Yesterday evening I was happily putzing around in the kitchen at the time my apartment mate came home. It had been a long day babysitting adults in Marin, and I was looking forward to a nice evening, good food, bit of music, ending with meditation or a cigar out on the front steps.
It's warm enough now in SF that I can do that.
She happily unpacked a new book that had come in the mail, and retired to her room, to read about sharks. When she's sad or depressed, nothing cheers her up so much as predators or violent women.
Kitchen and teevee room all to myself.
And some home-made wontons.
Got in C'town on Thursday.
I made a strong broth by first frying some dried flounder (大地魚 'daideiyu') in a smidge of clarified bacon fat, then seething it with thin stock, letting it boil for a while, and straining out the fish.
Chopped some gaichoi, set it aside. Heated up a vat of water, and while waiting for it to boil, sliced three lovely chili peppers. Put the chili roundels into a small saucer, added a squeeze of lime juice and a pinch of salt to bring out the flavour.
When the water was boiling, dumped in a dozen dumplings.
Reheated the flounder broth, dumped in the gaichoi.
Added a few slices of smoked pork to the broth.
Scooped the wonton out of the pot of boiling water, slid the rice stick noodles in. Didn't want to use the traditional wheat and egg noodles, because I prefer the thick sloopety quality of rice stick.
Won ton into a bowl, broth with gaichoi and pork on top, finish with drained rice stick noodles.
Then left the kitchen for a brief moment.
Now, I should point out that whenever I use the kitchen for cooking, water will be used. Rinsing vegetables, rinsing noodles and won ton to stop the cooking process, washing all utensils the moment I'm done using them. Washing hands whenever handling raw ingredients, or anything that I will be sticking into my mouth.
Lots of water.
Cleanliness becomes automatic.
And perhaps I should also explain that the sound of running or splashing water excites the bladder.
If you are a women, you may not understand what happens next. You see, unlike most women, men have a few extra inches to their urethra, encased in a flexible appendage, which means that a certain posture is our preferred method of micturating.
I had been handling chilipeppers.
Halfway through my delicious bowl of wonton with gaichoi in a lovely broth, with sliced chilies on the side, I grew discomfitted. There are no tastebuds in a certain area, but the skin is thinner, and more densely packed with nerves. It was an intense experience. I believe my face turned red, and I trembled.
Once your hands have touched chilipeppers, it takes a while for the capsaicin resin and oils to fade, even washing hands several times.
It does something. You cannot sit still. Distracting motion is required, and forcrapssakes keep those hands from touching any part of your body, most particularly eyes or "sensitive parts".
Here's a helpful visual:
AWESOME!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyQ54PzmyD8.]
The wontons were delicious, the gaichoi was at the perfect stage of toothsome tenderness, and the chilies seemed like velvet on the tongue because of the thin-slicing. There was a fragrance to the broth which added so much more than a plain chicken stock could have done.
My forehead was beaded with sweat.
And I was positively quivering.
Watch that video again.
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Showing posts with label 雲吞. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 雲吞. Show all posts
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Wednesday, March 05, 2014
TEATIME? FULL OF BEANS!
The other day I had a splendid lunch at Hon's Wun-Tun House down on Kearney Street. The place was nearly filled at one o'clock on a Monday afternoon, but thank heavens hardly any white people. Mind you, I like white people. Some of my best friends are white. And I, also, am white. Whiter than that you cannot get. But white people, by and large, talk funny and eat with trepidation. In addition to asking irrelevant questions like "is the rice stick noodle made with brown rice?" and "do you have any wheat and gluten free vegan dishes?"
Then they'll bellyache about the soy sauce or something.
Real food does not change its colours for neurotics.
Which many white folks nowadays are.
洪記麵家 "Hung Gei Mien Ga"
HON'S WUN-TUN HOUSE (CA.) LTD.
648 Kearny Street
San Francisco, CA 94108
415-433-3966
Most of the patrons were middle-aged Chinese (Cantonese) people, whose clothing and language indicated that they came there by choice rather than mere convenience, and many of them did so habitually, because they had known the place for years.
Realistically, the reason to go there is won ton noodle soup (雲吞麵), stewed pigs knuckle (南乳豬手), stewed brisket (牛腩), beef tendon (牛筋) and seui gaau (水餃). They also do other things, but NOT vegan kibble, brown rice crap, or gluten-free muck. If you want any of those last three items, maybe you should eat elsewhere. There's always someplace that caters to your kind, even when you are away from your ethnic enclave (in the suburbs). There are several restaurants that exist exclusively to welcome problematic nutballs in other parts of the city.....
I've reviewed a number of them: eat vegetarians!
I hope that's helpful.
Hon's Wun Tun House.
It's good. It's cheap. It's got meat.
I had the chasiu wonton with rice stick noodles.
叉燒雲吞粉。
Ate with gusto. Broth, noodles, dumplings, and barbecue pork.
Departed happy as a clam (譁，蜆笑噉開心㗎！).
Which pleasant mental state lasted till I got to Safeway, where the sour oppressive atmosphere of hatchet-faced old folks from the condo tower above the store left me drained and enervated.
There's just something about vicious about elderly middle-classes.
It's that cannibalistic aura that many of them have.
They got theirs, screw everyone else.
Maybe they're just related to too many people who have wheat and gluten allergies, avoid meat, and demand brown rice or vegan crap.
Family dinners must be really frustrating for them.
Probably gives them constipation.
That, or the prunes.
I had fully recovered by tea-time, in case you were wondering. Felt like smoking another pipe, and going out into the public thoroughfare to blow noxious fumes at people's children and pets. Boo.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Then they'll bellyache about the soy sauce or something.
Real food does not change its colours for neurotics.
Which many white folks nowadays are.
洪記麵家 "Hung Gei Mien Ga"
HON'S WUN-TUN HOUSE (CA.) LTD.
648 Kearny Street
San Francisco, CA 94108
415-433-3966
Most of the patrons were middle-aged Chinese (Cantonese) people, whose clothing and language indicated that they came there by choice rather than mere convenience, and many of them did so habitually, because they had known the place for years.
Realistically, the reason to go there is won ton noodle soup (雲吞麵), stewed pigs knuckle (南乳豬手), stewed brisket (牛腩), beef tendon (牛筋) and seui gaau (水餃). They also do other things, but NOT vegan kibble, brown rice crap, or gluten-free muck. If you want any of those last three items, maybe you should eat elsewhere. There's always someplace that caters to your kind, even when you are away from your ethnic enclave (in the suburbs). There are several restaurants that exist exclusively to welcome problematic nutballs in other parts of the city.....
I've reviewed a number of them: eat vegetarians!
I hope that's helpful.
Hon's Wun Tun House.
It's good. It's cheap. It's got meat.
I had the chasiu wonton with rice stick noodles.
叉燒雲吞粉。
Ate with gusto. Broth, noodles, dumplings, and barbecue pork.
Departed happy as a clam (譁，蜆笑噉開心㗎！).
Which pleasant mental state lasted till I got to Safeway, where the sour oppressive atmosphere of hatchet-faced old folks from the condo tower above the store left me drained and enervated.
There's just something about vicious about elderly middle-classes.
It's that cannibalistic aura that many of them have.
They got theirs, screw everyone else.
Maybe they're just related to too many people who have wheat and gluten allergies, avoid meat, and demand brown rice or vegan crap.
Family dinners must be really frustrating for them.
Probably gives them constipation.
That, or the prunes.
I had fully recovered by tea-time, in case you were wondering. Felt like smoking another pipe, and going out into the public thoroughfare to blow noxious fumes at people's children and pets. Boo.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, January 31, 2013
THE REMEMBERED LUNCH
The restaurant was half empty when she sat down, the mid-day rush had not yet begun. After carefully studying the menu, she chose a bowl of wonton noodle soup, and a side order of stir-fried mustard green stalks. Then, having dispensed with the essential preamble to lunch she drank a bit of tea and looked around with bright intelligent curiosity. She had never been here before.
That is to say, she came here once a very long time ago, when it was still a neighborhood standard. But when she started working downtown, she passed by one day and noted the decline. Like many old establishments, the spark of inspiration disappeared, and the owners coasted onward to a disinterested retirement.
Eventually it got sold, then gutted, remodelled, painted.....
An entirely new modern kitchen installed.
Hot-pot place on second floor.
For evenings only.
She had forgotten about the high ceiling. Many older buildings here had those high ceilings, as there was always a mezzanine loft above the business floor for storage, and often, living quarters. Her uncle's grocery store had had precisely the same thing. Back in the fifties he and his wife had lived there, but by the time her first cousin was born they had moved to a flat uphill, beyond Powell Street. As children she and her cousins had played above the store, sometimes disturbing boxes and releasing a cloud of dust over the racks on the ground floor. It always upset her auntie when that happened, and they'd be chased out into the street or forced to do their homework.
Two wide screens. One in the middle of the wall along the side, one above a front window. She presumed the one above the window had been placed there so that whoever was at the counter could follow the soap opera that was playing. It looked frightful. An elderly woman in period costume was weeping and flailing her arms, while a pie-faced maiden of thirtyfive-playing-sixteen stood by helplessly, looking theatrically anguished. And goobus-innocent to the point of slack-jaw.
She surmised that this was the smarmy good-girl daughter-in-law.
Far too pampered-looking to be the maid servant.
Not angry enough to be a daughter.
Her food came, and enthusiastically she dug in, yanking the yellow noodles fiercely up, skein dripping, to enjoy them while they were still al dente. Wonton noodle soup can also be served with rice-stick, if one has a calmer temperament. But tradition dictates thin fresh wheat noodles, added on top, barely cooked. Eat them fast! Con brio. It's sheer goodness!
While chewing she beckoned the waitress over and requested a dish with some extra oyster sauce. She loved oyster sauce. And she couldn't believe that it had not been invented several centuries ago.
Surely the combination of condensed savouriness and dense pourable darkness was ancient! It seemed like such an intuitive concept. Concentrate a wonderful flavour, and use it to intensify everything!
Dip the mustard green stalk, then bite and crunch. Another. Then dip one of the lovely dumplings. Lunch, away from the throng on Kearny Street near Bush, was something to be savoured. How much better if surrounded by an environment that represented home.
And eight lovely wontons! The broth, too, was excellent, but the dumplings were the star of the show. Fresh shrimp, barely chopped, bit of pork, handmade skins. Smooth, slick, sweet and juicy and savoury and textural at the same time. A hint of fragrance from the chopped garlic chives floating in the bowl. And perfect thin noodles to fill you up.
The plate of green stalks made it a balanced meal, the added oyster sauce satisfied the little girl within.
Without asking, the waitress refreshed her tea.
On screen, the dowager howled about ruination.
An old lady at the counter ordering food to go gave animated instruction on precisely how the fish should be cooked, and be sure to use ONLY fatty meat in the black mushroom duck combo - I very much like fatty!
Two tables over, a fat faced boy brat was objecting vociferously to his parents demand that he eat some more saang choi -- hate it, hate it, HATE it -- but the parents insisted.
At the table near the door, a painter in overalls lovingly absorbed a plate of fried porkchop and "Italian noodles", plus another cup of milk-tea, extra sweet please.
She dipped the last stalk in the oyster sauce.
Mmmmmmmmmm!
Heaven.
* * * * *
Personally, I'm not so much an oyster sauce kind of guy. Sure, I like it, but it's something which I'd put on fried eggs (along with a dash Tabasco). And who orders a plate of fried eggs at a cha-chanteng? On the other hand, I've had their salt and pepper fried spare ribs, and asked them to bring me Sriracha -- they've got several bottles in the glass-fronted refrigerator at the wait station.
But mustard green stalk IS very good. And all crunchy cooked vegetables taste better with mr. Lee Kum-Shueng's marvelous invention.
Actually, so does a good beefsteak.
They've go that too.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
That is to say, she came here once a very long time ago, when it was still a neighborhood standard. But when she started working downtown, she passed by one day and noted the decline. Like many old establishments, the spark of inspiration disappeared, and the owners coasted onward to a disinterested retirement.
Eventually it got sold, then gutted, remodelled, painted.....
An entirely new modern kitchen installed.
Hot-pot place on second floor.
For evenings only.
She had forgotten about the high ceiling. Many older buildings here had those high ceilings, as there was always a mezzanine loft above the business floor for storage, and often, living quarters. Her uncle's grocery store had had precisely the same thing. Back in the fifties he and his wife had lived there, but by the time her first cousin was born they had moved to a flat uphill, beyond Powell Street. As children she and her cousins had played above the store, sometimes disturbing boxes and releasing a cloud of dust over the racks on the ground floor. It always upset her auntie when that happened, and they'd be chased out into the street or forced to do their homework.
Two wide screens. One in the middle of the wall along the side, one above a front window. She presumed the one above the window had been placed there so that whoever was at the counter could follow the soap opera that was playing. It looked frightful. An elderly woman in period costume was weeping and flailing her arms, while a pie-faced maiden of thirtyfive-playing-sixteen stood by helplessly, looking theatrically anguished. And goobus-innocent to the point of slack-jaw.
She surmised that this was the smarmy good-girl daughter-in-law.
Far too pampered-looking to be the maid servant.
Not angry enough to be a daughter.
Her food came, and enthusiastically she dug in, yanking the yellow noodles fiercely up, skein dripping, to enjoy them while they were still al dente. Wonton noodle soup can also be served with rice-stick, if one has a calmer temperament. But tradition dictates thin fresh wheat noodles, added on top, barely cooked. Eat them fast! Con brio. It's sheer goodness!
While chewing she beckoned the waitress over and requested a dish with some extra oyster sauce. She loved oyster sauce. And she couldn't believe that it had not been invented several centuries ago.
Surely the combination of condensed savouriness and dense pourable darkness was ancient! It seemed like such an intuitive concept. Concentrate a wonderful flavour, and use it to intensify everything!
Dip the mustard green stalk, then bite and crunch. Another. Then dip one of the lovely dumplings. Lunch, away from the throng on Kearny Street near Bush, was something to be savoured. How much better if surrounded by an environment that represented home.
And eight lovely wontons! The broth, too, was excellent, but the dumplings were the star of the show. Fresh shrimp, barely chopped, bit of pork, handmade skins. Smooth, slick, sweet and juicy and savoury and textural at the same time. A hint of fragrance from the chopped garlic chives floating in the bowl. And perfect thin noodles to fill you up.
The plate of green stalks made it a balanced meal, the added oyster sauce satisfied the little girl within.
Without asking, the waitress refreshed her tea.
On screen, the dowager howled about ruination.
An old lady at the counter ordering food to go gave animated instruction on precisely how the fish should be cooked, and be sure to use ONLY fatty meat in the black mushroom duck combo - I very much like fatty!
Two tables over, a fat faced boy brat was objecting vociferously to his parents demand that he eat some more saang choi -- hate it, hate it, HATE it -- but the parents insisted.
At the table near the door, a painter in overalls lovingly absorbed a plate of fried porkchop and "Italian noodles", plus another cup of milk-tea, extra sweet please.
She dipped the last stalk in the oyster sauce.
Mmmmmmmmmm!
Heaven.
* * * * *
Personally, I'm not so much an oyster sauce kind of guy. Sure, I like it, but it's something which I'd put on fried eggs (along with a dash Tabasco). And who orders a plate of fried eggs at a cha-chanteng? On the other hand, I've had their salt and pepper fried spare ribs, and asked them to bring me Sriracha -- they've got several bottles in the glass-fronted refrigerator at the wait station.
But mustard green stalk IS very good. And all crunchy cooked vegetables taste better with mr. Lee Kum-Shueng's marvelous invention.
Actually, so does a good beefsteak.
They've go that too.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, December 01, 2012
BEST RICE PORRIDGE IN SAN FRANCISCO
That was a truly beautiful bowl of rice porridge!
I have rarely encountered such perfection.
Absolutely stellar and soul-satisfying.
Yesterday I went over to my bank, then stopped in Chinatown for a bit of lunch. There's a new place on Pacific, which does simple Cantonese urban eats. The kind of stuff that when you want it, nothing else even comes close. But it isn't what you would expect in your neighborhood, unless you live here.
銀都雲吞麵
YIN DU WONTON NOODLE
648 Pacific Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94133
415-834-9388
Between Grant and Kearny, opposite Ping Yuen Estates.
Closer to Grant Avenue than Kearny Street.
Open from 7:00 A.M. to 8:00 P.M.
Normally I will not take the trouble to transcribe the entire menu. But this place is sufficiently excellent that it would be quite unfair to the readers not to leave their mouths watering.
Think in terms of breakfast, lunch, dinner, or a light meal anytime of day.
湯麵類 NOODLE SOUP
鮮蝦雲吞 Wonton (shrimp & pork) soup: $4.30
鮮蝦雲吞麵 Wonton (shrimp & pork) noodle soup: $4.30
牛腩雲吞 Stewed beef brisket & wonton soup: $4.95
牛腩雲吞麵 Stewed beef brisket & wonton noodle soup: $4.95
水餃麵 Dumpling noodle soup: $4.30
淨水餃 Dumpling soup: $4.30
柱侯牛腩麵 Stewed beef brisket & noodle soup: $4.95
柱侯牛腩粉 Stewed beef brisket & rice noodle soup: $4.95
火鴨雲吞麵 Roast duck wonton noodle soup: $4.95
撈麵類 DISHED NOODLES
蠔油撈麵 Oyster sauce with noodles: $4.15
牛腩撈麵 Beef brisket noodles with vegetable: $5.95
牛筋撈麵 Beef tendon noodles: $5.95
南乳豬手撈麵 Pig's feet noodles: $5.25
京都炸醬麵(辣) Szechuan sauce noodles: $4.30
魚丸撈麵 Fish ball noodles: $4.30
粥類 CONGEE
蠔豉瘦肉粥 Dried oyster & pork congee: $4.25
豬肚肉片粥 Pork liver & pork congee: $4.25
滑雞粥 Boneless chicken congee: $4.25
魚片粥 Fish congee: $4.50
豬潤粥 Pork liver congee: $3.95
豬紅粥 Chao huyet congee: $3.95
豬什粥 Pork miscellany congee: $4.50
皮蛋瘦肉粥 Preserved egg & pork congee: $3.95
及第粥 Mixed meats congee: $4.50
生滾牛肉粥 Sliced beef congee: $4.50
白粥 Plain congee: $2.25
飯類 RICE
蜜汁叉燒飯 Barbecued pork over rice: $5.95
柱侯牛腩飯 Stewed beef brisket with rice: $5.95
咖喱牛腩飯 Curry beef with rice: $5.95
咖喱雞飯 Curry chicken rice: $5.95
南乳豬手飯 Pig's feet with rice: $5.30
蒸排骨飯 Steamed pork ribs with rice: $4.50
小菜 SIDE ORDER
蠔油芥蘭 Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce: $4.25
白灼牛百葉 Steamed beef tripe: $5.95
白灼豬腰,豬潤 Steamed pork kidney & pork liver: $5.95
咖喱魚蛋 Curry fish ball: $4.50
南乳豬手 Pig's feet: $4.50
蠔油菜芯,白菜 Oyster sauce choisum or bok choy: $4.25
飲品 DRINK
咖啡 CoFfee: $1.50 (hot) $1.80 (cold)
奶茶 Milk tea: $1.80 (hot) $2.30 (cold)
檸檬茶 Lemon tea: $1.60 (hot) $1.90 (cold)
檸檬 Lemon honey drink: $1.80 (hot) $2.20 (cold)
汽水 Soft drinks: $1.25
There now. Isn't all that ever so appetizing? Even with the occasional gap in comprehension, you should have a very good idea of the food.
The place is clean, bright, and friendly.
An entire family works there.
That bowl of rice porridge may very well have been the best I've ever had.
一碗都成開心!
They don't have yautiu (油條), but I didn't even miss them. The pork was super high quality, and cut just right. Small chopped preserved egg added, along with slivered ginger and minced scallion. Cilantro on top.
It was gorgeous.
Their Hongkong style milk-tea is also wonderful.
Judging by this first experience, I need to go there again and again, just to sample everything they do and decide on favourites. There may, consequently, be a rash of further joyous reviews of Yin Du Wonton Noodle here over the next several months.
NOTES:
Stewed beef brisket is a very Hongkong dish.
Namyu pork knuckle (南乳豬手) is typically Hakka. Fish balls are firm and bouncy, and do not resemble gefilte fish at all. Dried oyster is a wonderfull rich flavouring ingredient with which you must become familiar. The best types come from Japan.
What they've "translated" as 'chao huyet' is actually gelled cubed pig's blood: chu huet (豬血). Good for women who need extra iron, as well as delicious and traditional.
What I have rendered as pork miscellany are various organ meats.
And milk tea is milk tea.
It's like somebody plonked down a slice of Hongkong in San Francisco's Chinatown. In every way a very welcome addition. I wish them success and prosperity.
A better place for a rainy afternoon I cannot imagine.
I was happy as a clam when I left.
Oh lordy yes.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I have rarely encountered such perfection.
Absolutely stellar and soul-satisfying.
Yesterday I went over to my bank, then stopped in Chinatown for a bit of lunch. There's a new place on Pacific, which does simple Cantonese urban eats. The kind of stuff that when you want it, nothing else even comes close. But it isn't what you would expect in your neighborhood, unless you live here.
銀都雲吞麵
YIN DU WONTON NOODLE
648 Pacific Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94133
415-834-9388
Between Grant and Kearny, opposite Ping Yuen Estates.
Closer to Grant Avenue than Kearny Street.
Open from 7:00 A.M. to 8:00 P.M.
Normally I will not take the trouble to transcribe the entire menu. But this place is sufficiently excellent that it would be quite unfair to the readers not to leave their mouths watering.
Think in terms of breakfast, lunch, dinner, or a light meal anytime of day.
湯麵類 NOODLE SOUP
鮮蝦雲吞 Wonton (shrimp & pork) soup: $4.30
鮮蝦雲吞麵 Wonton (shrimp & pork) noodle soup: $4.30
牛腩雲吞 Stewed beef brisket & wonton soup: $4.95
牛腩雲吞麵 Stewed beef brisket & wonton noodle soup: $4.95
水餃麵 Dumpling noodle soup: $4.30
淨水餃 Dumpling soup: $4.30
柱侯牛腩麵 Stewed beef brisket & noodle soup: $4.95
柱侯牛腩粉 Stewed beef brisket & rice noodle soup: $4.95
火鴨雲吞麵 Roast duck wonton noodle soup: $4.95
撈麵類 DISHED NOODLES
蠔油撈麵 Oyster sauce with noodles: $4.15
牛腩撈麵 Beef brisket noodles with vegetable: $5.95
牛筋撈麵 Beef tendon noodles: $5.95
南乳豬手撈麵 Pig's feet noodles: $5.25
京都炸醬麵(辣) Szechuan sauce noodles: $4.30
魚丸撈麵 Fish ball noodles: $4.30
粥類 CONGEE
蠔豉瘦肉粥 Dried oyster & pork congee: $4.25
豬肚肉片粥 Pork liver & pork congee: $4.25
滑雞粥 Boneless chicken congee: $4.25
魚片粥 Fish congee: $4.50
豬潤粥 Pork liver congee: $3.95
豬紅粥 Chao huyet congee: $3.95
豬什粥 Pork miscellany congee: $4.50
皮蛋瘦肉粥 Preserved egg & pork congee: $3.95
及第粥 Mixed meats congee: $4.50
生滾牛肉粥 Sliced beef congee: $4.50
白粥 Plain congee: $2.25
飯類 RICE
蜜汁叉燒飯 Barbecued pork over rice: $5.95
柱侯牛腩飯 Stewed beef brisket with rice: $5.95
咖喱牛腩飯 Curry beef with rice: $5.95
咖喱雞飯 Curry chicken rice: $5.95
南乳豬手飯 Pig's feet with rice: $5.30
蒸排骨飯 Steamed pork ribs with rice: $4.50
小菜 SIDE ORDER
蠔油芥蘭 Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce: $4.25
白灼牛百葉 Steamed beef tripe: $5.95
白灼豬腰,豬潤 Steamed pork kidney & pork liver: $5.95
咖喱魚蛋 Curry fish ball: $4.50
南乳豬手 Pig's feet: $4.50
蠔油菜芯,白菜 Oyster sauce choisum or bok choy: $4.25
飲品 DRINK
咖啡 CoFfee: $1.50 (hot) $1.80 (cold)
奶茶 Milk tea: $1.80 (hot) $2.30 (cold)
檸檬茶 Lemon tea: $1.60 (hot) $1.90 (cold)
檸檬 Lemon honey drink: $1.80 (hot) $2.20 (cold)
汽水 Soft drinks: $1.25
There now. Isn't all that ever so appetizing? Even with the occasional gap in comprehension, you should have a very good idea of the food.
The place is clean, bright, and friendly.
An entire family works there.
That bowl of rice porridge may very well have been the best I've ever had.
一碗都成開心!
They don't have yautiu (油條), but I didn't even miss them. The pork was super high quality, and cut just right. Small chopped preserved egg added, along with slivered ginger and minced scallion. Cilantro on top.
It was gorgeous.
Their Hongkong style milk-tea is also wonderful.
Judging by this first experience, I need to go there again and again, just to sample everything they do and decide on favourites. There may, consequently, be a rash of further joyous reviews of Yin Du Wonton Noodle here over the next several months.
NOTES:
Stewed beef brisket is a very Hongkong dish.
Namyu pork knuckle (南乳豬手) is typically Hakka. Fish balls are firm and bouncy, and do not resemble gefilte fish at all. Dried oyster is a wonderfull rich flavouring ingredient with which you must become familiar. The best types come from Japan.
What they've "translated" as 'chao huyet' is actually gelled cubed pig's blood: chu huet (豬血). Good for women who need extra iron, as well as delicious and traditional.
What I have rendered as pork miscellany are various organ meats.
And milk tea is milk tea.
It's like somebody plonked down a slice of Hongkong in San Francisco's Chinatown. In every way a very welcome addition. I wish them success and prosperity.
A better place for a rainy afternoon I cannot imagine.
I was happy as a clam when I left.
Oh lordy yes.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
CURLING UP AND DRIFTING
After the weather we've been having lately, a person wants soup. Specifically, a soup to warm the soul.
Which I had last night. My soul is duly warmed.
CASUAL WONTON IN HARÐFISKUR BROTH!
By seven in the evening I was fantasizing about little porky dumplings floating in savoury amber liquid. Dumplings, as regular readers know, are somewhat of an obsession of mine. There may be an unconscious link to the Reverend Otis Oracle declaring women to be "America's Little Dumplings", back in Bloom County days...... but I doubt it. Women are not dumplings.
A decent dumpling is the perfect food. While I do not dispute that a decent woman may very well be perfect, we're not talking edibility here, are we? No matter how personally delectable she could be.
[Note: Speculation above about women above is purely hypothetical. No actual recent experience. It's been a while. Despite encouragement by others to go find a slaggy consolation girlfriend. Nope, no can do.
I'll just sit quietly in my bookish lair, patiently waiting for some decent woman to be mysteriously lured this-a-way by my sheer intellectual magnetism. Or something. Like a spider in a well-constructed net.
Just think of me as the winsome arachnid of Casanovatude. Hmmph.]
The dumplings yesterday were more than decent, though not the best I've ever made.
I just clumped little balls of spiced ground meat into wonton skins.
The broth, however, was superlative.
When thoughtful, I make a very good broth.
POT ONE: Chicken stock, sherry, and scallion.
POT TWO: 大地魚 (daai-dei yü: dried flounder), dried mushroom, sliced ginger.
POT THREE: Boiling salted water.
Pot one on very low heat, just to meld.
Pot two with a little bit of oil to first toast the ingredients, then a splash water added to deglaze. Broke-up the various pieces coarsely, and cooked down till dry and toasty again. Another splash water, repeat. Once the fish component had fully developed the desired nuttiness, more water, to inundate and extract the flavour. Combined both stocks in pot one, rinsed out pot two to get rid of flotsam, and strained the combined stock into it.
Added some freshly minced scallion and cilantro.
Parboiled the wontons till they floated in pot three.
Broth into a bowl, wontons into the broth. Heaven. Repeat.
Fish balls optional.
I know the avid cook at this point will ask about precise quantities of all the ingredients. But I'm afraid I cannot give a satisfactory answer, as sometimes wonton soup doesn't obey exact measures.
I now have several small packets of extra wontons which were made last night in the freezer.
Along with about forty unused wonton skins.
Plus extra cilantro and scallion.
There's still a large piece of dried fish.
And some chicken broth left over.
Unlike the purely hypothetical bit about "America's Little Dumplings", these things are very real.
Satisfyingly so.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Which I had last night. My soul is duly warmed.
CASUAL WONTON IN HARÐFISKUR BROTH!
By seven in the evening I was fantasizing about little porky dumplings floating in savoury amber liquid. Dumplings, as regular readers know, are somewhat of an obsession of mine. There may be an unconscious link to the Reverend Otis Oracle declaring women to be "America's Little Dumplings", back in Bloom County days...... but I doubt it. Women are not dumplings.
A decent dumpling is the perfect food. While I do not dispute that a decent woman may very well be perfect, we're not talking edibility here, are we? No matter how personally delectable she could be.
[Note: Speculation above about women above is purely hypothetical. No actual recent experience. It's been a while. Despite encouragement by others to go find a slaggy consolation girlfriend. Nope, no can do.
I'll just sit quietly in my bookish lair, patiently waiting for some decent woman to be mysteriously lured this-a-way by my sheer intellectual magnetism. Or something. Like a spider in a well-constructed net.
Just think of me as the winsome arachnid of Casanovatude. Hmmph.]
The dumplings yesterday were more than decent, though not the best I've ever made.
I just clumped little balls of spiced ground meat into wonton skins.
The broth, however, was superlative.
When thoughtful, I make a very good broth.
POT ONE: Chicken stock, sherry, and scallion.
POT TWO: 大地魚 (daai-dei yü: dried flounder), dried mushroom, sliced ginger.
POT THREE: Boiling salted water.
Pot one on very low heat, just to meld.
Pot two with a little bit of oil to first toast the ingredients, then a splash water added to deglaze. Broke-up the various pieces coarsely, and cooked down till dry and toasty again. Another splash water, repeat. Once the fish component had fully developed the desired nuttiness, more water, to inundate and extract the flavour. Combined both stocks in pot one, rinsed out pot two to get rid of flotsam, and strained the combined stock into it.
Added some freshly minced scallion and cilantro.
Parboiled the wontons till they floated in pot three.
Broth into a bowl, wontons into the broth. Heaven. Repeat.
Fish balls optional.
I know the avid cook at this point will ask about precise quantities of all the ingredients. But I'm afraid I cannot give a satisfactory answer, as sometimes wonton soup doesn't obey exact measures.
I now have several small packets of extra wontons which were made last night in the freezer.
Along with about forty unused wonton skins.
Plus extra cilantro and scallion.
There's still a large piece of dried fish.
And some chicken broth left over.
Unlike the purely hypothetical bit about "America's Little Dumplings", these things are very real.
Satisfyingly so.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
WONTON, WONTON SOUP, WONTON SOUP WITH NOODLES, WONTON NOODLE SOUP
On Monday I wrote about eating Wonton, and mentioned that my readers should expect a recipe on this blog sometime soon. Soon is now.
[RECAP: Wonton (雲吞 'wan tan') are Cantonese soul food. Cantonese are neurotic (in a very good way) about food. If you are in San Francisco, you probably want to go to Hon's Wun Tun House (洪記麵家) on Kearny Street between Commercial and Clay Streets, if you are in Hong Kong, definitely visit the heirs to Scrawny Mak: Mak's Noodle (麥奀雲吞麵世家), 77 Wellington Street - Ground Floor, Central District, HK. (中環, 威靈頓街, 77號, 地下); Mak Man Kee Noodle ( 麥文記麵家), 51 Parkes Street - Ground Floor, Jordan, in the Yau Tsim Mong District (油尖旺區), Kowloon. (九龍, 佐敦, 白加士街, 51號, 地下); Chung Kee Noodle (忠記麵家), 37 Wing Kut Street, Sheung Wan, HK (香港島, 上環, 永吉街, 37號). Hon's in C'town is quite decent, Mak's in Hong Kong is famous. Chung Kee Noodle is actually Scrawny Mak's oldest son's place.]
雲吞湯麵
WANTAN TONG-MIEN
Wonton are small noodle-skin dumplings, like ravioli or kreplach, filled with either pork or shrimp, often a mixture of both. They are usually served in broth - the ends of the noodly wrapper trail in the liquid like fish or clouds. All of China makes wonton, but only the Cantonese make wonderful wonton.
The difference is in the details: filling - broth - additions - attitude.
Wantan tong-mien: Wonton soup-noodles. Utterly Cantonese.
Dried flounder is more than just a flavour; it's a way of life.
Rather than making your own wrappers, it is best to buy them premade - the quality is virtually the same, and if you live near Chinatown (唐人街 'Tongyan Kai') you can simply buy them by the pound at Hon's. So I shall not discuss how to make the skins, other than to say that if you've made kreplach from scratch, you could use the same recipe for the wrapper.
[2016 ADDENDUM: For more on some of the ingredients, see this post: Dried shrimp cooking fat Chinese girls. Or this one: Cantonese ingredients.
Where to buy: Stockton Street, various shops.]
WONTON FILLING
Enough for fifty dumplings
One cup chopped shrimp.
One cup ground pork.
Quarter cup chopped water chestnuts (馬蹄 'maa tai').
One TBS minced parsley (洋香芹 'yeung heung kan') .
One TBS minced cilantro (芫茜 'yuen sai').
One stalk scallion (葱 'tsung'), minced.
Half TBS sherry or rice wine.
Half TBS oyster sauce (豪油 'ho yau').
One Tsp. soy sauce (醬油 'cheung yau', 豉油 'si yau').
One Tsp. sesame oil (麻油 'ma yau').
Half Tsp. cornstarch (玉米淀粉 'yiuk mai din fan').
Half Tsp. sugar (白糖 'pak tong').
[Regarding cup measurements for the shrimp and pork: these are more or less eight ounces or 226 grammes. Trust me on this, I weighed it out recently just to be sure.]
Mix everything, but do not overwork it, as doing so makes the meat tough. The shrimp fragments should be larger than the pork or water chestnut particles, everything else smaller - reason being that you want the 'crunch' of the shrimp, and the lesser ingredients need to be evenly distributed throughout.
Parsley is NOT traditional, but I like the taste, and it's good for the digestion.
Substitutions can be made, for instance the proportion of shrimp increased drastically and the quantity of pork decreased correspondingly.
Instead of water chestnut, chopped rehydrated cloud ear (雲耳 'wun yi') could be used, as they too have a wonderful textural effect.
Note: the amount of pork given above is the equivalent of two fresh Italian sausages. You could actually use four sausages squeezed from their casings for the filling entirely, if you're strapped for time. Radical, and perhaps it qualifies as 'fusion cuisine'.
But it certainly won't be kosher.
Put a dab of filling into each wonton skin, brush the exposed edges with egg wash, and first press two diagonal corners against each other, then bring up the other two corners up to form tails, pressing out the air in the pouch.
The result should look like a purse or hobo's pack.
Place each finished dumpling on a floured plate or tray. It is VERY important that the surface be floured. Otherwise you will rip the wontons when you try to pick them up.
You're making fifty wonton. Whatever you do not intend to use immediately, you can wrap in plastic and freeze.
SOUP FOR WONTON
Two pounds chicken on the bone.
One pound pork on the bone.
Half cup pieces dried flounder (左口魚 'jorhau yu', 大地魚 'daidei yu').
Two TBS dried shrimp (蝦米 'haa mai').
Four quarts (16 cups, approx 5 litres) water.
Quarter cup sherry or rice wine.
Three or four slices ginger.
Half Tsp. white peppercorns.
Roast or fry the dried flounder pieces nicely brown, but do not burn them.
Blanch the chicken and pork briefly in boiling water, drain and rinse well.
Place everything except the dried shrimp in a cauldron and simmer on low for three hours, skimming a few times in the first half hour.
Add the dried shrimp in the last half hour.
Strain very well.
Blanching the meat and bones first prevents overmuch scum, and yields a much cleaner broth.
The dried flounder is the essential Cantonese touch - it will NOT make the broth taste like stinky dried fish, but instead unify the flavours and add a nutty seafood saveur of its own.
Think of it as bouillon base.
Well then. You have your wonton, you've got the broth. What else will you need?
OTHER 'STUFF'
Egg-noodles. These have to be thin and fresh, for the best texture and taste. Fresh egg noodles need about a minute of blanching, whereas dried noodles take between three to five minutes, depending on thickness.
Dried noodles will also have a whiff of lye water.
Vegetables. It is very 'Chinatown' to add a few coarsely ripped baby bokchoi (小白菜 'siu paktsoi') to the bowl of soup, though it isn't traditional. For that matter, neither is adding noodles, and most non-Cantonese are appalled at that innovation, so go right ahead.
The sweet crisp freshness of the tiny greens are a marvelous chiddush.
Meats. Some people like to add some thinly sliced charsiu pork (叉燒) on top of the soup. This is not necessary at all, but no great heresy either. If you choose to do so, use the fattier kind.
I've added chunks of roast duck, which is also delicious.
Garnishes. Garlic chives are traditional in Hong Kong, but regular chives also can. Chopped scallion works too.
Personally I like to dump some cilantro on top.
Dipping sauce. I am a barbarian, I like hot and salty. What works for me is equal parts soy sauce, oyster sauce, chilipaste, and dark vinegar, with a little sugar and finely minced ginger mixed in. If it's too stiff, add some Louisiana hot sauce.
You do not really need a dip for the wontons, but it is always fun to play with your food.
ASSEMBLING WONTON NOODLE SOUP
It's supposed to be merely a snack and require only a small bowl, but after going through all the trouble of getting everything ready you aren't going to cook any other dishes.
So go ahead, use the big bowls.
Keep the broth on the back burner, below boiling temperature.
Heat up a large pot of water. When it boils, dump in the wonton. They're done when they all float. Scoop them out and apportion them in the bowls. Gently pour a sufficient quantity of hot broth over them. Put a porcelain soup spoon in each bowl, anchored by the wonton.
Blanch the noodles in the boiling water till toothsome. Immediately rinse them in cold water to stop them cooking any further. Place a skein on top of the wontons in the bowls, top off with a little more broth.
Add whatever else you feel necessary at this point, but it's fine already.
Garnish with chives, or scallion, and cilantro.
Now, go enjoy your wonton soup-noodles (雲吞湯麵 'wantan tong-mien') in front of the television, with one of your legs hurked up on the chair, wearing nothing but pajama pants and a wife-beater.
I would suggest watching a Chinese soap-opera, but you might not have that in your part of the world.
Maybe the discovery channel instead?
Kitten videos?
AFTER WORD
Right about now you are probably wondering 'why so specific an order to the soup assembly? Why not cook the noodles and wonton IN the broth?'
There are two very good reasons. The first one is that the wonton and the noodles have different cooking times. The second reason is that you do not want the starches that adhere to either the noodles or the wonton to muddy-up your fine broth.
Additionally, it just looks better if the wonton and the noodles form distinct areas in your bowl. That's why the dark green of scallions are, to my mind, a better garnish than the garlic chives commonly used - they're more dramatic, more visually appealing.
For the same reason, three thin slices of charsiu fanned out on top are also pleasing.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
[RECAP: Wonton (雲吞 'wan tan') are Cantonese soul food. Cantonese are neurotic (in a very good way) about food. If you are in San Francisco, you probably want to go to Hon's Wun Tun House (洪記麵家) on Kearny Street between Commercial and Clay Streets, if you are in Hong Kong, definitely visit the heirs to Scrawny Mak: Mak's Noodle (麥奀雲吞麵世家), 77 Wellington Street - Ground Floor, Central District, HK. (中環, 威靈頓街, 77號, 地下); Mak Man Kee Noodle ( 麥文記麵家), 51 Parkes Street - Ground Floor, Jordan, in the Yau Tsim Mong District (油尖旺區), Kowloon. (九龍, 佐敦, 白加士街, 51號, 地下); Chung Kee Noodle (忠記麵家), 37 Wing Kut Street, Sheung Wan, HK (香港島, 上環, 永吉街, 37號). Hon's in C'town is quite decent, Mak's in Hong Kong is famous. Chung Kee Noodle is actually Scrawny Mak's oldest son's place.]
雲吞湯麵
WANTAN TONG-MIEN
Wonton are small noodle-skin dumplings, like ravioli or kreplach, filled with either pork or shrimp, often a mixture of both. They are usually served in broth - the ends of the noodly wrapper trail in the liquid like fish or clouds. All of China makes wonton, but only the Cantonese make wonderful wonton.
The difference is in the details: filling - broth - additions - attitude.
Wantan tong-mien: Wonton soup-noodles. Utterly Cantonese.
Dried flounder is more than just a flavour; it's a way of life.
Rather than making your own wrappers, it is best to buy them premade - the quality is virtually the same, and if you live near Chinatown (唐人街 'Tongyan Kai') you can simply buy them by the pound at Hon's. So I shall not discuss how to make the skins, other than to say that if you've made kreplach from scratch, you could use the same recipe for the wrapper.
[2016 ADDENDUM: For more on some of the ingredients, see this post: Dried shrimp cooking fat Chinese girls. Or this one: Cantonese ingredients.
Where to buy: Stockton Street, various shops.]
WONTON FILLING
Enough for fifty dumplings
One cup chopped shrimp.
One cup ground pork.
Quarter cup chopped water chestnuts (馬蹄 'maa tai').
One TBS minced parsley (洋香芹 'yeung heung kan') .
One TBS minced cilantro (芫茜 'yuen sai').
One stalk scallion (葱 'tsung'), minced.
Half TBS sherry or rice wine.
Half TBS oyster sauce (豪油 'ho yau').
One Tsp. soy sauce (醬油 'cheung yau', 豉油 'si yau').
One Tsp. sesame oil (麻油 'ma yau').
Half Tsp. cornstarch (玉米淀粉 'yiuk mai din fan').
Half Tsp. sugar (白糖 'pak tong').
[Regarding cup measurements for the shrimp and pork: these are more or less eight ounces or 226 grammes. Trust me on this, I weighed it out recently just to be sure.]
Mix everything, but do not overwork it, as doing so makes the meat tough. The shrimp fragments should be larger than the pork or water chestnut particles, everything else smaller - reason being that you want the 'crunch' of the shrimp, and the lesser ingredients need to be evenly distributed throughout.
Parsley is NOT traditional, but I like the taste, and it's good for the digestion.
Substitutions can be made, for instance the proportion of shrimp increased drastically and the quantity of pork decreased correspondingly.
Instead of water chestnut, chopped rehydrated cloud ear (雲耳 'wun yi') could be used, as they too have a wonderful textural effect.
Note: the amount of pork given above is the equivalent of two fresh Italian sausages. You could actually use four sausages squeezed from their casings for the filling entirely, if you're strapped for time. Radical, and perhaps it qualifies as 'fusion cuisine'.
But it certainly won't be kosher.
Put a dab of filling into each wonton skin, brush the exposed edges with egg wash, and first press two diagonal corners against each other, then bring up the other two corners up to form tails, pressing out the air in the pouch.
The result should look like a purse or hobo's pack.
Place each finished dumpling on a floured plate or tray. It is VERY important that the surface be floured. Otherwise you will rip the wontons when you try to pick them up.
You're making fifty wonton. Whatever you do not intend to use immediately, you can wrap in plastic and freeze.
SOUP FOR WONTON
Two pounds chicken on the bone.
One pound pork on the bone.
Half cup pieces dried flounder (左口魚 'jorhau yu', 大地魚 'daidei yu').
Two TBS dried shrimp (蝦米 'haa mai').
Four quarts (16 cups, approx 5 litres) water.
Quarter cup sherry or rice wine.
Three or four slices ginger.
Half Tsp. white peppercorns.
Roast or fry the dried flounder pieces nicely brown, but do not burn them.
Blanch the chicken and pork briefly in boiling water, drain and rinse well.
Place everything except the dried shrimp in a cauldron and simmer on low for three hours, skimming a few times in the first half hour.
Add the dried shrimp in the last half hour.
Strain very well.
Blanching the meat and bones first prevents overmuch scum, and yields a much cleaner broth.
The dried flounder is the essential Cantonese touch - it will NOT make the broth taste like stinky dried fish, but instead unify the flavours and add a nutty seafood saveur of its own.
Think of it as bouillon base.
Well then. You have your wonton, you've got the broth. What else will you need?
OTHER 'STUFF'
Egg-noodles. These have to be thin and fresh, for the best texture and taste. Fresh egg noodles need about a minute of blanching, whereas dried noodles take between three to five minutes, depending on thickness.
Dried noodles will also have a whiff of lye water.
Vegetables. It is very 'Chinatown' to add a few coarsely ripped baby bokchoi (小白菜 'siu paktsoi') to the bowl of soup, though it isn't traditional. For that matter, neither is adding noodles, and most non-Cantonese are appalled at that innovation, so go right ahead.
The sweet crisp freshness of the tiny greens are a marvelous chiddush.
Meats. Some people like to add some thinly sliced charsiu pork (叉燒) on top of the soup. This is not necessary at all, but no great heresy either. If you choose to do so, use the fattier kind.
I've added chunks of roast duck, which is also delicious.
Garnishes. Garlic chives are traditional in Hong Kong, but regular chives also can. Chopped scallion works too.
Personally I like to dump some cilantro on top.
Dipping sauce. I am a barbarian, I like hot and salty. What works for me is equal parts soy sauce, oyster sauce, chilipaste, and dark vinegar, with a little sugar and finely minced ginger mixed in. If it's too stiff, add some Louisiana hot sauce.
You do not really need a dip for the wontons, but it is always fun to play with your food.
ASSEMBLING WONTON NOODLE SOUP
It's supposed to be merely a snack and require only a small bowl, but after going through all the trouble of getting everything ready you aren't going to cook any other dishes.
So go ahead, use the big bowls.
Keep the broth on the back burner, below boiling temperature.
Heat up a large pot of water. When it boils, dump in the wonton. They're done when they all float. Scoop them out and apportion them in the bowls. Gently pour a sufficient quantity of hot broth over them. Put a porcelain soup spoon in each bowl, anchored by the wonton.
Blanch the noodles in the boiling water till toothsome. Immediately rinse them in cold water to stop them cooking any further. Place a skein on top of the wontons in the bowls, top off with a little more broth.
Add whatever else you feel necessary at this point, but it's fine already.
Garnish with chives, or scallion, and cilantro.
Now, go enjoy your wonton soup-noodles (雲吞湯麵 'wantan tong-mien') in front of the television, with one of your legs hurked up on the chair, wearing nothing but pajama pants and a wife-beater.
I would suggest watching a Chinese soap-opera, but you might not have that in your part of the world.
Maybe the discovery channel instead?
Kitten videos?
AFTER WORD
Right about now you are probably wondering 'why so specific an order to the soup assembly? Why not cook the noodles and wonton IN the broth?'
There are two very good reasons. The first one is that the wonton and the noodles have different cooking times. The second reason is that you do not want the starches that adhere to either the noodles or the wonton to muddy-up your fine broth.
Additionally, it just looks better if the wonton and the noodles form distinct areas in your bowl. That's why the dark green of scallions are, to my mind, a better garnish than the garlic chives commonly used - they're more dramatic, more visually appealing.
For the same reason, three thin slices of charsiu fanned out on top are also pleasing.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
DRIED FLOUNDER OR HARÐFISKUR - FISH JERKY IN YOUR SOUP
While discussing wonton soup in a previous post, I mentioned an ingredient that is often used in the soup: dried flounder. It is not used in any great quantity, but for that real Cantonese taste it is absolutely essential.
This disgusted one of my readers.
Zheng Xie wrote: "Dried fish? Huh, typical. Probably stinky for words. I'll stick with steamed dumplings."
His name and attitude suggest that he is a northerner. And I may have been guilty of eliciting just such a loaded reaction by advertent snarkiness about his kind in that post.....
"Northern dumpling filling always includes chopped cabbage, garlic, and other stuff that to the southern mind has absolutely no business being there."
Mo yi-si ah, chan oi dik pakfong yan, but it's a valid opinion!
DRIED FLOUNDER
The taste contribution of dried flounder (左口魚 jorhau yu, 大地魚 daidei yu), roasted or fried before added, is not particularly 'fishy'. Rather, like many other dried seafood products, it contributes a unifying flavour and hint of sweet savouriness most complimentary to the other ingredients. The roasting or frying process mellows the dried fish and makes it easy to pulverize or crumble.
Per person per serving the quantity is in fact minute - probably less than half a teaspoon at best.
"Dried fish, huh, typical, probably stinky for words."
Dried flounder is also used in the form of little fried flakes in a number of simple vegetable dishes - such things as mustard greens (芥蘭 gai-lan), asparagus (蘆筍 lo-seun) or even little cabbages (小白菜 siu paktsoi) benefit from the inclusion of a small amount of dried flounder.
Just remove any scales and bones from the fish pieces if they're supposed to remain in the dish - if you are making stock, that isn't really necessary, as you will be straining it anyhow.
Fry the dried flounder crispy, but do not let it blacken. If you're making a supply of powder for future use, let the pieces dry on kitchen paper, then grind them fine. Otherwise, simply add them to the food during a moist stage, to let the flavours meld.
A few small pieces for the soup or added to one of the various 餸 should be perfect.
About one or two teaspoons (or more, if you really have a gevaldikke taam) for the entire dish.
AFTER WORD
About that unusual term in the title of this post: Harðfiskur is an Icelandic term for various kinds of dried fish. Seeing as Zheng Xie voiced a very northern bias, it seemed appropriate to throw in a word from a very Northern language.
Should make him feel right at home.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
This disgusted one of my readers.
Zheng Xie wrote: "Dried fish? Huh, typical. Probably stinky for words. I'll stick with steamed dumplings."
His name and attitude suggest that he is a northerner. And I may have been guilty of eliciting just such a loaded reaction by advertent snarkiness about his kind in that post.....
"Northern dumpling filling always includes chopped cabbage, garlic, and other stuff that to the southern mind has absolutely no business being there."
Mo yi-si ah, chan oi dik pakfong yan, but it's a valid opinion!
DRIED FLOUNDER
The taste contribution of dried flounder (左口魚 jorhau yu, 大地魚 daidei yu), roasted or fried before added, is not particularly 'fishy'. Rather, like many other dried seafood products, it contributes a unifying flavour and hint of sweet savouriness most complimentary to the other ingredients. The roasting or frying process mellows the dried fish and makes it easy to pulverize or crumble.
Per person per serving the quantity is in fact minute - probably less than half a teaspoon at best.
"Dried fish, huh, typical, probably stinky for words."
Dried flounder is also used in the form of little fried flakes in a number of simple vegetable dishes - such things as mustard greens (芥蘭 gai-lan), asparagus (蘆筍 lo-seun) or even little cabbages (小白菜 siu paktsoi) benefit from the inclusion of a small amount of dried flounder.
Just remove any scales and bones from the fish pieces if they're supposed to remain in the dish - if you are making stock, that isn't really necessary, as you will be straining it anyhow.
Fry the dried flounder crispy, but do not let it blacken. If you're making a supply of powder for future use, let the pieces dry on kitchen paper, then grind them fine. Otherwise, simply add them to the food during a moist stage, to let the flavours meld.
A few small pieces for the soup or added to one of the various 餸 should be perfect.
About one or two teaspoons (or more, if you really have a gevaldikke taam) for the entire dish.
AFTER WORD
About that unusual term in the title of this post: Harðfiskur is an Icelandic term for various kinds of dried fish. Seeing as Zheng Xie voiced a very northern bias, it seemed appropriate to throw in a word from a very Northern language.
Should make him feel right at home.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, January 03, 2011
WONTON, WANTAN, WUNTUN: HON'S WUN TUN HOUSE AND SCRAWNY MAK
Really, it doesn’t matter what you call those things. As long as you're saying 雲吞, which is the Cantonese way of writing and pronouncing the word.
Northerners say 餛飩 and mean something that really isn't the same.
To Northerners, 'hwuntwun' (餛飩) are always a poorer cousin of 'shwei-jiao' (水餃), without the warm familial connotations or cold-weather comfort. For many Cantonese, soei-gaau (水餃) are simply a larger and coarser version of wantan (雲吞) with a distinct pong to the stuffing.
Northern dumpling filling always includes chopped cabbage, garlic, and other stuff that to the southern mind has absolutely no business being there.
Wonton (wantan) are quintessentially Cantonese - refined yet brash, small but feisty.
All good stuff.
[Besides the fact that the dough skins and construction of the dumplings are different, that the sizes are dissimilar , and the fillings vary enormously, it's also a question of attitude: Wonton are to the Cantonese what shwei-jiao (水餃 'soei-gau') are to the Northerners - something that appeals on a deeper level, and darnitall why can't that other bunch ('northerners', usually meaning most other Chinese) just learn to do it right?
Shwei-jiao properly are large dumplings with a filling of minced meat and chives or cabbage poached in boiling water for about twenty minutes - which is far too long by the standards of the impatient Cantonese, who don't know really what those things are and consequently often use the term to refer to a big ugly type of wonton. Ordering wonton outside of the Cantonese world leads to disappointment, in the same way that expecting real shwei-jiao in a Cantonese restaurant will get you what precisely you did NOT want. ]
By northern standards the Cantonese commit several horrid crimes with wonton.
Cantonese serve them with noodles ("nope, that just ain't right!").
In a stock flavoured with a smelly dried fish ("everybody KNOWS it should be superior broth!").
Frequently with some small cabbage (小白菜 'siu pak tsoi') added ("the nerve, the effrontery!").
And maybe even slices of red roast pork (叉燒 'charsiu') on top for extra fun ("scream, wail, faint!!!").
[Superior broth (高湯 'ko tong') is made from chicken and pork bones simmered on low heat for a couple of hours, skimmed and strained. The result is a clear intense flavour with a touch of sweetness. The soup used for wonton is anything but "superior", being more of a clean briny bouillon than anything else. If you went into a wonton restaurant looking for something similar to Vietnamese pho, you will be quite as horrified as the average Northerner (北方人 'pakfong yan') often is upon discovering charred fish and shrimp roe.]
Which makes it all the more remarkable that I had really excellent wonton the other day at a place where most of the staff spoke Mandarin among themselves, and didn't even look Cantonese!
HON'S WUN-TUN HOUSE (CA.) LTD.
洪記麵家 ("Hung Gei Mien Ga")
648 Kearny Street
San Francisco, CA 94108
415-433-3966
Hon's is located just north of Commercial Street (襟美慎街 'kam-mei-san kai' - "la calle de los commerciantes") on the east side of Kearny (乾尼街 'kin-nei kai') , before Clay (企李街 'kei-lei kai').
Darn good wonton. Seriously. Yes, the place looks like a hole-in-the-wall, and the tourists will probably be scared to go in, and despite the restaurant name being a major clue won't know what to order if they do. Plus it has that slightly grungy look that many places in Chinatown have - people work here, business is transacted, you got what you wanted, so don't bellyache about the décor.
Décor costs extra.
However.....
Sweet fresh shrimp filling, nine lovely cloud dumplings in a bouillon flavoured with I think the merest touch of dried flounder (左口魚 'jorhauyu', "leftside mouth fish").
It was so satisfying I just had to have another portion.
Hon's Wun-Tun House has been around a heck of a long time, they know what they're doing.
Next time I'll order the wantan tong mien (雲吞湯麵) - wonton and soup noodles.
Of course, for 'real Hong Kong wonton', you probably have to go to Hong Kong. Even though Hon's are the best thing around, some people will always insist that there's a difference.
HONG KONG WONTON: SCRAWNY MAK
Fragrant Harbour's most well-known wonton were from a food stand in Central named 麥奀記 ('mak ngan gei'), started back in the sixties by 麥鏡鴻 (Mak King-hong), whose nickname was 'Scrawny Mak' (麥奀 Mak Ngan).
Presently the family business is called 麥奀雲吞麵世家 ('mak ngan wantan mien sai ga'), and located indoors since the founder gave up his food stall license upon retiring in 1983.
[麥奀雲吞麵世家: 77 Wellington Street - Ground Floor, Central District, HK. (中環, 威靈頓街, 77號, 地下) as well as 麥文記麵家 (Mak Man Kee Noodle): 51 Parkes Street - Ground Floor, Jordan (in the Yau Tsim Mong District 油尖旺區), Kowloon. (九龍, 佐敦, 白加士街, 51號, 地下).]
Mr. Mak's oldest son runs a restaurant named Chung Kee Noodle (忠記麵家 'chung gei mien ga'), and there's even an outpost of the family enterprise in Macau (or so I have heard).
[忠記麵家 (Chung Kee Noodle): 37 Wing Kut Street, Sheung Wan, HK (香港島, 上環, 永吉街, 37號).]
Mak's uses shrimp as filling, served in a broth made of grilled or toasted dried flounder (左口魚 'jorhauyu', "leftside mouth fish"), shrimp roe (蝦子 'haa ji'), and pork stock. If you order the wantan tong mien (雲吞湯麵) the noodles are added last, so that they don't get overcooked and soggy.
Mak's uses only fresh thin noodles, which should be eaten al dente.
Minced garlic chives are used to garnish.
[The character translated as 'scrawny' (奀 'ngan') also means stingy, by the way. Not germane in this context.]
POSTSCRIPTUM
In the United States and Canada dried noodles are often encountered, which have a recognizable smell that is inappropriate in wonton soup. But dried noodles can take a bit more culinary abuse than the fresh product, and are more widely available outside of San Francisco C'town.
Sometimes wheat noodles show up, which is an improvement in taste (over the dried egg noodles), but NOT in texture.
Wheat noodles are just wrong.
Instead of garlic chives, most often you will find scallion used instead.
You should expect to see a recipe for wonton on this blog sometime in the near-future.
Savage Kitten used to make the wonton in our household, now it's my turn.
Because we are no longer a couple and so do not eat together very often - though we still live together as roommates and friends - our eating patterns have changed enormously, and I have re-explored many of the foods that deeply resonate for me.
Also, since the Yat Pan Heung (一品香) on the corner of Jackson and Kearny closed several years ago, there has not been a place with decent shwei-jiao in the old neighborhood. So there will probably be a recipe for boiled dumplings here at some point too.
Northerners may find it heretical.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Northerners say 餛飩 and mean something that really isn't the same.
To Northerners, 'hwuntwun' (餛飩) are always a poorer cousin of 'shwei-jiao' (水餃), without the warm familial connotations or cold-weather comfort. For many Cantonese, soei-gaau (水餃) are simply a larger and coarser version of wantan (雲吞) with a distinct pong to the stuffing.
Northern dumpling filling always includes chopped cabbage, garlic, and other stuff that to the southern mind has absolutely no business being there.
Wonton (wantan) are quintessentially Cantonese - refined yet brash, small but feisty.
All good stuff.
[Besides the fact that the dough skins and construction of the dumplings are different, that the sizes are dissimilar , and the fillings vary enormously, it's also a question of attitude: Wonton are to the Cantonese what shwei-jiao (水餃 'soei-gau') are to the Northerners - something that appeals on a deeper level, and darnitall why can't that other bunch ('northerners', usually meaning most other Chinese) just learn to do it right?
Shwei-jiao properly are large dumplings with a filling of minced meat and chives or cabbage poached in boiling water for about twenty minutes - which is far too long by the standards of the impatient Cantonese, who don't know really what those things are and consequently often use the term to refer to a big ugly type of wonton. Ordering wonton outside of the Cantonese world leads to disappointment, in the same way that expecting real shwei-jiao in a Cantonese restaurant will get you what precisely you did NOT want. ]
By northern standards the Cantonese commit several horrid crimes with wonton.
Cantonese serve them with noodles ("nope, that just ain't right!").
In a stock flavoured with a smelly dried fish ("everybody KNOWS it should be superior broth!").
Frequently with some small cabbage (小白菜 'siu pak tsoi') added ("the nerve, the effrontery!").
And maybe even slices of red roast pork (叉燒 'charsiu') on top for extra fun ("scream, wail, faint!!!").
[Superior broth (高湯 'ko tong') is made from chicken and pork bones simmered on low heat for a couple of hours, skimmed and strained. The result is a clear intense flavour with a touch of sweetness. The soup used for wonton is anything but "superior", being more of a clean briny bouillon than anything else. If you went into a wonton restaurant looking for something similar to Vietnamese pho, you will be quite as horrified as the average Northerner (北方人 'pakfong yan') often is upon discovering charred fish and shrimp roe.]
Which makes it all the more remarkable that I had really excellent wonton the other day at a place where most of the staff spoke Mandarin among themselves, and didn't even look Cantonese!
HON'S WUN-TUN HOUSE (CA.) LTD.
洪記麵家 ("Hung Gei Mien Ga")
648 Kearny Street
San Francisco, CA 94108
415-433-3966
Hon's is located just north of Commercial Street (襟美慎街 'kam-mei-san kai' - "la calle de los commerciantes") on the east side of Kearny (乾尼街 'kin-nei kai') , before Clay (企李街 'kei-lei kai').
Darn good wonton. Seriously. Yes, the place looks like a hole-in-the-wall, and the tourists will probably be scared to go in, and despite the restaurant name being a major clue won't know what to order if they do. Plus it has that slightly grungy look that many places in Chinatown have - people work here, business is transacted, you got what you wanted, so don't bellyache about the décor.
Décor costs extra.
However.....
Sweet fresh shrimp filling, nine lovely cloud dumplings in a bouillon flavoured with I think the merest touch of dried flounder (左口魚 'jorhauyu', "leftside mouth fish").
It was so satisfying I just had to have another portion.
Hon's Wun-Tun House has been around a heck of a long time, they know what they're doing.
Next time I'll order the wantan tong mien (雲吞湯麵) - wonton and soup noodles.
Of course, for 'real Hong Kong wonton', you probably have to go to Hong Kong. Even though Hon's are the best thing around, some people will always insist that there's a difference.
HONG KONG WONTON: SCRAWNY MAK
Fragrant Harbour's most well-known wonton were from a food stand in Central named 麥奀記 ('mak ngan gei'), started back in the sixties by 麥鏡鴻 (Mak King-hong), whose nickname was 'Scrawny Mak' (麥奀 Mak Ngan).
Presently the family business is called 麥奀雲吞麵世家 ('mak ngan wantan mien sai ga'), and located indoors since the founder gave up his food stall license upon retiring in 1983.
[麥奀雲吞麵世家: 77 Wellington Street - Ground Floor, Central District, HK. (中環, 威靈頓街, 77號, 地下) as well as 麥文記麵家 (Mak Man Kee Noodle): 51 Parkes Street - Ground Floor, Jordan (in the Yau Tsim Mong District 油尖旺區), Kowloon. (九龍, 佐敦, 白加士街, 51號, 地下).]
Mr. Mak's oldest son runs a restaurant named Chung Kee Noodle (忠記麵家 'chung gei mien ga'), and there's even an outpost of the family enterprise in Macau (or so I have heard).
[忠記麵家 (Chung Kee Noodle): 37 Wing Kut Street, Sheung Wan, HK (香港島, 上環, 永吉街, 37號).]
Mak's uses shrimp as filling, served in a broth made of grilled or toasted dried flounder (左口魚 'jorhauyu', "leftside mouth fish"), shrimp roe (蝦子 'haa ji'), and pork stock. If you order the wantan tong mien (雲吞湯麵) the noodles are added last, so that they don't get overcooked and soggy.
Mak's uses only fresh thin noodles, which should be eaten al dente.
Minced garlic chives are used to garnish.
[The character translated as 'scrawny' (奀 'ngan') also means stingy, by the way. Not germane in this context.]
POSTSCRIPTUM
In the United States and Canada dried noodles are often encountered, which have a recognizable smell that is inappropriate in wonton soup. But dried noodles can take a bit more culinary abuse than the fresh product, and are more widely available outside of San Francisco C'town.
Sometimes wheat noodles show up, which is an improvement in taste (over the dried egg noodles), but NOT in texture.
Wheat noodles are just wrong.
Instead of garlic chives, most often you will find scallion used instead.
You should expect to see a recipe for wonton on this blog sometime in the near-future.
Savage Kitten used to make the wonton in our household, now it's my turn.
Because we are no longer a couple and so do not eat together very often - though we still live together as roommates and friends - our eating patterns have changed enormously, and I have re-explored many of the foods that deeply resonate for me.
Also, since the Yat Pan Heung (一品香) on the corner of Jackson and Kearny closed several years ago, there has not been a place with decent shwei-jiao in the old neighborhood. So there will probably be a recipe for boiled dumplings here at some point too.
Northerners may find it heretical.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
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GRITS AND TOFU
Like most Americans, I have a list of people who should be peacefully retired from public service and thereafter kept away from their desks,...
