalted stock as the broth cooks down.

1. Remove any silver tendons that run through the chicken, then cut the meat into 1-inch pieces. Bring a large saucepan filled with water to a boil, drop in the cubed meat, and stir so that none of the pieces stick together. Simmer for about 2 minutes to blanch the chicken, removing any scum. Drain and discard the water, rinse the meat under running water, and allow it to drain.

2. Prepare the steampot and the pan that will provide the steam (for directions on setting up a steampot, see the diagram ).

3. Slice the ham into a thin julienne and cut the bamboo shoot into 1-inch chunks. Evenly place the blanched poultry pieces in the steampot and layer on the ham, bamboo shoots, mushrooms, ginger, green onions, wolfberries, and rice wine. Grind some fresh black pepper over everything. Pour the hot stock and a bit of soy sauce on top, leaving at least an inch of the pot’s funnel showing so that the soup won’t flow out through the funnel.

4. Cover the steampot, bring the water in the saucepan back to a full boil, lower the heat to medium, and let the soup steam for about 2 hours. Try not to open the lid too often while the chicken is cooking, so that the steam doesn’t escape. When everything is tender, the soup is ready. Taste and adjust the seasoning as necessary. Sprinkle on a bit of sesame oil and either some shredded green onions or cilantro.

5. Fold a towel into a square and place it on a large plate. The towel will help keep the pot steady and prevent burns. Use 2 potholders or a thick towel to remove the steampot from the saucepan and place it on the folded towel before carrying it proudly to the dining table. Remove the lid with a flourish and ladle out the soup into individual bowls.

This dish can be varied to include whatever vegetables are in season. Consider it a template rather than a strict recipe.

Chili Chicken

Làzi jī 辣子雞

GUIZHOU • SERVES 4

This dish is popular throughout the Central Highlands, but my favorite version comes from Guizhou.

1. Chop the chicken into bite-sized pieces no larger than 1 inch square, place in a work bowl, and toss with the rice wine, chili paste, and soy sauce. Marinate the chicken for at least 2 hours, then drain and toss with the cornstarch.

2. Place a wok over high heat, swirl in the oil, and brown a handful of the chicken at a time, adding more oil as needed.

3. For the sauce, pour out the oil and return the wok to medium heat. Stir in the chili paste and then the sweet soy sauce (or soy sauce and sugar) and water. Bring this rapidly to a boil. When the sauce has reduced, adjust the seasoning and then toss in the leeks (or green onions) and chicken. Serve as soon as the leeks wilt.

Lemongrass Chicken

Xiāngmáocǎo kǎojī 香茅草烤雞

YUNNAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

This recipe comes from the Dai people of southern Yunnan. The Dai live near the headwaters of the Mekong River; they are closely related, both culturally and culinarily, to the Shan people of Myanmar, Laos, and Thailand. As a result, this dish tastes a lot like the cooking of Southeast Asia. The chicken is partially boned, which allows it to cook quickly before the meat dries out; most of the flavor comes from the long fronds of citrusy lemongrass.

1. Trim off the extra fat around the chicken’s cavity and render it (follow the directions for rendering pork fat for lard , if you like, to use for basting the bird later on. Remove the neck, giblets, and wing tips and use those for something else. If you are barbecuing the bird, start your fire so that the coals will be ready and spray the grill with oil. Otherwise, place an oven rack about 4 inches from the broiler, turn on the broiler, and spray a wire rack with oil and set it in a rimmed baking pan (see Tips ).

2. Remove and discard the bulbs of the lemongrass, then rinse the lemongrass carefully, paying special attention to the grooves at the bottoms of the fronds. Dry each piece with a paper towel to get rid of any grit still clinging to the leaves. Pick out the palest leaves in the center and chop them finely until you have 1½ cups. Leave the rest of the leaves whole.

3. Place the chopped lemongrass in a medium work bowl and add the soy sauce, cilantro, green onions, ginger, garlic, and chilies. Toss them and add more seasoning if you wish, then let the flavors of this marinade mingle while you prepare the bird.

4. Remove the breastbone, back, and ribs from the chicken (see this page ).

5. Pat the lemongrass marinade inside the bird in a thick layer and fold the breast meat over the filling. Select your longest lemongrass leaves and tie them around the body, starting with the circumference of the thighs and legs and then tying the wings and body. Turn the bird 90 degrees and tie more leaves around the body from the neck to the tail. Keep tying leaves around the chicken until it’s completely wrapped in lemongrass.

6. Lay the chicken on the barbecue grill or wire rack. Cook it on both sides, occasionally brushing the top with the rendered fat or oil, until it’s roasted through, about 40 to 50 minutes. Remove the chicken from the heat, let it rest for about 10 minutes, and then cut off the blackened lemongrass. Chop the chicken into pieces of any size and serve.

Lemongrass is found in the produce section of most Chinese and Southeast Asian markets. If you live in a warm area, consider growing lemongrass: simply root the base of the lemongrass and plant it in rich, moist soil.

A broiler pan can be used instead of a cake rack set in a baking pan, but I prefer the latter because it allows the heat to circulate under the chicken as it cooks.

Twice-Cooked Pork

Huíguō ròu 回鍋肉

HUNAN AND SICHUAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

When we lived in Taipei, my husband and I would visit our favorite home-style Hunan restaurant, Tiānréntái 天仁臺 , at least once a month. Located across the street from South Gate Market—a collection of food stalls, homemade-charcuterie places, and produce stands—this restaurant was old-school, and it made the best Twice-Cooked Pork around.

This dish was originally created to use up the cooked square of pork offered two times a month to the gods and ancestors. In addition to the fresh bacon, Tianrentai also included thinly sliced pressed bean curd, which was the perfect complement to the meat.

1. Cut off and discard any skin, tough tendons, and stringy fat on the meat. Slice the pork thinly against the grain, then cut it into pieces no larger than 1 inch square. Lay the pressed bean curd on a cutting board and slice the squares horizontally into very thin pieces; cut these into pieces about the same size as the pork. Remove the seeds from the pepper and cut it, too, into pieces about the same size as the pork. Trim the leek carefully, being sure to wash out all the sand that lurks in the bottoms of the leaves (see this page ), and then cut into 1-inch lengths.

2. Heat a wok over high heat and add the oil. When the oil shimmers, add the ginger and stir-fry it for a few seconds to release its fragrance. Add the pork and move it around in the hot oil to sear the edges and brown it a little and then scoot it up one side of the wok. Toss in the bean curd, stir-fry until lightly browned, then push it up the side of the wok to join the pork. Add the red pepper and quickly brown it before sidling it up against the bean curd. Finally, toss in the leeks and garlic and quickly wilt them. Scrape the meat and vegetables into a clean work bowl, leaving any extra oil in the wok.

3. Set the wok over high heat, add the sesame oil, bean sauce, and hot bean sauce, then drizzle in the sweet soy sauce (or soy sauce and sugar) to taste. Stir everything around for a few seconds and adjust the seasoning. Return the meat and veggies to the wok and toss everything together over high heat until all the surfaces are slicked with sauce. Taste again, adjust the seasoning as desired, and serve.

The prepared sauces here have wildly varying levels of saltiness, so start with a smallish amount—you can always add more. As with all bottled sauces, be sure to cook the sauce in some fat to remove the canned flavor.

There are endless variations on this recipe. The rendition from Chongqing is one of my favorites. It ramps the heat way up with a handful of fresh chili peppers and reduces the sweetness.

Dongan Chicken

Dōngān jī 東安雞

HUNAN • SERVES 6 TO 8

In 712 CE, three elderly women ran a restaurant in a small town in southern Hunan. One evening, some tradesmen came by looking for dinner, but the restaurant had run out of food. The owners quickly bought two chickens and decided they’d try something new. They briefly poached and boned the birds, then tossed them in a spicy sauce. The tradesmen loved it, and word of the chicken eventually reached the county chief. He came to the restaurant, ordered the dish, found it delicious, and soon it was named after the county where they lived: Dongan.

1. Start this recipe a couple of hours—or even a day or two—before you plan to serve it. Put the ground Sichuan peppercorns, soy sauce, rice wine, and sugar in a 2-quart pot, add about 1 cup boiling water, and swish this mixture around. Add the chicken, breast-side up. Pour in enough boiling water to cover the chicken, then place it on the stove over high heat. As soon as it boils, reduce the heat so that you have a lively simmer and let the chicken cook for 20 to 30 minutes, until a chopstick inserted into the thickest part of the thigh goes in very easily. Let the chicken sit in the stock; when it has cooled to lukewarm, carefully remove it to a rimmed platter and let it cool off until it’s easy to handle. Reserve the poaching liquid in the stockpot.

2. Place another large plate or platter next to the chicken. If the head, neck, and/or feet are still attached, remove them and toss them into the poaching liquid. Cut off the wing tips and back and put them in the stockpot. (As you break down the chicken, you can leave the skin attached to the meat if you wish, or add it to the stockpot along with the bones.) Remove the bones from the wings, legs (pull out the tendons), and thighs. Leave the meat in chunks as large as possible and place them on the clean plate. Slice that meat crosswise as needed to make pieces about ½ inch wide, then remove the meat from the rest of the carcass and cut it to the same size. Toss the rest of the bones into the stockpot. Bring the stock to a boil, then simmer it uncovered for about an hour; strain and discard the solids. Reserve about ¼ cup of the stock for this dish, and use the rest for something else. The recipe can be made ahead of time up to this point. Chill the chicken and the reserved stock.

3. Before you assemble the sauce, break the chilies in half and discard the seeds and stem ends. Crumble or chop the chilies into smallish pieces. If you’re using whole Sichuan peppercorns, place them on the cutting board and crush them with the side of a wide Chinese knife, pressing down on the blade so that they break open.

4. Set a wok over medium-high heat until it barely begins to smoke, then add the oil and swirl it around before adding the ginger and chilies. Quickly stir-fry them before adding the chicken to the wok. Gently toss the chicken over the heat for a minute before adding the ground or crushed peppercorns, vinegar, rice wine, and sugar. Continue to gently toss everything together for another minute before adding the poaching liquid and salt. Cover the wok and let the flavors combine for about 2 minutes, by which time most of the stock will have cooked off.

5. Uncover the wok and pour off any excess oil. Taste and add more salt, vinegar, or sugar as needed. Return the wok to medium-high heat. Drizzle in the cornstarch slurry and toss the chicken until the cornstarch has evenly coated it and is cooked through. Sprinkle in the green onions and sesame oil. Serve immediately.

Camphor Tea Duck

Zhāng chá yā 樟茶鴨

SICHUAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

Camphor Tea Duck was a favorite of the Qing royal family—Ding Baozhen, the Qing official responsible for the proliferation of kung pao dishes, is believed to have popularized it. Ding served under the last three emperors, as well as the Dowager Empress Cixi; this duck is thought to be the invention of one of his chefs, Huang Jinlin of Chengdu, who adapted a traditional smoked duck recipe for the royal family by adding smoldering camphor leaves and twigs.

In 1911, when the imperial family was deposed, Huang’s recipe returned with him to his hometown. It became a local classic there, and it’s still popular in Chengdu today. The dish is seasoned with Sichuan peppercorns, which lend it a piney, dry heat. The flavors are amplified by the fragrant camphor leaves and tea smoke. I have added a bit of pink salt, too, which colors the meat and elevates its flavors.

1. Start this recipe at least 1 day before you wish to serve it. First, marinate the duck: clean out the viscera, remove any large pieces of fat around the cavity and neck, and cut off the wing tips. Pat the bird dry inside and out with paper towels. Put the duck on a chopping board breast up and press down firmly on the breast to flatten it, working your way up and down the body to crack the ribs. Place the duck in a medium work bowl. If you are using the pink salt, toss it well with the toasted Sichuan peppercorn salt in a small bowl. Rub the rice wine all over the skin and in the cavity, then immediately rub the salts inside and outside the duck, paying special attention to the thicker parts so that they’re seasoned well. Stuff the cavity with the green onions and ginger. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 24 hours and up to 48, turning the bird over a couple of times whenever you think of it.

2. Prepare a smoker as described and oil its rack. Mix together the camphor leaves (or other smoking materials), tea leaves, and sugar in a small bowl, then pile these in the bottom of the smoker. Turn the heat to high, and when billows of white smoke emerge from the vents, place the duck, breast-side up, on the oiled rack, being sure to flatten it firmly in the smoker in order to set its shape. Turn the heat to low and smoke the duck for about 10 minutes, then turn off the heat. Leave the duck in the covered smoker for another 20 minutes or so and then remove it to a clean plate. (Do not heat the smoker for any longer than this, as the sugar will turn acrid and sour the smoking flavors.)

3. Next, steam the duck: prepare a steamer and bring the water in it to a full boil. Put the duck breast-side down on a deep rimmed plate. Place the plate with the duck on it in the steamer, cover, and steam the duck for about 1 hour, checking it every 15 minutes and using a turkey baster to remove the juices if they threaten to overflow the plate. The bird is done when you can pierce the thigh and no pink juices appear. Remove the duck and place it on a rack to cool completely. When it can be handled easily, drain off the juices and discard the seasonings in the cavity. Reserve the juices for something else and pat the inside of the duck with a paper towel. Place the duck in front of a small table fan for an hour or two to dry the skin (see this page ). Turn the duck over after a while so that both sides can dry off. It’s ready when the skin feels tacky.

4. Prepare the sauce: place a wok over medium heat, pour in the sesame oil, and swirl it around. When the wok is hot, add the bean sauce or sweet wheat paste. Season this with a bit of sweet soy sauce (or soy sauce and sugar) as needed (see Tips ). When the sauce starts to bubble, scrape it out into a small serving bowl.

5. Pour about 3 inches of oil into a hot wok and deep-fry the duck until it’s an even golden brown (follow Steps 2 and 4 on this page ). Remove the browned duck, drain it completely, and place the bird on a cutting board.

6. Lightly rub the skin with the teaspoon of sesame oil to give it a nice sheen. Cut off the wings, legs, and thighs, and chop them into 1-inch pieces (see this page ); the head may also be chopped in half if you like. Use a cleaver or heavy sharp knife to first cut the duck down the middle and then down the sides so that you have 4 large pieces. Chop these crosswise into clean 1-inch-wide pieces. Rearrange the duck on a platter in an attractive manner. (Traditionally, it should be put together so that it looks like a whole duck.)

7. Serve the duck while it is still very hot, accompanied by the steamed lotus leaf buns, slivered green onions, and prepared sauce. Your diners should stuff the meaty pieces into the buns along with a bit of the green onion and sauce, and eat the bonier pieces with chopsticks. The latter can also be dabbed with sauce and draped with a strand or two of green onion.

VARIATIONS

If you omit the smoking step, you will have a dish that is popular in Sichuan and Beijing: fragrant crispy duck (xiāng sū yā 香酥鴨 ); serve it the same way. Fragrant and crispy chicken (xiāng sū jī 香酥雞 ) is another classic, and it’s cooked just like fragrant and crispy duck.

If you can’t get your hands on a camphor tree, use some apple or almond wood chips.

The amount of sugar and soy sauce used should be adjusted based on the flavors of the bean sauce or sweet wheat paste. Be sure not to use chili sauce, as it would overpower the nuances in this dish.

The preparation of the duck can be spread over several days. Just be sure to fry it at the last minute.

Lotus-Wrapped Spicy Rice Crumb Pork

Héyè fěnzhēngròu 荷葉粉蒸肉

SICHUAN • SERVES 6 TO 8

I ate many versions of Sichuan- and Hunan-style rice crumb pork when I lived in Taiwan. Some were terrific, such as the insanely spicy version at Old Zhang’s Dandan Noodles, where the pork was piled onto small bamboo steamers (see Tips ).

The dish consists of spicy pork chunks covered in the coarsely ground rice known as zhēngfěn 蒸粉 , or “rice crumbs.” It’s great for parties, because it can be made far in advance; you can even cook it completely and freeze it.

If you leave out the chilies, you will have something more in the style of northern Hunan’s Lake Dongting cuisine. Milder iterations of this dish are very popular along the lower Yangtze, as well, and are often served at banquets; spicier renditions are sold at street stalls and mom-and-pop restaurants.

1. Rinse the meat and pat it dry with paper towels. If there is skin attached, be sure to remove all the hairs with tweezers (see this page ). Cut the meat, including all of the fat, skin, and any tendons, into thin slices. If you are using ribs, cut evenly between the bones. Chop any particularly tough bits—especially loose fat—into even smaller dice.

2. Mix the marinade in a medium work bowl; taste and adjust the seasoning (see Tips ) to fit your taste, menu, and guests. Add the meat to the bowl, toss, and let it marinate while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. This can be done up to 8 hours in advance.

3. Set up a deep steamer and bring a couple inches of water to a boil underneath it (see this page ). Pour the rice crumbs into the marinating pork and toss well.

4. Prepare the lotus leaves and roll up the pork and crumbs in them (for directions on cleaning the leaves and wrapping the pork, see the diagram below). Place the leaf packets in a single layer in the steamer baskets. Steam them for about 3½ hours, until the meat is very tender. You can either serve them immediately or cool the packets down, put them in a resealable freezer bag, and freeze. They do not have to be defrosted prior to resteaming. To serve, either portion out the packets on individual plates or serve directly from the steamer baskets.

To steam the pork without the lotus leaves, use small bamboo steamers like the ones found in dim sum restaurants. Spray their insides well with oil and then pile the pork inside; it should come up to the rim. You can place thick slices of red sweet potato or pumpkin in the bottom of the steamer to soak up the flavors of the pork and marinade. This is what they did at Old Zhang’s.

Any nice cut of pork works for this recipe, so see what looks good to you. Pork butt (shoulder) and pork belly with skin are two good options. If you select ribs, have the butcher saw them into pieces no longer than 2 or 3 inches. Then cut them apart so that each bone is surrounded by meat and fat.

For a mild dish in the style of northern Hubei, substitute a seasoned oil ( this page and this page ) for the chili oil. If you want it to be spicier, add a tablespoon or two of Sichuan hot bean sauce and leave out the sweet wheat paste. If the hot bean sauce is very salty, omit the sweet soy sauce. If you want, you can even toss in chopped fresh chilies.

Honey Ham

Mìzhī huŏtuĭ 蜜汁火腿

HUNAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

Because authentic Chinese ham cannot be imported to the United States, most Chinese markets sell something that they typically label “Smithfield ham.” This is an American dry-cured pork leg, and it is what I usually rely on to give a nice hammy seasoning to many of the dishes in this book. But when the main ingredient in a Chinese dish is ham, a country-style ham will not work because it is too hard and salty. What I have discovered is that Hunan-style charcuterie happens to work perfectly. It is moist enough to cook through easily, and its cure will not overwhelm the dish.

Every Hunan cookbook I’ve ever looked at says that sliced ham should be steamed only with simple rock sugar. On occasion, a writer might say that lotus seeds can be added. But I have added some extra elements: Chinese brown slab sugar, Shaoxing rice wine, and ginger juice. These ingredients make the dish much more layered and interesting, while still preserving the traditional flavor. I recommend sandwiching the finished ham in lotus leaf buns.

1. Soak the lotus seeds in boiling water and then clean them (see the diagram ).

2. Remove the skin from the smoked pork (use it for something else, like stock), and slice the meat against the grain into very thin pieces, keeping as much fat on as possible but removing any tough membranes.

3. Arrange the meat slices in an overlapping pattern in the center of a rimmed heatproof plate so they look like flower petals. Pile the cleaned lotus seeds around the edge of the plate to form a white fringe. Arrange the 2 pieces of slab sugar on top of the ham, and then pour the rice wine and ginger juice over everything.

4. Prepare a steamer and bring the water in it to a full boil. Place the plate in the steamer and steam for about 1 hour, until the meat is very tender and the lotus seeds are soft. Taste a lotus seed to ensure that it is cooked through. Remove the plate from the steamer and carefully pour the sauce off into a wok or pan. Bring the sauce to a boil and reduce it until it is thick and bubbly, then pour it over the meat and lotus seeds. Serve with the hot steamed lotus buns. Have each diner open up a bun and insert a slice or two of the meat. These are to be eaten like tiny sandwiches; the lotus seeds can be picked up with chopsticks and eaten as a garnish.

Side Dishes

Dry-Fried Bitter Melon

Gānbiān kŭguā 乾煸苦瓜

SICHUAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

I am a big fan of raw bitter melon. Every year I get excited when an especially pale variety surfaces for a few short weeks in autumn, which means I can finally enjoy Raw “White Jade” Bitter Melon . I was never very interested in cooked bitter melon, however, until I tried this dish. It’s a very simple recipe: all you have to do is fry the melon slices in peanut or vegetable oil and sprinkle them with salt. The completely edible seeds fry up, too, offering a nutty, textural contrast to the juicy melon rounds, which take on a sweet edge as they sear.

1. Rinse the bitter melons and trim off both ends, as well as any bruises. Cut the melons crosswise into ½-inch-thick rounds but do not remove the seeds. If the seeds have bright red coverings, so much the better (see this page ).

2. Place a wok or flat-bottomed frying pan over medium-high heat until it starts to smoke and then drizzle in a tablespoon or so of the oil to barely slick the surface. Put in only as many melon slices as will cover the bottom. Fry the slices until they are browned and speckled, shake them loose, and then turn them over to cook the other side. Remove to a serving plate and repeat with the rest of the melon slices until they are all cooked. Serve hot with a sprinkle of salt.

Ginkgo Nuts, Chinese Celery, and Lily Bulbs

Báiguŏ qíncài chǎo bǎihé 白果芹菜炒百合

NORTHERN GUANGXI • SERVES 4 TO 6

In Northern Guangxi, the beautiful yellow beads called ginkgo nuts are matched perfectly with two other ingredients: fresh lily bulb petals and Chinese celery. When combined in a simple stir-fry, this trio of Chinese vegetables offers up the perfect contrast of color, flavor, and texture. The celery turns jade green as it cooks and emits salty and herbal aromas. The fresh lily petals, which are pale ivory and shaped like little cups, offer a gentle sweetness. And, finally, the golden ginkgo nuts ground everything, adding a starchy element to the dish.

You can use Western-style celery here, of course, but it is not as flavorful as the Chinese variety.

1. Place the ginkgo nuts in a small saucepan and cover with boiling water. Bring to a boil again, turn the heat down to a simmer, and cook for 10 minutes, to plump them up and freshen their taste. Drain and rinse the nuts. Taste one—it should be creamy and have a faint bitter edge.

2. Remove the strings from the outsides of the celery stalks to make them tender and trim off the leaves. Cut the celery into pieces about the same length as the ginkgo nuts. Place the celery in a saucepan and cover with boiling water. Bring to a boil again and then lower the heat to a simmer. Simmer the celery until the rawness has been cooked off but it is still crispy. Drain the celery in a colander and immediately shock it with cool water to stop the cooking.

3. Trim and clean the lily bulbs (see this page ), and then shake them dry in a colander or salad spinner.

4. Heat a wok over high heat and add the oil and salt. Swirl them around so that the salt melts a bit. Add the ginkgo nuts and brown them very lightly. Scatter in the celery and toss everything around for a few seconds until the stalks are coated with oil. Sprinkle in the lily bulbs or water chestnuts. Toss the vegetables together quickly over high heat for only a minute or so, just until the lily bulbs turn from white to opaque, or as long as it takes the water chestnuts to be barely cooked through. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve immediately.

Black Bean Asparagus

Dòuchĭ chǎo lúsŭn 豆豉炒蘆筍

HUNAN • SERVES 4

Asparagus is not native to China, but it has been adopted to such an extent that the country now produces more asparagus than any other nation. There are countless ways of cooking the vegetable, but this is the method I like best. The flavor of the asparagus is not drowned in seasonings, and very little oil is used. I like to include fresh ginger or garlic, but you can experiment with other aromatics, such as fresh chili peppers.

I have served this dish in the past with the thinnest possible stalks, and with larger stalks shredded with a vegetable peeler to create a satiny texture. It works either way.

1. Rinse the asparagus and then snap off and discard the tough ends. If the asparagus is thinner than a chopstick, cut each stalk into 2-inch lengths. If the asparagus is fat, you may roll cut it (see this page ), slice it on a sharp diagonal, or use a vegetable peeler to shred it into confetti.

2. Place an empty wok over high heat and pour in the oil once it is hot. Immediately add the ginger or garlic as well as the chopped beans. Stir-fry these for about a minute, until the ginger or garlic just begins to brown. Scoot everything up the side of the wok and toss in the asparagus. Stir-fry the asparagus until barely tender and then toss with the aromatics. (If the asparagus is very thick, splash in some wine to speed up the cooking.) Taste and adjust the seasoning and serve immediately.

If you want to ramp up the seasonings for this dish, use 3 tablespoons of both the ginger or garlic and the black beans.

Stuffed Squash Blossoms

Guāhuā niàng 瓜花酿

NORTHERN GUANGXI • SERVES 6

When you mention stuffed squash blossoms, most people think of the Italian dish, which features ricotta cheese, herbs, and garlic. But the Chinese rendition, which comes from the tropical mountains of Northern Guangxi, features a savory meat or mushroom filling instead. This dish originated in the county of Yangshuo, which is known for its eighteen stuffed dishes (everything from lotus roots to chilies to bitter melons); this version is my favorite. The blossoms turn crunchy on the outside as they fry, and the meatballs inside become deliciously juicy.

1. Carefully rinse and pat dry the squash blossoms. Cut out the thick stamens in each one and trim off any green calyxes at the bottom of each blossom.

2. Mix together the filling ingredients and stuff the mixture into the squash blossoms. Close the petals over the filling by lightly squeezing them together. Dip each blossom in the beaten egg before rolling it in the cornstarch. Shake off any extra cornstarch and arrange the blossoms on a plate next to the stove.

3. Pour an inch of peanut oil into a wok and set it over medium heat until a wooden chopstick inserted in the oil is immediately covered with bubbles. Fry about 4 of the squash blossoms at a time, being careful not to crowd them. The petals will cook faster than the bases, so as they turn golden, tip them up against the side of the wok to keep them out of the heat. Once the bases of the blossoms are a golden brown, too, remove them to a serving platter with the petals facing outward and the bases snuggled up against one another, so that the dish looks like a sunflower.

4. To make the optional ginger and chili sauce, pour all but 2 tablespoons of the oil out of the wok. Set the wok over medium-high heat and quickly stir-fry the ginger, garlic, and peppers for about 20 seconds. Add the rest of the sauce ingredients, and as soon as they come to a boil, pour the sauce over the bases of the squash blossoms; this will help keep the petals crisp. Serve immediately.

5. If you’re using the seasoned salt dip rather than the sauce, just serve a few tiny bowls of it alongside the freshly fried squash blossoms.

Mustard Cabbage with Schmaltz and Ginger

Jīyóu jiècài 雞油芥菜

HUNAN • SERVES 4

Hunan is home to many dishes that are heavy on charcuterie and fatty cuts of meat. But it also offers many dishes like this that act as nice foils, cleansing the palate and refreshing the senses.

When preparing your large green heads of mustard cabbage, be sure to slice them deeply on the angle. This is the key to the entire recipe. If you cut across the tough fibers in just the right way, you will be left with very tender stems that absorb the schmaltz (chicken fat), salt, and ginger. Vegetarians and vegans can use some other seasonings here, such as a seasoned oil (this page and this page ) plus mushroom stock.

1. Rinse the mustard and shake it dry. Trim off the leaves and use them for something else. Cut the stems into thin slices (see this page ).

2. Set a wok over high heat until it is hot and then add the fat and salt. Swirl them around and add the ginger. When the ginger is slightly browned, add all of the mustard slices and toss them quickly to coat them with the fat, salt, and ginger. As they turn ever so slightly bright green on the edges, add the rice wine, stock, and sugar. Cover the wok and let the mustard steam for about 30 seconds. Uncover, toss the mustard, cover again, and cook only until the fat bases of the vegetable have turned a brilliant green. Plate and serve immediately.

You can also soak and steam dried scallops, crumble them into fine shreds, and add them to the wok along with the rice wine. Use less salt if you do this.

Cumin Roasted Potatoes

Zīrán kǎo mǎlíngshŭ 孜然烤馬鈴薯

SICHUAN • SERVES 3 OR 4

The farther west in China you go, the more you encounter cumin. It’s a wonderful companion to chilies, garlic, and onions, and it plays a major role in this dish. The interesting thing about this recipe is that most of its main ingredients are not traditionally Chinese: the potatoes, the chilies, and the cumin are all imports, adopted by their new home with such enthusiasm that they’ve become Chinese by association.

This dish features my favorite style of preparing potatoes. They are steamed thoroughly, tossed with oil and aromatics, and finally baked. This last step crisps up the skin and fluffs up the insides. It also infuses the oil with all the flavors of the spices and garlic and onions. A healthy dose of salt rounds out the flavors and gives everything a nice sharp edge.

1. Scrub the potatoes and then steam them for about 15 minutes, until tender.

2. Heat the oven (a small toaster oven works fine) to 350°F. Place the potatoes in a small baking pan and toss them with the oil. Mix together the green onion, garlic, Sichuan peppercorns, cumin, chilies, and salt and sprinkle the mixture over the potatoes. Roast the potatoes for 15 to 20 minutes, until browned, tossing them occasionally as they cook.

3. Garnish the potatoes with the extra chopped green onion and optional cilantro. Serve hot.

Use whatever ratio of spices and aromatics you like. Ginger is a good addition, and if you love chili, add extra. Smoked paprika goes very well here, too.

If you are serving this with something salty or fried, use less salt. On the other hand, use more salt if you want to have these little potatoes as a bar snack or as a savory side for something like steamed fish.

Starches & Street Food

Spicy and Numbing Cold Noodles

Sìchuān liángmiàn 四川涼麵

SICHUAN • SERVES 4 AS A MAIN DISH

In traditional Chinese medicine, it’s thought that eating spicy food helps cool you down. This might seem counterintuitive, but the idea is that chilies release heat from the body through perspiration, thereby lowering one’s temperature. No one abides by this prescription more than the people of Sichuan, who eat hot peppers all through the muggy summer months.

One of the best spicy Sichuan summer meals is this one: liangmian , or “cold noodles.” It’s nothing more than cooked, chilled pasta piled on top of blanched bean sprouts, which end up making the dish exceptionally refreshing. It’s topped with lots of other vegetables and either pressed bean curd or poached chicken strips, and everything is dressed with the spicy sauce known as “strange flavor” (guàiwèi 怪味 ).

1. Blanch the bean sprouts by putting them in a 2-quart saucepan, covering them with water, and bringing the pot to a boil. The sprouts are ready when they have lost that beany flavor but are still crisp; do not overcook them. Immediately dump the pot into a colander placed in the sink and run cold water over the sprouts to stop them from cooking any further. Drain and shake the sprouts to get rid of most of the water. Divide the cooked sprouts among 4 large noodle bowls.

2. Fill the saucepan halfway with water and bring it to a boil. While it is heating up, ready the toppings and run your fingers through the noodles to break up the clumps. (I dump them in a big bowl if they are particularly tangled up and then work the knots loose.) Add the noodles to the boiling water in small handfuls, stirring as you sprinkle them in. Stir occasionally until the water comes to a boil again, and then lower the heat to medium. The noodles will cook quickly, and you should start tasting them as soon as they rise to the surface. When they have cooked through but are still chewy, pour the water and noodles into a colander placed in the sink and run tap water over them until they are cool. Shake them dry and divide the noodles among the 4 bowls.

3. Once the noodles have been divvied up, arrange the toppings in the bowls in a decorative manner, doing your best to alternate the colors.

4. Mix the sauce ingredients together until smooth, adding as much sweet soy sauce (or soy sauce and sugar) as you like. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Pour an equal amount over each bowl and serve. Let your diners toss the noodles themselves.

Fresh noodles taste best here, but dried can be substituted.

Things like tomatoes don’t work well in this recipe because of their assertive flavor and soft texture, but carrots, cucumbers, green onions, celery, and sweet red peppers get along quite well with the noodles and bean sprouts.

If your sesame paste or peanut butter has hardened, microwave it in short bursts and stir.

Wontons in Chili Oil

Hóngyóu chǎoshŏu 紅油炒手

SICHUAN • SERVES 6 TO 8 AS A SIDE DISH, OR 4 TO 6 AS A MAIN DISH

Wontons appear all over southern China. In the United States, we most often see them served Guangdong-style, as shrimp and pork packets floating in a pork broth. Near the Yangtze, wontons are much larger and usually served in pale broths with shreds of omelet, laver seaweed (nori), and green onions. This particular preparation from Sichuan is my favorite. It’s basically a street food, and I have very fond memories of eating it in busy alleys, sitting on a bamboo stool, and watching the world bustle by. As in most Sichuanese dishes, the chili-laden sauce packs a punch, but here it is sensuously tempered by the juicy wonton filling.

1. Cut the ginger into roughly ½-inch pieces, then whirl it in a blender or food processor with ½ cup of the stock. Strain the liquid, squeezing out every last drop of ginger-flavored stock into a bowl before discarding the fibrous mass left behind.

2. Chop the pork finely by hand (see this page ). If you wish to use a food processor, cut the chilled meat into 1-inch cubes and pulse it.

3. Place the minced pork in a large work bowl and use your hand as a paddle to beat in the ginger-flavored stock, salt, eggs, soy sauce, rice wine, sugar, the whites of the green onions, sesame oil, and the black pepper. Slowly add the remaining 1 cup stock in small increments so that the pork absorbs all of the liquid (see this page ). It will be light and fluffy at this point. Chill the filling for an hour or longer, if you have the time, as this will firm it up and make it easier to wrap.

4. Before you start wrapping the wontons, place 2 baking sheets next to your work area, cover them with clean tea towels, and dust these with some flour; have a couple of extra towels on the side to cover the filled wontons. Place a couple of tablespoons of cool water in a small bowl next to the filling bowl, as well as a flat piece of wood or a small blunt knife. (You’ll use both to wrap the wontons; see the diagram below.) If you are going to cook these right away, pour water (at least 8 cups) into a large pot and bring it to a boil just before you are ready to cook.

5. Wrap the wontons; you will end up with 80 to 90. You can prepare uncooked wontons ahead of time: place them in a single layer on the towel-covered pans and place in the freezer for a couple of hours, until frozen solid. Transfer the wontons to a freezer bag. They do not need to be defrosted before cooking.

6. Mix together the sauce ingredients, taste and adjust the seasoning as desired, and divide the sauce among as many bowls you wish; double the amount of sauce if you really enjoy spicy flavors.

7. To cook the wontons, drop them in small handfuls into the boiling water while stirring with a wooden spoon. As soon as the water returns to a boil, pour in about 1 cup cold water. Bring the pot to a boil again and pour in another cup of cold water. When the pot boils a third time, the wontons should be floating gracefully.

8. Use a Chinese spider or slotted spoon to gently remove the wontons into the prepared bowls, draining off as much of the water as you can. Toss them lightly in the sauce and sprinkle with the chopped green onions and the ground toasted Sichuan peppercorns to taste. Serve immediately.

Pork and Preserved Mustard Green Baozi

Méicài ròu bāo 梅菜肉包

SICHUAN • MAKES 16 (3-INCH) FILLED BUNS

The filled steamed breads known as baozi are as popular in Sichuan as they are throughout the rest of China. The baozi in this recipe feature a savory pork filling that is seasoned with crisp meicai , the Chinese name for salted and slightly fermented mustard greens that have been dried in the sun. Because Huizhou-style meicai (see this page ) is a Hakka ingredient, it’s likely that this dish was created in the village of Luodai, near Chengdu, where many of the Hakka in Sichuan live.

1. Make the bread dough for the wrappers and cut it into 16 even pieces before you begin the filling. Cover the dough pieces with a slightly damp cloth or plastic wrap. Also have 16 pieces of steamer paper on hand, and a steamer set up with at least 2 steamer baskets (see this page ). Place the baskets and cover on the steamer, bring the water underneath to a boil, and then turn the heat off so that the baskets are ready to go when you are.

2. Soak the mustard greens in a bowl of warm water set in the sink and swish them around after a few minutes. Dump out the water and repeat this soaking until there is absolutely no sand in the bottom of the bowl. Cut out the cores of the greens and discard them, and then cut the stems into ¼-inch dice. Chop the leaves finely, without worrying about being too precise.

3. Place the chopped pork in a medium work bowl with 2 tablespoons of the soy sauce and the rice wine. Toss the meat and let it marinate for about 10 minutes. Set a wok over medium-high heat, then add the oil, swirl it around, and add the ginger. Brown it lightly before tossing in the green onions and the meat and all of the marinade. Stir-fry the meat until it has lost all of its pink color. Add the sugar and the chopped greens and cook everything for about 5 minutes to heat the greens through. Stir in the cornstarch slurry, toss until the juices have thickened, and finally taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more soy sauce if you think it’s needed. Scoop the filling out into a clean work bowl where it can cool down. The filling can be made ahead of time up to this point and refrigerated.

4. Use the cold filling and the risen dough to stuff and shape the baozi (see this page ). Let them rise again for about 5 minutes, then place them at least 2 inches apart in the warm steamer baskets. Steam over high heat for 15 minutes. Turn off the heat under the baskets and let the baozi rest for about 5 minutes, as this will help stabilize the risen dough and keep the bread fluffy. Serve hot—no dipping sauce is needed.

Note that this recipe calls for fat, greenish Hakka-style preserved vegetable, not the dark, chopped version made in Zhejiang.

Rice “Bean Curd”

Mĭ dòufŭ 米豆腐

GUIZHOU • SERVES 4 TO 6

Rice paste is a major staple of south-central China’s cuisine. It has a smooth, silky texture and is traditionally made by pounding cooked sticky white grains. All throughout the Central Highlands and even up into Southern Fujian and Taiwan, it is served as freshly made thick rice noodles, dried thin rice noodles, crêpes, and filled balls of cooked rice paste called ciba . Only in certain areas like Guizhou, though, will you often find it made in this fashion: formed into a soft brick that looks like bean curd.

In this dish, the cooled rice paste is cut into pieces with a lusciously spongy texture that makes them particularly enjoyable in the summer. I like to drape them with a rich and spicy sauce and finish the dish with something crunchy, like fried soybeans. I’m particularly proud of how I’ve turned this dish into a supereasy recipe and hope you will make it part of your hot-weather repertoire, too.

1. Start this recipe the day before you plan to serve it so that it has time to chill. Pour the rice flour into a large heatproof bowl, preferably a big measuring cup with a handle that will protect your hands. Whisk in the water, smashing any lumps you come across.

2. Place the bowl in your microwave and cook it uncovered on high for 4 minutes. Stir the mixture thoroughly with a silicone spatula. Microwave again on high for 4 minutes, stirring it every minute or so. The paste should be thick and malleable at this point. Take a taste: if you detect any raw flavor, microwave it again for another minute or two. (If you do not have a turntable in your microwave, cook the paste for a minute at a time, stirring after each blast.)

3. Remove the bowl from the microwave. Rinse out an 8-inch-square cake pan or a standard loaf pan with cold water. Use your spatula to scrape the boiling-hot paste into the pan. Rinse the spatula with cold water and smooth it across the surface. Let the paste come to room temperature. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight. Empty the chilled rice paste onto a cutting board. Slice it into cubes, squares, or rectangles, cutting off and discarding any tough or hard edges.

4. Arrange the rice dough on a serving platter. Top with whatever sauce you like. Something tart and spicy is perfect, along with a handful of crunchy bits, like fried soybeans or peanuts and a sprinkle of chopped green onions. Or, you can fry up some shredded pork with sweet peppers seasoned with soy sauce and cover the rice paste with that—just about anything deeply savory would be good.

If your knife is sticking to the paste while you’re slicing, rinse it clean, dry it well, and rub sesame or peanut oil over the dry blade.

Store any unsauced leftover pieces in the refrigerator. They will keep for at least a couple of days. If they start to change color or leak lots of water, toss them.

Crossing-the-Bridge Rice Noodles

Guòqiáo mĭxiàn 過橋米線

YUNNAN • SERVES 4 AS A MAIN DISH

This dish was invented by a woman from Yunnan during the Qing dynasty. Her husband, a scholar, had holed himself up on an island to prepare for his imperial examinations. She wanted to bring him his meals, but because she had to cross a long bridge to reach him, she was never able to keep his food warm during the journey. Eventually, she discovered that if she coated his soup with a layer of chicken fat before leaving the house, she could maintain the heat as she crossed the bridge—hence the name.

This is one of Yunnan’s most famous dishes. It is unusual in that raw ingredients are set out on the table for diners to add to the boiling-hot soup. Like Hunan’s Flash Fish Soup , it relies on the extreme heat of the broth to cook the ingredients quickly while preserving their tenderness and fresh flavor. That generous amount of chicken fat lends the broth a nice richness.

1. Separate the noodles in a large bowl, fluff them up gently, and cover with plastic wrap to prevent them from drying out. Heat the chicken stock to boiling in a 2-quart pan, add the rice wine and ginger, and lower the heat to a simmer. Add salt to taste and then add the chicken fat; keep the stock warm.

2. Bring the water to a boil in a saucepan. Clean the spinach or leafy vegetable you are using, shake dry, remove any tough bits, and cut into roughly 3-inch lengths. Blanch the vegetables briefly in the boiling water, drain into a colander, rinse with cool tap water, and divide among 4 large soup bowls.

3. Thinly slice the chicken breast crosswise and arrange on a plate. Mix together the soy sauce, rice wine, and ginger juice and drizzle a bit over the chicken breast. Arrange the other protein(s) and the garnishes on individual plates. Drizzle the remaining marinade over the protein(s) on the table.

4. Combine the chili oil, soy sauce, and sesame oil as you like for a dipping sauce, adjust the seasoning, and divide it among 4 small rice bowls. Set a bowl of sauce at each place along with chopsticks and soupspoons.

5. Remove the ginger from the stock and bring the stock to a boil. Divide the rice noodles and chicken breast among the soup bowls and have your guests arrange whatever proteins and garnishes they want on top of their noodles. Set the bowls where you can reach them easily, as you are going to pour lots of boiling-hot stock on top of them. Have your guests stand back as you divide the hot stock among the 4 bowls. Everything should cook instantly in the broth, and your guests should immediately stir their bowls with their chopsticks.

The best place to find fresh rice noodles is at an Asian grocery store with lots of Southeast Asian customers. Where I live, the Vietnamese make marvelous versions for pho and hefen . These noodles are usually packed on disposable trays and displayed in a lightly refrigerated area so that they stay soft but don’t spoil. If possible, get the noodles the day you are going to eat them.

Guilin Rice Noodles

Guìlín mĭfěn 桂林米粉

NORTHERN GUANGXI • SERVES 2 AS A MAIN DISH

This is one of the most famous dishes to emerge from Guilin, that extraordinarily scenic city in northeast Guangxi, with shimmering emerald rice paddies clustering around those strangely beautiful, parabola-shaped hills. It’s a perfect balance of soft, slightly sweet noodles, savory meat, tart beans, spicy peppers, and crunchy nuts. Usually made with pork, this dish is also fantastic with braised beef.

1. Place the rice noodles in a wide colander and separate them as much as possible. Put the colander in the sink and run boiling water over them. Shake the colander to fluff up the noodles and then divide them between 2 large soup bowls.

2. Arrange the pickles and beef slices on top of the noodles and drizzle in about ¼ cup of the braising liquid. Pour enough boiling water into each bowl so that about an inch of the noodles is peeking out. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Divide the cilantro and green onions among the bowls and sprinkle on some ground chili peppers and soybeans or peanuts, if you like. Toss and eat.

Sweets

Water Chestnut Pastries with Red Date Filling

Hóngzǎo bíqi bĭng 紅棗荸薺餅

HUNAN AND ELSEWHERE • SERVES 8

The Chinese have two names for water chestnuts: biqi , which just means “water chestnuts,” and mǎtí 馬蹄 , or “horse hooves” (because their leaves suggest hoof imprints). Water chestnuts straddle the line between vegetable and fruit—they can even be squeezed for their juice, much as sugarcane is. In this dish, ground fresh water chestnuts are turned into little pastries. Once they’re fried, they end up looking like fresh water chestnuts once again—but with a sweet filling hidden inside.

1. First make the red date filling: place the dates in a heatproof bowl and cover with boiling water. When they have plumped up and softened a bit, cut out and discard the pits and stems. Place the dates back in the bowl, add 1 cup boiling water, and steam them for 30 minutes or so, until they’re completely soft. Cool the dates slightly, reserve all the juice in the bowl for the sauce, place the cooked dates in a food processor, and puree. Pour the sesame oil into a wok, add the puree, sugar, and salt, and cook the dates over medium heat until the paste has thickened. It will be done when all the oil has been absorbed and the paste is glossy. Scrape the paste into a small work bowl and cool it to room temperature; you will have about 10 tablespoons. Roll the filling into 40 small balls.

2. Next make the water chestnut pastries: peel the water chestnuts, rinse, and then chop them coarsely. Place them in a food processor and chop them very finely. Remove most of the moisture by wrapping fistfuls of the puree in cheesecloth and squeezing out the juice (the puree should feel somewhat powdery), capturing the juice for the sauce. Mix the water chestnut paste with the rice flour, return this to the food processor, and puree until a dough forms. Divide the dough into 40 pieces and roll them into balls.

3. Working on 1 ball of dough at a time, flatten it lightly in the palm of one hand and then place a ball of filling in the center (see this page ). Wrap the dough around the filling and then roll the ball between your palms to smooth it out. Repeat with the rest of the dough and filling.

4. Pour 2 inches of oil into a wok and place a small (8-inch or so) rimmed platter, a small plate, a wok spatula, and a Chinese spider or slotted spoon next to the stove. Set the wok over medium heat, and when a chopstick inserted in the oil is immediately covered with bubbles, fry only as many of the pastries as will fit without touching one another. Shake the wok gently with one hand as you add the water chestnut pastries, as this will help keep them from sticking. Fry the pastries until they are golden brown on both sides. Remove the pastries to the small plate, flatten each one lightly with your spatula to break them ever so slightly open, and then transfer them to the platter. Repeat with the rest of the pastries until done. Keep the pastries warm.

5. To make the sauce, mix together the date juice and water chestnut juice, sugar, and optional osmanthus blossom syrup in a saucepan and bring to a full boil. Stir in the cornstarch slurry, and when the sauce thickens, pour it into either the center of your serving platter or offer it on the side in a small pitcher; serve immediately. You can also serve these pastries on individual rimmed dessert plates or in bowls.

Don’t use canned water chestnuts here, which taste mostly of the can and have little character or texture.

Raw Chinese Yam with Osmanthus Syrup

Guìhuā shānyào 桂花山藥

GUIZHOU • SERVES 4 TO 6

Chinese yams are unusual tubers. They grow to impressive lengths, and their oddly hairy, flesh-colored skins sort of resemble human legs. And then there are the insides, which are white and sweet and gooey. But if you can get past this superficial weirdness, you can do a lot with these vegetables. This dish from Guizhou demonstrates one of the simpler ways to prepare them: all you do is drizzle raw batons of Chinese yam with osmanthus syrup and serve. It’s a soothing, refreshing, and sweet way to end a spicy meal.

1. Use a potato peeler to remove all the skin from the yam. It’s easiest to do this if you work on the yam under a slow stream of cold water, as this keeps the gooeyness to a bare minimum. The tuber will become intensely slippery as more and more of the skin is removed, so either grip it with a clean towel or stick a large fork in it to keep it steady.

2. Cut off the ends and slice the tuber lengthwise down the middle, which will help stabilize it as you slice it further. Use a sharp knife to shape it into batons about ½ × ½ × 3 inches, and then submerge them in cold water and refrigerate until you are ready to serve them.

3. Drain the yam pieces well. Stack the batons like logs on individual plates and pour as much osmanthus syrup or honey as you like over the top of each serving. Provide small forks, as well as some extra syrup on the side.

Ciba

Cíbā 糍粑

ALL OVER SOUTHERN AND CENTRAL CHINA • MAKES AROUND 60

It seems that each cuisine from Sichuan to Guizhou and up into the Hakka territories has its own way of preparing these filled balls of cooked rice paste. Some ciba are rolled in sandy coatings (such as in this recipe) and others are filled; some are sweet, while others are savory; some are formed into a smooth dough that is wrapped in leaves and others are fried and crispy. Ciba are traditionally served around the Chinese New Year and the Dragon Boat Festival. Pounding the steamed rice used to be such an arduous undertaking that an entire village would have to help. Nowadays there’s a much easier shortcut: all you need is a microwave. In this way, the modern recipe is a close cousin of the one for Rice “Bean Curd” .

1. First make the coating for the rice balls: grind the peanuts in a mini processor until they are relatively fine, then add the sesame seeds, sugar, and salt. Process until a sandy texture forms. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Pour into a wide bowl.

2. To make the rice paste, pour the rice flour into a large microwave-safe bowl, preferably a big measuring cup with a handle that will protect your hands. Whisk in the water, smashing any lumps you come across.

3. Place the bowl in your microwave and cook it uncovered on high for 4 minutes. Stir the mixture thoroughly. Microwave again on high for 4 minutes, stirring every minute or so. The paste should be thick and malleable at this point. Take a taste: if you detect any raw flavor, microwave it again for another minute or two. (If you do not have a turntable in your microwave, cook the paste for a minute at a time, stirring after each blast.)

4. Remove the bowl from the microwave. Rinse out a baking pan of any size with cold water. Use a silicone spatula to scrape the boiling-hot paste into the pan. Rinse the spatula with cold water and use it to smooth the surface. Let the paste cool until it is easy to handle. Set out a small bowl of water, a small spoon, a pair of chopsticks, a couple of baking sheets, and about 60 cupcake liners.

5. The top of the rice paste will form a skin as it cools, so pat some water over it as you work your way through the dough; this will make the paste sticky enough to pick up the coating. Wet the spoon and the fingers of your nondominant hand. Scoop up a scant tablespoon of the paste, nudge it off the spoon into the coating with your moist fingertips, and use your chopsticks to form it into a lumpy ball. Use the chopsticks to transfer the ciba to a cupcake liner. Repeat with the rest of the paste. Serve within a couple of hours for optimum flavor and texture and keep the ciba covered at all times.

You will have leftover coating. Save it in a covered jar to sprinkle on your morning oatmeal.

Drunken Eight Immortals

Zuì bāxiān 醉八仙

SICHUAN • SERVES 4 TO 6

Named after the Eight Immortals of Taoist folklore, this dish is considered “drunken” because of the fermented rice that seasons the broth.

1. Soak the Job’s tears or barley for a couple of hours until they pass the fingernail test (see this page ). Drain, place in a saucepan, and cover with fresh water. Bring to a boil, lower the heat to simmer, cook until tender, and drain. While the grains are soaking, cover the wolfberries or raisins with boiling water and let them plump up.

2. Prepare the lily bulbs (see this page ). If using water chestnuts instead, peel and finely dice them.

3. Bring a small pan of water to a boil and simmer the rice pearls until just cooked. Mix the water chestnut flour with ½ cup of the cool water until smooth.

4. Bring the remaining 4 cups water to a boil in a saucepan and toss in the rock sugar and salt. Add the seasonal fruits, wolfberries or raisins (plus their soaking liquid), Job’s tears or barley, rice pearls, and the fermented rice lees and liquid. When the mixture comes to a boil again, stir in the water chestnut slurry to thicken the soup slightly. Taste and adjust the seasoning and serve hot.

The fruits can be switched around with utter abandon so seasonal fruits are used. Apples, oranges, bananas, and mangoes can find themselves called upon in winter, while melons, mangoes, strawberries, and blueberries will make a colorful summer dessert. You can even serve this dish chilled as a hot-weather treat. In that case, I’d suggest using boba tapioca (see this page ) instead of the rice pearls, which really taste better hot.

Winter Congee with Eight Treasures

Làbāzhōu 臘八粥

HUNAN AND ELSEWHERE • SERVES 8 TO 12

This warming dish is traditionally made during the last lunar month, known as Làyuè 臘月 . It is basically a bowl of congee filled with sticky rice and dried fruits and nuts. The red dates and longans swell up in the congee, growing juicier and lending the dish an almost caramel edge. I’ve made this for years, and winter just wouldn’t be the same without it. If you happen to live in the southern hemisphere, where Layue occurs during the late summer, turn this sweet congee into Popsicles—they’re unusual and delicious.

1. Start this recipe a day before you want to serve it. Rinse the beans and peanuts separately and soak in water to cover in different bowls until they pass the fingernail test (see this page ). Place the beans and peanuts in separate saucepans, cover with water, and cook until barely tender, then drain the beans and peanuts. While the beans are soaking, cover the rice with water and let it soak until it passes the fingernail test; drain the rice. Place the walnuts in a bowl and cover with boiling water. When the water has cooled, drain the walnuts and rinse them well.

2. Bring the cool water to a boil in a saucepan and add the beans, peanuts, and rice. Stir in the sugar and salt and then add all of the nuts and fruits. Return the mixture to a boil and then lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Stir the congee occasionally and cook it until it’s thick and creamy, adding more boiling water if you like. Taste and adjust the seasoning. To reheat, use a microwave or steamer so that the rice doesn’t become too mushy.

Candy-Coated Almonds

Xìngrén nián 杏仁粘

ALL OVER CHINA • MAKES 1 POUND

Chinese New Year calls for lots of sweets and red envelopes (those little presents of folding money wrapped up in crimson paper called hóngbāo 紅包 ). You’re on your own when it comes to preparing cash for children and unmarried young adults, but I have a deliciously crunchy snack that those kids and all adults will love: Candy-Coated Almonds.

This is so easy that I am not going to go into great detail here. You start with deep-fried almonds, moisten them in an easy sugar syrup, and then toss them with powdered sugar. Couldn’t be simpler.

1. Fry the almonds in the oil as described for fried peanuts . Pour off the oil and allow the nuts to drain on some paper towels.

2. Have ready a clean medium work bowl. Wipe the wok clean, add the water, sugar, and salt to it, and bring to a boil over medium heat. As soon as the sugar water has turned into a syrup (you will see big bubbles and the liquid will have thickened), remove the wok from the heat, add the almonds, and use a metal spatula to toss them thoroughly in the syrup. Each nut should be evenly coated. Sprinkle the powdered sugar on top of the nuts and immediately toss the nuts again until they are evenly coated. Remove the nuts to the work bowl and allow them to cool completely.

3. Shake off any excess powdered sugar. Store the cooled nuts in a covered container. If not using immediately, keep them in the refrigerator, where they will last longer if hidden well.

Beverages

Peanut Milk

Huāshēng nǎilù 花生奶露

ALL OVER CHINA • SERVES 4

This beverage tastes like melted peanut butter ice cream. I worked on a number of versions over the years, but it never tasted perfect. Then I discovered that red dates were the missing element—they provide a delicious fruity edge, which balances out the drink’s sweet, nutty flavors. It’s a very subtle touch, but it makes all the difference in the world. If you have Popsicle molds or an ice-cream maker, consider making this drink into a frozen treat.

1. Soak the dates and peanuts the night before you want to serve this. Place the dates in a small heatproof bowl and cover with boiling water. When the dates are plump, slit each one open and discard the pit; reserve the soaking water. If the peanuts are not skinned, put them in a medium heatproof bowl and cover them with boiling water. Wait for 5 minutes, drain the peanuts in a colander, rinse with cool tap water, drain again, and dump them out onto a terrycloth towel. Rub the peanuts in the towel to remove the red skins. Place the peanuts back in the work bowl, cover them with tap water, and let them soak overnight. The next day, drain and rinse them in a colander.

2. Put the pitted dates, peanuts, rice, 4 cups of the cool water, and the date soaking liquid in a blender and pulverize the mixture on high for a few minutes to make it as smooth as possible. Strain the mixture into a medium saucepan. Return the solids to the blender, pour in the remaining 2 cups water, and repeat this step to extract as much flavor from the peanuts as possible.

3. Add the rock sugar and salt (and vanilla, if using)to the saucepan and bring the liquid slowly to a boil over medium heat before lowering the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cook the peanut milk for a few more minutes until it is thick and tastes fully cooked, stirring the bottom often with a silicone or wooden spatula. Taste the peanut milk and add more sugar, if necessary, then remove the pan from the heat. Serve the peanut milk immediately or let cool to room temperature and chill it for a couple of hours. Add chilled water to the chilled peanut milk to thin it as needed before serving.

Floral Tisanes

Huāchá 花茶

ALL OVER CHINA

Flower teas—also called floral tisanes—are hot infusions that generally contain only fragrant blossoms, rather than tea leaves. Because of this, they go especially well with light pastries and fresh fruit. Some of the more popular ones are the Chrysanthemum Tea of Hangzhou and an infusion of little rosebuds, but many others are enjoyed throughout much of China. According to The Book of Tea (Chápǔ 茶譜 ), written by Gu Yuanqing in the Ming dynasty, the blossoms that can be used for floral tisanes include “osmanthus, Arabian jasmine, fragrant roses, multiflora roses, fragrant orchids, orange blossoms, gardenias, Lady Banksia roses, and plum blossoms.” Floral tisanes are almost always brewed in large covered cups or glass pots. Glass teapots are better if you’re brewing tea for a group: they allow everyone at the table to watch the blossoms swell in the water and change color.

FOR A SINGLE CUP

1. Rinse the flowers with boiling water. This can be done one of two ways. You can place them in a sieve and rinse them over the sink, after which the blossoms can be placed in a covered cup, or you can add them directly to the cup along with the boiling water. Angle the lid against the cup in order to discard the first dousing while reserving the flowers.

2. Next brew the tisane: pour fresh boiling water over the flowers and cover the cup immediately. Let the flowers steep for 3 to 5 minutes, which will give them enough time to plump up and release their fragrance. Angle the lid against the cup as you sip to keep the flowers from entering your mouth, or gently blow the blossoms out of the way before each sip.

3. Refill the cup with water that has been boiled and then cooled down for a few minutes to about 200°F, as the flowers will have completely opened and not need super-high heat for the second brewing. The fragrance of most blossoms will last only 2 rounds before it dissipates.

1. Follow the directions above for a single-cup serving, rinsing the flowers off inside a teapot with a perforated plate at the base of the spout (keep the blossoms loose, rather than in a mesh ball, so you can enjoy their appearance), discarding the water, and then filling the pot again with fresh boiling water.

2. Cover the teapot and wait until you see the flowers fully expand before pouring. Refill a second time with the slightly cooler water.