These things don’t involve a lot of thinking and rationalizing; they aren’t even bothered by common decency or responsibilities. I eat them free of my own judgment
It is one of the seven recipes in a little chapter I call, The Shit I Eat When I’m By Myself, a continuation of course, of our recipe category here under the same title in this blog. I felt the need to create this category because it answers both the questions of why I cook, and why I eat. As the chapter intro in the book sums it up:
“I don’t cook for myself. Or at least, not the way it looks on my blog or in the rest of this book outside this section. I don’t know how it reflects on me as someone who’s selling recipes, but in my view, cooking and eating are two very different, entirely separate areas of investigation. Cooking, to me, is about curiosity, the insatiable need to know beyond necessity, the compulsion in the process of unwrapping a question, rephrasing it again, moving on to the next, the hunt. Eating is about comfort. I rarely find enthusiasm in repeating the same recipes, answering the same questions. But I can eat the same things over and over again. These things don’t involve a lot of thinking and rationalizing; they aren’t even bothered by common decency or responsibilities. I eat them free of my own judgment.”
I also want to thank Sam Sifton from New York Times for mentioning this recipe in his newsletter. And please remember to pre-order our cookbook! Now here’s how to make it:
WHY CREAM CHEESE? BECAUSE COMPARED TO THE COMMONLY APPLIED AMERICAN SINGLES, CREAM CHEESE PROVIDES CHEESINESS AND CREAMINESS WITHOUT ADDED SALT.
WHAT: Perhaps the most internationally embraced instant noodle of our time, Shin Ramyun, now homemade, thickened with cream cheese, and… also doubles as an instant budae jjigae mix.
WHY: I wish to pay a tribute to the untimely passing of Anthony Bourdain, the original, the first and the last, who is perhaps, in the end, a great speculator without answers. Here’s a dish from Korea, budae jjigae, which he had openly embraced and advocated for without irony, both being a mutated creation that exists on the tipping point of conflictions and yet, brings epiphanies and enjoyments to their subjects. We will sorely miss him.
HOW: The flavor profile of the base for budae jjigae and the instant noodle Shin Ramyun is, to no surprise, close siblings from the same family. Both prominent on the fragrance and heat of Korean chili powder, smoothed by a bit of sweetness from fermented chili paste called gochujang, followed by subsequent notes of garlic, a bit of onion, and a hint of soy sauce. By successfully creating a base for one, you would’ve done it for both. But to aim at a higher end goal with more complexity, I like to approach the question from the perspective of budae jjigae.
There is perhaps nothing more ironical about making budae jjigae than to try to stay “authentic” with budae jjigae. The spirit of the dish was founded on improvisation, creating something special from the givens, making lemonade. I first set out to build the groundwork by rendering, browning and pureeing pancetta, anchovies and shitake mushroom powder, which are not traditional but they lay the common bricks for this type of Korean soup-dishes that are often a mixture of meat broth, dried seafoods and mushrooms. Then guess what? That’s all the cooking there is. The only step left is as easy as blending it together with gochugaru (Korean chili powder), gochujang (Korean chili paste), garlics, onion and seasonings, then last but not least, cream cheese. Why cream cheese? Because compared to the commonly applied American Singles, cream cheese provides cheesiness and creaminess without too much added salt. Not mention that it blends more effortlessly into any H2O-based substances.
From this point forward, simply simmer the mix with low-sodium beef stock for Shin Ramyun. OR, add kimchi, SPAM, hot dogs, and just about anything that sounds really wrong to make something that tastes really right, budae jjigae. It will be thick. It will be spicy. It will be heavy, and it will be enlightening. It will be too much, and it won’t be enough. If this can be, then what else is out there?
IS THIS THE BEST DANDAN NOODLE YOU’VE EVER HAD? I DARE NOT SAY SO MYSELF. BUT YOU JUST MIGHT.
WHAT: The untimely demise of your pre-summer diet. An instant dandan noodle sauce that will create, for you, this iconic Sichuan street food, any time any day, in under one hello-cellulite! minute.
WHY: Because I now have a huge jar dangerously in my possession, constantly tugging my soul in between responsibility and liberation, misery and happiness. And they both want company.
HOW: There are as many variations to dandan noodles as the number of people making it, each altering the ratio between sauce and noodle, the style and intensity of the seasonings, the types of noodles and toppings, all to their own particular likings. I, for example, have published this dandan noodle recipe a long time ago, which was decidedly soupier and negotiated its way towards the peanut-y route back when I discovered my sesame intolerance (it’s like lactose intolerance but only more niche). I didn’t even find out about my intolerance until later on in life after having a food intolerance test. I just thought the bloating and fatigue was just part of me but now I know the real reason behind my body playing up. Now, this version, aside from the difference that it is meticulously designed as an all-in-one sauce mix, is actually more authentic to the flavors that I often found myself slobbering over when I was still living in China, more sesame-based, assembled together more as a sauce than a soup, filled with savory beef-bits that are freckled with ground Sichuan peppercorns, and it doesn’t call for doubanjiang (broad bean chili paste).
Well, authentic, up until the pickled jalapeño comes in.
Now, why American pickled jalapeño as opposed to Chinese pickled mustard greens as authenticity would’ve commanded? Well, A) I don’t care about authenticity. And B) Even in Asia, Chinese pickled mustard greens tend to vary greatly in quality, saltiness and taste, making it a very unfriendly ingredient in recipe-development. Then last and certainly not least C) I happen to decide that, in this particular instance, pickled jalapeño actually works more marvelously than its traditional counterpart, more acidic than salty, more ready-to-use, and more fragrant in terms of the much desired peppery-ness that beautifully integrates and aids the layering of flavors in this beloved Sichuan dish. Each seasoning functions as an distinct entity, accurately marking their highs and lows, sharp and creamy, spicy and numbing on the tempo of their own choosing, but ultimately all comes together as a harmonic yet active, single organism.
Is this the best dandan noodle you’ll ever have? I dare not say that myself. But you just might.
THE UNFAILING WONDER OF AMERICAN SINGLES THAT MELTS INTO THE MOST VISCOUS INTENTION TO BRING OUT A BIT OF CHILDISHNESS IN ALL OF US
WHAT: Using Japanese curry cubes – another one of their culinary ingenuities – as a building foundation for an even more complex, cocoa-y and cheesy curry paste that will bring instant late-night slurping to a new height.
WHY: It’s creamy. It’s delicious. And if you need more than that then slap on nostalgic as well. Because Japanese curry, or shall I say kare, is a deep-rooted comfort in just about every Asian’s dietary habit. And if done right, it will withhold the same standing in your life as well.
HOW: Japanese curry cube, on its own, can be a bit sweet and lacking of intensity, born out of this culture’s rounder and more reserved disposition on tastes as well as, I suspect, philosophy. In the effort to deviate from its original path, I have been for years adding my own “defectors” to bring it just where I like it, more curry powder for spiciness, cocoa powder for complexity, instant coffee for a touch of bitterness and fragrance, and a kiss of Dijon mustard for acidity. Then last but not least, the junky yet unfailing wonder of American singles that melts into the most viscous intention to bring out a bit of childishness in all of us.
This versatile paste can be used to create, instantly if I may stress, an array of noodle-companions ranging from a milder and drinkable broth for a Japanese staple called kare udon, to a more powerful and creamy gravy to dress any noodles “dry-style” (my favorite), all the way to possibly being used as an instant mix for this fried rice. A soft-boiled egg, an extra single, or even a nub of cold butter, hell let’s put a few McNuggets on top. There’s really no possible way to go overboard with it. And even if there is, it won’t judge.
1 regular box (230~250 grams) Japanese curry cubes, such as this one (see note *)
5 slices of American cheese, torn into small pieces
1/3 cup (30 grams) grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
4 tbsp curry powder
2 1/2 tbsp cocoa powder
1 1/2 tbsp fish sauce
1 tbsp ground cayenne, plus or minus to your liking
2 1/2 tsp instant coffee
1 tsp Dijon mustard
Instructions
In a large, wide and deep skillet (the wide diameter creates more surface area and speeds up the reduction process), cook canola oil, onion, garlics and onion powder over high heat, until the edges of the onions are slightly browned. Add low sodium beef or chicken stock, continuing to boil over high heat, until the mixture is reduced down by 2/3, about 20 minutes.
Strain the mixture through a fine sieve into another smaller pot, pressing on the solids to extract as much liquid as you can then discard the solids. You should have about 1 1/2 cup of liquid left (it can be slightly under but not more). Now add the curry cubes, American cheese, Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, curry powder, cocoa powder, fish sauce, cayenne, instant coffee and Dijon mustard. Cook and stir over medium heat, until all the ingredients are fully melted and evenly incorporated into a thick paste.
Transfer into an air-tight jar and keep chilled in the fridge until needed. Can be kept for up to 1.5 (estimate) months in the fridge, or 3 months in the freezer.
TO USE THE MIX: You can use the mix to make a lighter drinkable curry broth, or a stronger gravy-like sauce. To make a curry broth, bring 1 cup of water to a simmer and whisk in 3~4 tbsp of instant curry mix, and let simmer for a couple minutes. Add udon noodles or other noodles of your choice. To make a gravy-like sauce, cook udon or other noodles of your choice in boiling water according to instructions. Remove the noodles and set inside a serving bowl. Mix a few tbsp of the cooking water with curry mix until it reaches your desired consistency and intensity, then mix it evenly with the noodles. As a general finishing touch, torch a slice of American cheese on top until melty, and serve immediately.
Notes
* Japanese curry cubes, or curry sauce mix, can be easily found in all major Asian supermarkets and/or online. This recipe calls for one regular box, which ranges from 230~250 grams depending on the brands (but they do come in smaller packaging sometimes so make sure you check the package). And they also come in "mild", "medium", and "hot". Here I'm using "hot".
WHAT: Instant pho bo noodle soup mix, the answer to the prayers of all the geographically misplaced and physically unable foodies who make the regrettable mistake of watching a Vietnam street-food video on Youtube pass 10 PM. We know who we are.
WHY: Widely known as a labor-intensive and time-consuming dish, yet cruelly happens to be the most desired slurp from Southeast Asia in North America, pho bo has been tormenting addicts who are kept apart from a proper fix due to cold hard geography, or, something no less ruthless, a human condition called sloth. But this barrier is no more, my friends. Because what is mankind if not the extraordinary will to cheat its way through shortcomings?
HOW: Every single aromatics and spices that are used in the traditional preparation of pho bo undergoes the exact same treatment in this recipe, the charring of the onion and ginger, the roasting of shrimp paste, the calculated balance of spices. The only difference is that the mixture is blended together with an ultra-reduction of store-bought beef broth and fish sauce, into a smooth, saucy seasoning. When the craving hits, the complete obliteration of the ingredients allows their full and speedy release of flavors and aroma where they dissipate into more beef broth (don’t worry, still store-bought), creating a marvelously close-tasting broth to the ones that take hours, all in just 2 minutes. From this point on, all it needs is a mandatory fine-tuning of lemon juice, sliced onion and fresh herbs to bring it quintessentially Vietnamese. Then, a couple squirts of Sriracha and hoisin sauce to make it non again.
Here you ask, is this the same as the pho bo you tasted in Saigon where you lost a tender piece of your soul behind and was left to wonder this earth forever incomplete? Pffff, of course not! A cheat is a cheat. Anyone who’s tried liposuction will tell you they don’t look like Gisele Bündchen quite yet. But I will say this, that in between all the sad Vietnamese restaurants provided by the cities where I’ve stayed in the past almost two decades – New York, Taipei, Hong Kong, Beijing – or the alternative of plowing through 12 hours of labor whenever the craving hits, honestly, I prefer this instant mix over any of the above. And if you know me at all, that’s saying a lot.
FOR ALL THE GEOGRAPHICALLY MISPLACED AND PHYSICALLY UNABLE FOODIES, WHO MAKE THE REGRETTABLE MISTAKE OF WATCHING A VIETNAM STREET-FOOD VIDEO ON YOUTUBE PASS 10 PM
HOMEMADE INSTANT NOODLE, WILL NO LONGER BE AN OXYMORON
Today we’re launching yet another recipe series! One that I’ve been wanting to put together for awhile and, if I’m being totally honest, I haven’t been this excited about something for a long time.
It’s called, Homemade Instant Noodle Mix Series!
This new series is my answer to my own struggle over the years during the frequent occurrences when instant noodles – one of my loyal and trusty, lifelong companion – fails to be A) adequately satisfying, B) available at wherever I am currently residing, C) excessively reliant on chemical flavorings and preservatives, and D) reaching the full potential of the culinary wonderland that instant noodles have every capability to become.
This series will bring you relatively easy recipes that each creates one large batch of an ultra-concentrated seasoning, very much like the flavoring packets that come with commercially packaged instant noodles except in a larger quantity, which you could later use to build better-than-most-commercially-sold instant noodles simply by adding water, stock, and noodles of your choice. Less than 20 minutes of cooking will secure you with a great number of highly gratified, 5-minutes slurps for months to come. Just the mere idea of having contributed a few of these into this rotten, twisted, putrid world of our own making, makes me feel like I’ve done my part as a repenting member of the society and thus releases me from a few years of intensive therapies.
Because from this day on, homemade instant noodle will no longer be an oxymoron. From this day on, whenever we crave either the convenience or deliciousness of an instant slurp, we shall be free from concerns of being mummified by excessive preservatives or growing a fifth limb from the unpronounceable ingredients in fine prints. From this glorious day on, we the people, shall not be denied of our rights to all the possibilities of instant noodling based on our nationality, wealth, travel visas, broken supermarket inventories, the tyranny of international trading policies and above all, the utter lack of creativity from every major instant noodle manufacturers. Hear me, Zeus!…
Okay that’s a bit much but you get the point. This series will touch upon new slurpable delights inspired by Taiwan, Japan, Korea, Southeast Asian and etc, but to kickstart it:
WHAT: A Lady And Pups classic from the archive called Crack Slurp, now reincarnated in a single, streamlined, simplified and formulated sauce that you can keep in a bottle.
WHY: This is actually the dish that inspired me to create this series in the first place. As previously confessed, we eat this noodle possibly more often than any other single item on the menu, so much as that I’ve been wanting, for quite some time, to coordinate its previously tedious components into a single, cohesive formula, one that I could literally grab from the fridge and dress the noodles in one stroke.
HOW: After some considerations, I’ve removed the one component from the original recipe that may deter some people from trying it out, and that is to render chicken fat, aka schmaltz, from chicken skins and such. The animal fat would obviously provide an added aroma and richness to the dish, but for practicality sake, I’ve concluded that properly treated vegetable oils could bring the noodles to close standings as well, by dialing up on the uniquely floral fragrance from Sichuan peppercorns. Then instead of having the fried shallots as a loose component, I blended it together with the rest of the seasonings to create an one-stop, fiercely aromatic, savory, spicy and tingling oil sands if you will, that properly adheres to the noodles of your choosing in a perfect ratio of smooth grit and grease.
If you haven’t been touched by the promise of fried shallots, no thanks needed. If you haven’t been called to the light of Sichuan chili paste, the mothership of Sichuan cuisines, the pleasure’s all mine. If you find yourself utterly powerless to pull away from this potentially addictive dope which costs nothing and goes everything, that you need to pour it down the trash before burning it with lighter’s fuel to stop yourself from salvaging… well, I offer no apology as well.
THE RICE AND SAUCE QUICKLY COOKED INTO SOMETHING LIKE A DOPPELGANGER OF RISOTTO, BOUND BY THE STRINGENT GOOEYNESS OF MELTED CHEESE,
OF WHICH HE THEN GOBBLED DOWN BY EACH OVERSIZED WOODEN-SPOONFUL
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I hardly think that it’s unreasonable, sometimes even understandable, for people to bundle their perceptions for different cultures around a region, as a whole. As one of the Asians, Taiwanese to be exact, I am certainly far more accustomed to many of the familiarly bizarre lifestyles or values from our neighboring cultures, than say someone who are born and raised in the Midwest of America. Regardless of agreements, I can generally find an answer for much of the “Asian weirdness” that are otherwise lost in translation, even just by association. But a few days ago, prompted by a segment from Tony’s Parts Unknown, I sank into a recent uprise of Korean phenomenon so baffling, that the regional cultural gap… has never felt so wide.
Did you know… that there are a swarming number of YouTube channels with millions of views and followers… broadcasting hours after hours of young, slim Koreans doing nothing but sitting in front of their HD webcam-equipped computer, and just… eating themselves to a pulp?!! Just eating! Just nothing else, absolutely nothing else, but them eating… and eating.. and eating what appears to be an obscene and non-human amount of foods that defies the very laws of physics! Perhaps I should point out that the nature of these shows are not competitive, as the broadcaster, almost always, are the sole living subjects in front of the cameras inside his/her own bedrooms (except maybe this living sea-creature wiggling before its imminent death). What seems to be just a random somebody filming him/herself leisurely ingesting takeouts after school or work, sometimes for hours, will only slowly begin to stun your consciousness when you realize… how freaking much foods have already gone inside their average-sized human torsos. Then the shows end almost as bizarrely as they begin, when the broadcasters, however long it takes, finally decide that he/she is sufficiently fed, then goes offline… The purposes of these shows, if there was one, don’t make any fucking sense! It could even be argued as being hazardous to social health, but, oh God knows I tried, I just couldn’t stop watching! On top of the fact that I couldn’t understand a single Korean-word buzzing through my ears like white noise, I still couldn’t stop watching for the same human-condition that disables us to walk away from a car-crash!
Well, today’s recipe, is a ruinous aftermath from such a show. This dude… this fit-by-any-definition Korean dude, after ingesting what was a legitimate tub of spicy Korean stew, he then mashed 3 more Japanese rice balls into the leftover sauce, and further blanketed it with more shredded cheese that he grabbed from an enormous bag that seemed to be kept by his desk as importantly as back-up staplers. The rice and the sauce quickly cooked into something like a doppelganger of risotto, bound by the stringent gooeyness of melted cheese, of which he then gobbled down by each oversized wooden-spoonful. I think it rendered me mindless. In retrospect, I believe the only sound hovering above the paralyzing astonishment was the voice of my own murmurs… That shit looks good.I’d totally eat that shit. So here, aside from a tip-of-the-hat, if I didn’t channel this episode into another post of (as coincidentally fitting and attributing as it is) The Shit I Eat When By Myself, what kind of a recipe-sharer would I be?
Servings: 1/10 serving for its inspirer, but 1 serving for a normal humanoid
When I made this the first time and took these photos, I forgot to add the nori/Japanese seaweed. So don’t scratch your head wondering where they are, and just be assured that the recipe is better with than without.
1/4 cup (25 grams) + 1/2 cup (50 grams) shredded cheddar cheese
Salt to taste
Instructions
In a skillet over medium-high heat, melt unsalted butter with toasted sesame oil, then cook chopped onion, garlic, ginger, salt and black pepper for a couple mins until softened. Transfer to a blender along with milk, SPAM, gochujang, honey and ground black pepper, and blend for 1 min until smoothly pureed. Mix the mixture evenly with cooked rice, diced scallion, nori/Japanese seaweed, vinegar (the vinegar is important for brightening the flavour!) and 1/4 cup shredded cheddar.
Microwave on high for 4 min, stirring once in between (taste and salt to season if needed), then top it with the remaining 1/2 cup of shredded cheddar and some ground black pepper. You can finish melting the cheese in the microwave, or place under top broiler until browned and bubbly. Serve immediately.
WITHOUT THE BRAVERY FROM WITHIN A BEER CAN… YOU CAN NOW MAKE THIS SIGNATURE BEIJING STREET-FOOD AT HOME
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What the hell’s this? Well… let me refresh it for you.
If you have ever lived or travelled to Beijing. It was nightfall. Granted that you should be excused by the overwhelming remorse that soon followed the moment you stepped out of the airport, you thought, it would be in your best redeeming interest to hang out with some old or newly acquainted companions for a night of bad behaviors around the Work’s Stadium in Chaoyang District. After what probably felt like a mirage of flying alcohols, soul-murdering-ly bad musics, and an unbroken stream of ugly faces, you woke up the day after, half-alive, with a banging headache and wondering how the hell did last night end. While other histories were less certain or best left forgotten, chances were, whether you remembered it fully or from the swamp of broken memories, that without even knowing what it was called, you ended it with this.
This, this is called jian-bing.
Here, before I say anything more, I want you to listen carefully. It is not, your fault. We’ve all done it. We’ve all, for more than once, either unconsciously or with full consent, stood under the dingy lightbulbs from a hygienically suspicious food-stall in a notoriously poisonous country, and ate this thingy that highly resembled a french crepe on one side, but marbled with beaten egg on the other, made by someone reaching into buckets of some things that both screamed highly dubious at best. Yes, that was a long sentence, because I just wanted to rip it off fast like a bandage for you. It’s ok, my friend. It’s just a Beijing thing. It probably didn’t hurt you as bad as you thought it would. It probably, if memories are slowly coming back, tasted much better even in the haze of your drunken skepticism. Between it’s thin, soft and slightly chewy body, there was the appetizing aroma of a skillet-fried egg, the pungent and salty punch from the smothering of chili sauce, and to your surprise, a shattering and crunchy contrast from an unknown source that you were too drunk to identify. Most likely, it was actually, really really tasty. And dare I say, it has probably, been missed.
Now, without the bravery from within a beer can, or the risk of losing a liver, you can make this signature Beijing street-food at home, knowing that none of the ingredients contains traces of stray cats. Ha ha, just kidding.
No I’m not.
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