Pork fried rice with kimchee and dou miao

...or, What To Do With Leftover Shogayaki and Rice.

Hey, Xin Nian Kuai Le, everybody! I really hate posting this bowl of beige and blur after all the pretty and the comfy, but it's Chinese New Year and I'm making burritos for dinner tonight. I was gonna post it on Thursday (when I made it), but my mouse AND my keyboard shit the bed at the same time, then our internet connection was being a dick, so here it is, later.

I got my wok rippin' hot with vegetable oil, and tossed in some sliced leeks (I need to use them), garlic and onion, then threw in the leftover rice and stirred it around ostentatiously. Tossed in the dou miao (pea shoots; I chopped them for manageable bites, because otherwise you're chewing that cud for an hour) and a chiffonade of kimchee. Let the dou miao get a little wilty, and add the thinly-sliced pork (per Peter's suggestion, I pulled the bones out of the chops and simmered them to a rich stock, to which I added soy sauce and sake of my own volition). When everything was getting toasty, I added the flavorful jus and a couple eggs, and scrambled everything around until the liquid was absorbed and the egg was set.

Serve with a drib of hoisin sauce and a healthy disdain for technology.

Shanghai-style nian gao with soy-braised short ribs and broccoli

I dunno. I totally made this up. A few weeks ago Scott and I ate at Castagna, in the more casual cafe (we save the restaurant for fancy occasions). Scott had the cassoulet (of course) and I had their pasta dish de la saison: maltagliati with braised short ribs and turnip greens. It came sauced in butter thickened with Parm Redge. It was fucking insane, and a perfect toe-curl, and I knew I had to recreate it with Asian flavors. It was such a logical translation - the bitter greens with the sultry beef and chewy, stubby noodles.

A few months ago, Claudia (the sylph behind cook eat FRET) tried some nian gao in Cleveland right about the time I first saw them at Fubonn. I knew then that I needed to try them, but wasn't really feeling the arbitrary purchase at the time. It took me this long to get around to actually picking some up to experiment.

I also picked up a couple pounds of rough-cut flanken-style beef ribs (labeled "back ribs" - I think these were the castoffs from cutting galbi), which were comprised primarily of sinew, tallow and bone. The meat that remained was sufficiently laced with connective tissue and marbling that a 4-hour braise melted it to goulash. I browned the ribs in a Dutch oven with a knob of young ginger and half a head of garlic, a couple bay leaves and some peppercorns, then covered it in soy sauce (laochou that I thinned with some water), Chinese black vinegar, mirin and a spoonful of veal demiglace. When it came to a simmer, I plunked it into a 250-degree oven and went about my day.

I actually shopped for this dish a week ago, and it took me this long to muster the motivation (and time) necessary to properly execute a braise. During this time span, I used up almost all of the Shanghai pak choi (qingcai ). I buy these greens by the bagful, and usually never use up the whole thing until they're almost compost. My garden greens got pwned by snow, and I didn't want to make another trip to the store just for greens, so I gave a "meh" and used broccoli.

The nian gao cooked up in about a minute, then I tossed them with the beef, broccoli, and a ladleful of the braising liquid to coat. At the last minute, I decided it needed a shred of omelet on top. I cooked the egg with a little sugar and chile flake, and it lightened up the dish nicely.

My mental picture of nian gao as the Asian answer to bite-sized maltagliati (translates to "badly cut") proved eerily accurate, and this odd dish worked, rendering this disjointed, disorganized conversation about it a propos. I'll try this again, with an easier cut of meat (maybe pork - we bought a quarter pig yesterday) and the shred of greens for which the nian gao's density yearns.

"Chinese" Chicken Salad

I've put on a few holiday pounds that are kinda stressing me out, because it's not even cookie and fudge go-time yet. I haven't really felt much like cooking lately, or even eating, which is kind of weird. I was craving salad, however, and decided to make a healthier version of that awesomely trashy "Chinese" chicken salad . I'm using "airquotes" because, to my knowledge, this salad has never been consumed or prepared in China or by any Chinese person, ever (and those turncoat Panda Express employees don't count). It's "Chinese" because it has sesame seeds and those deliciously ghetto, trans fat-having chow mein noodles (which is redundant, since chow mein is already a type of noodle, and not a fried, crispity thingy that Chun King sells in cans like so much Pik-Nik - it's like saying "spaghetti pasta"). I guess if you were in a effort-y mood, you could use slice and fry wonton skins to use instead. It would probably be rather kickass if you did.

The salad wasn't even composed of Asian greens; rather, it was a mix of romaine and that bagged, shredded broccoli/carrot/red cabbage slaw. To make it extra "Chinese" I added scallions sliced thinly on the bias and juicy nuggets of satsuma oranges (no, not the canned mandarin oranges - I'm not that ironic), and dressed it in soy sauce (the thick, black kind), mirin, rice vinegar, orange juice, sesame oil and a little salt and sugar. I bought a half a lemon-pepper rotisserie chicken that Scott graciously shredded for me, then I tossed it in the dressing and sprinkled on some more sesame seeds for good measure. I slipped the last few inches of a hothouse cuke in there, too, sliced on the bias to make it extra Chinese.

I have some trout fillets and am thinking about a lemon balm beurre blanc. Whether or not I feel like making the effort remains to be seen, but at least I'm thinking about food again.

Vegetable fried rice

This is all I have to show for my blogless week. I've been trying to, once again, wittle down the produce drawer in the fridge, and have been cooking a bunch of uninteresting pasta and stir-fry with the various vegetables. Do you know how "meh" penne with kale pesto and vegetables looks in a photograph? Feh.

The stir-fry from Thursday wasn't bad, if a little heavy on the hoisin and oyster sauce, but it was Project Runway (and debate) night. So I skipped the photos altogether. Last night saw the conversion of leftover rice and the remaining broccoli, peppers, shiitakes, scarlet runners (I've been picking them slightly underripe and slicing them, pod and all) and kale, as well as half a block of silken tofu and an egg, into fried rice. I also added some surimi, but it isn't crab at all, and didn't elevate it the way I hoped.

It was good, just not like the salty Chinese-American fried rice I was craving. It was, however, flavorful and healthy. Now I just have to eat the last gallon-sized bags of pattypans and yellow pear tomatoes (the last ones before I compost the vines!). Maybe I'll just bake the whole lot in cheesy bechamel.

Oh Shit, We Are in Canada! Part I: Jade Dynasty

So, sorry I haven't been around much. I was in the field all last week with no internet (except on my phone, like I'm gonna blog on that thing), and yesterday Scott and I got a wild hair up our asses and came to Vancouver, BC. In this shaky financial climate I find it most prudent to just get the fuck out of Dodge. (Just joking, we're not rich enough or poor enough to feel any of this foolishness, although our mortgage is now mysteriously owned by another bank.)

We actually did premeditate this trip, in that we bought plane tickets and made hotel reservations a few weeks ago. Other than that, we didn't do diddly shit for planning. We literally stepped off the plane, got a car and a map and started driving around town to find something that looked good to eat. We were pretty tired after only getting 5 hours of sleep the night prior, and ended up snacking on some crappy pizza (think Pillsbury dough, pigeons and a Middle Eastern dude behind the counter). We did find a poutine place that was way too tiny for my tired, bitchy mood, but made a mental note to return to it later this week when the crowds thin.

Today we made our way to Chinatown, and after walking around a bit, realized there are really no restaurants around here. Like in Portland, the Asians here don't actually live and eat in Chinatown, they just own businesses and do their shopping for herbs, produce, bootleg DVDs and unlicensed Disney merchandise. We did, however, get extremely lucky to score a table at the packed little hole-in-the-wall, Jade Dynasty.

Shrimp and mushroom shu mai with tobiko

Soft and fluffy barbecue pork hum bao

Dim sum is a regular Sunday brunch that we enjoy, and while we normally just go straight for our favorite shu mai, hum bao and a plate of gai lan with oyster sauce (the Holy Trinity), this time we were overjoyed to discover xiao long bao on the menu. I think I actually squeed my pants a little when I saw it on the menu.

Xiao long bao are also known as soup dumplings, and are my favorite dim sum small bite. They're difficult to find in Portland; in fact, I only know of one cart downtown that has them, and they aren't that great there. These, though, were succulent and flavorful dumplings of seasoned pork with unctuous broth. You dip them in tangy red vinegar, nibble a small hole in the "skin" and slurp out the broth hiding inside, then eat the rest of the dumpling two or three bites. Making a loud slurping sound will signal to the staff that you are thoroughly enjoying them. I recommend a cold Tsingtao to wash down the hot dumpling.

A guy seated next to us was visiting from Puerto Rico. He didn't know what to order, so we pointed him in the right direction. We shared some of our House Special Noodles with him (he gladly passed along some of his way-too-much salt and pepper squid in exchange). These noodles were pretty good - I liked the crispy bottom of the fried noodle, but parts of it were a little on the over-cooked side and tasted a bit burned. This is probably the point, but I still ate around it. The pork, shrimp and scallops were tender and unassuming with baby bok choy and mushrooms, and the classic Cantonese sauce was a familiar taste of soy, rice wine and garlic thickened to gravy with corn starch.


Caveats: Jade Dynasty was a nice place to sit and get away from the herds of junkies, tranny prostitutes and Asian shoppers of Chinatown, but I hear Richmond is where to go for the real action. The food here wasn't anything you couldn't get in any average-or-better Chinese joint in any town with a sizable Asian population, except for the xiao long bao, which were outstanding (despite the amateurishly clunky appearance of these dumplings, they tasted great).

We were annoyed, however, that insead of wonderful carts laden with tubs of congee, foil-wrapped packages of ginger chicken and stacks of small steamer baskets hiding the soft dumplings within, rolling around for you to lazily point and eat (the instant gratification feels so decadent), Jade Dynasty is far too tiny and cramped to accomodate a single cart, let alone a caravan of them. You make your selections on a checklist, and then wait for your food as you would in any other restaurant. The waitress got our sheet mixed up with our neighbor, and he happily devoured our hum bao before we noticed the mistake and had a painful, Rost in Transration conversation with our waitress to straighten it all out. I forgive them for this, though, and so should you, if you find yourself wandering around in Vancouver's Chinatown on a Sunday afternoon, hungry for dumplings.

Jade Dynasty
137 Pender Street
Vancouver, BC
Tel: 604.683.8816
Dim Sum served all day

Good Taste Noodle House

See also Stuff White People Like #71.

I am totally guilty of this, by the way. I can eat completely mediocre food in a slightly dingy joint, but if Scott and I are the only white people, it's Fucking Amazing, and The Best-Kept Secret in Portland. In the case of Good Taste Noodle House, it's not that the secret is well-kept, it's just that it's well-kept from white people. This place really is fucking amazing, though, and not just because it has an entirely (except for us) Asian clientele.

Good Taste Noodle House is, like all of my favorite eateries these days, tucked away behind a mini-mall in Chinatown-East. You turn off the main drag, drive through a narrow passageway, and park in the center of a little oasis of Asian goodness that includes a Thai joint, a small teriyaki joint, a crawfish joint (the fuck?) and a coffee shop, among others. You want desperately to try them all, but patience, my dear. We will try each of them in time.


When you first walk into Good Taste Noodle House, you are first greeted by lovely roasted chicken and ducks smiling at you through a plexiglass box. You smile back, then notice the hindquarters of a suckling pig dangling from a salty hook in the adjacent box. You look around and see people shoveling food into their mouths with lime-green chopsticks, silent but for the sound of slurping.

You take a seat at any of the brightly-lit tables and notice, to your unimaginable delight, that they sell food by the pound (joy of joys!!). You make a mental note of this, should you find yourself needing a whole salty, crispy duck in the future.

I glance at the menu, tempted to ask the beautiful, demure waitstaff to bring me "whatever is your favorite", but instead ordered the crispy duck with shrimp wontons in broth. Scott ordered the ginger and green onion chicken with dry noodles. As we wait for our food, I joke with Scott that I should get the words "roasted duck" tattooed down my shoulder in Chinese characters, and when people ask me what it says I'll tell them it says "beautiful wisdom". We have a good laugh about this.

Oh, good lord look at this sexy bowl of noodles! The silken wonton floating lackadaisically in the intense, unctuous broth. The sliced hunks of duck, all crispy skin and fatty, rich meat nestled atop a wad of chewy yi mein.

Scott's dish came with the same yi mein (a fried wheat noodle, yellow in color from the addition of egg), piled high with soft, white chicken and two dipping bowls: one of a scallion-chicken broth, and the other of grated ginger mixed with oil. Scott thought his noodles tasted a bit funny, and I did notice a bitter aftertaste on them. I think this could be from the cooking water (maybe had an herb or root added to it?) or the noodles may have been colored with lye-water (one of the other possible additives to give the yellow color), which apparently gives a distinctive smell. I chased my bite with a nibble of chicken and a spoonful of broth, and this helped.

As with our stomachs, the place began to really fill up. We got some boxes for our leftovers so someone could have our table.

I implore you to find the Asian people where you live, and find out where they eat. Chances are, it ain't the Panda Express. Good Taste Noodle House is a small peek into another culture - one where English isn't the first language, and one where a good bowl of noodles is tantamount to happiness.

Good Taste Noodle House
8220 SE Harrison St.
Portland, OR

Garlicky pork noodles with pea shoots

Since I used up all the produce that had been festering in my crisper, of course I had to make another run to Fubonn for some Chinese vegetables. This week, I found some beautiful, verdant pea shoots (dou miao) and some other things that will surface as the week progresses. The pea shoots include the leaves (and the leafy stipules), the tendrils, and the stems. The leaves wilt down like any leafy green vegetable, but the stems and tendrils stay toothsome, a bit like celery. I think if they had been cooked within a day or two of being picked, they would've been more succulent.

Even though this dish does have pork, it is very lean, very thinly-sliced, center-cut loin. Can you believe they had whole loins for $15 instead of $40? Normally I don't bargain-shop meat, but I couldn't pass this up. My buddy Norm at Eat or Die grew up on a farm in Small Town, USA, and can't figure out how a farmer can stay in business with those prices (government subsidies, that's how). I shrugged off the guilt and butchered it into 20 really nice chops. The two ends went into tonight's dinner.


After all the red meat, I wanted something fresh, garlicky and spicy, and crunchy, but noodly. So I made a quick marinade with splashes of good, dark soy sauce (laochou; a nice thick soy sauce), rice wine and white wine vinegar, and a glug of dark sesame oil; a couple heaping spoonfuls of sambal oelek, oyster sauce and hoisin sauce; 4 or 5 large cloves of garlic, smashed and minced; 2 heaping spoonfuls of grated ginger; a dash of my homemade seven-spice and 5 or 6 cracks of black pepper; a spoonful of sugar and corn starch, and a fat pinch of MSG. Yes, I keep a sack of MSG in my kitchen. It's 100% pure umami!

Marinate the pork for at least 15 minutes (I was really hungry). Blanch the pea shoots to soften them up a bit. Stir fry the pork with a little sliced onion and cloud ear fungus until sticky (like 5 minutes), then add the sauce and pea shoots and toss to coat. Toss with cooked noodles of your choosing (I used fettucine, because it's what I had) and sliced scallion. This would also be delicious as a vegetarian dish with tofu and shitakes. I included the cloud ear fungus for crunch, and because I keep a jar of them in my kitchen. Soak them in the cooking pasta water to soften.

I have more ideas for the other half of the pea shoots, so stay tuned!