hawthorn soup

What the heck are hawthorns? You may be wondering. Sounds like it could be a grass or the relative of an herb. Well, it's actually a small fruit, much like a crabapple, prevalent in northern China. Lightly sweet, but mostly mouth-puckeringly tart, these little babies come into their own during the winter season. They're sold as street food, in the form of skewers of candied fruit (called tang hu lu). These were one of my favorite things to eat as a little one, bundled up in sweaters, coats, and hats, sucking on a hawthorn on a stick. Oh the memories.

Tang hu lu

Hawthorn are also used in medicines and tonics to aid digestion, probably due to its high acidity. In terms of other snacks, its juices and pulp are made into a block of jelly, reminiscent of guava jelly. Another are hawthorn flakes, small round flake candies, almost like fruity communion wafers.

My grandfather and I hauled ourselves, ironically, over to the Walmart (in Changchun, China) to do a bit of hawthorn shopping. Amongst the rows of exotic fruits, chives and wild greens, tubers and fresh nuts, we spotted the little darlings, all hard and deeply red, fresh still with branches and leaves intact. We brought home about two kilos, ready to make my grandfather's famous hawthorn soup. It's like a dessert, served chilled, and after dinner to help with digestion. After his daily afternoon nap, we set out to work seeding about a bit more than one kilo of hawthorn. In non-metric speak, that’s almost three pounds. These are some of my favorite times with him, when he teaches me techniques and old recipes. No secrets here. We chat and drink tea, and even the silences are oddly comforting. Soon my grandmother comes out to join us from her nap, sneaking a hawthorn when we’re both not looking, her face puckering guiltily afterward from the sour fruit. We let the hawthorn cook and cool on the windowsill, as it’s a blustery 2 degrees Celsius outside.


After our dinner of smoked duck, congee, and steamed crabs, my grandfather filled up bowls of the cool, syrupy soup. Sweet, tangy, and simply light, what a refreshing palate cleanser after a heavy meal.

Since hawthorns are not readily available in the States, cranberries would be a great substitute for this recipe. But if you ever do find yourself walking around Beijing or any northern city mid-winter, do try a sugary skewer of hawthorns. It’ll make your mouth pucker and your heart warm.

Hawthorn Soup

1 pound hawthorn
1-2 quarts water
3/4 cup sugar
2 Tbsp honey

1. Wash and stem the hawthorn. Make a horizontal slice around the midsection of the fruit, and gently pry open with your fingers. Use the tip of a paring knife to carefully pull out the seeds. Repeat with the remaining fruit.

2. In a large stockpot, bring the water to a boil (use 2 quarts if you prefer a more watery soup). Add the hawthorn and sugar, and simmer for 25-30 minutes. Turn the heat off, and stir in honey.

3. Let come to room temperature and chill until completely cooled. Serve cold.

"red cooked" fish

Hong Shao Yu, literally means "red cooked fish." This method of cooking, one of the oldest and more familiar ones in Chinese homestyle cooking, describes the way in which meats are slow braised in a broth of dark soy sauce, sugar, cooking wine, and aromatics like star anise, cinnamon, and peppercorn. The smells that fill the kitchen permeate each corner, reminding me at least, of afternoons pacing as a greedily hungry little girl, waiting in anticipation for my dad's or grandpa's red-cooked chicken or pork belly. Red cooked anything is meant to be eaten with a big bowl of rice, since the starchy globules soak up all the delicious broth, and serve as vehicles of flavor. Red cooking is as commonplace and nuanced as American style pot roasts or crockpot cooking. It stirs up just as many memories as it does feed a hungry stomach or a lonely spirit.

After hours of cooking, the meat falls off the bone, all tender and infused with spices and soy. The most common proteins used are whole fish, usually freshwater fish, whole chicken (the better if you can find an old rooster), slabs of marbled pork belly, and cubes of tofu and mixed vegetables. You can red cook anything though. I'm sure you can red cook squabs or a porterhouse if you really wanted to. It only describes the method by which meat is cooked.

I used several cuts of wild salmon. Chinese, unlike Americans, prefer salmon well done. I also added slivered onions, very unconventional for this dish, well, because I just felt like eating some onions. Fish takes less time to cook than say, chicken or pork belly which do well with stewing. The broth, as a result, becomes enriched with the proteins, calcium, and collagen of the protein and bones, making red cooked dishes not just comfort food, but also hearty and nutritious food.

Hong Shao Yu - Red Cooked Fish

1 whole freshwater fish, scaled and cleaned
or 4-5 fish filets
1/4 cup dark soy sauce
1/2 cup Shaoxing cooking wine
3-4 Tbsp sugar
1" piece ginger, sliced in rounds, on the bias
2 stalks scallion, cut into 2" pieces
3 whole star anise
1 stick cinnamon
1 tsp whole Sichuan peppercorn
flour, for dusting
oil, for frying

1. Dust the fish on either side with a light coating of flour. In a large wok or pan, heat enough oil to cover the bottom. Fry the fish on both sides, about 1-2 minutes each. Remove fish to a plate. Drain most of the remaining oil from the wok.

2. Add the soy sauce, cooking wine, sugar, ginger, scallion and spices to the wok. Add about 1 cup of water to this, let come to a boil, and simmer for about 5 minutes. Place the fish in the broth, cover, and let simmer for 10 minutes.

3. Pick out the pieces of ginger and scallion, and any aromatics. Serve the fish with the broth, along with a bowl of rice.

taro cheesecake

It's really been way too long since I've posted. Which doesn't mean I have not been cooking. Exactly the opposite, indeed. Prepping for turkey week, cooking two gargantuan meals, and hostessing a dinner party, all while battling a deathly cold, really took the wind out of my sails. So I'm more than pleased to be back in a semi-normal routine again, if at least for the next two weeks or so before I leave the country, again.


These little tubers may not be much to look at, but they are a staple in many indigenous peoples' diets all over the world. What makes them so good for cheesecake? Well, not only their creamy flavor, when cooked, but also their high levels of starch that partners with the tangy cream cheese to form a dense, cohesive, and rich texture. Some varieties of taro even exude a beautiful pale purple hue, that adds a lovely tint to the foods they enrich.

I have always loved eating sweet taro filling in steamed and baked buns, a popular snack in China and Taiwan. Taro chips and fries are other types of snack variants. It tastes like an earthier potato, with the textural sensation of a piece of play putty. The longer you break it down, the starchier and looser it becomes, and when you add enough sugar to the mash, it will become obvious why this plant has been a native food of so many tribal cultures for thousands of years.


Taro Cheesecake
makes one 9" cake

Crust:
1 heaping cup vanilla wafers
1 Tbsp sugar
2 Tbsp roasted unsalted cashews
pinch salt
4 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted

Filling:
3 8-0z. blocks of cream cheese
1 1/3 cups granulated sugar
2 eggs
2 egg yolks
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/4 cups mashed cooked taro
1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup heavy cream

1. For the Crust: Preheat oven to 325F. In a food processor, pulse until well mixed the wafers, sugar, cashews and salt. Pour out into a mixing bowl, drizzle the melted butter over top and mix together until a wet, sandy texture forms. Press this evenly into the bottom of a 9" springform pan, and bake to set, about 12-15 minutes. Remove and cool. Cover the outside of the pan in 2 layers of aluminum foil.

2. To Prepare the Taro: Wash 4-5 medium size taro root. Steam for 30 minutes and let cool to room temperature. With a paring knife, peel away the skins, and cut the root into 1/2" cubes. In a food processor, puree the taro until smooth, in pulses, each time adding 1 Tbsp of water. You will have a sticky paste at the end.

3. For the Filling: Make sure the cream cheese is at room temperature. With a mixer, beat the cream cheese smooth, about 1 minute. Add the sugar, beat for another 30 seconds to incorporate. Add the eggs and yolks, one at a time, while continuously mixing. Add in the rest of the ingredients, and blend well so that no visible clumps remain. Pour the batter into your prepared springform pan.

4. Prepare a bain-marie (water bath): Place your springform in the middle of a roasting pan. Pour enough boiling water into the pan so that the level comes to halfway up the side of the springform.

5. Bake at 325F for 1 hour 20 min, or until the top of the cheesecake looks set, slightly wobbly, but not dried and cracked. Turn off the oven, and crack open the oven door. Cool for 30-45 minutes, remove pan from oven and let the cake come to room temperature, out of the water bath. Remove the springform, cover and chill to set for at least 2 hours in the refrigerator. To serve, cut into wedges.

oven baked bacon

Oh how I love being totally indulgent at breakfast. I'm currently going through a phase of eating lots of fried eggs, preferably runny, with toast and bacon. These gluttonous breakfasts (a habit I picked up on my trip in China) usually hold me over until the afternoon, when I have a snack, and then wait for dinner.

So for our brunch on Sunday, Mr.S and I, together in the kitchen, whipped up a satisfying and rather large morning meal of fried eggs, english muffins, oven-baked bacon, papaya and raspberries, and many many cups of coffee.

Bacon can be easily prepared in the oven instead of on the stove. They come out beautifully cooked with crisp edges, with a sweet almost caramelized flavor. I sometimes brush mine, before backing, with maple syrup, honey, or mirin. The best part is you don't have to watch over it in the pan like a hawk. Go ahead and enjoy a cup of coffee and the paper.

Oven-Cooked Bacon

Lay out strips of raw bacon on a rack (or cooling rack) over a roasting pan, so that the grease can drip down through the grates. With the oven set to 350F, bake for about 15 minutes. Check to see that the bacon is nicely browned or to desired doneness, and if not, bake for an additional 5-7 minutes.

golden roasted brussels sprouts

Sundays are when my little kitchen gets the most action. There's just simply more time in the day to plan out meals and leisurely saunter around the kitchen. None of that 30 minute meals thing, and definitely no eating on the run. Big batch cooking is also a must, then portioned out to eat throughout the week. I had some beautiful brussels sprouts sitting around, which I had a craving to eat ever since last week. Roasting these little green heads is my favorite way to cook them- it gives them a crispy golden skin, caramelized in parts, leaving the insides tenderly steamed.

To add to the earthy flavors of the brussels sprouts, I threw into the pan an apple, and sweet onions. A final toss-in of toasted walnuts and dried cranberries finishes off this cozy fall dish. Curled up on my couch in my sweats, I finished off a big steaming bowl...yum.


Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Apples, Cranberries & Walnuts

1 lb. Brussels sprouts, cleaned
1 medium yellow onion, cut into slivers
2 small apples, peeled, cored, and cut into 1/4" wedges
1/3 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup toasted walnuts
3 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper

1. Preheat oven to 375F. In a large roasting pan, toss together brussels sprouts, onion, and apples with the olive oil, and about 1 Tbsp salt.

2. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until the brussels sprouts start to brown, and are tender when pierced with a knife.

3. Remove and let cool. Toss together with cranberries, walnuts, and pepper to taste. Serve warm.


For dessert, I made a fun pumpkin trifle. For the pumpkin cream: just whip up some heavy whipping cream, sugar, cinnamon, and a few spoonfuls of pumpkin puree. And gasp! I used a store-bought pound cake for the cakey layers. Cut into 1/2" cubes and layer with the cream in stout little drinking glasses.

cinghiale

So it was a toss-up between Petit Louis and the Wolfe-Foreman duo's newest conception, Cinghiale. Mr.S and I were itching to go out for a nice meal, good wine, and some heavy duty pampering. Generally, Italian usually isn't at the top of my list, but I can't lie when I say that I wasn't just a bit intrigued by this new enoteca-osteria, with an extensive hand-picked wine list, and a name like Cinghiale, which means wild boar.

The earthy mosaic tiling and deep woods give the place a wonderfully rich, warm, vintage ambiance. The bar runs the full gambit against the length of the back wall, sweet and inviting, while an antipasti bar flanks the right side of the restaurant, in full view of diners. Deep bowls of marinated calamari, cannelini beans, olives, and pastas, lie in wait to be dished onto platters, next to freshly shaved salamis, prosciutto, and cheeses.

The layout of the restaurant is versatile- split into two distinct but congruent styles of dining, the enoteca and osteria. The former is toward the right side of the restaurant, more casual, open, and conducive to sharing chatter, laughs, and wine with your neighbors. The latter, being more elegant, hosts a variety of table set-ups, including a more private room for a more intimate experience. There was a very familiar feel to the place, altogether friendly and inviting, while still retaining a certain level of finesse.

Our server was more than knowledgeable about the menu, and explained how it was set up. The first course being cold dishes, second course pastas (with the option of half and full orders), and the third course meats and fish. Much recommended in appetizers was Le Seppie, a cuttlefish stew over a soft mound of white polenta. We ordered the Kobe beef carpaccio, with arugula, extra virgin olive oil, and a sprinkling of toasted hazelnuts, and a roasted beet salad with frisée and gorgonzola. The beef, thinly pounded, was deeply hued, tender and clean-tasting. It did need a bit of acid, so we asked for a lemon wedge. That rounded out the dish quite nicely. The beets were earthy and sweet, the frisée a little too heavily salted, but all the elements worked together in concert. I particularly enjoyed the addition of chives to the dish, another layer of flavor that worked well.

I started with a glass of Gavi di Gavi Broglia, a delicious full-bodied white, with strong notes of crisp apple, cherry, and a subtle almond finish.


For the next course Mr.S ordered tortellini stuffed with Springfield Farms rabbit, served with shaved black truffle. Mind-blowingly good. Incredibly savory, with just the right amount of cheese as to not be considered overly rich, yet still indulgent. For myself, the pan-seared duck breast came highly recommended. It was served in its own jus, with a celery root purée, Grappa-soaked concord grapes, and a "pesto" of ground anise, coriander, allspice, honey, and other earthy spices. The duck was cooked medium-rare, perfectly done, although I wished the skin had been better crisped. The sweet autumnal flavors perfectly complimented the duck, especially the spicy pesto with the drunken grapes. Needless to say, we were both proud members of the Clean Plate Club last night.


The desserts looked too good to pass up. We decided to share the spice-poached pear over creamy arborio rice pudding, served with a crispy Gianduja bar. Eating it was like falling in love all over again. The best part for me was the rice pudding, so creamy and rich and wonderfully spiced. Our kind and animated server brought us a round of prosecco, on the house.


Like the rest of the Wolfe-Foreman restaurants, Cinghiale is decidedly unique and already, by the looks of it from a busy Saturday dinner rush, a success. What I enjoyed most was yes, the food, but more so the refreshing ambiance. Italian eateries tend to be stuffy and traditionally-dressed, which can be a real turnoff when you are looking to go out with friends for drinks. Cinghiale had a warm, urban feel, with a good mix of a younger and more mature crowd. There was an exciting buzz in the air, a sure sign of satisfied eaters and wine connoisseurs. We left the metropolitan eatery feeling giddy, full, and well taken care of, and definitely anxious to come back.



Cinghiale
822 Lancaster Street
Baltimore, MD 21202

sautéed kabocha squash

My grandmother makes the most wonderful steamed buns and water dumplings, and an amazing wok-fried squash dish. She uses kabocha squash, a lovely japanese variety, with a vibrant golden flesh that in my opinion, is much sweeter and creamier than butternut, acorn, calabaza, or other varieties. Its texture is drier, much like a potato or sweet potato.

The beauty of this dish is the wonderful simplicity in its preparation. (The skin is left on to cook.) The integrity of the flavors of the kabocha are preserved and beautifully highlighted. My grams taught me step by step how to clean the kabocha and cook it. We had the sweet starchy dish, along with smoked tofu, and steamed buns for lunch one day.


Sautéed Kabocha Squash

one 2-lb kabocha squash, scrubbed clean
1/4 - 1/2 cups water or vegetable stock
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 stalk scallion, white parts only, thinly sliced
2 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper
1 tsp MSG**
oil, for frying

1. Scrub the squash clean under running water. Split open and clean out the seeds and fibers. Cut the squash into 1" pieces and set aside.

2. Heat 2 Tbsp of oil in a wok over high heat. Add the squash and stirfry vigorously to coat all sides with oil to lightly sear. Add in the garlic, scallion, salt, pepper, MSG, and water or stock. Stir to combine.

3. Cover the wok with a tight lid, and let cook for about 15-20 minutes, until the squash is soft and creamy. Serve hot.

**MSG is commonly used in China. However, it's completely optional.

beijing style pastries

Every time we return from a trip to Beijing, we bring back a shoebox filled with pastries and delicacies. (We always cross our fingers at customs.) These are all typical, traditional Beijing-style pastries that are popular throughout northern China too. Though many more Chinese have developed a taste for Western style pastries, I still crave these delicate cakes and snacks, made with very traditional asian ingredients. They are often characterized by a flaky crust, with fillings of red and mung bean pastes, taro, chestnut, sesame, salted duck egg yolks, lotus paste, dates, and all sorts of nuts. These are also typical fillings for yuè bǐng, or moon cakes.

From top right, clockwise-
Niu she bing- "cow's tongue pastries," one of my favorites because of its sweet and salty filling; some variations with ground peanuts. Aptly named due to its shape.

Jiang mi tiao- small, fried glutinous rice crullers, coated in a light sugar glaze. Crunchy, these are insanely addictive, and one of my mom's vices.

Honeycomb cakes. Chewy, dense teacakes, flavored with honey, and oftentimes almonds.

Zao ni yuan bing- date paste filled pastries, with a cookie crust.

These pastries are lighter in fat, cholesterol, and sugars than their Western counterparts. They remind me of holidays when I was a little girl, when such pastries were a treat and a real delicacy. Today, they're sold in supermarkets and traditional pastry shops, by the kilo, all over Beijing and China.

a suitcase full of pocky

It's good to be back on U.S. soil and I'm especially ecstatic about having attained a rather large supply of Pocky loot! I feel like a richer woman indeed.

Pocky, thin biscuit sticks that originated in Japan, has worked its way into mainstream American snack culture too. They're extremely popular all over China, Hong Kong and Taiwan as well. Perfectly straight, lightly sweetened biscuits, Pocky are super fun to eat. Why oh why must they come in such small packages! I doubt you'd find them anytime soon on the shelves at Costco, but a girl can dream... It's what's on the outside that counts. This is nowhere more true than it is on Pocky. There's a sheer plethora of flavors. (One of my favorite is Gentlemen's Pocky, for the more distinguished palate.) Only a dozen or so are available in the U.S. for retail sale. But I was able to procure some new flavors while in China.

From left to right-
milk - not quite white chocolate; strong dairy taste
caramel - with hints of almond and hazelnut
shrimp - tastes like Asian shrimp crackers
milk coffee - like a latte!
sweet corn - better than popcorn

I really can't say it enough, but I had a wonderful trip. And yes, it was more than one day long (see previous post). Many of the dishes I'll write about this month will be dedicated to my grandfather, the true chef and one of the greatest influences in my life, and not just culinary. More so than ever this time, I found myself to be more and more like him, to have the same habits, preferences, and eccentricities for food. He truly lives to cook, to cook for his loved ones, to reap the joy of seeing a stuffed mouth, to hear chopsticks clanging on bowls, to hear the eager requests for second helpings. This is what he holds dear. And me, likewise.

out of office: in hunan, day 1

On the left, fried sweet fritters made of sweet potato and rice flours, dipped in honey. On the right, fried tofu skin pockets.

Oh wow am I jetlagged. Chronologically speaking, I'm exactly 12 hours ahead. Geographically, I am in Changsha, the capital of Hunan Province in China. I'm trying not to sleep during the day here, but still, I manage to wake up in the middle of the night, twiddling my thumbs. It's at least good for my reading, I've already caught up on a few books, and gone through who-knows-how-many sudoku games! Anyway, part vacation, part conference, this trip was planned last minute, though I'm really happy to be here. I can't wait to see my grandparents and aunts and uncles in a few days. Basically the whole clan.

Street food is a huge part of Chinese day-to-day life. Regional foods and snacks define the local people, their tastes, customs, and histories. I love walking from hawker stall to stall, tasting a little bit of this and that, and contrary to belief, they are all actually quite clean. My mom and I walked over to the old town area yesterday for some midday snacks. We sipped on sweetened green tea, taro boba (bubble tea with tapioca), grilled skewers of squid in hot chili paste, the infamous stinky tofu, steamed buns, roasted chestnuts, and deep-fried pork dumplings.

stinkiness, in very hot oil

chou dou fu: stinky tofu

So, what exactly is stinky tofu, you might ask. Well, it's a very popular snack dish throughout China, of basically fermented tofu blocks that are deep fried. Calling it stinky, to me, is a misnomer; pungent is more like it. Some describe the odor as feet-like, but I say there are also hints of earthiness , slightly sour and salty all at once. Ok, so maybe that is the definition of stinky. Anyway, it's definitely an acquired taste, and something not to be missed if you should ever encounter it. And you won't, because you'll smell the distinct odor from about half a mile away. The robustness of the taste will depend on the length of fermentation. And of course, frying the tofu makes it more palatable. Obviously you can't find this in the US, there must be a long list of health code violations that stinky tofu would be guilty of. The best and most popular places for it are in downtown Shanghai and in Taipei.