In the years since I’ve lived in Beijing, I’ve seen many new variations on the classic Beijing jianbing. There is the purple glutinous rice version (more chewy and delightfully lavender), and there are the new-fangled monster jianbings, which weigh in at at least 1 kilo and include – I kid you not – coleslaw, bacon, kebab meat, and cheese. Oh, and a slathering of thousand island dressing just to make it that much more vomit-inducing. It has me thinking back fondly to the days when the craziest thing that happened to jianbings was when foreign students brought slices Kraft singles cheese to the little carts and asked the JB craftsman to create pseudo-grilled cheeses.
So I’m pleased to say I found a new love in the green bean jianbing. The batter is a pale creamy hospital green, and after cooking, it sizzles up into a pea-green bundle of joy. The flavor of the green bean is mild, the batter a little less dense, and the trimmings are classic. However, I have to admit I love them mainly because hey, if it’s green, its finally a healthy breakfast option right?
Happy Year of the Goat/Ram/Sheep! You can’t live in Beijing and not live for (or at least on) dumplings. My first meal upon moving here five years ago was at Xian Lao Man for dumplings, and I still live spitting distance from there, not by accident. And there is no better time than Chinese New Year to wrap up these little packets of goodness to share with family and friends – and as an expat for oh-so-long, your friends are your family. This year the crack jiaozi (see past post for recipe) made a showing, but I also created my own – a cabbage, peanut, and Yunnan ham concoction. Continue reading
While the end is in sight, Beijing’s still in the midst of winter chill, and during the Chinese New Year, the streets are filled with snacks of all sorts. I’ve sampled and savoured freshly roasted chestnuts, sticky date and chestnut steamed cakes, and nothing keeps your hands warm and belly happy like a coal-roasted sweet potato. The other day though, a new snack showed up on my corner, looking like wacky spun foam insulation and smelling like … well, kettle corn! Continue reading
It’s no secret that Vancouver has some of the world’s best Cantonese food. Mass migration from Hong Kong and Southern China in the last few decades, coupled with a teaming supply of fresh seafood and local produce, makes it a mecca for authentic (and massively portioned) Cantonese food. It certainly made living in Vancouver more enjoyable for my grandparents when they immigrated, and the whole slew of aunts and uncles that followed, not to mention my own pa. It’s my comfort food, and while I’ll always first crave a charsiu and siuyuk fan（roast pork rice 叉燒饭, 燒肉饭）it’s been a while since I’ve had new dishes that tickled my tastebuds and made me appreciate afresh the delicacy of Cantonese cuisine. Continue reading
In my last post, I chronicled the birth of my little slice of hutong heaven (aka my container garden). A month later, we had our first harvest of a crop of tender leafy bak choi 白菜 and you cai 油菜. Now, these were tender and slender young things, unlike the chunkier, stouter variety we see in the market stalls. Sure, a number of leaves were shot through with holes where bugs feasted before us, and more than one little slug was nestled inside the white stems, but it was oh-so-satisfying to harvest these pesticide-free greens to fry them up and taste chlorophyl and sunshine – with a dash of salt. Continue reading
In this grey city, I find myself longing for my own patch of greenery and for years have kept as many pots and pans of green plants as I could squeeze into my flat. But in the face of China’s food safety fears, why not try a little backyard farming? Novel, greenery that’s not just ornamental, but that you can eat. Thus armed with the prospect of growing some luscious little cherry tomatoes and pesticide-free greens to munch on, we rolled up our sleeves, I conquered my fear of heights (no rails up here after all) and transformed my tiny rooftop into a container garden. Continue reading
Whatever you choose to call them, crayfish, crawfish, crawdads, or my personal favorite, the Chinese “little dragon shrimp (xiaolongxia 小龙虾)” these fine fellows are a staple of summertime eating here in Beijing. Along Guijie, the masses are camped out on stools, munching on complimentary sunflower seeds as they await their turn to chow down and rip apart their own crate of xiaolongxia (not to be confused with the large dragon shrimp – dalongxia (大龙虾) the lobster).
The Sichuanese crawfish (麻辣小龙虾) is stir-fried in heaps of oil via the wok, with a mass of spices including the infamous numbing peppercorns (花椒), chilies, soybean paste, ginger, garlic, leeks and cooked in mere minutes it’s then served in a giant bowl as a mass of pokey claws and chili-oil glossed tails. (Good Rasa Malaysia recipe here.) Continue reading
It’s Spring in Beijing, and for all of 2 weeks, we will get to enjoy gentle breezes, willow fluff in the air, and the pleasant shock of seeing our city carpeted with greenery once more. It’s also the start of BBQ season in the hutongs. This mala roubing (麻辣肉饼）lamburger was the genius brainchild of a series of mishaps last BBQ season that just begged to be repeated in earnest this year to kick off this Summer’s BBQ Season. Continue reading
gumbo, the sweet tea – oh, the sweet tea!, beignets, … and the BBQ – oh, the BBQ!). Alright, so shrimp ‘n grits was the best breakfast discovery. As the story goes, shrimping boats would have bags of grits on deck, and after shrimping all night would boil some up fresh shrimp and a pot of grits for breakfast after they pulled back into the dock. Regardless of history, I say breakfast, lunch or dinner, it’s all scrumptious. Continue reading
How many photos of curing meat does one blog need? Even as a bona fide SF faux-flexitarian these days, one cannot help but be impressed by sausage stalactites.
One half of Beijing Haochi came back to Beijing and promptly decamped to a couple other cities for flying visits. Not planned on the
Nanjing itinerary was this market of meat and hairy crabs (dazhaxie 大闸蟹), which just goes to show what you can discover on the way to looking for a pair of sneakers, nor did I eat the famous Nanjing specialty of duck blood with cellophane noodles (yaxue fensi 鸭血粉丝), paired with a bowl of crispy puffed rice, to be cracked up and sprinkled upon the herbally and healthy soup, where presumably they soften and lend textural interest. My stomach wasn’t too excited about this after an unpleasant run-in with the fleetingly delicious greasybomb of a mala xiangguo, although I understand the soup is excellent for tonification. Continue reading