This shortbread has such a short ingredient list that you might be tempted to overlook it. There’s no chocolate or vanilla. Not even eggs or baking powder/soda. There’s just flour, sugar, butter, and salt (and a secret flavoring agent).

Despite its simple nature, there’s an amazing number of things that can go wrong with shortbread: it comes out too plain, hard, dry, doughy, greasy, or stale-tasting. But you can’t mess up shortbread if you make olive cookies (scourtins) from the reputable French chef, Susan Loomis. The dough is crisp yet delicate. Every bite melts in your mouth. The olives don’t overpower the cookies, either. Whether you can taste it or not, every dessert has a pinch of salt to round out the flavors. In this case, the salt predominantly comes from the olives. (For more olive oil desserts, try making chocolate mousse, truffles, or gelato.)

The first time I made these cookies, they were supposed to be a birthday gift. Then I ate 10 in one sitting, and I eventually had to re-bake an entire batch. They were so addictive that I made about six more batches after that (as gifts, of course). They’re the most repeated dessert I’ve made all year.

Since the genius of these cookies is their unusual source of salt, I thought of another savory substitute: seaweed. I know vegetables don’t sound appetizing in cookies, but just think of seaweed as the complex version of sea salt.

When I thumbed through my pantry last night, I saw furikake (a mix of soy-glazed bonito flakes, sesame seeds, and nori) and thought, “Hey, why not? Fish come from the sea, too.” So I made two batches of cookies (which you should always do with this recipe, because you will run out!).

While the furikake tasted great in the raw dough (I loved the sweet-salty combo of the fish and the soy sauce), the fish flakes didn’t keep their crunchy texture, and the flavor became too distracting. It was still tasty, but I preferred the seaweed version.

PS-I conceptualized these cookies a long time ago, but that darn David Lebovitz scooped me. But my adaptation is different, as there’s a lot more seaweed but no egg. For another sweet-savory twist, I bet bacon would be good, and you could substitute some rendered bacon fat for the butter.

Seaweed Shortbread Cookies

This recipe doubles easily (trust me, you will need to double it), so you can munch on the cookies and still have some left for gifting. They stay delicious for weeks and hold up well in the mail.

Adapted from Susan Herrmann Loomis and The Traveler’s Lunchbox
Yield: about 34 cookies

1 stick unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup powdered sugar, sifted or 1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar, whizzed in a food processor until fine
1 Tablespoon roasted sesame oil (recommended brand: Kadoya)
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup crushed wakame flakes

Preheat oven to 350° F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or foil.

In a large bowl or the bowl of an electric mixer, cream the butter until it is soft and pale yellow. Mix in the sugar until blended, then drizzle in the sesame oil and mix until combined. Add the flour and the salt, and mix gently but thoroughly until the dough is smooth, then add the wakame flakes and mix until they are thoroughly incorporated into the dough.

With your hands, press the dough into the pan until it is 1/4-inch thick. Refrigerate the dough for at least 30 minutes, and up to 24 hours. Score the dough into rectangles with a knife.

Bake until the cookies are golden, about 15 minutes. Remove from oven and immediately cut the cookies while they are still hot. Cool on wire racks.

If you find that the middle pieces are still doughy, re-bake them in a preheated 300° F oven for about 10 minutes.

Variation: Substitute 1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons bonito-flavored furikake for the arame seaweed. (Furikake is like rice confetti. It’s also a delicious seasoning for cold silken tofu, eggs, noodles, popcorn, and salad. If you want to make your own, Gourmet and Egullet have recipes.)

These fruits have waxy skins and stems that are too long for their own good. They look like the offspring of apples, guavas and pears. I would have ignored them at the market if it weren’t for my grandmother, a Chinese version of Martha Stewart. She makes her own chili paste and drinks goji berry-logan elixir every day. She introduced me to “hollow” greens (because the stems resemble straws), jujube dates and now, fragrant pears.

It sounds like a vague description, but that’s their proper name. Farmers have grown these pears in China’s Xinjiang region for 1,300 years, but they’ve only been in the U.S. for about a year. (I discovered these pears right when they came here, but by the time I wanted to write about them, they were out of season. Now I appear out of the loop.)

Other Asian pears are crunchy and light, but the flesh is gritty and not very sweet. The skin is also thick and bitter. Fragrant pears are even crispier, but they are also sweet. Despite the skin’s appearance, they’re also entirely edible (except for the seeds of course). They are so juicy that you need to slurp quickly after taking a bite.

They are in season now, so head over to your local Chinatown or fancy supermarket. They’re not for the eco-conscious (it takes lots of jet fuel and protective packaging to ship them here), but they are very special.

I know of no other food that is as versatile as soy. In its natural state above, it resembles green peas. It can also stand in for milk (as soy milk), custard (as silken tofu), cheese (as firm tofu), meat (as tofu or tempeh), flour (as okara), nuts (as roasted soy nuts) and salt (as soy sauce or miso). High in protein, fiber and antioxidants but relatively low in fat, soy is a staple in my kitchen.

Dried soybeans

For the monthly themed cooking events, Is My Blog Burning and Sugar-High Friday, Reid at ‘Ono Kine Grindz has asked bloggers to make soy cuisine.

After making soy-sauce candied walnuts, I decided to experiment more with soy sauce in desserts. Soy sauce essentially tastes like caramel-flavored salt, so the idea isn’t too far-fetched.

For my first creation, I made chocolate caramels with soy milk and soy sauce. Out of my two experiments, this one seemed like the safest bet. As the Kikkoman website says, “Kikkoman Soy Sauce…..In Chocolate? Absolutely! Naturally brewed soy sauce can enhance more than just savory flavors — its salty brewed flavor depresses the extra sweetness typical of chocolate syrups and enhances the richness of the cocoa powder. It also helps to blend dairy notes and highlights the fruit top notes of the cocoa. The result: a deep, nutty, roasted chocolate flavor with a rich color.”

These low-fat caramels were tasty for what they were, but they were slightly grainy. I don’t know whether it’s because I used homemade soy milk, which naturally has pulp. Or perhaps the granulated sugar crystallized, in which case more honey was needed. Also, soy milk curdles at the slightest introduction of acid, which was in the natural cocoa powder. You may fare better with commercially prepared soy milk, which is smoother and has thickeners.

My candy also did not set up, even in the freezer. I’ve clarified the instructions, so cook the candy until it reaches the softball stage–248 degrees F. I think these would have tasted better with plain old salt, but if you’re adventurous, add the soy sauce in the end, so you don’t cook out its delicate flavor.

Chocolate Caramels

Adapted from The Soy Dessert and Baking Book

This is a great way to sneak nutrients into candy.

Ingredients:
½ c sugar
1 c vanilla soy milk
1 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 tsp honey
2 Tbsp cocoa powder, sifted
1 tsp soy sauce or 1/4 tsp salt

Method:
Line a loaf pan with greased foil.

Over medium heat, melt sugar in a sauce pan, stirring until it has completely dissolved and is light golden in color. Gradually stir in soy milk and bring mixture to boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer 10-15 min., uncovered. Add butter, honey and cocoa and salt (if you’re not using soy sauce) and continue boiling and stirring for another 10-15 min., or until mixture thickens (about 248F) and shrinks away from the bottom and sides of the pan. Stir in soy sauce (if using). Pour into the greased pan and cool 10 min. While still warm, cut caramels into approximately 18 pieces. Wrap in individual candy wrappers. The leftovers freeze well.

Now, what could possibly be weirder than chocolate and soy sauce? How about a dessert where the soy sauce doesn’t have “milk” or chocolate to hide behind? A dessert with just three ingredients? (Two if you don’t count the orange zest, which I didn’t use. Or one if you don’t count the sugar, which is mandatory in dessert.) It’s soy sauce sorbet, which Kikkoman features on its website, along with soy sauce chocolate sauce and soy fruit charlotte.

At first bite, the sorbet has an off-putting fermented flavor, but it gets better as you eat it. It’s the easiest way to make a refreshing “caramel” sorbet without having to caramelize the sugar. Serving it with chocolate sauce does double duty. The chocolate sauce offsets the sorbet’s saltiness, while soy sauce brings out the chocolate flavor.
The sorbet is slightly icy, like a granita. You can add more sugar if you want it smoother.

Now that my experiments are done, I declare soy sauce too weird to put in desserts. At least I tried. If you like Sam Mason-style desserts (ancho caramel or miso ice cream, anyone?) from WD-50, these might be up your alley.

Soy Sauce Sorbet

Adapted from a recipe by Chef Michael Bloise, Wish at The Hotel at South Beach (Miami Beach, FL)

Yield: 6 cups

4 cups water
1 1/3 cups sugar
2/3 cup low-sodium soy sauce (or substitute 1/3 cup regular soy sauce plus 1/3 cup water)
4 teaspoons grated orange zest
2 Tbsp vodka (optional but recommended to keep the sorbet from freezing hard)

Stir together all ingredients until sugar is dissolved. Freeze in an ice cream freezer according to manufacturer’s directions. Serving suggestion: Chef Bloise serves a small scoop of Soy Sauce Sorbet with ginger carrot cake.

IMBB27 and SHF20 round-up.

In the past couple years, salt has taken on culinary heights as an accompaniment to chocolate, ice cream and caramel candies. The flavors work because salt contrasts sweetness. Fleur de sel and gray salt are the typical stars, but one form of sodium has been overlooked: soy sauce. Think about it: soy sauce is aged for months until malty/caramel flavors develop. It actually pairs very well with sugar.

For this candied walnut recipe, soy sauce and molasses are boiled down to create a robust glaze. These nuts are fantastic with broccoli, caramelized onions, ice cream or straight out of your hand. Be sure to drain the glaze well, or it will remain sticky and slightly messy. If that happens, store them in the fridge to harden.

Soy Sauce-Candied Walnuts

by Michel Nischan for O, The Oprah Magazine

Ingredients
2 cups walnut halves
1/4 cup molasses
2 Tbsp tamari or soy sauce

Preheat oven to 350°F. In a small saucepan, combine walnuts, molasses and tamari; bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 5 minutes; drain nuts well in a sieve set over a bowl. Spread walnuts on a baking rack coated with cooking spray set over a cookie sheet. Bake until browned, 8 to 10 minutes. Remove and let cool.

Continuing on with four-star pastry chef Johnny Iuzzini’s grapefruit dessert demo, we have almond cake with frozen grapefruits and oranges.

The almond cake was served warm from the oven and was like a souffle: light, airy and creamy. It had a delicate browned upper crust. The frozen grapefruit and orange carpaccio’s (Italian for thinly sliced cold food) kaleidoscopic colors were elegant, but I didn’t care for the taste or texture. It was very icy, like a watered down popsicle. I think grapefruit sorbet, bursting with bright flavors, would have been more appropriate. Or, if you’re keen on contrasting textures from the pudding-like cake, a granita would work too.

The most elaborate dessert was the grapefruit-tarragon millefeuille. While it did not have a thousand layers as the French name suggests, it did have several components neatly stacked on top of each other. The base was pate sable (tart dough),then citrus sponge cake, sweetened grapefruit sections, white chocolate, tarragon pastry cream, another layer of white chocolate and candied grapefruit peel on top. What a mouthful to say and eat.

With so many layers, I focused on getting an equal amount of everything in one bite. I literally had to stab the beautiful creation in my feeble attempt. The chocolate shattered into shards; the pastry cream drooped out; an entire grapefruit section slid out leaving subsequent bites naked; the fork hit resistance with the coarse cake; and the crust crumbled. The eating experience could easily be remedied by cutting the citrus sections into smaller pieces.

The dessert was heavy on craftsmanship, but my favorite parts were just the top three layers: cool pastry cream, crisp white chocolate, and some citrus for a little tang. The flavor combo was like an elegant creamsicle. For home application, you could make white chocolate cups, fill with your favorite pudding or pastry cream, then top with citrus sections.

Rounding out the dessert tasting was a relatively simple chocolate crepe filled with grapefruit curd. My favorite dessert of the bunch, the smooth curd (a milkless pudding augmented with eggs and butter) oozed out of the crepe. Really great. At home, you can spread any citrus curd on a crepe, pancake or even tortilla. The buttery suzette sauce isn’t necessary, but the sugared lemon on top is a nice touch.

The experience made me more aware of the different styles of dessert. Iuzzini reminds me of The French Laundry’s Thomas Keller: both bring several components together for the final dish. Iuzzini is no doubt a talented craftsman. He has only worked at four star restaurants: Payard, Cafe Boulud, Daniel and Laduree (they claim to have invented the macaroon sandwich cookie in Paris). He has appeared on several best pastry chef lists from New York magazine, the James Beard Awards and Pastry Art & Design. However, his desserts aren’t for me. It’s haute cuisine: art that’s admired more for its concept than its usefulness (in this case, my stomach). I prefer not to be blatantly aware of every dessert component. It’s as if each part cries out, “Pay attention to me, I’m honey!” “I’m Meyer lemon!” “I’m tarragon!”

It’s not that I’m mindless when I eat. My philosophy is just to use a few quality ingredients and handle them minimally.

More info on Johnny Iuzzini:
New York profile
The Amateur Gourmet’s two reviews of Jean Georges

Jean Georges
1 Central Park W
New York, NY 10023-7703
(212) 299-3900

Photo courtesy StarChefs

Every day, four-star pastry chef Johnny Iuzzini dazzles diners at New York’s Jean-Georges with his signature dessert tastings. Contrasting textures and temperatures come together in a central theme, be it chocolate, berries or even beets. This Saturday, he did it for free at the French Culinary Insitute. The demo and tasting was sponsored by Pastryscoop.com (an online publication of the French Culinary Institute) and TexaSweet Citrus Marketing, Inc. Can you guess what the theme was?

For three hours, about 80 guests watched Iuzzini prepare five grapefruit desserts and ate the fruits of his labor (pun intended). As a bonus, each person brought home a grapefruit giftbox, a zester (made for dang right handers!) and Iuzzini’s recipes, which I’ve provided through the links below.

Although the desserts were specially created for this event, the building blocks are mainstays at Jean-Georges. The instructions are sparse and assume you have a working knowledge of pastries. If you get past the French terms like chinois and quenelle, you can re-create four-star desserts at home. Where applicable, I’ve included Iuzzini’s tips. I felt like I was at culinary school, greedily jotting down the master’s secrets. Also, the quanities are by weight. One cup of flour can weigh between four and six ounces, a 50% difference! The beloved cup and teaspoon aren’t so accurate after all. Pastry Scoop lists conversions for liquids, flour and sugar to help you out.

Iuzzini’s first dessert was a warm honey tart, accompanied with grapefruit-shiso granite (ice) and charred oranges. The tart crust was technically a pate sable, which is French for “sandy pastry.” The term sounds like a coarse, mealy dough, but it’s not! Pate sable is like a crisp cookie that disintegrates in your mouth. If you only try one tart dough, make it this one. The custard was exceptionally smooth and hid a layer of tart grapefruit sections for contrasting flavors. Continuing with the theme of contrast, the grapefruit granita was cold and chunky. I thought the soul of this dish was the custard and the crust. For home application, I’d skip the citrus sections and the granita. Besides, I couldn’t even tell what that Asian herb, shiso, tasted like.

Next up was honey ginger ice cream, accompanied with grapefruit mirroir (like a runny Jell-O), brioche (a rich bread with lots of butter and eggs) croutons, and a drizzle of Thai basil oil. The point here was to contrast sweet, smooth cream with tart, textured jelly. The mirroir’s texture reminded me of (dare I say it?) brains. Sorry, all that time working at Court TV is infusing me with morbid humor. Iuzzini intended the crunchy croutons to add another dimension of texture, while the basil-infused oil was supposed to contribute a fresh flavor. I thought the dessert could have been fine without these two. At home, you can just layer premium vanilla ice cream with tart jam or citrus curd to get a similar experience.

Coming up in part two: almond cake with frozen grapefruit and oranges, grapefruit-tarragon millefeuille (layered pastry), and chocolate crepes filled with grapefruit curd.

Jean Georges
1 Central Park W
New York, NY 10023-7703
(212) 299-3900

Cheesecake is a simple combination of creamy cheese, sugar and eggs. But this common custard (yes, technically it’s not a cake) also has endless varieties. There’s the Creamy: a silky smooth filling that’s baked in a waterbath. Then there’s the New Yorker: a dense, slightly crumbly “cake” with browned edges. There’s also the No-Bake: the cheese sets up in the fridge to resemble mousse. And the Italian: the original cheesecake is made with mealy ricotta.

Up until this year’s Chinese New Year party, there was one last cheesecake I hadn’t tried: the Japanese. Japanese-style cheesecake is almost a misnomer, since it’s part cheesecake, sponge cake, and souffle. My favorite cheesecake is the New York-style, but for those who think traditional cheesecake is dairy overkill, Japanese cheesecake is a good alternative. The tiny air bubbles lighten the cake, but you can still get the cream cheese flavor. As with most Asian desserts, it’s also less sweet than its Western counterpart.

I’ve been craving this novelty ever since trying Fay Da Bakery’s Japanese cheesecake (and I don’t even like sponge cake!). And green tea’s all the rage at Panya Bakery in the East Village. My friends love their green tea tiramisu and green tea pineapple bun (there’s no pineapple in the bun–the crumbly topping just resembles the fruit). My roommate even suggested that I make green tea filling for my Su Good Sweets macaroons.

So for my friend Diane’s birthday, I decided to make green tea Japanese-style cheesecake. I adapted a plain Cotton Soft Japanese Cheesecake recipe from Irene at the Diana’s Desserts forum. This is a developing recipe, since Irene posted the recipe with UK measurements. The British bake by weight, rather than us sloppy Americans, who bake by volume. Volume is less exact, because people tend to cram as much flour as they can into a cup. (You’re really supposed to aearate the flour, scoop it into a cup, and level the top off without shaking it.) Improper measuring results in a dense, dry cake.

I steeped four tea bags into the batter and found there was no green tea flavor. So I finely processed the leaves from another bag and added it straight to the batter. The green tea flavor emerged, but it wasn’t as strong as I would have liked. So I estimate that six green tea bags is good.

Also, the original called for corn flour. In the U.S., corn flour is finely processed corn meal (the stuff in corn bread). However, in the U.K., corn flour is corn starch. They’re two completely different things! I used corn flour but got clumps. I think I was supposed to use corn starch.

Green Tea Japanese Cheesecake
Adapted from Irene’s Cotton Soft Japanese Cheesecake recipe

140g (2/3 cup) fine granulated sugar
6 egg whites
6 egg yolks
Hint: Eggs separate easier when they’re cold, but the whites whip better at room temperature.
1/4 tsp cream of tartar or 1/2 tsp white vinegar or 1/2 tsp lemon juice
100 ml (3/8 cup) milk
6 green tea bags
50g (1/2 stick) butter
250g (1 8-oz. package + 1 tbsp) cream cheese
1 tbsp lemon juice
60g (3/7 cup) cake flour
Hint: 1 cup cake flour equals 1 cup minus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour, plus 2 tablespoons cornstarch.
20g (1/4 cup) corn starch
1/4 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 325 F. Lightly grease and line the bottom and sides of an 8-inch round cake pan with greaseproof baking paper or parchment paper. If using a springform pan, line the outside with foil so the batter doesn’t leak out.

Scald the milk in a saucepan, preferably to 180 F. Do not let the milk boil, or it will make the tea bitter. Pour the milk in a cup and steep the tea for for 2-3 minutes. Remove the tea bags and squeeze out as much liquid as possible.

Melt cream cheese, butter and milk-tea mixture over a double boiler. Cool the mixture.

Combine the flour, corn starch and salt in a small bowl.

To the cream cheese mixture, fold in the flour mixture, egg yolks, 1 tbsp lemon juice and mix until smooth. If lumps remain at this stage, they will not come out later.

Beat egg whites with cream of tartar (or vinegar or lemon juice) until foamy. Add in the sugar and beat until soft peaks form.

Lighten the cheese mixture by mixing it with 1/3 of the egg white mixture.

Add the rest of the egg white mixture to the cheese mixture and gently fold. The batter should be well combined.

Bake cheesecake in a water bath (the water should be warm but not boiling) for 1 hour and 10 minutes or until set and golden brown on top.

My cheesecake came out wondrously smooth and puffy. Then it pulled away from the sides of the pan, and the top wrinkled as the cake shrunk.

Serving suggestion: garnish with a scoop of lychee sherbet (my favorite combination!), red bean ice cream, green tea ice cream, or mango sorbet (pictured).

This cake was subtly sweet and lightly buttery/cheesy. It wasn’t as good as Fay Da’s (I got more crumbs than spongy bubbles), but I think it’s because I accidentally used corn flour instead of corn starch.

On Sunday, my apartment threw a dinner party not for the Superbowl (bah, what’s that?) but for Chinese New Year. I decided to go all out and make roast pork buns (char siu bao) completely from scratch. The buns can either be made with fluffy white steamed dough or eggy baked bread. I baked mine because I don’t have a giant steamer.

Of course, the star ingredient of the buns is roast pork. You may buy the cooked meat from a Chinese restaurant or make your own.

Roast Pork (Char Siu)
from The Key to Chinese Cooking by Irene Kuo

Cantonese barbecue meat is characterized by its deep red color, sweet flavor, and charred edges. Thinly sliced pieces are perfect as a stand-alone appetizer. The meat can also be added to fried rice, lo mein (ribbon-like rice noodles), Singapore (curry) noodles, and roast pork buns. A common error is to add salt to the marinade, which toughens the meat. You can substitute ketchup for the traditional red dye. It thickens the marinade for better coating.

Maltose (the same sugary goo that coats Peking Duck to crisp its skin) is traditionally used in the marinade, but honey can be substituted.

While honey has floral or fruity undertones (depending on what kind of pollen the bees hang around), maltose has a more neutral flavor. Maltose is also so thick that you can grab a chunk with your bare hands. But when you try to separate it, cobweb-like strands form at the edges, kind of like the cheese on pizza, but worse.

Ingredients:
Meat:
2 pounds boneless pork loin

Marinade:
3 tbsp light soy sauce
2 tbsp bean paste
1 tbsp Shao Xing rice wine or dry sherry
2 tbsp ketchup
2 tbsp pineapple or orange juice
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp maltose (also sold as malt extract I believe), honey, or corn syrup
2 cloves garlic, curhsed, peeled and coarsely chopped
1/2 tsp five-spice powder (a mixture of ground star anise, fennel, cloves, cinnamon and ginger)

Trim the meat of excess fat. I used rib loin to save money. Boy, look at all that marbeling! When I deboned and de-fatted the meat, I only had half of what I started with.

Slice it lengthwise, with the grain, into strips about 2 inches wide, 1 inch thick, and 5 to 6 inches long. Note to self: the grain runs in the same direction as the fat. Place them flat in a shallow pan. Stir the marinade ingredients in a bowl until well blended (if using maltose, heat the marinade over low heat to dissolve it) and pour over the meat, rubbing it well into both sides. Cover and marinate for about 3 hours at room temperature, turning the meat a couple times. You could also refrigerate the meat and bring it to room temperature before roasting, but it shouldn’t be marinated longer than 6 hours — prolonged soaking damages the firm texture.

My strips were too small because I couldn’t tell which way the grain ran and cut with it.

Remove all the racks from your oven but the topmost one. Pour a few inches of water into a roasting or broiling water and place it on the floor of the oven to catch drippings and prevent smoking. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Insert a meat hook, drapery hook, or even a bent strong paper clip into one end of each strip (1 hook per strip) and hook the strips onto the top rack over the drip pan in one line.

Hanging meat, ghetto Chinatown style.

Roast the strips for 1 hour. Then increase heat to 400 degrees and roast for 10 more minutes.

Remove meat and take out the hooks.

The “char” of char siu. Aka instant cancer, but it sure tastes good!

Let the strips cool and firm slightly and then slice them crosswise, against the grain. The pork is good hot, at room temperature, or cold.

To reheat cold or frozen pork, place slices in an overlapping line in a snug shallow ovenproof dish. Pour a little meat stock over the meat (about 1/8 inch) and heat in a moderate oven or under a slow broiler until the liquid is steaming, the meat is hot inside, and the top surface is crisp. If you have no stock, you could season some water with soy sauce and honey or syrup to taste.

Don’t throw away the leftover marinade either! Just boil it on the stove for a couple minutes and save the liquid gold as a topping over rice or noodles. Thanks to Renee of Shiokadelicious for the tip!

Once again, The Key to Chinese Cooking came through for me. The book is like the Chinese version of The Joy of Cooking: reliable and thorough. I really liked the method of hanging the meat over water. No turning or basting was required, since heat evenly circulated the meat, and the water kept the meat moist. Roast pork is easy to make, and it’s okay (favorable, actually) to overcook it slightly so you get the crispy charred bits.

I thought the meat tasted more like Korean barbecue than Chinese roast pork, but it was delicious! Next time I’ll put a little less bean paste and more maltose. I’m not a meat person (I don’t like steak, brisket or prime rib), but I could eat this roast pork on a stick.

Baked Pork Buns (Char Siu Bao)
adapted from The Chinese Kitchen (not as thorough as The Key to Chinese Cooking, but its strong suit is its dim sum recipes) by Eileen Yin-Fei Lo

For the Filling (make while the dough is rising):
5 tablespoons low-sodium chicken stock skimmed of fat (I used my roast pork drippings, skimmed)
1 tbsp oyster sauce
2 1/2 tsp sugar
2 1/4 tsp tapioca or corn starch
2 tsp ketchup
1 1/2 tsp dark soy sauce
Pinch ground white pepper
1 tbsp oil
1 small onion, cut into 1/4-inch pieces
3/4 cup barbecued pork, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 1/2 tsp Shao Xing rice wine or gin
1 tsp toasted sesame oil

In a small bowl, combine chicken stock, oyster sauce, sugar, tapioca starch, ketchup, soy sauce, and white pepper; set aside.

Heat a wok over high heat for 40 seconds and add oil. Coat wok with oil using a spatula. When a wisp of white smoke appears, add onion. Lower heat to medium, and cook until onion turns light brown, about 2 minutes. Raise heat to high, add pork, and cook, stirring, for 2 minutes. Add wine, and stir to combine.

Stir the reserved stock mixture and add it to the wok. Cook, stirring, until the sauce thickens and turns brown, 1 to 1 1/2 minutes. Add sesame oil, and stir to combine. Transfer to a shallow dish. Cool to room temperature.

For the dough:
One 1/4-ounce envelope active dry yeast
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup warm water (110 F)
2 cups bread flour
1 large egg, beaten
3 tbsp lard or oil
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tbsp scallion-infused oil or plain oil (optional)

In a large mixing bowl, dissolve the yeast and sugar in the hot water. Put in a warm place for 30 minutes to 1 hour, depending on the outside temperature. (In cooler weather, the longer time will be required.) When the yeast rises and brownish foam appears on top, add the flour, salt, oil and half the egg, stirring constantly with your hand.

Begin kneading. When the mixture becomes cohesive, sprinkle the work surface with flour and place the dough on it. Continue kneading for about 15 minutes, picking up the dough with a scraper and flouring the work surface to prevent sticking. When smooth and elastic, place the dough in a large bowl. Cover with a damp cloth or plastic wrap and put in a warm place for 2 to 4 hours, depending on the temperature. The dough is ready when it has tripled in size.

Heat the oven to 350F. Cut parchment paper into 12 pieces, 3 1/2 inches square. Or, grease a large piece of foil. Remove the dough from the bowl, knead several times, then roll out into a cylinder 12 inches long. Divide into 1-inch pieces.

Work with one piece at a time, keeping the others covered with a damp cloth. Roll each piece into a ball. (I used a trick I learned at my cousin’s bakery. I cupped my hand and rolled the ball between my palm and the work surface. I moved my hand very quickly to make the surface taught. The dough was ready when it bounced back after I stuck my finger in it. If you can leave an indentation in the dough ball, the surface isn’t tight enough.)

Press with your fingers to create a well in the ball. Place 1 1/2 tbsp of the filling into the well, hold a bun in one hand, and with the other turn the bun, pinching it closed. Press firmly to seal. Place the bun, seam side down, on the parchment paper or foil. Repeat until all 12 are done.

Place the buns on a cookie sheet, at least 2 inches apart to allow for expansion. Place the buns in a warm place to rise for 1 hour. Spritz each bun lightly with warm water. Make an egg wash by taking the remaining beaten egg and combining it with an equal amount of water. Brush each bun with the egg mixture.

Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until golden brown. Halfway through the baking time, turn the cookie sheet around.

As the buns cool, their crusts will become slightly hard. If you want them to remain soft, brush lightly with oil immediately after baking.

These were really good straight out of the oven, with the filling piping hot and the dough still soft. The filling was perfect. It was just the right mixture of sweet and savory. It was also thick but not unnaturally jelly-like. The dough was rich and slightly sweet, just like the kind you get in Chinatown. However, my dough wasn’t as airy because I was in a rush and only let it rise till double its size (not triple, like the recipe stated). Also, the recipe didn’t call for any salt in the dough. A touch of salt is always needed to bring out the flavor of baked goods.

I probably won’t make these from scratch again because it was so labor intensive, but I’m really proud of my creation.