Taiwan Day 9: Childhood Memories of Stewed Pork Rice / 懷念三元號圓環老店 (Taipei: Datong District / 台北市: 大同區)

When my aunt finally had some time to hang out, I asked her to bring me somewhere that she and my dad used to eat when they were younger.  She led me to a restaurant that used to occupy a space within the central ring of shops at the intersection of Chongqing North Road (重慶北路), Nanjing West Road (南京西路) and Tianshui Road (天水路).  It has relocated just off the roundabout (圓環) due to the municipal government's mandated renovations, which many of the older generation locals in the area gripe about.  How often have you heard the elders mention that things just aren't the way they used to be?

The location may not be the same, but the flavors of its stewed pork rice (滷肉飯) have remained constant.  The stewed pork rice is old school here.  It is easy to see.  The meat is minced, ground, or chopped into bits and pieces and stewed in a sauce of soy and sugar.  When it is spooned atop the rice, it seeps into any space that it finds.  It is fully incorporated.  The meat is nowhere close to the glossy chunks or gleaming cubes of pork belly that are found in restaurants elsewhere.  The pork used here is lean ground meat.  It is far from greasy, but still... this is a hot mess.  It is saucy; it is soupy.  It is home style.  It is the way my dad, my aunts and uncles ate when they were little.  It is delicious.

It is hard not to imagine the thoughts, goals, and ambitions that ran through my father and his siblings' minds when eating a bowl of this messy, saucy pork rice.  Back then there was silence during meal time for my parents.  Not only was the pork stewing away in the pot, but the burrowed desires of a better life were stewing away in their heads as well.  Even to this day it is not easy for the elder generation of Taiwanese to express or communicate their emotions explicitly.

The only time a hint of their childhood memories come to light is when my dad makes this saucy, sliced garlic pork (蒜泥白肉).  This is another dish that elicits family history whether it is happy or painful.  For me, I only know this dish when cooked in our home kitchen in America, but my dad his siblings know of this dish the way that I experienced it.  The thin cuts of blanched pork are laid out on a platter before being drenched in sweet soy sauce paste, minced garlic, and a mound of freshly shredded ginger.  The raw biting garlic will undoubtedly leave a lasting taste on your tongue for a while... much like the memories of eating at the roundabout shops have left for the Lin family.

If this strangely emo post has not already turned the glories of pork upside down for you, continue reading... there's more! Not everyone is fond of their childhood memories, and not everyone appreciates the lingering garlic flavor on their tongue.  Fortunately, there is a pork spare rib soup (排骨湯) available to cleanse your palate and wash away bad memories.  The deep fried pieces of spare rib sink down deep into the depths of the soup, adding flavor and substance to the mild broth brewed from daikon.  A hearty yet mild flavor, the broth is substantial enough to rinse away any flashbacks of which you are not fond but just subtle enough to remind you that there were no regrets.

Oh, wow, that was a cliff of a conclusion.  Until next time, let's dream of getting S.O.F.A.T.

Read the post on 三元號 by TaiwanWalker in Chinese here.

三元號 (San Yuán Haò)
台北市大同區重慶北路二段11號
No. 11, Chongqing North Rd., Section 2, Datong District, Taipei City 

ML - 20130708

In the Kitchen Video 02 - Zhajiang Noodles (AKA Fry Sauce Noodles or Black Bean Noodles)

A high school friend was hosting a monthly themed potluck, inspiring all her guests to use food from cans or jars.  Super producer Christina Colorina thought it would be a great idea to present a noodle dish using canned sauces from Taiwan.  Here is our highly anticipated second video: S.O.F.A.T. in the Kitchen - Zhajiang Noodles



We have more videos to come later this summer.  I'm taking some time to travel and research more about Taiwanese cuisine in the motherland.  I'm also heading back up to Portland for a quick weekend.  There will no doubt be some more good food to post about.  Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20130608

Post 93: Pork Belly Octo-nom (LA: Koreatown)

When I decided to dedicate the month of October to the most pleasurable portions of pork, the first thing I thought about was pork belly.  Not bacon? What a shock.  Ah, pork belly... it is a luxuriously thick slab of fatty pork that, at least for me, gives me more exhilaration than eating just basic bacon no matter how smoked, cured, or maple syruped it has been.  One of the most memorable meals of delicious pork belly that came to mind was the eight courses of decadent grilled pork belly from Palsaik Samgyupsal Korean BBQ in Koreatown.  Palsaik, meaning eight colors, specializes in BBQ of pork belly.  There is beef on the menu also, but most patrons select one of two multi-course set meals of pork.  The first selection on the menu, the one we ordered, is an ample amount of food for three people with moderately large appetites.  The meal comes with other grilled vegetables, a salad, seafood stew, fried rice and side dishes... all of which can be refilled by the server with the push of a glutton.  Er... button.

The eight different flavors include (in order of suggested consumption)... wine marinated, original, ginseng, garlic, herb, curry, miso, and spicy gochujang.  There is even a ninth flavor of smoked pork belly.  It is left off the classic palsaik, but it can be ordered a la carte by the strip or by the tray.  The restaurant stresses the healthy aspect of eating the pork belly, which is laughable at first.  But after exploring the health benefits of the eight flavors posted on their website (ginseng stimulates metabolism... herbs alleviate stress... curry helps prevent Alzheimer's and certain cancers, etc.), it is understandable as to how each ingredient can be good for you... those healthy ingredients should probably be consumed without it being slathered over slices of fatty pork belly.  Speaking of which... each cut of the fatty pork belly has been scored so that the supposedly healthy marinades can permeate the protein more easily for the utmost of flavor in each bite.

The first cut is wine flavored pork belly, which the server tells us has been marinated in a red wine overnight for eight to 12 hours.  Having the wine break down the proteins in the meat for that many hours allows for a texture that is tender and succulent.  I have not figured out why the wine marinated belly gets served prior to the original flavor yet... although I speculate that the remaining seven cuts of belly are not as tender as the wine marinated.

Following the wine marinated cut is the original pork belly.  It is the cut in the purest form without even a sprinkling of salt or pepper...  Returning from the tenderness of the wine marinated cut, this is a reminder of what unaltered pork belly tastes like.  It's crispy... it's fatty... it's juicy.  It is around this time that I notice the many things happening on the table at once that it is difficult to focus on only the pork belly.  I am distracted by the seafood stew that is still boiling away... and mesmerized by all that is gleaming on the table.

After the original flavor is one that has been rolled in ginseng.  The ginseng flavor is extremely smart because it is almost a palate cleanser.  It is a bit unexpected but not unrealistic to have contrasting flavors to help cut the grease of fatty pork belly, which there is a lot of exuding from the strips of glistening pork.  Tilting the grill pan is another method of helping to cut the grease.  All the extra fat runs downward into a convenient hole at the bottom of the tilted grill.  What is not captured by the black hole helps to fry the kimchi and spicy soybean sprouts.  That goes without saying that kimchi fried in lard is quite delicious. 

The last of the first four is garlic pork belly with actual sliced cloves of garlic.  The pairing of meat and garlic is very natural.  It is one of the first items in the kitchen that cook will grab to cook or marinade with.  The fragrance and aroma of the garlic is powerful, and it becomes even more potent after it is grilled.  It may even help induce an orgasmic climax during the meal.

Of the final four, herb marinated is next, with dill as the predominant tasting herb.  None of the herbs are thought of as typically found in Asian cooking, so it was surprising to taste these flavors marinated into the pork belly.  I appreciate the break in seemingly Asian flavors knowing that curry and miso were coming up.  More than halfway through the meal now, food coma may start to set in.  I found myself zoning out and staring at all the cuts of pork belly sizzle away on the grill.

Curry tasted like a blend of Southeast Asian curry flavors more like the taste of Malaysian curry rather than an Indian or Japanese curry.  It was a little heavy for my taste, especially because I was expecting something a bit lighter like Japanese curry, but it was still good.  The Southeast Asian curry uses its somewhat more exotic spices to provide more of a punch.  Because it is one of the heavier tastes it is nice to wrap it around some radish paper or have a bit of the pickled japaleños and onions to cut the heaviness.

The penultimate flavor of pork belly was miso paste.  There were no surprises here.  The miso flavor provided the saltiness that I expected from eating pork belly, which gave it more of a bacon quality.  I especially liked this flavor because the miso paste crusted up really well on the grill.  It has a great grilled color and crisp texture on the exterior.  Yum.

Hot/spicy was a favorite for all at the table.  It was flavored with gochujang, a spicy Korean chili paste.  Although the red glow from the marinade warned of the impending heat, the slight sweetness of the gochujang does not overpower your taste buds with overwhelming heat or bite.  There is a smoothness to the spice that allows you to continue eating it until there is no more.  It really was the best ending to all of the flavors... understandable why they saved the best for last.

Our eight colors of pork belly was quickly followed by a boiling cast iron pot of seafood stew.  From crab to shrimp to mussels to octopus to tofu to udon noodles, we eat everything until just the little dregs were leftover... but there is just enough stew to reduce down into some intense flavor that is perfect for making fried rice.  The server arrives to cut and fold the leftover kimchi and soybean sprouts into the rice along with remaining onions, mushrooms, and seaweed.  If the pork belly has not already made your stomach full, the last of the fried rice will.  In the couple of times that I have dined on Palsaik's eight flavors, we have never finished the last of the fried rice.  No matter... when the rice is done, we dig in.

We are full and satisfied from the eight, delicious flavors of pork belly.  This meal has inspired me to make my own pork belly octo-nom.  I am convinced that my collection of eight pork belly flavors are going to result in mouthgasms across the land just like Palsaik's incredible palate of eight has done for us.  So until then (when I wow you with my pork belly octo-nom), let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20120811

Post 65.1: Taipei - Traditional Taiwanese, Part 1 (Taipei: Da An District / 台北: 大安區)

Taiwanese food is a simple food.

Whereas many Chinese stir-fried dishes employ the yin and yang concept of relative equality (meat and vegetables in balanced importance), Taiwanese cooking does not.  Instead, Taiwanese cooking utilizes one star ingredient and complements it with a subservient sidekick of seasoning, spice, or some form of dipping sauce.

Think of it this way: Chinese cooking is like an ice cream sundae.  The ice cream, bananas, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and even the cherry on top share equal roles within the sundae.  Take one ingredient away, whether it's the ice cream or the cherry, and the harmonious balance of ingredients is greatly disrupted.

Taiwanese cooking, on the other hand, is more like frozen yogurt with sprinkles.  The sprinkles, while important, plays a supporting role to the frozen yogurt.  Take it away, and... well, you still got yogurt.

Here's a look at some of the Taiwanese dishes that I had... along with just a... wait for it... simple explanation.



Star ingredient: Clams (海瓜子炒九層塔)
Side seasoning, spice or sauce: garlic and basil
Cooking method: Stir-fried

There's something about the combination of garlic and basil that makes anything taste good.  From Italian pasta to Taiwanese seafood, the fragrant basil and biting garlic form a flavor that simply can't be beat.

Star ingredient: Shrimp (燙鮮蝦)
Side seasoning, spice, or sauce: soy sauce and wasabi
Method of cooking: Blanched

If it weren't for the shrimp being barely boiled, these sea creatures would be considered sashimi.  Halfway between shrimp cocktail and Japanese prawn sashimi, dabbing cooked shrimp in the soy and wasabi combination gives tribute to the olden days of Japanese colonial rule.  This is simply the way seafood was meant to be eaten.

Star ingredient: Pig's feet (紅燒豬腳)
Side seasoning, spice, or sauce: Soy sauce, rice wine, sugar, garlic, ginger
Method of cooking: Braised

Let's face it.  The pig's foot isn't the most appealing body part for first timers.  But if the same animal can bring joy to people with its bacon, pancetta, and sausage, how can the foot hurt at all? Its fattiness is the most flavorful part.  It's part salty (soy), part sweet (sugar), part spicy (garlic and ginger), and all around tender (rice wine)... this is a great way to experience a traditional Taiwanese birthday food.

Star ingredient: Oysters (蚵仔酥)
Side seasoning, spice, or sauce: Salt, white pepper powder, basil
Method of cooking: Deep fried

Think popcorn chicken.  Okay, now sub the chicken with fresh oysters.  And then add a forest of deep fried basil and a sahara of salt and pepper that you can dip each oyster oval into.  That's a formula for heavenly indulgence... if not a heart attack in the making.

Star ingredient: Beef (烤牛肉)

Side seasoning, spice, or sauce: Black pepper sauce with raw onions

Method of cooking: Grilled

This house specialty is highly recommended by the chef's wife.  Funny, because she runs a restaurant that specializes in seafood.  The chef sears the beef to perfection on the outside while heating the inside to a degree that is just barely passed rare.  The beef is truly tender and flavorful.  If you get a little squeamish about rare meat, there's a bed of raw onions under the loins to help kill off the potential rawness.  Really.

Star ingredient: Frog's legs (鹽酥田雞)

Side seasoning, spice, or sauce: Salt and pepper

Method of cooking: Deep fried

I had my first experience with frog's legs with these little bites.  If the Colonel cooked this up in one of his famous extra crispy batches, it'd just be extremely firm, lean chicken.  Roll them around in the salt and pepper powder, and you would just think that it tastes just like a moist version of chicken breast.  Seriously, even the name in Mandarin means, "chicken of the field."

Star ingredient: Fresh spinach (炒菠菜)

Side seasoning, spice, or sauce: Garlic

Method of cooking: Stir-fried

Everyone needs their greens, right? The best way to have Popeye's favorite is stir-fried with just a few cloves of crushed garlic.  The natural water from the leaves mixed with the garlic infused oil from the wok makes a simply awesome sauce.

Star ingredient: Rice and eggs (蛋炒飯)

Side seasoning, spice, or sauce: Green onions

Method of cooking: Wok fried

Still hungry? There's always fried rice.  But this, once again, is as simple as it gets.  No meat, no other veggies... just rice, scrambled eggs, and finely chopped green onions.  It's wok fried with pork fat and soy in such a high heat that the grains of rice separate into individual grains and eventually melt into the fatty soy sauce.  So good.

Chances are you won't be hungry, though, because chances are that you will be chasing each bite with a sip of Taiwan Beer.  The simple brew is so popular with Taiwanese dishes that Little Lin's Seafood Shop even has a PYT to help serve and pour it for each table.  The pretty young thing could be considered poor young thing; she works the entire night in stilettos.

Not shown are the steamed whole fish, stir-fried rice noodles, and stir-fried Taiwanese cabbage.  Other Taiwanese food and travel blogs such as Angie's Blog, Gygy, and Deep Blue No. 5 all have pictures from their experience.

Although the experience with Taiwanese food always starts off simple with perhaps just a few dishes, it winds up with a multiplex of various meats and seafood and even a few veggies here and there.  Similarly, this post evolved from a simple explanation to a multitude of paragraphs.  Chiah pa! Until some more simple food, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Little Lin's Seafood Shop (小林海產店)

台北市 大安區 / Taipei City, Da An District

光復南路 574之1號 / Guangfu South Road, No. 574-1

大門口在延吉街 / Entrance is on Yanji St.

ML - 20110902

Post 63: Taipei - More Szechwan Flavors / 更多川味 (Taipei: Da An District / 台北: 大安區)

Although beef noodle soup is the supposed national dish of Taiwan, it is rumored to have origins in the Szechwan region of China.  Since its creation, beef noodle soup has been altered by the many generations of Taiwanese to what it is today.  However, other Szechwan-branded dishes such as mapo tofu (麻婆豆腐), hot and sour soup (酸辣湯), and dan dan noodles (擔擔麵) have generally remained constant throughout their culinary histories.  There may have been substitutions for different or better quality ingredients and perhaps slight tweaks in flavors to suit regional palates, but for the most part, these famous items are still considered Szechwan dishes.  Chili House Restaurant (四川吳抄手) in Taipei is a great place for a taste of these traditional spicy Szechwan flavors... but it's also a great place for discovering some non-spicy items too.



On my previous visits to the restaurant, I had ordered the usuals: red chili wontons (紅油抄手), super spicy mala noodles (麻辣麵) that numb your tongue, and hot and sour cabbage pork (酸白菜肉絲) wrapped in steamed shaobing pockets (燒餅).  This time, though, I had a sudden craving for fatty pork.  I doubt the Szechwan origins of this dish, especially because the only remotely spicy ingredient in it is minced garlic, but hey, a craving is a craving.  The English translation of this dish is cold white cut pork slices (蒜泥白肉), which doesn't sound appetizing in the least... so let's just use my translation: fatty pork in minced garlic and soy sauce.  Yum!

Hey, that's exactly what it is, anyway.  Lean slices of pork, which are blanched just quick enough to cook the meat, are bordered by thin, wrinkles of fat without a hint of grease.  Before anything else is done to the pork, it's chilled so that the meat becomes stretchy and tender, and the curls of fat on the pork taste almost al dente.  Soy sauce paste, a thickened and more pungent version of soy sauce that is widely used in Taiwanese cooking, is later drizzled over the top of the meat.  And the minced garlic? Already in the soy sauce paste.  No need for rice.  It's like chomping on bacon and not worrying about the eggs.

But I guess you can't really eat at a restaurant that serves Szechwan cuisine without ordering any spicy food at all right? Bring the red chili wontons, please.  In fact, these red chili wontons are exactly what anyone coming to this restaurant should order.  After all, the name of the wonton dish (紅油抄手) is in the name of the restaurant (四川吳抄手). 

The chili wontons come six in an order, and they come sitting in a puddle of soy and chili oil... unmixed.  You can relish in the tossing, mixing, and marinating of the flappy, Chinese ravioli before indulging in these bite-size poppers.  They're mouthfuls of savory, salty, and spicy bliss.  And what's even better is that you put effort into these one-bite wonders, and you know... it always tastes better if you've had a hand in the work.

After devouring half a dozen little fists of cloud-like wontons, I dug my chopsticks into the mound of hot and sour cold noodles (冰鎮酸辣麵).  The noodles were topped off with Chinese celery, chili and chili oil, green onions, sesame, and bean sprouts... a combination of of ingredients that provided notes of sour tang and chilled bursts of crunchy refreshment.  The celery, sesame, and sprouts opened the way to cooling off during the hot and humid Taipei summer afternoon.



A bowl of noodles usually sustains my hunger, but after discovering the refreshing delight from the Chinese celery and bean sprouts, I perused the menu for another vegetable dish.  Typical Szechwan vegetable dishes include dry fried green beans (乾煸四季豆) and fish fragrant garlic eggplant (魚香茄子), but somehow I landed on a tofu dish that contained more seafood than it did veggies.  The treasure chest of seafood (海至尊) came in a shallow dish filled to the brim with kryptonite green peas, cubes of diced sea cucumber, shrimp, clams, squid, and smoked ham submerged in a sauce made from salted egg yolk.

This was the most disturbing looking dish of the meal.  Perhaps the house specialty appetizer, bean sprouts wrapped in tofu skin (芝麻豆皮捲豆芽), was a better choice just based simply on appearance.  But this pool of sulfuric tofu was actually pretty tasty.  Each item of seafood was diced to the size of the tofu, which meant every bite had equal parts of tender tofu and springy seafood.  The salted egg yolk gave the dish a hearty and homemade taste while binding the plethora of ingredients together.  It looked ugly, but it tasted pretty damned good.  Hey, we aren't supposed to judge a book by its cover anyway, right?

One tofu dish led to another tofu dish... except the next tofu dish was a dessert, and it came compliments of the restaurant.  Almond tofu (杏仁豆腐) is typically a simple, homestyle dessert, but I understand why it's offered after a spicy meal.  The soft jello (it's not really tofu) has an almond fragrance with a sweet taste that soothes the tongue better than any other spice retardant... better than iced water or cold milk.  With or without spicy food, the springy, jiggly tofu in disguise was a great way to end any meal. 

Chili House has become a regular stop for me whenever I get a chance to visit Taipei.  Hopefully, everyone finds their own favorite spicy, Szechwan stop.  Until then, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

Chili House Restaurant (四川吳抄手)

台北市 大安區/ Taipei City, Da An District

忠孝東路 4段 250之3號 / Zhongxiao East Road, Section 4, No. 250-3

How I get there:

MRT: Zhongxiao Dunhua Station (捷運忠孝敦化站)

exit no. 4; walk east on Zhongxiao East Road

make a right on Lane 248 (248 巷); restaurant is on the left

ML - 20110915

Post 39.2: Americanized Taiwanese - Three Cup Chicken Lettuce Wraps

For the international potluck our goal was to bring a dish that represented our culture.  I brainstormed for days... debating whether to bring something substantial like dumplings, a simple snack like Taiwanese sausages, or maybe even some sweets like boba or mochi.  I even ventured into the stereotypical fried rice or chow mein, but I decided that I must show my co-workers something truly Taiwanese.

I made a long list of Taiwanese foods that included: Taiwanese-style tamales (肉粽), braised pork rice (魯肉飯), and even oyster pancakes (蚵仔煎).  I crossed items off the list one by one, eliminating them due to pork or seafood content, level of spiciness, and of course, ease of preparation.  And when I put the final strike through the second to last item, three cup chicken was the dish that was left.  Three cup chicken is about as authentic Taiwanese as it gets... and what could be easier than dumping wet and dry ingredients together into one pot, and letting it simmer until fully cooked?

What are the essential ingredients?

Thai basil, whole cloves of garlic and large chips of fresh ginger.

So three cup chicken is three cups of what?

One cup each of soy sauce, rice wine and sesame oil... simmered down to the end.

But as authentic as three cup chicken is... I still ran into a few ease-of-eating problems.

The chicken that's typically used still has a lot of bones running throughout the chicken... and that's not easy to eat at a potluck.  So I substituted bone-in, skin-on chicken with boneless, skinless chicken breast (it's healthier too), and diced them into cubes.

And I thought that lugging a big pot of white rice to work was not a good idea... so I subbed the rice for lettuce! Lettuce wrapped three cup chicken, I thought, would be a creative way to eat something very traditional... and it might get my foot in the door with my co-workers who are not as familiar with traditional Taiwanese cuisine.  (Lettuce wraps are one thing I can thank P.F. Chang's for... but the gratitude stops there.)

I subbed water for the rice wine just in case the alcohol didn't fully cook off, but it made the chicken a bit tougher than how it's supposed to be.  And using diced cubes of chicken breast rather than chunks of bone-in, skin-on chicken probably dried out the chicken a bit more than I would have liked.  The chicken wasn't tender, but it wasn't cardboard... and it wasn't anything a bit of minced water chestnuts (for crunch and moisture), green onion (for freshness), or Sriracha (for kick) couldn't take care of.

Success? For the first time making something my ah ma is pro at... yes, it was a success.

The only failure was for not taking a picture of the lettuce wrap itself.  It was topped off with the water chestnuts, toasted sesame seeds, slivers of fresh green onions, and a swirl of Sriracha.  It was beautiful.  What a fail.

Always take pictures before you eat!

Until next time, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20101104/20101028

Post 38.4: Connie's White Truffle Mac & Cheese

 

This past weekend Connie made mac & cheese with the white truffles that Diana and I got for her birthday.  Take a look at Connie's process of making white truffle mac & cheese with a few photos:

Props to Connie for the hard work... it's nice to see birthday presents being put to good use. And props to Michelle for the garlic bread spread from scratch.  It was delish! Until next time, y'all, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20111111/20101107