I wrote up a little recipe for Kvarøy Arctic Salmon to share how to incorporate salmon into a feast for the Lunar New Year. I really liked how the photos turned out—I tried to style the yee sang in a more modern, creative way. I’m really grateful to have sponsors that give me lots of freedom to tell me stories and represent my culture.
You can read more about yee sang and the symbolism of all the ingredients in my Instagram post.
Here’s an easy recipe idea for if your Chinese New Year celebrations are on the smaller scale this year. I took the idea of combining lobster with melted butter from a Connecticut style lobster roll and put an Chinese-inspired twist to it by adding aromatics such as ginger, garlic, and scallions into the butter. I stuffed the fragrant lobster meat into steamed bao, which can be bought from an Asian grocery store and stashed in your freezer.
I think of lobster as a celebratory food. It is often a part of Chinese New Year menus and other celebratory banquets where expensive seafood is served as a sign of prosperity. It is also red, a lucky color in Chinese cuisine. As I was researching Lunar New Year foods and customs, though, I learned that some believe lobster to be unlucky for the new year because they can crawl backward. This was my first time learning such a contradiction among different cultures that celebrate this holiday and I thought it was super interesting that this contrast existed. If you plan to make this recipe as part of your own celebration, please do proceed with caution that some consider lobsters a lucky part of a Lunar New Year meal while others might consider it less auspicious.
Stuffed bao represent little purses and are also considered a lucky food in Chinese culture. Many of the foods with good symbolism for the new year are meant to represent something having to do with wealth and prosperity. The more luxurious the ingredients, the better to welcome in the new year, but I wanted my more modern recipe to be more accessible, too. I used precooked lobster and tobiko for the bao you see in the photos but you could certainly upgrade to more high end ingredients if you wish.
8 oz pre-cooked lobster meat*
2 frozen storebought baos
1/4 cup salted butter
2 inches of ginger, peeled
2–3 cloves garlic, minced
white parts of 2 scallions, thinly sliced
2 tsp chives, chopped
2 tsp tobiko or caviar
yellow edible flowers, for garnish (optional)
*I used a thawed frozen pack of cooked knuckle and claw meat. Alternatively, you could blanch a couple of lobster tails, discard the shells, and chop the meat into chunks.
Drain any excess liquid from the lobster meat and set meat aside.
Finely grate the ginger, then gently squeeze out the excess water. You do not need to wring out all the moisture; the ginger should feel like a damp clump.
Prepare the bao. Place them in a parchment paper lined steamer, and place the steamer over simmering water in a wok or pan. Steam until the bao are soft and fluffy and heated through, about 5 minutes. Shut off the heat.
Melt the butter in a small saucepan on medium-low heat. Add the ginger and the scallion whites and allow to fry gently, stirring continuously, until the aromatics just start to color. Add the garlic and turn down the heat to low; continue to stir, allowing the garlic to slowly cook and infuse the butter. When the garlic just starts to color, add the lobster meat. Toss together to coat the lobster in the butter then remove from the heat.
Stuff the lobster pieces equally in the bao and serve the extra butter on the side. Top the lobster with chives and fish roe (tobiko or caviar).
Optionally, decorate with some edible yellow flower petals to complete that lucky red and gold color combo before serving.
Char siu is a Cantonese BBQ classic! Most Americans probably know it from char siu bao/bbq pork buns, one of the more common dim sum items at Chinese-American restaurants. But char siu has so many other uses! In addition to the steamed rice + blanched vegetables combo at the BBQ joints in Hong Kong, you can cut it up and toss it into fried rice, stuff it into bánh mì, serve it up with fried eggs for breakfast, or make it for Chinese New Year in combination with my golden salted egg rice to represent red and gold—the most auspicious color combo! In Malaysia (where my parents are from) they are part of a popular hawker dish called kon loh wonton mee (dry mixed wonton noodles)—noodles are tossed in dark Southeast Asian style sweet caramel soy sauce/kecap manis and served with blanched veggies, boiled wontons, and pickled chilies. (My photo above is a variation on this dish.)
This recipe is my version of how to make char siu at home. It involves my favorite method of making marinade, which is to chuck everything in a blender and pour it in a bag; no chopping! While most of my recipes I consider to be pretty low-maintenance, I will say that the roasting process does require some love at the end to get that good layer of glaze going. That is why this recipe makes such a big quantity of meat; I like to make a big batch if I am going to go through the effort at all! After cooling, stash the extras in the fridge; I keep it in whole pieces and slice it up when I need it, then pan-fry the slices. It really loses its luster after a few days in the fridge and the sauce becomes a dull paste, but heating it up in a nonstick pan will really bring it back to life, I promise! All the photos of prepared dishes you see in this post were made from week-old char siu.
Some notes about the ingredients:
What makes it red? Red fermented bean curd is what gives char siu is signature natural red color. You may encounter commercial versions of char siu that are very bright red; this is done with the use of food coloring. My version simply uses this more traditional ingredient to get a more mellow red, but it is a little tricky to find. In San Francisco’s Chinatown, I found it at ABC Supermarket and I have seen it in the big Asian grocery stores too. You can also order it on Amazon**, though it’s more expensive there. You can substitute with a little red food dye if you don’t want to purchase this special ingredient; the overall flavor will lose some of its depth of umami, but it will still generally taste like char siu.
What cut of pork is best? You are going to want to have at least some fattiness in your char siu because fat = flavor, and plus Cantonese BBQ is not at all about that lean meat life. I like to use pork belly, and use the resulting char siu as an alternative to bacon in my breakfast sandwiches. A lot of the grease renders out as the pork belly is roasting, and you are left with beautiful striated char siu that is moist and flavorsome. A well marbled piece of pork shoulder or Boston butt is another good option that will be less fatty but still stay moist when roasting. Since Spouse is not as into the super fatty cuts as I am, I make my recipe with half Boston butt and half pork belly.
Here are a couple more photos to give you some inspiration for what to do once you’ve made your batch of char siu! Recipe below!
4–5 pieces of red fermented tofu
2 tbsp liquid from the red fermented tofu
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup hoisin sauce
1 tbsp black vinegar
1 tbsp sesame oil
3 tbsp shao xing wine
1 finger of ginger, peeled
3 cloves of garlic
1/4 onion, peeled
1 tsp five spice powder
a couple dashes of white pepper
1 tsp smoked paprika (for color, optional)
2 1/2 – 3 lbs pork belly, marbled pork shoulder, or Boston butt
2 tbsp honey
To make the marinade, combine all the ingredients for the marinade in a blender and blend until smooth.
Cut the pork into large strips, about 2–4 inches wide. If using pork belly, slice off the firm outer skin and discard (or use for something else). Place the pork in a large zip-top bag and pour in the marinade. Make sure all the surfaces are coming in contact with the marinade and seal the bag. Marinade overnight.
When ready to roast, place a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 420°F. Line a large baking tray with foil and place a small metal rack inside (I use the one from my toaster oven). Remove strips of pork from the bag and allow the excess marinade to drip off into a saucepot, then place on top of the small rack with as much space between the strips as possible. Pour the remaining marinade into the saucepot.
Roast the pork for 20 minutes, flip, and roast for another 20 minutes. In the meantime, add honey to the saucepot. Place pot on medium heat and cook until it starts to bubble, then turn heat down to low and simmer, stirring often, until a thick, maroon-colored sauce forms (about 5–7 minutes).
After the pork has roasted for a total of 40 minutes, take it out of the oven, flip, and brush on the sauce. Return to the oven for 3 minutes, flip, brush sauce on the other side, and roast for 3 minutes. Repeat this cycle 2 more times. In the end, each side should have been brushed with sauce 3 times, and put back in the oven for 3 minutes after each brushing.
Take pork out of the oven and allow to rest for 15 minutes before slicing.
I first learned about this technique for making golden fried rice from one of my favorite YouTube cooking channels, Aaron and Claire. Their version of golden rice is simply about coating the rice in raw egg yolk before frying to give it that namesake color. But because I am obsessed with salted egg yolk things, I decided to take that golden rice to the next level with my golden salted egg fried rice!
Unlike the fried rice that you get at Chinese-American takeout places, this fried rice recipe does not include veggies or meat to turn it into a whole meal. Instead, it is meant to be a flavorsome and visually stunning base that is best eaten with anything where you would normally eat plain rice. It is great with char siu as seen below! The eggy taste from both the raw and cured egg yolks is subtle, but combining these ingredients with the rice transforms it into a luxurious-feeling, salted carby base that then helps bring out the flavors of whatever you’re eating it with.
For those of you who are unfamiliar, salted egg yolk is simply an egg yolk that has been cured salt. It is quite a common salty umami flavor in Chinese food, and can be found coating vegetables in a stir fry or inside dim sum items like lo mai gai (sticky rice packets with chicken and Chinese sausage) or as the center of a mooncake. It has become quite a popular flavoring for packaged snacks like potato chips or fish skins. Unlike in European cooking, cheese is really not present at all in Chinese cooking, and I have seen the addition of salted egg yolk being compared to adding parmesan to a dish; though they do not taste the same at all, I get where this analogy is coming from because they both have a deep salty umami and a rich mouth feel.
The traditional way to make salted eggs is to cure whole duck eggs in their shells in a salt brine for an extended period, but lately I have seen a lot of recipes for separating out regular chicken egg yolks and burying them in a big bowl of salt for a few days. I always just buy the salted yolks ready to go in vacuum sealed packs from the Asian supermarket. If you are able to find those, this recipe will be super easy!
1 cup jasmine rice
1 1/8 cup water
3 egg yolks*
1 tbsp shao xing wine
1 tbsp fish sauce or soy sauce
2 tbsp ghee or neutral oil
2 salted egg yolks
salt, to taste
*If the color of your yolks are not very rich or saturated, add 1/2 tsp turmeric to compensate
Make the rice the night before. Wash rice a few times, drain thoroughly, then add the water. Cook in a rice cooker, cool, and refrigerate overnight.
The next day: When ready to cook, transfer the cold rice to a large mixing bowl. Add shao xing wine and fish sauce (or soy sauce) and use the added liquids to help break up the rice until no clumps remain. Add the egg yolks and mix until each grain of rice is coated.
in another bowl, crumble the salted egg yolks into fine crumbs.
Heat up a wok on high. Add the ghee (or oil) then add the crumbled salted egg yolks. Stir until the mixture is completely foamy, then add the rice. Stir fry until the rice no longer feels sticky or wet. Add salt to taste.
Sweet, sour, glossy, sticky wings! I’m sharing this as an idea for a fun Chinese New Year party idea (within your household) even though I am fully aware that “orange chicken” is a Chinese-American invention—not at all a traditional dish to serve at a new year celebration. However, there is so much rich history to the Chinese-American restaurant industry, so much to be said about the way Chinese immigrants adapted to make a living here, that I think the cuisine that developed is worth celebrating. Something especially unique about orange chicken that I learned from Chinese Cooking Demystified is that its orange sauce has also since somehow been adapted back to suit Chinese palates in China, and is now served on ribs in some areas in the south. That’s how special orange chicken is.
I also thought this would be a pretty good Chinese New Year dish because oranges are such a prominent part of the celebrations. I remember my parents exchanging oranges as gifts with their friends during Chinese New Year, as oranges—especially mandarin or satsuma oranges—are supposed to represent gold, wealth, and good fortune.
For Chinese-Americans like myself, this recipe should be super easy as the sauce really only requires 3 ingredients. Plum sauce and hoisin sauce are total staples in our pantries. But if you are someone who is not familiar with these ingredients, or maybe you know them from Chinese takeout but you have never purchased them yourself before—my hope is that you will be inspired to go to your local Chinatown if you have one and pick these ingredients up. You’ll find that they are incredibly delicious and versatile condiments, even straight out of the jar.
This isn’t a precise recipe below because I really don’t think it needs to be. Give that hoisin sauce and plum sauce a try first, and that will allow you to gauge how much you want each ingredient to contribute to your version. If you want more tang, use more plum sauce. If you want more deep umami, use more hoisin. They both have enough sweetness to make your wings super snackable and addictive, and really any combination of those three ingredients—freshly squeezed orange juice, plum sauce, and hoisin sauce—will be delicious on these delicately crusted, fried wings.
~ 18 party wings, a mix of drums and flats
salt
cornstarch
neutral oil, for frying
2 oranges
plum sauce
hoisin sauce
red pepper flakes (optional)
dried red chilies
sesame seeds, toasted
scallions, sliced
Season wings on both sides with salt. Coat them thoroughly in a thin layer of cornstarch, making sure to get cornstarch into all crevices. Shake off excess and place in a single layer. Set aside.
Zest 1 of the oranges. Then juice 1.5 of the oranges, reserving half of the unzested orange. Cut that half orange into semicircles and set them aside for the garnish.
Deep fry the chicken wings (in batches, if necessary) and allow them to drain on a rack or paper towels while you prepare the sauce.
In a pan large enough to hold all the wings, add the orange juice and zest and bring to a simmer. Add a couple large dollops of plum sauce, a big squirt of hoisin sauce, and a couple pinches of red pepper flakes (if using). Stir everything together until homogenous. When the sauce starts to thicken and look syrupy, add the fried wings and toss to coat. Add red chilies and toss to combine.
Plate the wings and garnish with the orange slices. Top with sesame seeds and scallions.
I love to experiment with taking the components of an existing dish and reimagining them in the form of a dumpling filling. If there’s a tried and true combination of ingredients already, then stuffing all of those flavors together into a one-bite dumpling format for most efficient delivery to the tastebuds will obviously result in something awesome. The trouble is that it’s hard to really celebrate those brilliant fillings in photo form. (Or, at least I personally struggle with that.) Dumplings are plenty cute-looking whole, but what makes them delicious is hidden inside.
But I finally had an idea for a dish-within-a-dumpling combo that I thought was worth photographing, because the sauce is just as important and sexy-looking as the dumplings. Presenting: Dan Dan Dumplings.
This idea builds off of this existing recipe that I developed for Bibigo USA, as a moreish way to serve their frozen mandu. I am super obsessed with Sichuan pepper and mala (numbing-spicy) foods and as part of that recipe, I developed my own version of mala chili oil! If you have never experienced them before, Sichuan pepper husks are super unique in that they contain a molecule that causes a tingling sensation on your tongue. It is not a burning heat, like eating a spicy chili, but rather a numbing sensation like when your foot “falls asleep”. I know it sounds a little unsettling when put that way, but it is honestly a delightful experience when eating in conjunction with flavorful, spicy foods. The combination of Sichuan pepper and spicy chilies is known in Chinese cuisine as mala, which translates to numbing-spicy.
Dan dan noodles have become an iconic mala dish associated with Sichuan cuisine in Chinese-American restaurants, and they are the inspiration for these dumplings. Dan dan refers to the carrying pole that OG street food vendors would use to transport their ingredients as they walked around. Since I’m not carrying my ingredients around on a pole, technically these aren’t “dan dan dumplings”, but I am gonna call them that because they are meant to be the dumpling version of dan dan mian. The dish usually has 3 major components: 1) an oily sauce that is a little numbing, nutty (from sesame paste), and spicy; 2) bouncy noodles; 3) a topping made of ground pork and preserved greens and sometimes a blanched Chinese vegetable. Instead of wok-frying the ground pork mixture, I stuffed it inside the dumpling wrappers, ditched the noodles, and went heavy on the chili oil in the sauce, in a similar vein to chili oil wontons.
I used the recipes for dan dan noodles by Woks of Life and Omnivore’s Cookbook as references for developing this dumpling recipe. One slight road bump that I ran into when replicating the flavors of dan dan noodles was the type of pickled vegetable used in the pork mixture. Both reference recipes call for a specific Sichuan-style preserved vegetable called sui mi ya cai. After staring at the shelves of pickled vegetable packets for quite some time at my local Asian supermarket, one of the uncles working at the store offered to help, but said they didn’t have it. This “preserved mustard green (chili)” is what I used instead.
Because the chili oil sauce is such a key component to this dish, I wanted to use a dumpling fold that would allow the sauce to really stick to the dumplings. What better way to accomplish this than to turn the dumplings themselves into little cups? Apparently this is known as the “rose bud” dumpling fold, but I received overwhelming feedback that this fold is quite reminiscent of the hats from The Handmaid’s Tale. It is super easy—just place a little scoop of filling on one half of the dumpling wrapper, fold in half and seal with some water, then overlap the two sides of the semicircle. You can see a video of how to do it here.
I obviously went very heavy on the chili oil in these photos. You can add it to your taste, but I was quite happy eating these as they were.
2 tbsp coarse Chinese or Korean chili flakes
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 scallion, thinly sliced
4 tsp pink Sichuan pepper
2 star anise
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup high smoke point neutral oil
1/2 lb ground pork
2 tsp hoisin sauce
2 tsp shaoxing wine
1 tsp kecap manis (or 1/2 tsp dark soy and 1/2 tsp brown sugar)
1/2 tsp five spice powder
1/4 tsp ginger powder
a pinch of toasted and ground Sichuan pepper (optional)
1 2.5 oz packet spicy preserved mustard greens
about 24–26 dumpling wrappers
4 tsp Chinese sesame paste, stirred
2 tsp honey
1 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp black vinegar
1 scallion, sliced
1–2 tbsp roasted unsalted peanuts, chopped
cilantro (optional)
In a heat-safe bowl, combine chili flakes, garlic, scallions, and salt. In a small saucepot, combine oil, Sichuan pepper, and star anise. Heat on medium-low heat until the lighter interior parts of the peppercorn husks begin to turn brown, about 4 minutes. Turn off the heat and wait for the pepper to turn fully dark brown, about 1 more minute. Carefully pour oil through a fine mesh strainer over the ingredients in the bowl. Stir everything in the bowl together and allow to sit for at least 10 minutes (more is recommended) to let the flavors integrate and the garlic cook through.
To make the dumpling filling, combine the ground pork, hoisin sauce, shaoxing wine, kecap manis, five spice, powdered ginger, and ground Sichuan pepper (if using) in a bowl until mixed evenly. Fold in the preserved mustard greens. Stuff inside dumpling wrappers and seal shut as desired (see notes above for rose bud fold). Place folded dumplings on a tray dusted with flour to prevent sticking.
In a separate bowl, whisk together sesame paste and honey. Whisk in soy sauce and black vinegar at a gradual drizzle to prevent the sesame paste from clumping.
Bring a large pot of water to boil, then carefully add the dumplings. Remove them as they float to the surface and transfer them to a bowl or tray with a little bit of oil.
Add about 2 tablespoons of the hot cooking water to the sesame sauce and whisk to combine. Then add 2 tablespoons of the chili oil and whisk again.
To serve, spread a generous layer or the sesame sauce in the bottom of each bowl. (You may still have a little bit left over.) Divide the dumplings into each bowl, then drizzle chili oil over the dumplings to taste. (You may still have some chili oil left over too, but I didn’t because I like it numby and spicy!) Garnish, and then mix dumplings in the sauce and oil before devouring.
If you are here, you probably already know something about biang biang mian—delicious hand-pulled, hand-torn wide noodles that are delightfully chewy and a wonderful blank canvas to capture spicy mala flavors. Legend has it that the Chinese character for biang is the most complicated to write, and that it will break any kind of Chinese input method if you try to type it.
To be honest I am not an expert on biang biang noodles; all I know is how I personally like them, and I wanted to figure out a way to go about making them that was easy for me. For example, I wanted to be able to use my stand mixer for the kneading, especially since the dough is a little tougher compared to, say, a simple bread dough. I also wanted to produce a method that allowed me to have fun actually stretching the noodles by hand and banging (or bianging?) them against the counter. So I tested and tested until I got something I was happy with.
My version is adapted from Woks of Life and Strictly Dumpling, so I want to make sure to give them credit. And the image above was inspired by this photo by My Homestyle Life.
If you are looking for a sauce to accompany these noodles, might I recommend something with loads of chili oil and fragrant ground lamb? You can find out how to make that here.
This recipe makes 2 large servings.
1 3/4 cup bread flour*
1/4 cup all purpose flour
1 tsp kosher salt
3/4 cup hot water
neutral oil
* I tested various combinations of bread flour + AP flour for this and found these ratios to produce my ideal texture for the noodles. Can you do all AP flour? Probably! But the noodles will not have the same chew that I like.
Whisk together flours and salt in your stand mixer bowl. Fit the stand mixer with the dough hook. Turn on to the lowest speed and slowly add the water.
Knead dough on medium-high for 10 minutes, then check the texture. If the dough is very sticky, add 1/2–1 teaspoon AP flour. Continue kneading on medium-high for 10 more minutes. At this point, the dough should feel firm and should not be sticky at all. Try to pinch and pull away a small amount (see photo above). Dough should not snap right away, but should not feel totally stretchy either.
Knead a few times by hand to form a smooth ball. Return to the mixing bowl and cover bowl with a damp cloth (no greasing necessary yet). Allow to rest for 30 minutes.
Divide dough into 6 portions. Avoid handling each portion too much but shape it into a small log, about 4 inches long. Place logs on your largest baking sheet and pour some neutral cooking oil over them. Make sure each log is thoroughly coated in oil. Cover with plastic wrap and rest for 1 hour or until the dough feels soft and pliable.
(After one hour, I place a large pot of water on the stove to bring to a boil while I am stretching the noodles. If there is other prep work I need to do for the sauce, I do it all in this time too, so everything is ready to go the moment the noodles are cooked. Click here for the sauce recipe that you see in the photos.)
Work one log at a time, and keep the others covered. On a lightly floured surface, roll the log into a rectangle that is about 3 inches tall and 2 inches longer than a chopstick. Use a chopstick to press two perforations into the rectangle, dividing it into 3 even sections (see photo above). Grab each end and gently stretch the dough, occasionally whacking it into compliance against the counter top. The perforations made by the chopstick will begin to form tears in the dough as you stretch. When the dough is thin enough or you feel you can’t stretch any further, tear along these lines to make one long noodle. Drape the noodle over the oiled baking sheet and cover with plastic wrap while you make the other noodles.
Lower the noodles carefully into the water and then immediately start agitating them with extra long chopsticks to avoid them clumping together. Keep them moving in the water for 90 seconds (2 minutes if they feel on the thicker side) and then immediately transfer them to the sauce, and toss to combine.
If you want to make the noodles in advance, I recommend keeping the rested dough in log form, coated in oil and tightly covered. Store in the fridge and bring up to room temp before stretching. Once the noodles are formed, you don’t want them to sit for long, and they need to be served immediately after boiling.
