1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (197 page)

A spicy bowl of Chinese American goodness.

As Calvin Trillin wrote in a 2007
New Yorker
article, “Singapore mei fun, a noodle dish often found in Chinatown restaurants, is, it almost goes without saying, unknown in Singapore.” True though that may be, when it comes to good food, authenticity is a moving target, and flavor is concrete. And so it goes with the curious case of “Singapore mei fun,” a creation that is ubiquitous on America’s Chinese takeout menus, and reassuringly alike everywhere it is found. The name may not have anything to do with Singapore, but among its charms are very thin, vermicelli-like rice noodles bathed in a mildly hot, neon yellow curry sauce and topped with a combination of stir-fried egg, shredded vegetables, and your protein of choice.

The result is a succulent, slurpable bowl of fun spiced with nothing more complicated than yellow curry powder and chile peppers. The only true key to the dish’s tastiness is to get it fresh and hot out of the wok. Depending on one’s routine, Singapore mei fun is excellent either for dinner on a busy weeknight or for a snack at two in the morning, after a night of partying.

Where:
In New York
, Joe’s Shanghai, Chinatown location, tel 212-233-8888,
joeshanghairestaurants.com
;
in Washington, DC
, New Big Wong, tel 202-628-0491;
in Toronto
, Crown Princess Fine Dining, tel 416-923-8784,
crown-princess.ca
;
in Vancouver
, Jade Seafood Restaurant, tel 604-249-0082,
jadesrestaurant.ca
.
Further information and recipes:
Florence Lin’s Complete Book of Chinese Noodles, Dumplings and Bread
by Florence Lin (1993);
rasamalaysia.com
(search singapore fried rice noodles);
epicurious.com
(search singapore hawker rice noodles; singapore noodles).

A soy sauce maker stirs soybeans and other ingredients.

Those ubiquitous red-or green-topped bottles lining tables at sushi bars and Chinese takeout joints around the world belie the sophistication of what can be one of the world’s most interesting condiments—soy sauce, which has been made in China from fermented soybeans for at least three thousand years and was once used primarily to preserve foods, especially meats and fish.

Soy sauce is made of ingredients that don’t vary much from brand to brand: soybeans, yeast, water, salt, and sometimes wheat. But the quality of the original ingredients and the care with which they are treated can make the difference between a subtly delicious condiment and a boring salty brew.

Before mass production, making soy sauce required an extremely laborious process; the result was a brew with an astonishingly meaty, earthy flavor. Some of the descendants of soy sauce makers still do it the old-fashioned way: steaming fresh whole soybeans until they become soft, drying them out on flat, round straw mats, sprinkling them with yeast until they begin to form mold (either
Aspergillus oryzae
or
Aspergillus sojae
), then mixing them with a brine of water and salt in large crocks, and allowing them to ferment for six months to a year or longer. It is this fermentation process that lends soy sauce its umami—the so-called fifth flavor (after bitter, salty, sweet, and sour) that is often described as “savory.”

About a thousand years ago, the sauce migrated to Japan along with Chinese Buddhist monks. It was quickly adopted there and became especially prevalent in the country’s classic pickle preparations. Today Japan is home to the Kikkoman corporation and to the largest soy sauce plant in the world—and soy sauce is the not-so-secret ingredient in a countless number of stir-fries, meat and fish dishes, savory snacks, and marinades throughout Asia. Like mustard, it’s a condiment that can be used on its own but also forms the base for an infinite variety of sauces.

While in China most soy sauce is made from soybeans alone, or from a mixture of soybeans and a small amount of wheat, in Japan soy sauce (called shoyu) is made of a more equal combination of soybeans and wheat, the latter sometimes roasted or toasted for additional flavor. Such differences account for variations in flavor and saltiness as well as a wide range of colors—from caramel blonde–brown to the purplish inky black of the justly famous
Japanese soy sauce tamari. Made from miso soy (fermented soybean paste) and aged (preferably in a wood barrel) for a richer, smoother, more mellow flavor, tamari takes its name from the Japanese word
tamaru
, which means “accumulated” and is a good way to describe the sauce’s essence. “White” or “clear” soy, which has long been used in Japan, is brewed mostly from wheat and is actually amber in color; because it does not darken the food it seasons, it’s a good aesthetic match for white-fleshed fish. But generally, a darker sauce is considered more desirable; in upscale restaurants in Japan you may hear customers call soy sauce by the name
murasaki
, which means purple and refers to a royal reputation—and to the color of very fine and strong soy sauce.

Mail order:
hoohing.com
(search soy sauce);
chefshop.com
(search soy sauce); for small-batch soy sauce made with southern Kentucky wheat and aged in bourbon barrels, Zingerman’s, tel 888-636-8162,
zingermans.com
(search bluegrass soy sauce).
Further information and recipes:
The Thousand Recipe Chinese Cookbook
by Gloria Bley Miller (1984);
Washoku: Recipes from the Japanese Home Kitchen
by Elizabeth Andoh (2005);
Cracking the Coconut
by Su-Mei Yu (2000);
saveur.com
(search soy sauce marinated ribs; soy chili sauce; sambal kecap).

The freshest fish demands the simplest treatment.

In the classic cooking style of the Canton province of southern China, where seafood is exalted, the freshness of fish is not just a point of pride, but actually a determinant of how a specimen will be prepared. Traditionally, a fish purchased alive would never be served fried, and an older or frozen specimen would never be steamed. Enhanced by the three most beloved flavorings in all of Chinese cooking—soy sauce, ginger, and scallions—gently steamed fresh fish is the signature dish of Canton, and a glorious example of the region’s technique and philosophy.

The fish, usually rock cod (also known as rockfish, plentiful in the Pacific near California), although sometimes sea bass, snapper, and small striped bass are substituted, must be freshly caught. In China, especially in big cities like Hong Kong, fish markets sell shoppers live fresh fish that they may carry to one of many small nearby cookshops to have it steamed on
the spot (see
listing
). The fish is treated with a very light hand, sprinkled with a combination of garlic, ginger, scallions, and sometimes mushrooms and a little rice wine, and then steamed in either a wok or a traditional bamboo steamer. It cooks just until delicately flaking, and is then drizzled with soy sauce, sometimes mixed with sesame oil, combined with more fresh ginger, scallions, and sprays of cilantro. The preparation is basic, but it’s the perfect way to treat a quality catch when it’s exquisitely fresh—delicate, fragrant, and respectful of the fish’s flavor and texture.

Where:
In New York
, Oriental Garden, tel 212-619-0085,
orientalgardenny.com
;
in Washington, DC
, New Big Wong, tel 202-628-0491;
in Rockville, MD
, Seven Seas Restaurant, tel 301-770-5020,
sevenseasrestaurant.com
;
in Chicago
, Yan Bang Cai, tel 312-842-7818,
yanbangcaichicago.com
;
in Vancouver
, Ginger & Soy, tel 778-279-8862,
gingerandsoy.ca
.
Further information and recipes:
Cooking Without Borders
by Anita Lo and Charlotte Druckman (2011);
The Wisdom of the Chinese Kitchen
by Grace Young (1999);
foodandwine.com
(search steamed whole fish scallions);
cookstr.com
(search halibut steamed fresh ginger).
See also:
Golden Yoich
.

The cut reserved for the lucky guest of honor.

Beloved worldwide for their velvety softness and delicate flavor, delectably tender morsels of fish cheeks are a particular favorite in China, where the pieces (which lie just above the jaw) are the most prized bites of steamed or fried whole fish. At a Chinese dinner party, the fish’s head is placed facing the guest of honor, giving that person the first chance to pluck out the sweet cheeks.

But fish cheeks have fans all over the world. In Spain, the Basques enjoy what they call the
kokotxas
, the cheeks of cod or hake; these are typically served with
pil-pil
, a silky green sauce made from olive oil, garlic, hot peppers, and the fish’s cooking juices. The Portuguese, meanwhile, are fond of including cheeks in their thick, aromatic fish stews—it’s considered good luck to find one in your bowl. In Iceland, cod cheeks (along with cod tongues) are salt-cured, smoked, or cooked in a cream sauce, and in Japan the cheeks of yellowtail and halibut are usually grilled, basted with sweet ponzu sauce. In New England, where cod is king, and in the Great Lakes region, where walleye and lake trout reign supreme, fish cheeks are a just reward for the fishermen; back at camp, they carefully excise the cheeks and fry them up in a cornmeal batter spiced with cayenne and garlic.