66 posts Posts by julie

beijing: made in china

by on August 11, 2011, 0 comments

On our trip to China last year, we decided on Da Dong for our one Peking duck experience. This time, we thought we’d try another place whose duck came highly recommended: Made in China.

Located within the Grand Hyatt, this restaurant certainly is a cut above most of your Peking duck joints. The decor is pretty fancy but also actually quite fun. There are a number of open kitchens stationed throughout the restaurant, allowing diners to watch their meals being prepared. I couldn’t help running around like a little kid (with a big camera), stopping at each station to gawk at the beautiful food the chefs were making.

We ordered two other dishes besides the Peking duck: duck breast smoked with camphor wood served with fresh mustard, and traditional homemade noodles with sliced pork and sliced vegetables. Though we were already getting duck, the duck breast dish sounded so intriguing I decided to give it a try. The meat itself was deep and smoky, and the mustard added a nice kick. I did wish the duck wasn’t sitting in the mustard, though, since there was so much of the sauce it overpowered the meat. As for the noodles, I actually am interested to find out what exactly this dish is, as it took us both by surprise. I had thought from the description it might be something along the lines of zha jiang mian, but we found that the sauce had this curiously bitter taste, almost like something resembling Chinese herbal medicine. I’m afraid it was somewhat of an acquired taste, and neither of us could finish it.

The Peking duck itself was definitely the highlight. At 238RMB (about $37) per duck, it certainly set some high expectations, and I have to say, it was pretty amazing.

The menu doesn’t indicate that you can actually order half a duck, but you can, so that’s what we did. The portion is quite generous, and you still get all the fun accompanying accoutrements: cucumber, scallions, hoisin sauce, garlic, sugar, and wrappers.

The highlight of the highlight? The skin. It simply melts in your mouth. In Beijing, you dip the skin into sugar crystals, which makes it taste like crispy candy that dissolves on your tongue. I like to just eat the skin by itself and save the wrapping for the meat.

The only downside here was the wrapper, which I found more tortilla-like. I missed the paper-thin wrappers I’d had at other places, or even the fluffy buns that some restaurants serve with the duck.

Part of the dining experience at Made in China is really about the ambiance. It’s a classy restaurant that serves traditional Chinese food with some flair. And the presentation is part of the fun of it. While the duck was gorgeous, I have to say that in the end, considering the price range, I’m not sure I’d be inclined to come here more than once — at least, not for the duck; they do have many other dishes that I’ve heard are well prepared.

We actually sat next to an American couple that night who was trying Peking duck for the first time. They ordered a whole duck (which, honestly, did not look that different in proportion to the half duck we got) and nothing else, expecting there to be multiple courses. They were so disappointed they left that evening rather dejected. We felt rather badly that their first Peking duck experience didn’t quite turn out as they’d hoped. But, yes, though I’d heard that previous diners got at least some duck soup with their meal, we really only got what you see in the photos above.

For a Peking duck experience that I wouldn’t mind returning to again and again, I’d probably have to go with Da Dong, where the duck may not be quite as exquisite as Made in China’s or the service quite as attentive, but the food is still excellent, well presented, and far more reasonably priced. And the duck also comes with complimentary soup and even dessert.

Next time we head to Beijing, Duck de Chine is on my list.

Made in China
Grand Hyatt Hotel, First Floor
1 Dong Chang’anjie
东城区东长安街1号东方君悦大酒店1层
Phone: 6510-9608

beijing: roast leg of mutton (碳花烤羊腿)

by on August 8, 2011, 0 comments

On one of my walks in Beijing last summer, I happened to stumble across this sign…

It was set at the corner of Andingmennei Dajie, right at the entrance to Jiaodaokou Beitoutiao, and I knew right then and there that I needed to bring my husband here. Several months later, when we went back to Beijing, I finally had the opportunity to do that. And, boy, this place did not disappoint.

First of all, any restaurant that is simply going to call itself “Roast Leg of Mutton” has got to mean business. No clever names, no fancy decor, no advertising gimmicks… Just the sweet aroma of gamey lamb meat roasting over charcoal, wafting down the alley out into the main thoroughfare.

You pick out your leg of mutton from the fridge at the back of the restaurant, then they weigh it, take it out to start roasting on a portable spit, and when it’s about ready they bring the spit in and set it into the hole in the middle of your table to let the meat finish roasting. Then you carve the meat off yourself and eat it with chili, cumin, and salt.

They do actually serve food other than roast leg of mutton here. And there are a few complimentary side dishes like pickled vegetables as well. We didn’t realize that the meat would continue roasting over charcoal at our table, otherwise we probably would’ve thought to wait until colder months to try this, though there is a vent above each table to help ventilate the place. But the nice thing about continuing to roast it yourself is that you can cook it to your desired level of doneness. You can shave off a piece and hold it down closer to the coals to finish cooking. And you can even turn the whole spit over yourself to roast the top side while you carve off meat from the bottom side.

When my husband talks about this — now ranked as one of his top five food experiences — he likes to describe how we were given long utensils to carve and spear the meat off the spit, and how the fat dripped from the meat and sizzled as it hit the burning coals, accompanying our meal with a gentle tss, tss sound. It was beautiful.

Roast Leg of Mutton (碳花烤羊腿)
1 Jiaodaokou Beitoutiao (right off of Andingmennei Dajie) [map]
交道口北头条 1号
(Note: The doorpost says the address is #1, but this does not correspond to Google Maps. Spot currently marked on map link is to physical restaurant space.]

banh mi essay and homemade mayo

by on August 3, 2011, 0 comments

A while back, I wrote a piece on the history and appeal of banh mi, the popular Vietnamese sandwich. It appeared in Sandwich, a supplement to Meatpaper magazine’s Fall 2010 issue, and you can click on the image to the right to read the essay. (Side note: the first sentence of the piece should refer to the first time I had fresh pate… not the first time I had banh mi, which I have eaten for as long as I can remember.)

In the piece, I mention making homemade mayo with my family when I was a kid. Back in the day, we didn’t have a mixer, and so we’d make the mayo by hand, one of us furiously whisking the raw egg yolk with a pair of chopsticks while someone else slowly dripped oil into the bowl. It was really a test of patience as we agonizingly watched the thick yolk slowly grow into a light, creamy spread. But the result was always worth it — fresh mayo that we ate on crusty bread… the bread was really just an excuse for the mayo.

So here I give you my instructions on how to make mayo at home. You’ll want to use a fresh egg, as the yolk will remain raw.


Homemade Mayonnaise
Makes about 1/2 cup

1 egg yolk
1/2 cup of canola or vegetable oil (something neutral-tasting)
pinch of salt
lemon juice
mustard (optional)

Attach one beater to a hand mixer, and turn the mixer on the lowest setting. (Alternatively, use chopsticks or a whisk — but you’ll have to work fast!) Add the oil slowly, a few drips at a time, letting it gradually emulsify with the egg yolk. After you get a creamy consistency, you can start adding the oil in a thin steady stream.

If the emulsion breaks — that is, if the mayo starts to get clumpy rather than creamy, and the oil begins to separate from the cream — stop and set this broken mixture aside. Start the process again with a new yolk, but instead of adding in oil, add in bits of the broken mixture until all of that mixture is incorporated into the new yolk. Then continue adding oil in a slow, steady stream.

You can really add as much oil as you want to get your desired amount of mayo. Just keep in mind that the more oil you add, the less concentrated your mayo will be, so it is really just a matter of preference (or patience :). I usually run out of patience after about 1/2 a cup of oil, so my mayo is a bit more concentrated.

When you reach the desired amount, add a pinch of salt and a few drops of lemon juice to taste. If you like, you can also add a bit of mustard.

You can spread the mayo onto crusty bread and eat it plain, use it in sandwiches, or serve it as a condiment alongside meat, like roast chicken or steak or grilled pork chops. My family likes to do a simple baguette sandwich with homemade mayo, cha (slices of steamed pork roll), and a dash of Maggi seasoning sauce.

burmese fish

by on July 26, 2011, 0 comments

I have to start this post with a little disclaimer: I have no idea how Burmese this dish is. But I do have an aunt who comes from Burma, and my grandma learned this dish from her. In our family, we always just called it “Burmese fish.” I loved it so much growing up that it’d be the first thing my grandma would feed me whenever I visited her.

My favorite part of this dish is the cured onions. This may be why it may seem a little proportionally off when you follow the recipe (I like having it with every bite!). The curing takes the bite out of the onion and draws out some of its natural sweetness. To this we add fresh cilantro, scallions, and some nuoc cham sauce. We usually eat this at room temperature, which makes it a nice, fresh dish for summer.

Burmese Fish
Serves 4 as part of a larger meal

It’s important to use fresh fish, especially when cooking it delicately and pairing it with simple ingredients. You can steam this in a wok or deep skillet or, alternatively, poach it, which is my mom’s current favorite method. She claims poaching helps release any fishy smells as well as infuse the fish with flavor if you choose to add aromatics like onion, scallions, or ginger. (For a quicker method, my mom used to microwave the fish. It’s less moist, but it’s also less work.)

1 2-lb fresh tilapia, scaled, gutted, and cleaned
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/tsp cornstarch
1 medium onion, sliced thinly
2 tsp salt
1-2 Thai bird chilies, sliced (remove seeds and ribs if you prefer it less spicy)
1/4 cup nuoc cham dipping sauce, or more to taste
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbsp vegetable or canola oil
1 stalk scallion, cut into 2-inch pieces and thinly sliced lengthwise
a handful cilantro, torn

1. Marinate the fish for an hour or longer in 1/2 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp black pepper, and 1/2 tsp cornstarch.

2. Cure the thinly sliced onion by mixing in 2 tsp of kosher salt. Let it sit for at least 15 minutes.

3. Fill a deep skillet, pan, or wok with water — to a depth of 2 inches if steaming, or more (enough to cover the fish) if poaching. If desired, add aromatics like slices of onion, scallions, or ginger to the poaching liquid. Let the water come to a boil, and then add the fish (use a rack and plate if steaming or immerse the fish completely in the water if poaching). Turn the heat down to low, cover, and steam or poach the fish for about 5 minutes. To test for doneness, insert a chopstick into the fish. If it goes all the way through easily, the fish is done. If not, let the fish cook for a couple more minutes. When done, lift the fish carefully out, making sure to let all the liquid drain out if poaching. Set on a plate to cool.

4. When the onion has finished curing, rinse it several times in cold water to get rid of the salt. Squeeze all the moisture out of the onion. Set the onion in a bowl and add the sliced chilies and the nuoc cham dipping sauce.

5. Heat oil in a small pan over medium-high heat. Add minced garlic. Once the garlic turns golden, turn off the stove and take the pan off the heat. Drizzle the fried garlic and fried garlic oil over the fish.

6. Top the fish with the cured onion, chilies, and nuoc cham. Garnish with thinly sliced scallion and cilantro.