Good morning banana crepes

Good morning banana crepes

Icky and grey autumn weekend means waking up and craving a warm, hearty breakfast – of the special, prepared variety. In other words, not your typical slice of toast with cream cheese, instant oatmeal from a bag, or cereal from a box, work-week fare. The problem with having to prepare any fancier a breakfast is that you are too famished, too groggy to realize where you are (much less where that non-stick skillet is), and were out too late the night before to foresee that you might need some … eggs the next morning. Thus, your low blood sugar levels signal your very robotic reach towards that very tempting box of cereal and…

No! Close the box shut!

So I’ve been making pancakes the past few weekends – I find their warm, tender fluffiness comforting on crisp autumn mornings. This weekend I decided to do crepes. I’ve never made crepes before, but figured they’re just really thin pancakes. They are actually pretty simple to make, and took less time than pancakes. I just stuffed these with sliced bananas (too bad – no Nutella lying around… but this is breakfast, not dessert, shouldn’t be that decadent … yet). Probably could have rolled them up prettier, but considering hunger levels and all, they tasted nice, had good thin-ness, and henceforth forever eliminated the need for getting my crepe-fill at a restaurant (Cafe Crepe sucks anyway). They also filled the kitchen with that sweet, eggy, nothing-else-says-good-morning-better-aroma. Mmmmm.

And of course I had to use a spatula to flip them.

Spicy Udon with Chicken and Garlic Sprouts

Spelt Udon

I came across these organic Spelt noodles from Sobaya at a specialty food store. They call it Spelt “udon”, but these aren’t thick like udon. They’re more like linguine to me. (In addition to udon, Sobaya also makes Spelt or Kamut ramen, which also contain buckwheat flour.) Anyway, I decided to cook some for lunch.

I used some shredded, left over chicken and fresh garlic sprouts (蒜心). These sprouts are really garlicky. A bit chive-like, but with more body and crunch, as they are not hollow inside. If you cannot stand garlic, stay away! Garlic sprouts will aromatize your kitchen enough to fight off a band of vampires.

Garlic Sprouts

 

I was going to do a udon in soup, but since these aren’t like typically fat udon I decided to omit the soup. I could immediately recognize the slight nutty smell of Spelt after cooking the noodles for a bit, but it was really quite subtle and wasn’t that apparent afterwards. Although the noodles are thin like pasta, they do have more of a soft, udon consistency. So I could imagine them to be much more udon-like if they were perhaps four times thicker. 

All in all, a satisfying lunch that took hardly any time to prepare.

Recipe follows…

Kabocha Squash 101: Dissection

Fall – the season of pumpkins and squashes. Many people are turned off from buying whole squashes because they either don’t know what to do with them, or think it’s too much trouble. Unfortunately they then end up buying pre-cut slices of pumpkin wrapped in plastic, or not at all. Whole squashes are much cheaper and a lot fresher. It is not as daunting a task as it may seem, and the end result is well worth it.

The Japanese Kabocha squash is like a Buttercup squash and is sometimes labeled as so. At the perfect ripeness, it is sweet, starchy, with deep golden flesh – great on its own, in soups or stews, fried up as tempura, or beaten up as a puree. I can eat about half a medium-sized squash in one sitting, or finish one in two days. I have even gotten carotenosis from eating too much once. Not an expert, just an aficionado. The following is my protocol – you can enjoy Kabocha in less than 35-40 minutes.

 

Step 1: Selection

Choose a squash with dark, speckled rind that is dull looking. Avoid pretty and shiny – you want a “rustic” look. Don’t worry about slight imperfections or little orange/tan colored patches on the rind. Whatever size you pick, the squash should feel heavier than it looks. If the underside of the squash has a lightly colored ring surrounding the large dot in the middle, it is supposedly a good squash. (An old Japanese man told me this at an Asian market once, while he was watching me pick a squash.) Overall, I have found little statistical evidence supporting (or rejecting) this claim.

Step 2: Preparation

Because the rind will not be removed, wash the squash well with a large brush. With a very sharp, serrated knife, make a longitudinal section through the middle of the squash. Take out the seeds and the soft fibres in the cavity. (With a tool if you prefer. I just use my bare hands.) Save those seeds! (See Step 5)

Step 3: Cook

At this point, you have several options: you could put the squash on a baking sheet and bake it at about 350F, or you can steam it. I prefer steaming because it doesn’t dry out the squash as much. Seasoning is not required. 

A squash that is about 1 foot in diameter usually takes 20 minutes to steam. Anything larger will take 30 minutes or more. Regardless, it is done when you can take a chopstick and pierce through it as depicted. The rind should be soft (there may also be some cracks on it). You should feel a slight resistance as you poke through the flesh, but not too much else the flesh will still be crunchy.

 Step 4: Devour

Removing squash from heat. It should cut through very easily, like a dense cake. Sometimes I drizzle a little soy sauce on top, but I usually eat it as is. The rind is soft and edible and quite yummy as it has a bit of a chew to it. If you need the squash for other recipes it can now be very easily skinned (good luck trying to skin it before cooking). Good tasting squashes are the older ones so they are starchy and very sweet – a bit reminiscent of a hard-boiled egg yolk. (A less mature squash will contain more moisture, might be “stringy”, and is less sweet, sometimes even pretty flavorless. Then you’ll know you have failed Step 1 of this protocol.)

 

Step 5: The Seeds

Another reason why you should buy your squash whole: Pumpkin seeds are delicious. And good for you. After removing them from the squash, wash them for a few minutes in a mixture a bit of water and cornstarch (I find this de-slimes them pretty well). Rinse off with water, and pat dry with paper towels. Place them on a baking sheet or large colander, and dry at room temperature for about 24 hours or until the shells are no longer soft. Good squashes come with large, meaty seeds that are a dull orange color, as depicted. These don’t even have to be roasted after they are dried, they can be easily opened and are great raw. If you want them roasted, place dried seeds on a baking sheet and bake at about 275F. Watch carefully and turn often to avoid burning.

中秋節 Mid-Autumn Festival

迷你冰皮月餅 Mini Snow-skin Mooncakes

Ah, the mooncake. The mooncake is to Mid-Autumn Festival as the turkey is to Thanksgiving. In other words, mooncake is not only the representative festival food, but it is also so substantial it is the festival meal. Traditional mooncakes are large, square pastries with a thin chewy crust made from a lot of sugar syrup and lard, and a dense, sweet lotus-paste filling. The filling can also contain several whole salted duck egg yolks, resulting in a wonderful melange of sweet and saltiness. Mooncakes are heavy like baseballs, and if you ever are daring enough to try you will see that no amount of napkins will soak the orange oil from it. (It is thus often enjoyed with hot, strong black tea to dilute out all the fat you feel clogging up in your esophagus.)

In our health-conscious days, you often overhear the following conversation among Chinese people as Mid-Autumn approaches:

“There once was a time when I would eat an entire mooncake in one sitting!”

“I used to finish a whole box in two days!”

“The double-yolk kind?”

“Quadruple-yolk!”

“Ah! Those were the days!”

“Now I can’t even eat a mini one!”

Due to health reasons and more possibly plain boredom, there has been an insurgence of fancy mooncake-spinoffs: smaller pastries, with different ingredients such as rice flour crusts, and fruit-based fillings. A popular one is the snow-skin mooncake (冰皮月餅). They were sold out of my favorite durian snow-skin mooncake at my favorite Chinese bakery this year, so my mother bought some mini ones from 美之香餅家 (Mega Bakery). These are small, individually-wrapped mooncakes with soft white skin, and come in a variety of flavors. $1 each. We got ones with mango, green tea, or sesame fillings. The mango was good – the filling didn’t have that artificial, made-from-mango-flavored-powder taste. Same cannot be said for the green tea. They looked and tasteed more like mochi than mooncakes to me:

Mango and Green Tea

– 

Mega Bakery 美之香餅家

Typical but quite complete bakery – pastries, cakes, rolls, breads, hot sandwiches and buns (pineapple buns too). A decent mix of Asian and Western style items. I like their many cute, individually-wrapped mini pastry items.

1163-3779 Sexsmith Rd, Richmond

Tried-and-true: Teriyaki Ginger Salmon

 

Teriyaki Ginger Salmon

 

I eat a lot of salmon – at least once, but often several times a week. This was for dinner – one of my tried-and-true, regularly-used recipes, because it is both easy and yummy. I typically don’t like to overpower the naturally rich flavor of salmon with heavy sauces. Depending on how I eat it, sometimes just salt and pepper will do. It is also very Cantonese of me to prefer my seafood fresh and prepared with a few simple ingredients (eg. steamed with ginger and scallions and a bit of soy sauce), since it is somewhat of a Cantonese mantra that thick, flavorful sauces are used to mask the fact that your meat is not as fresh as it should be.

There are many recipes out there for salmon fancied-up with such elaborate accompaniments as pestos, salsas, crusts, citrus fruits, strawberries… It’s probably great for people who aren’t fond of fish, but I don’t like it when the flavor of the fish itself gets lost in a sauce. Thus my teriyaki-ginger salmon – more zing and sweetness than regular S&P, but isn’t heavy and keeps the fish the star of your dish.

Recipe follows…

Weekend Bread Project: Raisin Bread

Raisin Bread (Yeasted)

 

No time to research or make anything fancier for this weekend’s bread project, so I tried something simple that could come into good use during the week. As I didn’t have the perfect sized loaf pan for the amount of flour I used, this was a flatter looking loaf than I had intended (more a quick bread height than a commercial square shape). For the size of pan I had (8″x4″), I probably should have used twice the flour, but I didn’t want a big loaf. This tasted like raisin bread, and was well received. I don’t think you can go wrong with raisins. The inside was soft, but a bit more dense and not as airy-floppy as commercial raisin bread (perhaps due to the lack of oil and milk, my breads are never that fluffy). Good crustiness on the outside and a nice golden brown on top.

I made this using the “jelly roll” method – ie. after the first rise I rolled out the dough and sprinkled the raisins all over it, rolled it up, then went through the second rise. Some recipes out there put in raisins before the first rise, but I figured that wouldn’t give you as even a distribution of raisins throughout the loaf. And I’m a control freak when it comes to that. Looks like with my loaf here everybody’s going to get their fair share of raisins for breakfast tomorrow morning, no? ^__^

Recipe follows …

Jang Mo Jib (外母屋) @ Aberdeen

Boo… Kimchee soon doo boo

 

This is a rarity – a food court post. I don’t do food courts. It’s gross, and fast food is not really food. But on the rare occasion, maybe you feel cheap. Maybe you feel like having that not-really-food food, and enjoying the frenzied food court ambience with your plastic tray, on your plastic chair, at your sticky table. And leaving feeling hungover, dirty, and stupid over your momentary lapse in judgement. “Food prostitution” – it happens.

That brings us to Jang Mo Jib (外母屋) at the Aberdeen Centre food court. There may be better choices, but at the time this seemed like a safe choice for lunch. (1. Customers present. 2. Run by Koreans. 3. Two Jang Mo Jib eat-in restaurants in the city.) They are also avid supporters of their national conglomerate, Samsung:

 

There appeared to be some variety with the 19 items on the menu. Several samples are present for the shy, lazy, and mute to just point and pick. And look! “Today Specail“!

For the banchan picks: kimchi, bean sprouts, pickled radish, marinated kelp, or potatoes. Typical stuff, plain looking. Everybody gets to pick two banchan, but the lunchbox people get three. Maybe because they are … “specail“. For the meals you can choose from 4 grades of spiciness: Spicy, Medium, Mild and Not. Service is fast and accurate, with minimal speaking from all, and a lot of smiling from the kind Korean lady.

 P’s Beef Boolgogee lunchbox ($7.95) 

 W’s Chicken Boolgoee lunchbox ($7.95)

  My Kimchi tofu pot @ mild spicy ($6.95)

 

I don’t think it says much when the best thing about the meal was the very ordinary banchan, and the second best the sticky rice. The third may be my can of Diet Coke. Nothing much in the Kimchi tofu pot: A sprinkle of green onions, a lot of tofu, and two pieces of kimchi. The soup had tiny bits of pork in it. And unless an egg looks like tofu, there was no egg as promised on the menu. At least they didn’t lie about the spiciness – The mild was mild, ie. just red looking and not at all spicy. (I also don’t notice any real vegetarian options here. Maybe you can tell them to omit the meat in the tofu pots but it looks like part of the soup base.)

Definitely on the B List, this one. I have never eaten at the actual Jang Mo Jib restaurants but now I don’t really want to.

 

 

Jang Mo Jib  (外母屋)

Take out: Aberdeen Centre Food Court , Richmond

2xEat in: 8320 Alexandra St, Richmond, and 1719 Robson St, Vancouver

The Center of Gravity: An “Eggs-periment”

I am currently reading Harold McGee’s On Food and Cooking – The Science and Lore of the Kitchen. This is an excellent book (textbook, perhaps) – very comprehensive, covering everything from meat to veggies to bread, from the chemical structure of cinnamon to how Chinese preserved duck eggs are made. There are sections devoted to things I have always been curious about but have never been able to find on the internet.

While reading through the “Eggs” section, I came across an interesting tidbit about storage position: Apparently when eggs are stored on their sides (instead of the natural blunt-end up in the box), the yolks become better-centered when hard-cooked. Perhaps this is a well-known fact, but it is not something I have ever given any thought about. (Why would you store an egg on its side anyway, neither the box it comes in nor the tiny space in the fridge would allow for that!)

Nevertheless, the nerd in me was piqued. Every morning I have a HBE (hard-boiled egg) for breakfast. Yesterday’s HBE (type: large, organic, brown) had a very “skewed” yolk. So I decided to remove an egg (same batch) from its box last night, and preincubate it on its side for this morning’s HBE. Side-incubation time: overnight (<12 hr).

Result: Almost perfectly centered – though with a slight deviation towards the narrow end (perhaps expected, as egg has been stored narrow-end-down for days prior to side-incubation). Note also a slight “latitudinal” skewing, such that it is quite obvious which “side” the egg has been resting on overnight:

I thought this was pretty cool. This would be great for devilled eggs – no more cutting open an HBE to find a yolk sitting at an extreme pole, and making a terrible lop-sided devilled egg!

The perfect Pineapple Bun

The perfect 菠蘿包 “Bor Lor Bau” (Pineapple Bun)

10 Requirements for the perfect Bor Lor Bau.

(modeled after the Happy Date pineapple bun, which currently sits at #1)

1. Overall presentation: Expert craftmanship. Artisan, no two buns look the same. Large crust had a very natural look of being oven-baked with precision timing: a golden-yellow that isn’t too pale, or burnt. A mild but beckoning glaze with no oily sheen. Crust had good amount of visible crackling resembling a pineapple, and did not look artificial. No giant crevices in crust exposing bun underneath, no holes and imperfections where pieces of crust had fallen off. Appealing dome-shape with great height, no deflation, does not look like a rock. Smells sweet and fresh.

2. Bun texture: Delicate – very, very soft, airy and light, doesn’t feel like you are chewing on and on forever. Not at all doughy or oily.

3. Bun taste: Subtly sweet accompaniment – bun itself doesn’t overpower the crust, but is not flavorless.

4. Crust thickness: Just right – is not super thick, nor “skin-like” and peeling. Consistent throughout (with slight imperfections here and there, avoiding an artificial-feel).

5. Crust moistness: Perfect combination – Not soggy, or disgustingly cakey or powdery dry like a biscuit. Slightly crunchy on the exterior to create the tiniest of “impact” as you bite on it, with a tiny hint of sugary moistness underneath.

6. Crust adherence to bun: Excellent semi-adherence – ie. will only fall off naturally and in small bits where it is disturbed, but resistant to simple touching and lifting. Is not glued to the bun like skin, but also no giant chunks flying off every which way as you eat or hold it, leaving you with a plateful (or lapful) of crust, and a naked bun (big no-no).

7. Crust surface area: Extensive, over 90% – not just a layer of crust slapped on the top, but “dresses” the bun all the way down to the bottom. Minimal bun exposure when sat upright, very impressive. (There is still the tiniest bit of uncovered bun near a bottom ‘corner’ which I like to use to hold my bun as I eat it, perfect.)

8. Crust sweetness: Heavenly – not a mouthful of powdered sugar. Does not induce that overly-sweet headachey feeling. Makes you want to clean up the little crust-crumbs left on your plate.

9. “Bun bite reaction” (That all-important interplay between bun and bun-eater): Mirrored perfection that can’t be beat- After taking a bite, the bite “edges” of the bun immediately depresses to a shape reflecting the very pressure of your bite. The crust reacts similarly but maintains its overall adherence to the bun. This is important as bad buns will simply and too precisely capture the shape of your bite like a mold, while retaining their own internal infrastructure without reflecting the actual pressure of your bite. Below is the perfect bun bite reaction, note – the bun and crust are one:

10. Freshness: Untouched by plastic trays – freshly baked and served warm. The perfect bun should not come in contact with any plastic or card board before being eaten. It should go directly from metal to ceramic. 

 

A final note: The bun-side experience

1) The Fork: Present, but not used. The way it should be. True pineapple bun experts will know to serve a pineapple bun with a lone fork. What is the purpose of this fork, you ask? Is it for the dainty to spear their buns so they do not have to use their hands (but then, should not a knife be present as well)? On that note, a good bun should always be enjoyed with your hands: If a fork needs to be used (and your hands are clean), that means you didn’t want to touch the bun, as something about it suggested that touching it will leave some kind of nasty, oily residue on your fingers, or will cause the crust to fall off. Neither of which should happen with a good bun. 

No. The real purpose of the fork is for mashing the entire pineapple bun down prior to eating it, such that the bun is manageable and the crust does not fly off as you eat it. (It is not a pretty sight, but it works.) In most cases, whether you employ this method is entirely up to you. (And I suppose a spoon would also do the trick.) However, in the case of the perfect bun, the fork should not be used because 1) as mentioned above, the crust already has excellent adherence, and 2) it would be too big of a heartache to cause such damage to a beautiful bun before eating it. But even if its purpose really is vestigial in the case of the perfect bun, the fork should still be served alongside, as it demonstrates that awareness of a higher-level, expert bun-eating.

 

2) Beverage:  Milk tea. The perfect bun-accompaniment is very smooth Hong Kong-style milk tea, made with condensed milk. Hong Kong-style lemon-tea or Yin Yang (tea-coffee) are also good choices. Do not use water, plain tea (green, black or otherwise), or pop.

生日菠蘿包 Birthday Pineapple Buns

Birthday 菠蘿包 “Bor Lor Bau” (Pineapple bun) #1

Oh Pineapple Bun, just how much do I love thee?

There used to be a time when I had a pineapple bun every night as dessert. That’s a bun of sugar and lard a night, every night. (Did I know that back then? Nope. Would I have cared if i did? Surely not.) At the same time, many local bakeries were starting to be creative, constructing pineapple buns filled with sweet custard, red bean paste, barbeque pork… you name it. If there is some kind of bun with that pineapple-like crust on top, it has been made, and I have eaten it. A few years ago, a friend made a giant pineapple bun for me as my birthday “cake”. No one has seen anything so huge – it had a diameter larger than a typical super-large pizza. Pineapple bun – the ultimate pastry. The standard by which I judge all Chinese bakeries and 茶餐廳 (tea restaurants). The blood that courses through my made-in-Hong-Kong veins. The last meal I want when I am on my death bed.

Now that I can no longer recklessly live out those teenage/young adult days when it didn’t matter what I stuffed in my mouth (and now that I know how they are made), pineapple buns have become an occasional treat. 

For my birthday this year, I had three pineapple buns over 2 separate, unrelated events. The first bun I had at lunch, at Happy Date Bakery and Restaurant. This was a last minute decision, as I had made a lunch the night before and plan for a birthday lunch. Nevertheless, NF decided to take me out for lunch. I also didn’t want to go to Happy Date at first, because I remember their buns had too thick a crust and were never my favorite. (Although everybody, even Hong Kong natives, would claim that they make the best pineapple buns.) I went to Happy Date anyway because 1) although there are many 茶餐廳 in the city, there are very few with good baked-in-house pineapple buns (or an in-house bakery, period), and 2) although there are many Chinese bakeries making pineapple buns, there isn’t one where you can actually sit down and enjoy a meal 茶餐廳-style. (Ironic, isn’t it?) Fortunately, Happy Date is tea restaurant with a bona fide Chinese bakery (although the actual food here is only so-so), so you can have your tea and a pineapple bun served straight out of the oven, which was what I had. I was pleasantly surprised to find their pineapple buns have improved significantly from what I remembered. It now met all the requirements of the perfect pineapple bun, which I will divulge in a later post.

So the perfect pineapple bun came and went:

I was going to have just one, but not quite through that first bun I decided to order a second one. Another piping hot bun came and this one had two horns and looked like … a cow? the devil? (Ah, the definition of artisan – no two buns will look the same.) Very soon there were only two empty plates with crumbs.

A “bakery restaurant” is a double edged sword: It is not like buying a box of pastries and bringing them home. Here you can keep ordering as many pastries as you want and every one of them will be as fresh as they can possibly be. Very dangerous. So we had to leave. As we do, more pineapple buns out in the self-serve pastries area (selling at $0.80 a piece) taunted me by calling my name. They also seemed to be singing Happy Birthday. I could not free them from their plastic prison, as there was no more room in my stomach. And why have a cold bun when you could sit down for a hot one?

Anyway, the story could have ended nicely here. But a few hours later, there was a birthday celebration at work. I thought it might be the usual cake-fare. Turns out there was no cake but a box of pineapple buns (complete with candles) that CT got from St. Germain. Before I could even take a picture, half the box was gone. Anyway, here are the buns and a cross section:

Oh, I could not resist. So I had my third. I found St. Germain’s buns to have a slightly thicker crust, and heavier dough. They weren’t bad, but they did not quite measure up to Happy Date’s buns – the fairest comparison couldn’t be made as they have been sitting in a box and were thus no longer warm. They definitely tasted more commercial, which is to be expected since St Germain is one of the bigger chain-bakeries in town. Still, I have found their pastries to be overall decent in the past. And how could I resist, especially since it’s my birthday? By the end of that last bun I could have eaten a fourth, but somehow I managed to stop myself.

All in all, a very … uh… bun-derful birthday!

 

Happy Date Bakery and Restaurant (8135 Park Road, Richmond).

Saint Germain Bakery (various branches in Greater Vancouver).

Stonegrill

New York steak, Stonegrill

Few days ago we went to the Stonegrill for lunch. It was a beautiful sunny day, perfect as they have a 180° view of False Creek and Granville Island:

 

They had really good, piping hot sourdough rolls. (But it is not always sourdough. Sometimes you just get a French roll.) There wasn’t much in the basket, but maybe that was a good thing as I can easily eat several baskets of warm, sourdough bread.

For the set lunches, you can either pick the mixed green salad with the Balsamic vinaigrette (which is presented thoughtfully but tastes just like a salad would):

… or the soup of the day – in this case cream of mushroom (which was described as “more herby than mushroomy”):

 

The bread and appies came quickly, but it takes them a long time to prepare and roll out your raw food on the hot slabs of stone, even though the restaurant is quite empty. Since they have all the stones already preheated and kept hot in an oven, maybe it just takes their chef a long time to chop and cook the veggies and potatos that came with the food. Or maybe they just want you to really soak in the view considering the food is overpriced. (A glass of red wine also costs a few bucks more than the same thing elsewhere.)

Anyway, so they finally rolled out the food on a trolley: two little cubes of meat – the New York steak and the Ahi tuna, and a giant Portabello mushroom (this is actually on their appy menu). After receiving them at our table, all three had to be promptly removed from the hot slabs of stone at the risk of overcooking… even if the tuna was sitting on two slices of lemon. That tuna was really good, cooked rare and seared just slightly on the outside… by ourselves, of course. The Portabello was nice, although it is not something I cannot reproduce in my own kitchen with a hot skillet, as they literally just give you raw food on a stone, not prepared with any flavoring, sauces, or spices. Only a bit of salt. The dishes come with their own dipping sauce. (Soy-based for most, creamy ones if you order the shell fish or salmon.) If I were them I would do something hot pot style and put out an array of sauces so people can cook as well as flavor their own dishes. But maybe that will bump up the price even more. Well, at least it is a healthy, personalized, and interesting way to enjoy food… if you don’t own any kitchen utensils.

 

Ahi tuna

 

Portabello

 

The Stonegrill

1661 Granville Street, Vancouver.

Steamed, not baked: Steamed Buns (Shitake-Cabbage Bao 素菜包 and Pumpkin Paste Bao 南瓜包)

 

Steamed shitake-cabbage buns

 

Aside from rice and noodles, steamed buns are a mainstay of Chinese cuisine. And various types exist. The simplest of steamed buns is the mantou (饅頭) – which I have always associated with northern Chinese cuisine. The mantou is a plain bun without filling. Built from similar ingredients, they are like a steamed version of the Western dinner roll. (Interestingly, “饅頭” in Japanese cuisine refers to filled buns.) Like the dinner roll, mantou is often an accompaniment to other dishes and sauces. I love dipping them in sweetened condensed milk.

When a mantou earns a filling, it transforms into a baozi (包子), or simply, bao. The choice of filling here is literally endless, and the dough can differ in texture. Cantonese dimsum features many types of  bao with fluffy white dough: barbeque pork bao (叉燒包), lotus seed paste bao (莲蓉包), yellow custard bao (奶黃包) – the latter two being sweet and often dessert items. My favorite is the Shanghainese xiaolong bao (小籠包, literally “little steamer bun”) – small buns with a thin, smooth dough, with a meat-filling and also a savory broth inside. 

Anyway, I made some steamed bao‘s on the weekend. By definition, they would be a kind of 素菜包 (veggie bao, a popular type),  and what I am calling 南瓜包 (pumpkin paste bao, somewhat of my own creation).

Steamed buns should not be made in anything else but a 蒸籠, or bamboo steamer. Although not used much in day-to-day cooking, it is an indispensible utensil in the Chinese kitchen. Here was mine. This one is about a foot in diameter, and fits perfectly into your typical wok:

The bun dough was very simple: all purpose flour, yeast, salt, and water. I used whole wheat flour. Typically mantou’s and steamed buns are snowy white from white flour, but I thought it really shouldn’t be different with whole wheat. I threw together one filling from Taiwanese cabbage, shitake, and scallions (stuff I had in the fridge). This was tasty enough that I had myself a mini-salad on the side (it’s quality control). The other filling was made with mashed Kabocha squash (also known as Japanese pumpkin).

Unless you want round buns, bun-wrapping is an art, and prettiness comes with practice. I found it best to roll out the cut pieces of dough to slightly larger than my palm, with the edges much thinner than the middle. My first wraps had dough that was too thick and not rolled out quite as large as it should: 

  

I tried wrapping and shaping the buns in several different ways just to experiment, and found that the rounded, seam-up and slightly opened configuration to be most pleasant. My steamer fits 12 small buns. (Here they are sitting on pieces of parchment. If actually served in the steamer, it would have been pretty to line the bottom with several large pieces cabbage leaves instead.) It is preferable to leave at least 1/2 inch in between them because they will expand after steaming:

 

After steaming, the whole kitchen was filled with the scent of … well, cooked shitake, veggies and buns. (Different from the smell of baked bread, more moistly aromatic.) I ate a bunch as soon as they were done, as steamed buns are best enjoyed hot. Personally, I liked how the whole wheat dough had more flavor and chewiness, and I also thought the darker color and those little specs of graininess made them look more interesting. It’s like how grainy breads look tastier than plain white bread. A closeup:

The cabbage-filled buns were flavorful, slightly juicy, and not overly salty. Which I liked. Sometimes I like to use Worchestershire sauce as a dip for bao‘s and dumplings. I tried this here and found added flavoring to be unecessary, but it wasn’t bad. The Kabocha-filled buns looked like moon cakes. I found them to be sweet and savoury at the same time. I love Kabocha, and I enjoy it simply steamed and without any added flavorings. But for some reason, I would haev liked the Kabocha buns to be just a tiny bit more salty.

These disappeared quickly, though I was able to sneak away a few and froze them for a rainy day. 🙂 

                                          

                 

素菜包                                     南瓜包

Shitake-Cabbage Bao                    Pumpkin-paste Bao

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Recipe follows…

 

Good dashi @ Ichiro

Ichiro again. Trying to spread the word. From J’s recent recommendation, I tried their vegetables in soup. It was nice: Enoki, cabbage, spinach, leeks, two giant slabs of tofu, in a nice pot of dashi soup. This also looked better than the picture they had on their menu. A decent size at $6.95, but of course one cannot simply come and go, without a very generous sampling of “the usual”:

 

Glad to know I’m not the only one who suffers from that menu recurrency syndrome known as “Sticking to the good, reliable default even though you know you should be trying other things.”

On a side note – They were sold out of their coffee jello’s. It took them a long 15 minutes to inform us of this.

Miso Halibut Steaks

Miso halibut is one of my all-time favorite fish dishes. So when Favorite Fish Monger (a fast talking, fast acting, black rubber boot wearing Mrs. W) was selling fresh halibut steaks ($8.99/lb), passing it up would be a crime.

No other fish is a better canvas for miso (salmon comes close, but halibut is definitely better), and no other sauce brings out the flavor of halibut better than miso. Not only is miso halibut a savory culinary marriage, but is also extremely easy to make. I must say this dinner tasted better than any halibut I’ve had at seafood places in recent memory (there has been at least 4 different ones I can remember): It is amazing how great fresh halibut tastes – really quite different than the bland stuff they call “fresh” at restaurants.

Steaks or fillets? Skin and bones. And a recipe …

A sunny day down at the Wharf

Had lunch with Mom today, it was sunny out and we drove down to Steveston, walked around, and had lunch at the Charthouse.

Whether you like their food or not, no other restaurant has a better view of Steveston’s little Fisherman’s Wharf than the Charthouse, especially on a beautiful September day like this:

 There are plenty of window seats, so don’t let them seat you elsewhere. The food was pretty good, and the service was excellent – our waitress was a lady with golden blond hair who was genuinely attentive and very smiley. She is probably the epitome of the perfect waitress. Anyway, Mother really enjoyed the chicken salad croissant sandwich from their special lunch menu. The croissant was pretty big; I don’t think she finished the whole thing:

I had the crab louis (which mom also really liked):

A refreshing salad, with a lot of fresh – not canned – crab. A variety of veggies and half an egg.  (Why half? I don’t know.) I love asparagus and I only wish there was more – asparagus has been expensive lately so I haven’t been buying any, and I’ve been really craving it.

The bill came out to be under 40bucks (including a generous tip) which isn’t bad. One thing to note is, unlike most restaurants, pop at the Charthouse is not bottomless. I don’t know if this is important to a lot of people, but even if I don’t typically down several glasses of pop, bottomless is something I’ve come to expect when eating out, considering most places charge so much for a glass of pop.