Every Grain of Rice: Simple Chinese Home Cooking (16 page)

BEEF WITH CUMIN
ZI RAN NIU ROU
孜然牛肉

Cumin is not a typical spice in mainstream Chinese cooking. It carries with it the aroma of the bazaars of Xinjiang in the far northwest of the country, where ethnic Uyghur Muslims sprinkle it over their lamb kebabs and add it to their stews and
polos
(the local version of pilafs). It is, however, found in spice shops all over China, and non-Uyghur cooks use it from time to time. I came across the original version of this sensational recipe in a restaurant in Hunan called Guchengge, and it became one of the most popular in my
Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook
.

The only snag with the Guchengge recipe is that it uses the restaurant technique of pre-frying the beef in a wokful of oil. Here, I’ve reworked the recipe as a more simple stir-fry. The texture isn’t quite as silky as in the original version, but it’s much easier to make and still absolutely delicious, as I hope you’ll agree.

9 oz (250g) trimmed sirloin or another tender steak

½ red bell pepper

½ green bell pepper

4 tbsp cooking oil

1½ tsp finely chopped ginger

2 tsp finely chopped garlic

1 fresh red chilli, deseeded and finely chopped (optional)

2 tsp ground cumin

2–4 tsp dried chilli flakes, to taste

2 spring onions, green parts only, finely sliced

1 tsp sesame oil

For the marinade

1 tsp Shaoxing wine

¼ tsp salt

½ tsp light soy sauce

¾ tsp dark soy sauce

1½ tsp potato flour

Cut the beef into thin bite-sized slices. Stir the marinade ingredients with 1½ tbsp water and mix well into the meat. Trim the peppers and cut them into strips ⅜–¾ in (1–2cm) wide, then diagonally into diamond-shaped slices.

Add 3 tbsp of the oil to a seasoned wok over a high flame and swirl it around. Add the beef and stir-fry briskly to separate the slices. When the slices have separated but are still a bit pink, remove them from the wok and set aside.

Return the wok to the flame with the remaining oil. Add the ginger and garlic and allow them to sizzle for a few seconds to release their fragrances, then tip in the peppers and fresh chilli, if using, and stir-fry until hot and fragrant. Return the beef slices to the wok, give everything a good stir, then add the cumin and dried chillies. When all is sizzlingly fragrant and delicious, add the spring onions and toss briefly. Remove from the heat, stir in the sesame oil and serve.

RED-BRAISED BEEF WITH TOFU “BAMBOO”
FU ZHU SHAO NIU ROU
腐竹燒牛肉

This gently spicy, slow-cooked stew is the perfect thing for a winter’s evening. The tofu soaks up the flavors of the meat and has a delightful texture. If you’d rather, you can use chunks of winter vegetables instead: carrot, potato and turnip all work well. Dried bamboo shoots, soaked to soften then cooked with the beef from the beginning, make another wonderful variation. (You can see a version made with Asian radish in the background of the photograph of the soy bean salad
here
.) If you have any leftovers, use them as a topping for
Buckwheat Noodles with Red-braised Beef
.

1 lb (450g) stewing beef or boneless beef shin

2 tbsp cooking oil

2½ tbsp Sichuan chilli bean paste

½ oz (25g) piece of ginger, unpeeled, crushed slightly

2 spring onions, white parts only, crushed slightly

1 star anise

1½ tsp sweet fermented sauce

3 cups (750ml) chicken stock, plus a little more, if needed

2 tbsp Shaoxing wine

2 sticks of tofu “bamboo,” or dried tofu knots (see
Glossary
)

Cut the beef into ¾–1 in (2–3cm) chunks. Bring a panful of water to a boil, add the beef and return to a boil. When a froth has risen to the surface, tip the beef into a colander, drain and rinse.

Heat the oil in a seasoned wok over a medium flame. Add the chilli bean paste and stir-fry until the oil is red and richly fragrant. Add the ginger, spring onions and star anise and continue to stir until you can smell them. Add the sweet fermented sauce and stir-fry for a few moments more before pouring in the stock.

Place the beef and Shaoxing wine in a saucepan or a clay pot and pour over the contents of the wok. Bring to a boil, then partially cover the pan, reduce the heat and simmer for a couple of hours, until the meat is beautifully tender. When the beef has started its slow cooking, set the tofu to soak in hot water from the kettle.

Shortly before you wish to serve the dish, drain the tofu and cut on the diagonal into ¾–1½ in (2–3cm) sections to complement the beef, discarding any pieces that remain hard. Add it to the stew and heat through (you may add a little more stock or hot water from the kettle if you need it), then serve.

SLOW-COOKED BEEF BRISKET WITH BERRIES
QING DUN NIU ROU
清燉枸杞牛肉

One of my favorite Chinese soups is a speciality of Chongqing: a rich, nourishing oxtail broth, cooked for many hours, then served with a beautiful scattering of scarlet gouqi berries and a handful of cilantro. The same method can be used to cook beef and it works perfectly with brisket, one of those nostalgic cuts of meat that I adored as a child. In the original recipe, a whole chicken is used to enrich and elevate the flavor of the beef, but stewing the meat in a rich chicken stock works well.

If you want to be Chinese about it, serve the beef in the soup, either in the cooking pot or in a china bowl; invite your guests to help themselves to pieces of meat with chopsticks or a serving spoon, dip them into the chilli sauce before eating, and then drink a bowl of soup. You may also remove the meat from the soup before serving and serve it on a separate platter, alongside the dip and the soup.

Asian white radish is a classic and most delicious addition. Simply peel the radish, cut into finger-thick strips, boil for a few minutes until tender (and to remove any pepperiness), then add it to the beef and simmer for a few minutes to absorb the flavors of the broth. You can also add other vegetables, such as potatoes, carrots or celery, which don’t require blanching.

1½ lb (750g) beef brisket

2 oz (50g) ginger, unpeeled

5¼ cups (1¼ liters) goodquality

chicken stock

⅓ cup (75ml) Shaoxing wine

1 tsp Sichuan pepper

2 tbsp gouqi berries, rinsed

Handful of chopped

cilantro (optional)

For the dip

1 tbsp cooking oil

4 tbsp Sichuan chilli

bean paste

2 tsp finely chopped ginger

1 tsp sesame oil

Bring a panful of water to a boil. Untie the brisket, if necessary, add it to the water, return to a boil, then boil for three to four minutes to allow any impurities to rise to the surface. Pour off the water and rinse the beef thoroughly under the tap. Crush the ginger slightly with the flat of a cleaver or rolling pin.

Place the brisket in a heavy-bottomed saucepan or a casserole pot, cover with the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Skim. Add the Shaoxing wine, ginger and Sichuan pepper and return to a boil. Then cover and simmer over a very low heat or in a gentle oven (preheated to 300°F/150°C/gas mark 2) for at least three hours (some recipes suggest more than five), until the brisket is meltingly tender.

To make the dip, add the oil to a seasoned wok over a medium flame. Swirl it around, add the chilli bean paste and stir-fry until the oil is red and smells delicious. Add the ginger and stir-fry a little longer until you can smell its fragrance. Off the heat, stir in the sesame oil, then transfer the mixture to a small dipping dish.

Ten minutes or so before you are ready to eat, strain out and discard the ginger and Sichuan pepper, using a slotted spoon or tea strainer. Remove the meat from the pot to a chopping board and cut it into finger-thick strips. Return it to the pot with the gouqi berries for 10 minutes more.

Serve in the cooking pot or a deep china bowl, with a scattering of fresh cilantro, if you like. Serve the dip alongside.

CHICKEN & EGGS

Every Chinese person knows that the best chickens are reared in the countryside, where they peck around the rice fields and vegetable plots, seeking out stray seeds and insects. They are known as
tu ji
—literally “earth chickens”—the Chinese term for birds that Westerners would call free-range, organic or traditionally reared. I’ve eaten the best, most unforgettable chicken of my life in Chinese farmhouses. One chicken stew, made from a bird reared by the parents of my friend Fan Qun and cooked over a wood fire in rural Hunan for the New Year’s feast, was dreamily delicious, the platonic ideal of chickenness.

For the Chinese, as in many other cultures, chicken soup is an important tonic food. (New mothers are often fed chicken soup during their month of confinement, to replenish their energies after the birth.) In the past, chicken was a luxury meat. It was eaten on special occasions, or brewed up with pork ribs and ham to make fine banquet stocks in rich homes and fancy restaurants. Older hens, scrawny but flavorful, were used for soups and stews; young capons for cold chicken dishes and stir-fries. Almost every part of the chicken is still used in the Chinese kitchen: the innards might be stir-fried with something fresh or pungent and the rest of the bird cooked whole; or the breasts and leg meat used for flavorful wok-cooked dishes and the rest added to the stock pot. In restaurants, you’ll find the wing tips, stewed in a spiced broth, offered as a special delicacy; the feet (known as “phoenix claws”) are another snack to be savored.