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	<title>Beijing Haochi &#187; COOK</title>
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	<link>http://beijinghaochi.com</link>
	<description>We eat, cook, and shoot in Beijing.</description>
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		<title>Crack Dumplings: Recipe for Crispy Rice (Guoba 锅巴) Jiaozi</title>
		<link>http://beijinghaochi.com/crispy_rice_dumplings/</link>
		<comments>http://beijinghaochi.com/crispy_rice_dumplings/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 29 Jun 2011 18:31:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>the ladies</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[COOK]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Baoyuan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[dumpling]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[guoba]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[red cabbage]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://beijinghaochi.com/?p=1869</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/1a.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-large wp-image-1871" title="1a" src="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/1a-1024x640.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="384" /></a>

Ah yes, unabashed dumpling porn. But seriously folks, this dumpling (<em>jiaozi </em>饺子) is nothing short of awesome - our instant addiction made clear why a friend dubbed it nothing less than "crack <em>jiaozi</em>." Not only does this little nugget taste fantastic, the red-cabbage-stained purple wrapper makes it nearly as lovely to look at as to eat. Unlike other parts of China, Beijing dumplings are typified by an astounding variety of fillings beyond the common shrimp-pork-cabbage combo. Most restaurants serving dumplings will have dozens of fillings available, including tomato-and-egg, the Muslim-influenced lamb-and-cilantro, eggplant-and-egg, zucchini-and-egg, preserved vegetable-and-green beans, peanut-bacon-and-green pepper (another favorite), and so forth. <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/crispy_rice_dumplings/">READ MORE</a>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Deep-Fry Your Chili: Stir-Fried Cabbage (炒卷心菜)</title>
		<link>http://beijinghaochi.com/stir-fried-cabbage/</link>
		<comments>http://beijinghaochi.com/stir-fried-cabbage/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 07 Jun 2011 07:28:36 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>jen</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[COOK]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[cabbage]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[chili]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://beijinghaochi.com/?p=1811</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/cabbage5.jpg"><img title="cabbage5" src="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/cabbage5-1024x685.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="411" /></a>

Is there an easier dish to cook that's this ridiculously addictive? I'd say...no. And will have words with anyone who dare say otherwise.  I had a craving for this simple fare one day, bought two heads of cabbage and ate nothing else for three meals straight. Yet after I demolished both heads, I found myself hankering for another plate on day three. A tad embarrassing, but honestly, what's not to love? The cabbage is sweet and salty, juicy but still mildly crunchy, and it's even undeniably good for you. But if I am to be honest, the crux of the addiction is the hint of chili - not enough to make the dish spicy, yet leaves a tinge of fragrance on your tongue and in the air.  <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/stir-fried-cabbage/">READ MORE</a>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>7</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Chinese Lemons (国产柠檬): A 23 Word Recipe for Meyer Lemon Curd</title>
		<link>http://beijinghaochi.com/meyer-lemon-curd/</link>
		<comments>http://beijinghaochi.com/meyer-lemon-curd/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 31 May 2011 17:14:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>jen</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[COOK]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[LIFE]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lemon]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[maison boulud]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://beijinghaochi.com/?p=1761</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/lemon4.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-large wp-image-1765" title="lemon4" src="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/lemon4-1024x685.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="411" /></a>

One of the surprising wonders of living here is discovering some things you coveted back home are actually easy to find  in China. I'm not talking about Sichuan peppercorns, or a big bottle of beer for 3 <em>kuai</em> (40ish cents). I'm talking Meyer lemons, one of the sought-after treats from my life in Northern California. This little treasure is actually native to China, as I found out last year through the fabulous <a href="http://www.hawberry.net/2010/03/12/lemons-in-beijing/">Hawberries &#38; Kumquats</a> (thanks Shelley!). No one seems quite sure what a Meyer lemon's origin is, but this luscious citrus is best described as a cross between a lemon and an orange - slightly sweeter, thinner skinned... all the bright lemonosity you'd like yet without the sour pucker or bitter peel you've learned to expect. Thin skins means Meyers don't travel well, so unless you're lucky enough to live near Meyer lemon trees... <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/meyer-lemon-curd/">READ MORE</a>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>10</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Toaster Oven Part III: Beijing Bagels</title>
		<link>http://beijinghaochi.com/bagels_beijing/</link>
		<comments>http://beijinghaochi.com/bagels_beijing/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 27 Apr 2011 14:24:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>the ladies</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[COOK]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bagels]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bread]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[toaster oven]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://beijinghaochi.com/?p=1651</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/1.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-large wp-image-1652" title="1" src="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/1-1024x685.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="411" /></a>

Just when you thought I was done waxing poetic about the joyous versatility of a toaster oven, we embarked on a bagel adventure. Probably due to the sudden at-home bagel craze evident throughout the blogosphere, a number of our Beijing friends have recently been pumping out these boiled-then-baked-then-toasted brunch staples at home. We were inspired. We wanted to make our own, schmear on an ungodly amount of cream cheese, and stuff ourselves into an enjoyable Sunday carb coma. I was drawn in by the short baking time (10ish minutes) that seemed so very doable in our toaster ovens, and Christine was enraptured with the aesthetic possibilities of decoration (she was salivating over the visuals of pink Himalayan salt and black sesame).  <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/bagels_beijing/">READ MORE</a>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>15</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Genius of a French Fry Salad: Recipe for Xiang La Tudousi (香辣土豆丝)</title>
		<link>http://beijinghaochi.com/french_fry_salad_zha_tudousi/</link>
		<comments>http://beijinghaochi.com/french_fry_salad_zha_tudousi/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 29 Mar 2011 14:05:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>the ladies</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[COOK]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[deep-fry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fuschia Dunlop]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[potato]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sichuan]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://beijinghaochi.com/?p=1602</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/tater1.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-large wp-image-1604" title="tater1" src="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/tater1-1024x685.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="411" /></a>

The genius of this dish is undeniable. Let's call it a salad. But a salad made mostly from shoestring fries, tossed with leeks, ginger, green onion, cilantro and chilies, laced with the unmistakable zing of Sichuan peppercorns. The best version of this spicy fried potato salad (<em>xiang la tudousi </em>香辣土豆丝) we've had to date is at a grimy little <em>chuan'r</em> restaurant that sits on the corner on Jiu Gulou and a little hutong that leads to Bed Bar, one of the original Beijing hutong bars that now are casually replicated throughout our neighborhood. We've only hit it up after 3am and usually after indeterminate glasses of Jamesons or Mojitos.  The obvious question then is, is this deep-fried tangle only tasty at ungodly hours after numerous whiskeys? Hell's no. As you might suspect, fried potatoes spiked with the addictively numbing <em>hua jiao </em>(花椒) is delectable anytime. <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/french_fry_salad_zha_tudousi/">READ MORE</a>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>4</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Shaanxi(esque) Carrot Salad: Orange on Orange Action</title>
		<link>http://beijinghaochi.com/carrot_salad/</link>
		<comments>http://beijinghaochi.com/carrot_salad/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 19 Mar 2011 10:13:10 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>the ladies</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[COOK]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[PREP]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[carrot]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[shredder]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[yellow river]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://beijinghaochi.com/?p=1615</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/carrots1.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-large wp-image-1616" title="carrots1" src="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/carrots1-1024x685.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="411" /></a>

Sometimes, you just get the urge to shred something. Particularly as it (almost) feels like spring, and the markets around Beijing are finally filling back up with a loads of fresh vegetables, a sight for sore eyes after a winter of buying limp, overpriced turnips and making seemingly endless pots of stew. Inspired by the crack carrot salad at Yellow River noodles, when we spotted this orange toy set of mandolins and veggie carving tools, we had to have it. Easy choice, as this swanky set of plastic fun cost us a mere 7 kuai (1 buck). <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/carrot_salad/">READ MORE</a>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>4</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Toast from a Toaster Oven: Making sourdough</title>
		<link>http://beijinghaochi.com/toaster_oven_sourdough/</link>
		<comments>http://beijinghaochi.com/toaster_oven_sourdough/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Jan 2011 09:56:59 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>jen</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[COOK]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bread]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mantou]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sourdough]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[toaster oven]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://beijinghaochi.com/?p=1535</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/halfslice.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-large wp-image-1536" title="halfslice" src="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/halfslice-1024x685.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="411" /></a> 
 
So it's not Chinese food, but baking a (relatively tasty) loaf of sourdough in the confines of a tiny Beijing kitchen with an even tinier toaster oven is surely worthy of a blog post. In my neighborhood, it's nigh impossible to find the crusty sourdough loaves that were the staples my life in San Francisco. 
 
While my loaf can't even begin to compare with the complex flavors and yeasty goodness of true SF sourdough, it's cheap, easy, and elevates my toaster oven from well, a mere toaster into a magical gestator of some pretty awesome toast. And as a bonus, the flat smells great and it heats up the sub-zero temperatures in my kitchen. 
 
It only <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/toaster_oven_sourdough/">READ MORE</a>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>5</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Oodles of Noodles at Yellow River</title>
		<link>http://beijinghaochi.com/oodles-of-noodles-at-yellow-river/</link>
		<comments>http://beijinghaochi.com/oodles-of-noodles-at-yellow-river/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 28 Dec 2010 10:02:57 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>jen</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[EAT]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[LIFE]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[biangbiang mian]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[COOK]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[noodles]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[yellow river]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://beijinghaochi.com/?p=1511</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/pulling.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-large wp-image-1513" title="pulling" src="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/pulling-1024x685.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="411" /></a>

Once upon a time, we snuck into <strong>Yellow River Shaanxi Noodles</strong> (<strong><em>huanghe shui shanxi mianguan</em></strong>, the Meishuguan branch) in our quest to learn how to make the oh-so-heavenly<em> <strong>youpo chemian</strong></em>. I was promptly booted out of the kitchen, but not before I picked up a few tricks (see <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/biangbiang_mian_recipe/">previous posts</a>). As providence would have it, one weekend we got invited to run around the kitchens of Yellow River (Gongti branch) and learn how to pull noodles from the masters.

While I stubbornly maintain that C and I made one damn fine bowl of <em>biangbiang mian</em>, but we were never able to get our dough to be stretchy and pliable enough to pull and slap - effectively leaving the "<em>biang</em>" out of the <em>mian</em>. So we jumped at the chance to learn from the noodle master, and see how it's all done. <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/oodles-of-noodles-at-yellow-river/">READ MORE</a>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Magic of Chuanbeimu (川貝母): Asian Pear Soup for the Winter of my Discontent</title>
		<link>http://beijinghaochi.com/the-magic-of-chuanbeimu-%e5%b7%9d%e8%b2%9d%e6%af%8d-asian-pear-soup-for-the-winter-of-my-discontent/</link>
		<comments>http://beijinghaochi.com/the-magic-of-chuanbeimu-%e5%b7%9d%e8%b2%9d%e6%af%8d-asian-pear-soup-for-the-winter-of-my-discontent/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 10 Nov 2010 10:37:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>jen</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[COOK]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[asian pear]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[chuanbeimu]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[cough]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[soup]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://beijinghaochi.com/?p=1497</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/soup.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-large wp-image-1501" title="soup" src="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/soup-1024x791.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="475" /></a>

Rumor has it that this winter in Beijing will be even colder than the last. Considering last winter was one of the coldest in Beijing history and necessitated my purchasing not one, but TWO down jackets to make it through to spring without losing limbs to frostbite, I am more than a little worried. Not only does the prospect of mind-numbing cold displease me, Beijing's desert climate adds another layer of issues - my body feels intensely dry both inside and out, and I invariably will develop a hacking cough that for once has nothing to do with the pollution. I know, I sound grouchy. My solution this year is to shut up, and just drink loads of this ancient recipe to combat the inevitable dry cough that will invade shortly. <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/the-magic-of-chuanbeimu-%e5%b7%9d%e8%b2%9d%e6%af%8d-asian-pear-soup-for-the-winter-of-my-discontent/">READ MORE</a>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>7</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Fig Compote: Who knew they had figs in China?</title>
		<link>http://beijinghaochi.com/fig-compote/</link>
		<comments>http://beijinghaochi.com/fig-compote/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 01 Nov 2010 06:23:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>jen</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[COOK]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fig]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fig compote]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sauce]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://beijinghaochi.com/?p=1468</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/figjam.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-large wp-image-1469" title="fig compote" src="http://beijinghaochi.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/figjam-1024x791.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="475" /></a> 
 
I love love love figs. Love them fresh or dried, in a lovely red wine reduction, on my toast, stirred into yogurt, laced with honey... you get the point. Living in California, getting my hands on these fleshy little creatures was never an issue, but since moving to Beijing, I kind of gave them up. That is, until a serendipitous dinner at Maison Boulud and a chat with their chef blew my mind - figs do indeed grow here, and are brought to Beijing from Yunnan or Xinjiang. In Chinese, it's <em>wuhuaguo</em> (无花果) or no flower fruit. Being a nerd, I immediately looked up why it's named such - it turns out that fig trees have no <a href="http://beijinghaochi.com/fig-compote/">READ MORE</a>]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>9</slash:comments>
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