New Ways to Boost Your Grain Power 2: Congee!

 fig. a:  Danny hearts Chinatown

There were numerous things to like about Lucky Peach's special on "Chinatown"(#5, Fall 2012)--it's an  issue of the magazine that we've gone back to repeatedly, and every time we seem to find something new hiding within.  But probably our favourite feature was the one on Danny Bowien and his love affair with Chinese food.  This might seem self-evident for a story about the chef of Mission Chinese Food NYC appearing in an issue on Chinese-American foodways, but Bowien is Korean-American and he grew up in Oklahoma, and the impression you get from the article is that New York's Chinatown continues to be a source of complete wonderment.  As Chris Ying puts it in the foreword:

On his days off from cooking Chinese food at Mission Chinese Food, Danny eats Chinese food.  Whenever I come to New York, he immediately brings me to Chinatown to show me what new gem he's unearthed.

The article features some typically tripped-out Mission Chinese-style Chinese-American fare, like Bowien's "Chinese McDonald's" spread, consisting of pigtail nuggets with seaweed fries and three dipping sauces (sweet & sour, General Tso, and spicy mustard), but we were most attracted to the more traditional recipes that bookend it.  (After all, the title of the article is "Cooking What Chinese People Eat:  Recipes by Danny Bowien.")  And we were especially attracted to the recipe for rice porridge, a.k.a. congee, that kicks off the article.

Montreal isn't much of a congee town.  At least it's not enough of one to support a large congee-centric enterprise such as a Congee Palace, Congee Village, Congee Garden, or a Congee Queen (or a Palais Gruau, Village Gruau, Jardin de Gruau, or a La Reine du Gruau, for that matter).  And, frankly, neither of us could claim to be too well-versed in the pleasures of congee--we'd only had disappointing experiences in the past.  But there was something about the purity and the simplicity of this recipe, something about the ingenious technique behind it, that intrigued us.  Plus, we'd prepared and eaten countless Asian breakfasts of all stripes over the years, but we still didn't know a whole lot about Chinese breakfast, aside from dim sum and cold leftovers out of the takeout containers, and Bowien made a pretty good case for it:

...there's no more fundamental Chinatown breakfast dish than rice porridge.  It's total stick-to-your-ribs stuff that'll keep you full the whole day.  It's quick and cheap, and couldn't be simpler to make.

As an additional bonus, the recipe involved toasting the rice, which made it ideal for this series.  So a few weeks ago, we went to our local butcher to pick up an organic chicken, we measured some jasmine rice, we opened up our issue of Lucky Peach, and we got to work.



 fig. b & c:  preparing the bird

Rice Porridge, a.k.a. Congee

1 whole chicken, preferably with head and feet
1 celery stalk
1 carrot
2 cups white rice
8 qts water
cheesecloth
2 chopsticks

toppings of your choice (such as toasted sesame seeds, chopped cilantro, egg yolks, salmon roe, smoked eel, sea urchin, etc.)

Salt the chicken heavily inside and outside the cavity.  Make sure you rub salt under the wings.  Stuff the cavity with the carrot and celery stalk.  Refrigerate overnight. 

Bundle the chicken in a large piece of cheesecloth and tie it off.  The cheesecloth needs to be big enough that you'll be able to tie the excess cloth to the side of a stockpot in a knot. 

Toast the rice in a dry stockpot over medium heat.  Don't rinse the rice first.  Here, you want the starches on the surface of the rice to thicken the porridge.  Also, be careful not to burn the rice.  Stir constantly until it is lightly toasted and aromatic--just a few minutes.

Add the water and bring to a boil over medium heat.  Starting with cold water and boiling over medium heat (as opposed to high heat) will yield a lighter, cleaner soup.

Once the porridge boils (be patient, this will take a while), lower the chicken in and tie the cheesecloth to the handle of the pot, so the bird doesn't sit on the bottom and burn.  

 fig. d:  venting the pot

Vent the pot with a pair of chopsticks by balancing the chopsticks on opposite ends of the pot.  Point one toward you, and the other away from you, then rest the lid on the chopsticks.  (Bowien notes:  "My cooks used to burn this porridge because they thought they knew a better way to vent the pot, but this is the way grandmothers do it.  Trust me."  We note:  this method works perfectly.  It both vents the pot and catches the condensation.  The result is an ideal cooking temperature and maximum flavour.) 

Cook at medium heat for 45 minutes to an hour.  The rice should be very soft but not completely exploded into mush.  Pull the chicken out and shock it in ice water.  Once it's cooled, you can slide it and use it as a garnish or any other application that calls for a nicely poached chicken.  Because that's exactly what you get:  a nicely poached chicken with hints of rice flavour. 

Season with fish sauce and salt.  Bowien suggests:  "Garnish with chopped cilantro, sesame seeds, an egg yolk, and your choice of toppings--smoked eel, ikura, uni, whatever." 

 fig. e:  Danny Bowien's rice porridge

Bowien claims that this recipe produces "4-6 servings," but, in fact, it makes enough for at least 12.

 fig. f:  we heart leeks

We followed his advice to a point, but instead of going the seafood route, we went the pork and vegetables route.  Specifically, I made some sweet & sour Chinese-style ribs, and Michelle sautéed some leeks, as well as some baby bok choy.  Why?  Well, we were pretty sure it would taste great.  Plus, there must have been something about Bowien's description of rice porridge as "total stick-to-your-ribs stuff" that struck a chord.  And, finally, we had a feeling that sweet & sour caramel would be a pretty nice thing to drizzle over the congee as a finishing touch.  We were right.

The result is the very definition of comfort food, as delicate, satisfying, and warming a variation on chicken soup as you're likely to find.  The texture is somewhere between risotto and cream of wheat, if that makes any sense.  It may be "total stick-to-your-ribs stuff," but it's definitely not stodgy.  And it's also another great way to increase your grain power.

aj

Thrill of the Grill 3

Last year, we started a series on relatively quick grilling recipes, such as grilled sardines and Thai grilled pork skewers.  As I wrote at the time, there are times when you want to get fully invested in "slow and low"-style barbecue, in making use of smoke's considerable powers as both a tenderizer and a flavour enhancer.  But there are other times when,

you just want the pure thrill of the grill. You want the slight blackening, the light smokiness, the caramelized flavors, and the primal pleasures of cooking directly over flames. You want the payoff to come sooner rather than later. You want to take full advantage of the fact that cooking over a hot grill can be quick and easy. 

Well, it's that time of year again.  Our fully winterized balcony is a thing of the past, the barbecue is back in its place of honour, and our 2012 smoking and grilling season is well underway.  And one of the best recipes I've tested out in recent weeks is another relatively quick grilling recipe that takes us to an entirely different region of the world:  Iran.

 fig. a:  land of bread & spice

The recipe appeared in an article on the cuisine of Iran in the March 2012 issue of Saveur by Anissa Helou ("The Land of Bread and Spice").  The article begins with a rather unexpected anecdote about a meal at Ava Gardner's house in London in 1982, but it proceeds to make a case for the centrality of Iran's "complex and captivating" cuisine to the world's foodways (both geographically and culturally)--at least those of Europe, North Africa, the Middle East, Central Asia, and South Asia.  And it's a pretty convincing case.

Helou's account of modern-day Iranian cuisine in Tehran, Isfahan, and beyond, encompasses everything from home cooking, to restaurants, bakeries, and cafés, and, as the title suggests, it focuses on Iranian staples like spices and herbs, bread, and rice, of which she writes, "I've never seen so many different ways of cooking rice as I did in Iran," before describing the care which goes into making their revered polows.  Her text had me pretty hooked on the idea of cooking Iranian already, but Ali Farboud's photographs really clinched things.  Sometimes the anti-aesthetics of some of Saveur's food photography leaves me a bit cold, but, here, the article came with a photo-essay that lived up to the scope of Helou's article, and that I found positively enchanting.  That said, the photographs that I gravitated to on the afternoon that I read the article were among the least exotic and the most familiar:  Farboud's photographs of sabzi, the herb salad that's a staple of the Iranian table, and of jujeh kabab, spiced chicken and tomato kebabs.  I was looking for a quick grilling recipe at the time, and that was exactly what I found.

   fig. b:  land of sabzi & kebabs

Actually, the recipe itself didn't hurt, either.  When I flipped to page 76 and found the recipe for jujeh kabab, its intoxicating blend of yogurt, citrus, and spices leapt off the page.  I felt like I had a pretty clear idea of just how succulent these kebabs were going to be, and the recipe didn't disappoint in the least.  A few hours later, when Michelle came home to a spread of jujeh kabab, sabzi, a garlicky yogurt spread, fresh limes, and grilled flatbreads, she couldn't believe her luck.

 fig. c:  Iranian-style chicken kebabs

 fig. d:  lightly charred tomatoes

Jujeh Kabab (Spiced Chicken and Tomato Kebabs)

1 cup plain yogurt
1/2 cup fresh lime juice
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp orange zest
1 tbsp ground cumin (preferably toasted and freshly ground)
1 tbsp kosher salt
1 tbsp ground black pepper
2 tsp crushed saffron
1 tsp ground coriander
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 large yellow onion, sliced
2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cubed
4 plum tomatoes
ground sumac, to garnish
2 limes, halved
grilled flatbreads, for serving 

Stir together the yogurt, lime juice, olive oil, zest, cumin, salt, pepper, saffron, coriander, garlic, and onions in a bowl.  Chop the thighs into large cubes, roughly 1-1 1/2" x 1 1/2-2".   Add the chicken to the yogurt mixture, and toss to coat.  Chill for 4 hours (you can "chill," too, but make sure you've placed the chicken in the fridge at least four hours before you intend to grill).   

When the chicken has been properly marinated, build a medium-hot fire in a charcoal grill.  Skewer the chicken on flat metal skewers (Iranian-style), or on wooden skewers that you've had the foresight to pre-soak.  Add the tomatoes to another skewer.  Grill the chicken and tomatoes, turning often, until tomatoes are soft and charred, about 7 minutes, and the chicken is cooked through and slightly charred, about 10-15 minutes. (I recommend starting the chicken directly over the medium-hot fire, charring the meat on all sides, and then moving the skewers to indirect heat for the remaining time.)  Sprinkle the skewers with sumac.   Brush the flatbreads lightly with olive and grill quickly.

Serve with the limes and the hot flatbreads.  

Serves 4. 

 fig. e:  herbs & radishes

Sabzi 

watercress
mint leaves
parsley leaves
radishes

If you've been slow to kick off this year's grill & barbecue season, let the flames begin.

aj

In the Mood for Rice

fig. a: the rice cooker is unveiled

The premise:

In some ways, our whole month could have been inspired by this scene from Wong Kar Wai's In the Mood for Love. It's 1962 and Mrs. Chan's (Maggie Cheung) imported electric rice cooker (from Japan, of course) causes quite a stir--no one in their Hong Kong apartment complex has ever seen anything like it. The rice cooker is a vision of modernity--one of many--but like every other such vision in Wong's film, it's an ambivalent one. It's tied to both romance and heartbreak. At this point in the film, however, the rice cooker is still simply an innocent novelty, and it generates a considerable amount of excitement and enthusiasm.

At the beginning of March, we took a pledge that had a lot to do with the excitement generated by our own newly acquired rice cooker: all-Asian, all month. Most of the month was spent trying out Far East Asian recipes (Chinese, Japanese, Korean), but we also made a whole lot of Southeast Asian food (mostly Vietnamese), and towards the end of the month we began to steer things towards South Asian cuisine (especially Indian). A few of these dishes were noodle-based (like Mrs. Chan and Mr. Chow [Tony Leung], the two of us are both serious noodle lovers), but for the most part, because of the rice cooker, these meals were rice-based. As the month proceeded, we began to lovingly refer to the experiment as March Madness.

fig. b: lavers!

The pitch:

Michelle was seriously psyched (maybe even hyped) about the prospect of an Asian banquet for her birthday, one that she was sure would be the crowning achievement of March Madness. She loved the idea of a big spread with lots of rice fresh from our rice cooker, lots of side dishes and condiments, and seasoned lavers to pick everything up with. She also liked the idea of people milling about and mingling, instead of our usual sit-down affairs. But when I asked her if she had any special requests, she said she wanted to build the party around some kind of activity. At first I thought she was just being difficult, but then it dawned on me...

What if we threw a big Asian-themed banquet at a bowling alley? We could rent a few lanes, invite about 15-20 people, haul in a big homecooked Asian spread, and plug in our rice cooker to make fresh rice. I was imagining one of those big bashes Elvis used to throw in the early days of his stardom, when he'd rent out an entire bowling alley or roller skating rink from closing hour until dawn so he could pal around with his friends--only, instead of fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches, there'd be things like Hawaiian-style ribs (after all, Elvis loved Hawaii, didn't he?). Anyway, we'd call the event Rice Bowl (pretty catchy, huh?) and though the sticky fingers might not make for too many perfect games, I thought it would make for an unforgettable birthday bash.

The problem:

As it turns out, no bowling alley or salon de quilles in Montreal will allow you to bring any food. Presumably because they all house concessions. Most of them won't even let you bring a birthday cake, unless it's for a kid's birthday. I begged and pleaded, but to no avail. I even laid the name of the event on them. Nada.

Then I thought, "Well, if we can't bring the spread to the bowling alley, maybe we can bring the bowling alley to the spread." So I got on the horn to see if someone had a Wii + Wii Sports (which I'd heard comes with simulation bowling) they'd be happy to loan for a good cause. I found plenty of Wiis, but no one willing/foolish enough to let us get our grubby hands all over their beloved vids.

So we scrapped the Rice Bowl concept and focused strictly on the food. Go ahead and use it, though. Seriously. If you happen to live in a town with bowling alleys that aren't so uptight about trucking in food, or if you have the moulah to rent out an entire bowling alley, Elvis-style, or if you happen to own a Wii, feel free to host your own Rice Bowl event. I mean it. It's yours.

The recipes:

The following are some of the highlights from our menu.

This is kind of a strange hybrid dish that we created, but it turned out to be one of the night's most popular dishes. The basic idea behind it--poaching the Vietnamese meatballs in soup--is a classic. Poaching them in a dashi was our idea.

Shiitake Dashi w/ Vietnamese Meatballs

For the meatballs:

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 1/4 lb boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 tbsp baking powder
2 tbsp tapioca starch
1 tbsp sugar
5 tbsp fish sauce
3 tbsp canola oil

Slice the breasts and thighs across the grain into 1/4-inch-thick strips. Keep any visible fat for richness, but trim away any cartilage or sinewy bits to make it easier to process.

Whisk together the baking powder, tapioca starch, sugar, fish sauce, and oil in a bowl large enough to hold the chicken. Add the chicken and use a rubber spatula to mix well. Cover with plastic wrap and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 8 hours and ideally overnight. The chicken will stiffen as it sits.

Remove the chicken from the refrigerator and use a spoon to separate the pieces somewhat. Working in batches, grind the chicken in a food processor until a smooth, stiff, light pink paste results. (This step will take several minutes, and it'll really give your food processor a good workout.) Stop the food processor from time to time to scrape down the sides. When you are finished, there should be no visible bits of chicken and the paste should have a slight sheen to it. Using the rubber spatula, transfer each batch to another bowl.

This paste is the basis for a number of Vietnamese preparations (like sausages), but it can also be shaped into quenelle-shaped meatballs (using two spoons to shape them) and poached in soup, and that's exactly what we did.

This recipe will make an enormous number of quenelle-shaped meatballs. We made about 40-50 (roughly 3 per person) and froze the rest of the meat paste for later use.

For the soup:

16 medium dried shiitake mushrooms
4 cups water
salt
light soy sauce
sake

Bring water to boil in a saucepan. Add the mushrooms to the boiling water and simmer without a lid for 5-8 minutes. Remove the mushrooms and flavor to taste with salt, soy sauce, and sake.

Save the mushrooms and use them in another preparation.

Add the meatballs to the soup. When they float to the surface, let them simmer, uncovered, for 10 to 12 minutes, or until cooked through. The meatballs will impart a subtle flavor to the broth. Adjust the seasonings and serve in bowls with one or two meatballs per bowl.

Serves 12 as an appetizer.

[recipe combines elements from recipes found in Andrea Nguyen's Into the Vietnamese Kitchen and Soei Yanada's The Heart of Zen Cuisine]

March Madness was all about the rice, but it was also all about the Asian pickles. Along with the Carrot and Daikon Pickle featured in an earlier post, our other favorites were these two. If you have a mandolin (the kitchen tool, not the musical instrument), you're going to love this first one. (Actually you'll probably love it either way, but you'll only be able to make it if you have the kitchen tool variety.) No need to buy that weird dyed stuff at the store anymore.

Pickled Ginger

1 lb young ginger (use the freshest, most perfect ginger you can find)
2 tbsp sea salt
2 cups rice vinegar
3/4 cup sugar

Peel the ginger. Use a mandolin to slice the ginger crosswise very thin.

Place the ginger slices in a bowl and add 1 teaspoon of the salt. Toss with your fingers to blend well, and let stand for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, put a small pot of water on to boil. Rinse off the ginger with the boiling water and drain well.

Place the vinegar, sugar, and the remaining 1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons salt in a small nonreactive pot and heat, stirring, until the sugar has entirely dissolved. Meanwhile, fill a wide-mouthed 1-quart jar with boiling water, then drain it.

Using tongs, place the ginger in the jar, then pour the hot vinegar mixture overtop. Cover tightly and let the pickled sit overnight before using. The ginger keeps, well sealed in the refrigerator, for 2 months or more.

[recipe from Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid's Seductions of Rice]

fig. c: Viet-style mixed vegetable pickle

Mixed Vegetable Pickle

1/4 cup salt
3 cups lukewarm water
1 large bell pepper (red, yellow, or orange), seeded and cut into strips 1/2 inch wide and 1 1/2 inches long
2 large carrots, peeled and cut into matching pieces
1 small head cauliflower, trimmed and cut into 1-inch florets
2-3 hot green chiles, chopped into thin rounds
2 cups distilled white vinegar
1 1/4 cups sugar
2 cups cold water

Combine the salt and the lukewarm water in a large bowl and stir with your hand to dissolve. Add all the vegetables. The water should just cover them--if it doesn't, add more lukewarm water as needed. Set aside for 4-6 hours. The vegetables will soften and become slightly chewy.

Meanwhile, prepare the brine. In a saucepan, combine the vinegar, sugar, and cold water and heat over medium heat, stirring occasionally until the sugar has dissolved. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool completely.

When they're done, drain the salted vegetables, but do not rinse them. Put them in a 2- or 3-quart glass container. Pour in just enough brine to cover and discard the remainder. Cover the container and refrigerate overnight. The pickle is ready to eat the next day. It will keep well in the refrigerator for about 3 weeks. After that, it will lose its edge.

[adapted from Andrea Nguyen's Into the Vietnamese Kitchen]

This next recipe is unbelievably simple and remarkably satisfying. It's also 150% vegetarian.

Mushroom & Tofu Salad

1/2 pound shiitake mushrooms, stems trimmed and saved
2 small rectangles Japanese fried tofu
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp rice vinegar
1 tsp sake
1/4 tsp sugar
togarashi

Grill the mushrooms and tofu square directly over a gas flame or grill, turning them with tongs to ensure they are golden on all sides. OR, place on one or two small baking sheets under the broiler and broil until the mushrooms are tender and the fried tofu is touched with brown.

Slice the mushrooms into narrow strips, discarding any tough parts. Cut the tofu into strips the same length as the mushroom strips. Place in a shallow serving bowl.

In a small nonreactive saucepan, heat the soy sauce, vinegar, and sake. When they are warm, stir in the sugar until dissolved. Let cool slightly, then pour over the mushrooms and tofu and stir gently to coat. Sprinkle lightly with togarashi and serve.

[recipe from Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid's Seductions of Rice]

Hands down--no ifs, ands, or buts about it--our two most popular dishes of the evening were these next two: the spicy-sweet Hawaiian style ribs, and the Vietnamese-style glazed duck legs. Both literally vanished into thin air.

fig. d: ribs & rice

Hawaiian-Style Kalbi

1 1/4 cups light brown sugar
1 cup soy sauce
1 tbsp Asian sesame oil
1/4 tsp crushed red chile flakes
4 cloves garlic
1 2-inch piece peeled fresh ginger, finely chopped
3 lbs pork baby back ribs
3 scallions, thinly sliced

Whisk together the brown sugar, the soy sauce, the sesame oil, the chile flakes, the garlic, the ginger, and 1/4 cup of water in a large bowl. Add the ribs and toss to coat. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let marinate for at least 1 hour at room temperature, or refrigerate overnight, turning occasionally to coat.

Heat the oven to 450º F. Remove the ribs from the marinade and arrange, curved side up, on a rack set over a rimmed, foil-lined baking sheet. Roast for 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat the marinade in a saucepan over medium-high heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until thick and syrupy, about 20 minutes.

Using tongs, flip ribs and cook, basting frequently with the reduced marinade, until the ribs are browned, glazed, and tender, 15-20 minutes. Transfer to a serving platter and garnish with the scallions.

[recipe from Saveur's March 2009 issue]

Honey-Roasted Duck Legs

4 cloves of garlic, smashed with the broad side of a knife
1" piece of fresh garlic, thinly sliced and smashed with the broad side of a knife
3/4 tsp Chinese five-spice powder
1/4 tsp salt
6 tbsp honey
2 tbsp light (regular) soy sauce
1 tbsp dark (black) soy sauce
1 tbsp Shaoxing rice wine or dry sherry
3/4 tsp salt
2 tbsp Shaoxing rice wine or dry sherry
2 tsp peeled and grated ginger, pressed through a fine-mesh sieve to extract 1 tsp ginger juice
6 whole duck legs, trimmed of excess fat and skin
2 tbsp hoisin sauce

special equipment: steamer

To make the glaze, in a small saucepan, combine the garlic, ginger, five-spice powder, salt, honey, light and dark soy sauces, and wine. Place over medium heat and bring to a boil. Remove from the heat. When the bubble action ceases, pour the glaze through a fine-mesh sieve placed over a medium-sized bowl, pressing on the solids with the back of a spoon to extract as much liquid as possible. Let the glaze cool completely.

Select a large, shallow bowl or a deep plate that fits in your steamer tray. Add the salt, wine, and ginger juice and stir to dissolve the salt. Add the duck legs and use your fingers to coat the duck legs well with the marinade. Arrange the duck legs so that there is minimal overlap, to ensure even cooking. Put the bowl in the steamer tray and set aside to marinate for 15 minutes.

Fill the steamer pan halfway with water and bring to a rolling boil over high heat. Add the steamer tray, cover, and steam the duck for 25 minutes. The skin will pull back from the flesh, and cooking juices will collect in the bowl. Transfer the duck legs to a plate and discard the cooking juices.

Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 425º F. To promote heat circulation and allow the fat to drip away from the duck, place a flat roasting rack on a foil-lined baking sheet. Put the duck, skin side up, on the rack, spacing the legs as far apart for one another as possible. Roast for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the skin is crisp and lightly golden. Turn on the exhaust fan as the duck roasts, because the dripping fat can cause a fair bit of smoke. If more than 2 tbsp of fat accumulates in the pan during roasting, remove the duck from the rack, make a spout in one corner of the foil, and pour off the fat. Then quickly return the duck to the rack and continue roasting. (We had to execute this step twice.)

When the duck is ready, using tongs, lift each leg from the rack, roll it in the glaze to coat evenly, and hold it above the bowl to allow the excess glaze to drip off. Return the duck to the rack, skin side up. Roast the legs for 5 minutes and then coat them with the glaze again. Roast for 3 to 5 minutes longer, or until the glaze richly colors the duck. Remove from the oven and let cool for 10 minutes.

After glazing the duck legs the second time, return the remaining glaze to the small saucepan and add the hoisin sauce to make a dipping sauce. Warm over medium heat, adding a spoonful or two of water if needed to balance out the flavor. Pour into a small serving bowl.

Using a heavy cleaver, chop the legs through the bone into bite-sized pieces. Or, slice the meat off the bone. Or, just serve the legs whole and let people chomp into them Friar Tuck-style, like we did. In any case, arrange the duck on a platter and serve with the sauce.

If you have any leftovers (highly unlikely, given how incredibly juicy and delicious these duck legs are), you might want to use the duck meat as the "boldly flavored meat" in your very own homemade bánh mì.

[recipe from Andrea Nguyen's Into the Vietnamese Kitchen]

aj

Top Ten #29

fig. a: Fassbinder/Sir

1. Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, dir. Fassbinder (especially when it's part of a double bill with Imitation of Life, dir. Sirk)

2. Rice Bowl

3. James Villas, Villas At Table: A Passion for Food and Drink

4. homemade bánh mì

5. "Actions: What You Can Do With the City," Canadian Centre for Architecture

6. Hawaï

fig. b: Don Drummond

7. The Best of Don Drummond

8. Dic Ann's

9. Duplicity, dir. Gilroy

10. uppuma

aj

more soul for the chicken soup

As you may remember, January saw us heroically trying to stave off the common cold with a particularly tasty preemptive strike: soto ayam. What we didn't tell you, and what I now realize was largely unapparent from January's posts, was that at the time we were in the midst of a full-blown Asian kick prompted by a handful of recent acquisitions:

a) a copy of Andrea Nguyen's Into the Vietnamese Kitchen: Treasured Foodways, Modern Flavors
b) a copy of Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid's Mangoes and Curry Leaves: Culinary Travels Through the Great Subcontinent
c) a copy of Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid's Seductions of Rice
and
d) a rice cooker*

This full-blown Asian kick only lasted a few weeks before we started to drift back into more familiar terrain--like Italian, Hungarian, French, and Mexican--but it did result in a number of outstanding meals. So earlier this month, when we suddenly realized how far we'd strayed, we took a pledge: all Asian, all month. You can expect to hear about all the highlights of our own culinary travels in the very near future, but in the meantime, here's a recipe that's a great follow-up to the soto ayam, one that doesn't pack the same spicy punch, but is also an ideal late-winter cure-all.

It's a rice soup with chicken, seafood, and mushrooms, and it's based closely on a recipe (Cháo Bôi) in Andrea Nguyen's truly inspiring Into the Vietnamese Kitchen. Nguyen's original calls for dried wood ear mushrooms, but we didn't have any of those, so we replaced them with fresh shiitakes, which have become readily available here in Montreal in recent years, so much so that we can get them at our local supermarket for the same price as your standard white mushrooms. The recipe also calls for crab. We recommend using fresh Quebec snow crab, whose short but sweet season has just begun. Half a snow crab will provide you with more than enough crab for the soup--any extra you can use to treat your cats.

Michelle still loves the soto ayam the best because of its sensory overload, but, if you ask me, this delicate little gem is easily its equal.

fig. a: before

Rice Soup with Chicken, Seafood, and Mushrooms

1 boneless, skinless chicken breast, about 1/4 lb
1 cup long-grain white rice
3 quarts homemade chicken stock**
8-10 fresh shiitake mushrooms, stemmed and sliced
2 tbsp canola oil
1 small onion, thinly sliced
1/4 cup Chinese cooking wine or dry sherry
1/2 pound medium shrimp, peeled and halved horizontally
1/3 cup freshly picked crabmeat
1/4 cup small tapioca pearls
salt
1/3 cup chopped scallion, both white and green parts
1/3 cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro

Fill a 5-quart saucepan half full with water. Bring the water to a rolling boil over high heat and add the chicken breast. Remove the pot from the heat and cover tightly, letting the pot stand for 20 minutes in order to gently poach the chicken. After 20 minutes, the chicken should be firm to the touch yet still yield a bit. Remove the chicken from the pan, leaving the water in. When the chicken is cool enough to handle, shred it by hand and set aside.

Return the water to a boil and add the rice. Parboil the rice for 8 minutes. Drain in a colander and rinse with cold water. Set aside.

In the same pan, bring the stock to a boil over high heat. Add the rice and chicken, lower the heat to a gentle simmer, and cook for 10 minutes, or until the rice expands.

Meanwhile, in a skillet, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook gently, stirring from time to time, for about 4 minutes, or until fragrant and soft. Add the shiitake mushrooms and sauté for another 2 minutes. Add the Chinese cooking wine or sherry and cook until it evaporates. Add the shrimp and sauté for about 3-4 minutes, until they curl into corkscrews. Add the crabmeat and stir to distribute. Remove from the heat and set aside.

To prevent the tapioca pearls from clumping on contact with the hot soup, put them in a sieve and rinse briefly under cold water. When the rice has expanded in the soup, add the tapioca pearls and cook for another 10 minutes. The tapioca pearls will expand and become translucent. At that point, add the seafood and mushroom mixture, heat through, and adjust with salt, if necessary.

Ladle into individual bowls and top with scallions and cilantro. Serve immediately.

Serves 4 to 6 as a highly nutritious one-bowl meal.

fig. b: after

Good to the last drop!

aj

* We realize that getting a rice cooker and a copy of Seductions of Rice back-to-back is a bit odd, given Alford and Duguid's insistence on time-honored ways. We still love making rice the traditional way for ourselves, but we also like our rice cooker, especially for dinner parties.

** We made ours with a couple of leftover chicken carcasses, two onions, four cloves of garlic, a couple of hunks of ginger, half a daikon, five stalks of celery, four carrots, the shiitake mushroom stems (see above), salt, pepper, and a teaspoon of five spice. It only took about 45 minutes to make and it made a huge difference.