RED RED LIPS

For the past week I've been obsessing about food. Now, my loyal readers may scoff at this point, saying "dude, you've been blathering on about food as long as we've known you, what's 'new' about that?"
But the past several days have been somewhat extraordinary in that regard.

Yesterday I gibbered on for several pages about a fish-salad, finally concluding with a recipe for a cracker.

When I got back to my neighborhood, I tried to find red fermented beancurd at the local store.

Really, I should've known better. They don't have that kind of stuff.

No dried fish. No dried oyster. No red fermented tofu.
No bitter melon, no yard-long bean, no loofa, no po-gwa.
They're nice people, but they don't cater to that crowd.

For any of those things, I would have to cross the hill back to Chinatown. Except that the shops in Chinatown would've been closed by then.


What I really wanted to eat was 南乳扣肉 ('naam-yu kau yiuk') - fatty meat chunks braised with garlic, naam-yu, soy, rice wine, and star anise.
What I had instead was 臘味粉 ('laap mei fan') - rice-stick noodles with preserved piggy products. And small green vegetables on the side.

Plus hot sauce.


Half a jar.


Hot sauce is a substitute for a woman at the table.

Life is far too short for ennui.

Food is companionship.

I'm eating less.

It's okay.

Spicy.

Lah.



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CHINESE NEW YEAR, PLAYING WITH YOUR FISH: LO HEI, SANG YI HING LUNG

As part of the ongoing celebration of Chinese New Year, I beg to inform you that today is the very best day to toss your crackers.
Or play with your fish. There are crackers involved, but they aren't the main focus.


餘陞 YÜ SING
Surplus (wealth) ascending.

In an ancient Chinese ritual invented 47 years ago in Singapore, a salad made of raw fish and various other ingredients is mixed and eaten by diners hollering auspicious wishes for the coming year. Raw fish, as you remember from a previous posting, is a homonym in Chinese for surplus and hence prosperity. This is often done on the first or second day that everybody is back in the office as a festive way of starting the business year.

It's still primarily a Singaporean thing (based on lucky puns that don't really work in Cantonese), but just like Christmas and Valentine's day, it is one of those foreign festival things which Chinese people have no problem adopting.

Baruch Hashem they aren't into green beer and river-dancing. Yet.

[No, I will NOT be explaining Saint Paddy's Day to my Chinese readers in another month. There are just some things which shouldn't spread any further.]

魚生 YÜ SANG
Lucky raw fish.

Ingredients:
Sashimi grade salmon.
Carrot.
Daikon radish.
Cucumber.
Pomelo or sweet grapefruit.
Japanese red pickled ginger.
Red bell pepper.
Green bell pepper.

Garnishes:
Pok cheui crackers.
Roasted or fried peanuts.
Toasted sesame seeds.
Lime wedges.
Freshly ground white pepper.
Pinches five spice and cinnamon powders.

For the dressing:
Quarter cup plum sauce.
Quarter cup olive oil or other mild cooking oil.
Two TBS vinegar.
One TBS sesame oil.
A little hot water.
[Double the dressing recipe as appropriate]

Slice the salmon thinly, and shred the vegetables. Peel, segment, and de-sac the pomelo.
You need roughly equal amounts of the various salad ingredients - the quantity of carrot is variable, so also obviously the pickled ginger and the pomelo.
Place the salad ingredients on a platter with the fish in the centre for the simple version, or on separate plates around a large mixing bowl for the more involved version.

Put the pok cheui crackers, peanuts, and sesame seeds in separate bowls.
Whisk the dressing ingredients, adding a little hot water to make it pourable.


撈起 LO HEI!
Tossing the fish.

The simple form is to assemble everyone around the table. Squeeze a little lime onto the salad ingredients for a fresh taste.
Mix the various components together, add the ground pepper, and cinnamon.
Then have everybody use their chopsticks to help toss the salad and incorporate the dressing while uttering good wishes.
Add the pok cheui crackers, peanuts, and sesame seeds last.


The more involved version has the 'master of ceremonies' present each ingredient to view before adding it to the platter in a particular order, with the other diners chanting the appropriate propitious phrase at every addition.

[Phrases: Carrot: 鴻運當頭 ('hong wan dong tau' - "great luck will be yours"). Daikon: 步步高升 ('bou bou gou sing' - "steady increases"). Cucumber: 青春常駐 ('cheng chun seung chu' - "enjoy permanent youth"). Ground Pepper: 大吉大利 ('taai kat taai lei' - "great luck and great profit"). Cinnamon Powder: 招財進寶 ('chiu choi jeun bou' - "beckon wealth and invite precious things"). Oil: 多多油水 ('doh doh yau soei' - "much more funds"). Peanut: 金銀满屋 ('kam ngaan mun ok' - "gold and silver fill the house"). Sesame: 生意興隆 ('sang yi hing lung' - "business prosperous and thriving"). Pok cheui crackers: 翩地黄金 ('pin dei wong kam' - "expeditious arrival of money"). Fish slices: 年年有餘 ('nien nien yau yü' - "surplus year after year"). Plum Sauce: 甜甜蜜蜜 ('tim tim mat mat' - "may everything be sweet and good"). Pomelo: 越碌越有 ('yuet lok yuet yau' - "more work more wealth").]

Then everyone uses their chopsticks to toss the salad as high as possible.

The more involved version really is a recipe for disaster. Might make you want to rethink the ancient tradition.
Perhaps next year, ceviche!
You'd have to give up on the auspicious puns and wordplays of the lucky phrases above, but you wouldn't be cleaning dried fish out of the chandelier for the next several months either.
And there's less chance of someone's chopsticks accidentally going up your nose, too.
It seems a small price to pay.


At this point, having digested the various possibilities, you may decide to do a simple version of this. After all, everyone needs prosperity, your business could use a bit of surplus, and communal totemic activities are both fun, and in some ways, sacramental.
Who knows, it might actually bring luck. It's festive!

Then it hits you.

What the heck are pok cheui crackers?!?

Well, they're similar to fried wonton skins.....


薄脆餅乾 POK CHEUI BENG GON
Brittle crispy biscuits.

Three cups all purpose flour.
[Or 1½ cups semolina flour and 1½ cups white whole wheat flour. ]
One cube red fermented beancurd (南乳 naam yu).
Half teaspoon salt.
Half teaspoon baking powder.
Half cup water, plus two tablespoons.

Put the flour in a large bowl, make a well in the flour, and add the red fermented beancurd, salt, baking powder and water. Mix in a circular motion to a smooth dough. Cover with a damp cloth and let rest for two hours or so.
Then dust your working surface with cornstarch, and roll out the dough to a flat sheet. Fold over, roll out again. Repeat once or twice more, rolling out very thin the final time. Cut the dough crosswise into thumb-size rectangles. Deep fry till crisp. Drain on paper towels.
They will keep for a couple of weeks in a tight tin.


As you will have noted, pok cheui crackers are like cow's ears.
Just better.


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詞彙 JI WOEI
Glossary .

As an aide to those wishing to learn Cantonese, here are definitions of the characters in this post in the order in which they occur:

餘 Yü: Surplus, excess. Enough. Left over. Remainder.
陞 Sing: To rise, ascend.
魚 Yü: Fish.
生 Sang: Alive. Living. To give birth to. Activity.
撈 Lo: To haul up, dredge.
起 Hei: Rise, raise; begin, start; risen; one of a class.
鴻 Hong: Goose; great, large; enormously.
運 Wan: Move, transport; fortunate, lucky.
當 Dong: Suitable, fitting, proper; should, ought.
頭 Tau: Head, first.
步 Bou: Step, pace; advance.
高 Gou: High, lofty, elevated.
升 Sing: To rise, ascend (same as 陞).
青 Cheng: Blue, green, black, young, fresh.
春 Chun: Spring.
青春 Cheng chun: youth.
常 Seung: Common, normal.
駐 Chu: Reside, occupy; to halt.
常駐 Seung chu: Resident, to be stationed.
大 Taai: Great, big, vast.
吉 Kat: Auspicious, propitious.
利 Lei: Gain, advantage, profit.
招 Chiew: Beckon, summon, invite.
財 Choi: Wealth, richness.
進 Jeun: progress towards, advance.
寶 Bou: Treasure, jewels: precious.
多 Do: Many, much; again.
油 Yau: Oil.
水 Soei: Water, liquid; money flowing, homonym for payments.
金 Kam: Gold; funds.
銀 Ngaan: Silver.
满 Mun: To fill, to be full up, replete.
屋 Ok: Residence, house.
生 Sang: Alive. Living. To give birth to. Activity.
意 Yi: Idea, meaning, thought; intend, anticipate.
生意 Sang yi: Doing business, engaged in commerce.
興 Hing: Flourish, prosper; excited.
隆 Lung: Prosperous, grand, intensive.
興隆 Hing lung: Prosperous, thriving.
翩 Pin: Speed aloft, fly fast.
地 Dei: Earth, land; intensifying particle.
黄 Wong: Yellow, golden hued.
金 Kam: Gold; funds.
年 Nien: Year.
有 Yau: To have; there is, there are.
餘 Yü: Surplus, excess. Enough. Left over. Remainder.
甜 Tim: Sweet.
蜜 Mat: Honey.
越 Yuet: Exceed, over, surpassed; Vietnam and Canton, etcetera.
碌 Lok: Record, write down; employ, utilize, hire.
越 Yuet: Exceed, over, surpassed; Vietnam and Canton, etcetera.
有 Yau: To have; there is, there are.

薄 Pok: Thin, slight, weak, stingy, poor.
脆 Cheui: Crisp, fragile, brittle.
薄脆 Po cheui: Thin and crispy.
餅 Beng: Cookie, cracker, biscuit, pastry.
乾 Gon: Dry; penetrating, generative principle.
餅乾 Beng gon: Biscuit, cracker.
字 Ji: Character, letter; word.
彙 Woei: Collect, compile; assembly; hedgehog. Also written 匯 and 滙.
字彙 Ji woei: Glossary, lexicon; vocabulary.
南 Naam: South, southern.
乳 Yü: Breast, teat, milk; dairy product; creamlike substances, tofu products.
南乳: Naam yü: Red fermented tofu; tofu matured with rice-wine yeast.
春 Chun: Spring.
節 Jit: Festival, holiday; node, joint, section; classifier for segmented things.
春節 Chun jit: Spring festival, Chinese New Year.

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Please note the two clickable links: 南乳 (red fermented bean curd) and 春節 (spring festival).

HAKKA ON BROADWAY - LAMENT

Years ago the Mon Kiang (梅江飯店) on Broadway was a regular stop on my culinary perambulations. Unfortunately they are no longer the same restaurant at all, having changed hands, definitely changed style.
It is a very great loss.

[Mon Kiang was just below Stockton, opposite where Hing Lung is now, next to a place which sold dimsum to go. At that time it was far better than any other restaurant on Broadway between Columbus and Powell. Even the Golden Key, and most certainly that famous restaurant that all the white folks love - you know the one I mean.]

I particularly remember several delightful dishes that this Hakka institution used to feature - wine lees chicken, salty fried fatty pork, red fermented bean curd pork belly, salt-baked chicken, and pork-fat noodles, as well as for a while an absolutely stellar stuffed beancurd.

The odd thing is I started eating there before I spoke Chinese. Well, other than the standard mis-pronounced "ni hao" (howdy), "wo hsi-wang la de" (I like spicy), "hsieh hsieh ni" (thanks), and "tsai lai yi wan" (another bowl, please). None of which they understood.
I may have previously mentioned my ghastly accent in Chinese? In that day and age it was far far worse, even in textbook Mandarin (which I will still not admit to speaking, seeing as my pronunciation remains pretty darn futile).

[I could already write quite a bit, but there were (and still are) many characters that I knew the meaning of, but not the sound. Not all phonetic elements hold true, some aren't even close.]

I really wish I had been able to speak Cantonese then like I do now - I would've been able to ask them about their food, rather than merely guessing what they did, with what ingredients, and how.

I particularly miss their "plum vegetable knock meat" - 梅菜扣肉 (mui tsoi kau yiuk).

Unlike the ghastly rendition at so many Cantonese establishments, where the gravy is gloopy and murky, their version was juicy, tender, nicely sauced.......

I've been imitating it ever since.

Pork belly really needs to be treated carefully - the flesh should be melting, but the fat jellified rather than greasy in texture. Just the merest surface tension to the layers of yellow fat between the succulent meat. And the mui tsoi (梅菜 = actually salt-preserved Tientsin cabbage, used to accompany rich meats as a condimental ingredient) needs to be both rinsed and parched for optimum flavour. Rice wine is also an essential component to the dish.
All of these things come together best if the fat has not been allowed to pool, which is where pre-gilding and sealing the hunk of flesh comes in.

[I make a mean Tung Po Yiuk (東坡肉), by the way. Black mushrooms, scallion, ginger, sherry, and a touch of soy sauce - sealed claypot, very low heat. The same idea yields a superior pot-roast.]


I once ate at Mon Kiang with Manindra and Jones - they loved the place!
Even though they came from entirely different food backgrounds, the food was that good. They loved the fatty pork. They loved the chicken. They loved the mustard greens. The shrimp! The fried crunchy whatever the heck that was. They loved the preserved vegetable soup!
There was more love that evening than at a Valentine's orgy.

We ate and ate for over an hour.

We were younger then.

It was one of the few times I've been giddy on food alone.


The essence of Hakka cuisine (客家菜) is making the most out of fairly pedestrian ingredients by judicious use of flavourings like nam-yu (red-fermented beancurd), mui tsoi, chili peppers, wine lees, and even fresh herbs. But largely the entire spectrum of Chinese salt-cured and preserved ingredients.
Plus pigs-trotters and pork belly.
It's hearty, yet not unrefined. Good honest food, prepared in appetizing ways.
A bit salty at times....... as is suitable for hardworking folks with gusto.
Just have some more rice and hotsauce to balance the food.

They changed years ago. More than many restaurants, the old Mon Kiang is a restaurant I truly miss. Broadway is much the poorer for their departure.

[The restaurant that is in that location now goes by the same English name, but the Chinese name is something else entirely: 住家食方 (jiu-ga sik-fong) - "residential food place". They deal in take-out dishes at the lower end of the scale, and have nothing on the menu that even remotely qualifies as Hakka food. The term 食方 (sik-fong) does not have connotations of civilized eating, being a rather casual and slangy term. 'Diner' is probably the closest approximate in English.]

We need another Hakka restaurant in Chinatown, dammit!

There's apparently a Hakka place out in the avenues. Cabrillo at forty-fifth.
It's supposed to be good.
Wanna go?



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FERMENTED TOFU

According to several culinary writers, fermented tofu is in the same league regarding taste and mouthfeel as cheese.
This is because of the breakdown of proteins during the processing. Just like cheese.
Methinks they’re blowing it out of their ear, and may never have even tasted fermented tofu.

A comparison has even been made with blue cheese.

Okay………

I challenge anyone to serve 南乳 at their next gallery opening along with the paté and chardonnay.
Let's see what the reaction is.

[南乳 (red fermented tofu): naam yu - literally translates as 'southern titty', but 乳 also means a fermented tofu product.]












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