Soya Sauce Chicken – With Rose Essence Wine

Shucks, I just realized something.

I should have garnished the chicken with rose petals instead of spring onions since it was made with rose essence wine, 玫瑰露酒.

Well, it's too late now 'cause the chicken is all eaten up.  

Dang! Should have thought of it earlier . . . .

OK, please put your imagination cap on and imagine succulent soya sauce chicken with rose essence wine on a bed of rose petals . . . pink, of course . . . .

Authentic Cantonese 豉油鸡 must have 玫瑰露酒. Otherwise, it just doesn't have the floral fragrance that comes from the roses in the wine.

玫瑰露酒 should be used in moderation because it's not some whimpish wine despite its name. It's a spirit – a rose spirit with sugar added – and it's got a whopping 55% alcohol. This is serious, potent stuff that deserves respect and restraint, as I found out the first time I made soya sauce chicken.

"Did you use the right wine?" "Doesn't taste right."

"Maybe you used too much?"

"You should add oyster sauce."

"You didn't add enough sugar."

"I did. I added a lot."

"Blah blah blah blah blah . . . ."

There were a lot of suggestions around the table.  The critics finished the chicken though, so it couldn't have been that bad!

Second time round, I proceeded cautiously and added the rose essence wine a little at a time. (Don't call on a powerful spirit without controlling it!) The balance was right judging from the lack of advice from the critics. Next time, I'll serve them soya sauce chicken on a bed of rose petals lightly dressed with the chicken marinade.

SOYA SAUCE CHICKEN WITH ROSE ESSENCE WINE (玫瑰露豉油鸡) (Recipe for 4 persons) Marinade 3 tbsp + 2 tbsp sugar 1½ cups water 4 tbsp light soya sauce 1 tsp salt 1½ tbsp dark soya suace 2 tbsp rose essence wine (玫瑰露酒) 1 sprig spring onion (20 g), washed, cut 5 cm (2 inches) long and crushed 4 cloves garlic, washed and crushed, skin on 5 slices ginger (20 g), crushed 2 chicken legs (500 g), blanched in boiling water and rinsed 1 tsp white sesame oil 1 tsp thinly sliced spring onions or Chinese parsley To see how much marinade you need, place chicken in the pot you're using, then measure the amount of water needed to just cover it. You can do this when you're blanching the chicken. If you need more than 1½ cups, just scale up the recipe. In a pot just big enough for 2 chicken legs, heat 3 tbsp sugar, swirling from time to time. Start with high heat, reducing to low as colour darkens. When melted sugar looks like dark honey, add ¼ cup water. If caramel solidifies, heat till melted again. Turn off heat. Add remaining water and all other ingredients for marinade. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Add chicken, weighed down with a small plate. Marinade for 5 hours, placed in the fridge when cool*. Bring marinade and chicken to a gentle boil. Cover and turn off heat. Steep for 25 minutes*. Check if juices run clear. If not, cover and wait another 5 minutes. Remove and brush thoroughly with white sesame oil. Chop into bite size pieces. Drizzle with marinade. Garnish with spring onions or Chinese parsley. Dig in! * I actually leave my chicken outside the fridge, then in the boiled marinade for only 10 minutes. This is sufficient when the chicken legs are brined and not chilled. And they're long and slim (from 'kampong' chicken) rather than fat and squat. And your pot retains heat well. And you like the bones still pink. The short steeping time prevents the chicken skin from turning mushy (chicken skin connoisseurs would know what I mean). It is, technically, risky keeping meat outside the fridge for 5 hours (bacteria and all that). But I'm still alive, and I air-dry chicken (for roasting) all the time for 4-5 hours although that's done with a fan.

Spring Onion Pancakes (葱油饼)

Spring onion pancakes – 葱油饼 – are a common street food in China and Taiwan. Available any time of the day, they're particularly popular for breakfast.

Contrary to its name, spring onion pancakes are an unleavened, fried bread, not pancakes. And "葱油饼", strictly speaking, means spring onion oil pancake. But I guess it's good marketing to omit the word "oil"!

A good 葱油饼, best enjoyed hot from the pan, is crispy and flakey outside whilst the inside is chewy, interspersed layers of dough and spring onions.

There're only four ingredients – flour, spring onions, oil and salt – but when done well, freshly fried spring onion pancakes are absolutely delicious, especially when they're washed down with sweet soya bean milk or teh halia.

SPRING ONION PANCAKES (葱油饼) (Recipe for 8 pieces) 350 g plain flour (2½ cups) 2 tsp salt 6 tbsp vegetable oil 120 g thinly sliced spring onions (aka scallions and green onions) (1 cup) The quality of spring onions is crucial. If you can't get good spring onions, don't bother making 葱油饼! The small, thin ones (leaves about ½ cm wide or less) with purple stems are my favourite. Rarely find these in supermarkets, btw. Place flour in a big mixing bowl. Dissolve 1 tsp salt in ½ cup (120 ml) just boiled water. Drizzle over flour. Stir till well mixed. Add ¼ cup room temperature water. Knead till smooth, 10 minutes or so. Dough should be tacky but not enough to stick to hands. If too dry, wet hands once or twice whilst kneading. If sticky, sprinkle with some flour. When dough is smooth, roll into a ball with edges tucked underneath. Cover and set aside to rest for 30 minutes. Divide dough into 8 pieces. Dust work surface with flour, sparingly. Roll each piece of dough into a ball. Flatten with palm. Roll out as thinly as possible. Any shape is ok. If you want it thinner, stretch carefully after rolling. Not too much though, or the dough would break when it's rolled out with spring onions. Brush dough surface with about ½ tsp vegetable oil, leaving ½ cm  margin around edges. Sprinkle with fine salt to taste, a large pinch or about 1/8 tsp. Sprinkle with 2 tbsp spring onions, to the edges. Roll up like a Swiss roll, tightly. Pinch edges to seal. Twirl dough so that it looks like a snake coiled up. Flatten top down with palm. Roll out gently into a thin layer, pressing the middle harder and the edges more gently. This allows the edges to puff up more when fried, thus making the inside layers more distinct and flakey. Try not to break the dough. A few small leaks are ok but everything inside spilling out isn't. Repeat with remaining dough, redusting work surface sparingly when necessary. When all 8 pieces are ready, pan-fry in hot oil over medium heat till golden brown on both sides. Whilst frying, press middle of pancakes gently to increase contact between dough and pan. Lower heat if oil starts to smoke. There should be a bit of oil floating in the pan at all times. Otherwise, pancakes are toasted, not fried. Do not put too much oil in the pan in one go. Drizzle more as you fry, especially after turning pancakes over. Drain pancakes on paper towels after frying. Crush between palms to break up layers before serving. Scrumptious when piping hot. To eat, tear a small piece with your hands or a fork and pop it in your mouth. If you bite into the whole pancake, you'd flatten the layers of dough and destroy the flakiness. The mouthfeel wouldn't be good, and all your hard work would be wasted. I'm serious, not kidding.

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Minced Pork & Olive Vegetables Stir-Fry

If you're wondering what on earth "olive vegetables" are, it's olives and salted mustard greens cooked in vegetable oil till everything is a dark green mush. And what a marvelous mush it is!

The strong flavours from the olives and mustard greens meld together and mellow during the long hours of cooking, creating something that tastes like olives, but better. It's more complex, more nuanced, rounder, smoother . . . an absolute delight with plain rice porridge, straight out of the bottle. But I would say that, wouldn't I? I'm Teochew and "olive vegetables", aka 乌橄榄菜, is a Teochew specialty. It's one of our many ways of preserving vegetables.

Honestly though, I swear I'm not biased. Why would anyone eat an oily, inky black mush – since the Sung dynasty, apparently – unless it tastes really good?

Making 乌橄榄菜 is a long, tedious process. Want to see how it's done in China? Here's a video – in Teochew (!) with Chinese subtitles – on a school teacher turned farmer turned businessman who's made good producing 乌橄榄菜 (catch him around 3:40 looking mighty pleased with himself as he relates his success story):



The weather's been really hot lately, so hot I can't fathom the thought of eating rice. Give me porridge, please! Porridge is so much lighter, and requires less effort since no chewing is necessary. I also can't fathom cooking anything elaborate in this heat. The quicker, the easier, the better. And nothing is quicker and easier than stir-frying minced pork with 乌橄榄菜. I don't have to cut anything except for a few cloves of garlic. Which takes all of five seconds if you whack 'em hard with a cleaver à la Martin Yan. The pork, because it's minced, takes all of two minutes to cook. It's done before I get all hot and bothered. Now that's what I call a cool dish for a hot day . . . . On second thought, it's cool for any day!

MINCED PORK & OLIVE VEGETABLES STIR-FRY (肉脞炒乌橄榄菜) (Recipe for 4 persons) 60 g 乌橄榄菜 (I use Sin Guo brand which isn't very salty) 3 large cloves garlic, peel and mince coarsely 300 g coarsely minced pork light soya sauce to taste, 1 tsp or so Drain 乌橄榄菜, reserving oil. Heat wok till very hot. Add 1 tbsp oil. (Discard the rest, or maybe keep it for a salad.) Heat till very hot. Add garlic. Stir-fry till translucent over medium heat. Add 乌橄榄菜. Stir-fry till fragrant and garlic is lightly golden. Increase heat to high; wait a few seconds for wok to heat up. Add minced pork. Stir to break up lumps. Keep stirring till pork is opaque and cooked, 2-3 minutes. Taste, then season with light soya sauce if necessary. Mix well. Turn off heat. Push pork to one side of wok to drain off excess oil. Plate, minus oil. Serve with rice or porridge.

Pear Sweet Soup (银耳雪梨糖水) – Cantonese Health Food

Cantonese sweet soups or 糖水 are usually served as a dessert, but they're not like desserts in any other culture. Everyone regards desserts as an evil temptation that they should avoid as much as possible, except the Cantonese. To them, desserts aren't indulgent or sinful but a necessary health tonic for the body. That's right, desserts are a health food! Isn't that an awesome idea?! Forget the nasty stuff like wheatgrass and flax seeds. Heath food Cantonese style is what you want!

In Hong Kong, there're many restaurants that serve only sweet soups. A lot of these specialty eateries are packed with people even late at night. Do the customers feel guilty when they're tucking into something sweet and yummy, sometimes just before going to bed? Not at all! Why would anyone feel bad about eating health food? If they're feeling listless and tired, a bowl of red bean soup would give 'em an energy boost. Having an acne breakout? Red wouldn't be the right colour. Instead, go for green bean soup which is also good for eczema and lowering cholesterol. Looking for smooth, milky white complexion? That'd be almond milk or steamed custard. Been coughing lately? Sea-coconuts and pears to the rescue. Does black glutinous rice with coconut milk and mangoes sound good? I hear it improves digestion. Worried about hair turning grey? Forget coconuts; black sesame soup would do the trick . . . .

I haven't come across a sweet soup that cures cancer but there's something for just about everything else!

I had two bowls of Pear and Snow Fungus Sweet Soup (银耳雪梨糖水) after dinner. My throat, which been quite dry for a few days, feels ok now. Worked like a charm, and it was a light and refreshing dessert to boot.

Who says you should avoid desserts? When it's a Cantonese sweet soup, you should have a second helping!

PEAR AND SNOW FUNGUS SWEET SOUP (银耳雪梨糖水) (Recipe for 4 persons) 1 piece dried snow fungus (雪耳/银耳), about ½ palm size or 10 g 2 big or 3 medium Chinese or Japanese pears (about 550 g) 1½ tbsp Chinese bitter almonds (北杏), rinsed 1½ tbsp Chinese sweet almonds (南杏), rinsed 10 Chinese dried red dates (红枣), rinsed and pits removed rock sugar to taste, 70 g or so (or light brown sugar if not available) Soak snow fungus in water till soft, about 20 minutes. Trim dirty, tough ends and discard. Rinse thoroughly and tear into bite size pieces. Rinse, peel, core and quarter pears. Cut each quarter into 3-4 chunky pieces. Put all ingredients except rock sugar in a pot with 6 cups water. Bring to a boil. Simmer gently, covered. Check after 45 minutes. There should be enough water for ingredients to just float freely. Top up if necessary. Or increase heat slightly if there's too much. Simmer another 15 minutes if you like snow fungus crunchy, or 30 minutes if you prefer it soft. Season to taste with rock sugar. If you like, discard pears which would be quite tasteless after the long simmer. Serve hot, chilled or at room temperature, as dessert, afternoon tea or supper. It's up to you. May be stored in the fridge for 2 days.

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Lemon Tarts

When life gives you lemons, make lemon tarts. They're much better than lemonade! And if you don't have free lemons from life, go buy some. Lemon tarts are worth it!

I gave one of my lemon tarts to a friend once. As I watched him eat, waiting for some compliments, he said, 'It's sour.' I was quite happy, thinking that he liked it, then I realized he meant the opposite. Duh? I'm proud of my lemon tarts precisely because they're sour . . . or rather tart, which sounds much nicer. There's about half a lemon in each small tart!

Why have lemon anything if you can't taste the lemon? I find the lemon tarts sold in Singapore way too sweet and not at all tart or lemony. In other words, wimps! Now France is where they know how to make a proper tarte au citron. There, in just about every patisserie, you can find silky smooth sunshine yellow tarts that give you a lemon high and make your eyes spring wide open with a 'Ding!' Or maybe 'Ooh la la!'

The best thing about homemade lemon tarts is the homemade lemon curd. Lemon curd eaten on the day it's made has a tartness that's really refreshing. After resting in the fridge for a night, the tartness mellows, and the curd becomes less sharp and more rounded. I like it both ways. Either is miles better and fresher than store bought ones made god knows how many moons ago.

Today's recipe might look rather lengthy but I swear making lemon tarts doesn't take long. 15 minutes to get the tart shells in the oven (no resting needed) and whilst they're baking, another 15 minutes to make the curd. If you can't wait, cool the curd in an ice bath for 5 minutes. Another 5 minutes to assemble, garnish and unmould. 40 minutes, tops. Great use of 40 minutes, I think. One warning though: these tarts are really tart. As my friend said, they're lemon tarts for lemon fiends!

LEMON TARTS (Recipe for 4 tarts 10 cm wide) Pastry (this is also sufficient for one 23-cm tart) 90 g unsalted butter 1 tbsp vegetable oil 3 tbsp water 1 tbsp sugar ⅛ tsp salt 150 g plain flour (1 slightly rounded cup) Lemon curd (scale up by 50% for one 23-cm tart) 50 g unsalted butter* 100 g sugar (½ cup) 105 g lemon juice (7 tbsp) from 2-3 lemons, or less if you're not a lemon fiend 2 eggs, chalazea (white bits attached to egg yolks) removed with chopsticks ½ tsp corn flour 1 tsp grated lemon zest Garnish (optional) 4 thin slices lemon, 4 pinches lemon zest (curls or grated), or gold flakes (if money is no object) * I like to use Petit Normand (available at Phoon Huat). It's quite useless for baking and spreading 'cause it's tasteless. But the tastelessness is great for lemon curd. President is too rich (might be ok if the amount used is reduced but I haven't tried); Anchor, Kerrygold and SCS somehow give the curd an acrid taste. To make tart shells, preheat oven to 210°C (410°F). Put all ingredients except flour in a pot. Over medium heat, stir till colour darkens around the edges, about 5 minutes. Turn off heat. Tip flour into pot. Stir till thoroughly mixed. When cool enough to handle, divide dough between tart moulds with removable bottoms, using about 60 g per mould. Reserve a small piece for patching up cracks after baking. Pat and press dough to form a thin, even layer. Bake till golden brown, about 10 minutes. Remove from oven and patch up cracks if any. Flatten some reserved dough as much as possible between fingers. Press gently over holes for a few seconds once tarts are removed from oven. It would be hot but tolerable. To make lemon curd, heat butter, sugar and lemon juice in a non-reactive pot till melted. Slowly add mixture to eggs whilst stirring eggs with a spatula. Add cornflour and lemon zest. Stir till evenly mixed. Put mixture in pot. Heat using lowest setting possible, holding pot so that only half is on the stove. Keep scraping sides and bottom whilst stirring. If eggs start curdling, remove pot from stove. Keep stirring/scraping. Heat again after cooling down a bit. Curd is ready when it coats spatula, about 10 minutes. Taste and adjust with a bit of sugar or lemon juice if necessary. Remove from stove. Continue stirring to dissipate residual heat, 2-3 minutes. To assemble, divide lemon curd between pastry shells. Level and smooth top. Decorate with lemon zest, lemon slices or gold flakes (if life had given you strawberries instead of lemons). Cover (to prevent skin from forming) till curd is fully set, 10-15 minutes. Unmould and serve. Or keep chilled and covered in the fridge till ready. When unmoulding, bottom of tart must always rest on a flat surface. Do not attempt to hold unmoulded tart in your hands. It would just crumble to bits – like mine. To store, keep assembled tarts chilled for up to 2 days. Beyond that, curd may weep and soften pastry. Filling and shells may be kept separately and assembled just before serving. However, curd would have set so there wouldn't be a 'mirror effect' unless it's glazed.

Poached Spinach with Salted and Century Eggs

There're a couple of vegetables I refer to as Chinese spinach, and yin choi (苋菜) is one of them. I think the proper name is Amaranth or, more specifically, Amaranthus dubius. But please don't take my word for it 'cause I'm not very good with plant names. I just eat them . . . the plants, not the names. Oh yes, eating is my forte!



I love yin choi because the texture is smooth when I cook it with minimal oil, unlike other dark green veggies which can be gritty. It goes very well with dried anchovies, and yin choi in dried anchovy stock – with maybe some fishballs or pork meatballs – makes a quick, delicious soup. Or it can be stir fried with dried anchovies that have been fried till crispy. That's also quite nice.



When I'm tired of pairing yin choi with dried anchovies, I use a mix of century and salted eggs. And the veggies are poached, a nice change from soups and stir fries. I love the dish 'cause it's fresh tasting and there's hardly any oil. I first had it in Chinese restaurants and after ordering it several times, I decided to hack the recipe. I thought it should be an easy dish to make at home, and I was right. It's just poaching a few leaves. How difficult can that be? Sometimes, I use yin choi; other times, I use kow kei (枸杞, aka boxthorn and matrimony vine) like the restaurant version. Nothing to it at all.



Have I stopped ordering poached spinach in restaurants after poaching the recipe? Nope, 'cause I really like the dish. Besides, we should always eat lots of veggies whether we're eating in or out, right?



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CHINESE SPINACH WITH SALTED AND CENTURY EGGS (苋菜金银蛋) (Recipe for 4 persons) 1 cooked salted egg, peeled and diced 1 cooked century egg, peeled and diced 350 g Chinese spinach (yin choi, 苋菜) ½ tsp salt 1 tsp oil 1 cup robust chicken stock 2½ tsp light soya sauce Remove roots from yin choi. Wash thoroughly and drain. Cut into pieces 7-8 cm (3 inches) long. If stems seem old and woody, don't use a knife. Break into pieces by hand, tearing off some of the peel as you do so. This helps make the stems more tender. Blanch spinach briefly in boiling water with salt and oil. Drain and gently simmer in chicken stock, covered, till just soft and still quite green, 3-4 minutes. Add or reduce stock as necessary. There should be enough to cover 30-40% of the spinach. Drizzle with light soya sauce. Stir gently to mix well. Remove spinach to a plate, minus stock. Or skip this step if you prefer everything all jumbled together. Add salted and century eggs to the pot (or whatever you're using). Bring back to a boil. Simmer for 30 seconds, with a few gentle stirs. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Transfer everything to a plate, or pour eggs and stock over spinach removed earlier. Serve immediately.

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