The Flavors of Uzbekistan

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Bкусный Oбедающий Uzbek!

Uzbekistan is a place to dream about: a far-away land of palaces, emperors, mosques and some of the world’s most beautiful stark and stunning scenery. A sigh, a sip of tea, and no matter where you are, you imagine yourself perusing the exotic goods in crowded market, or on a caravan heading east towards the Fergana, with its dangers, mysteries and potential treasures. (For other posts on Uzbekistan click here and here.)

You could go to Uzbekistan and have adventures, true, but an easier way to get there is by feasting on good Uzbek food. A few weeks ago I discovered a restaurant just outside of Baltimore that offers the ability to imagine yourself in Uzbekistan while sampling some of the many great dishes the cuisine has to offer.

Interior in Samarkand

As soon as we entered Choyhona’s unassuming storefront I knew this was going to be a good place for Uzbek food. There were two tables of men talking loudly, eating kebabs and drinking out of BYO-bottles of vodka and a table of women gathered to celebrate a baby shower, drinking tea and enjoying Uzbek naan and salads.

Colorful Uzbek needlework adorned the light-colored walls which were decorated with areas of mud and straw around which wooden beams were set to give the restaurant the feel of a traditional country dwelling. Yes, Choyhona felt like the real deal, and it had a roomful of Russian and former-Soviet émigrés who all looked like regulars to prove it. Even before I took my seat, I realized that the people here came for the food, for the camaraderie, and for the authentic ambience of a Central Asian cafe.

The menu is in both Russian and English and has a nice selection of Uzbek and Central Asian food. Most of the traditional dishes are found under salads and soups – several meat and vegetable salads dressed with mayonnaise, or several with the sour yogurt called suzma. There are also a few salads based on fried vegetables (eggplants) and on grated or shredded vegetables, such as the Markovcha salad of matchsticked carrots.

Uzbek Shurpa

My husband and I started with a lagman and a shurpa, two of the great Central Asian soups, and they were both delicious, if a bit on the mild side. I smelled the dill from the shurpa before the bowl even hit the table. Its translucent broth harboring bits of meat and vegetable with a bit of fat glistening on the surface was a wonderful way to warm up on a cold day. The not-quite even edge of the lagman noodles told us that they were indeed homemade and they were both flavorful and cooked to perfection.

While waiting for the soups we had a glass of ayran – lightly drained yogurt and soda water – to get in the Western and Central Asian groove. The one we had that day was plain, but it can also be flavored with black pepper or mint. I love the stuff, it is tart, refreshing and very healthy for you.  The kids on the other hand, stayed far away from the ayran and the soups and contented themselves by sucking down sodas as they waited for their food.

Next up were a plate of pumpkin manti – stuffed steamed dumplings – served with a lightly spicy and sour tomato-based sauce. The pumpkin was seasoned with a combination of cumin, coriander and a bit of dill along with salt and black pepper, and was absolutely delicious – especially with a dollop of sauce. FYI, for those with children, this dish was also kid tested and approved.

The center of the meal was a plate of kebabs that provided a nice sampling of the menu. We tried chicken, lamb, beef lulya, and the delicatessen kebab. We enjoyed these with a plate of marinated vegetables and a lightly-spiced yogurt dressing as well as more of the manti sauce. The chicken and lamb were good, but the most fabulous was by far the kebab made from strongly spiced minced beef – the lulya kebab.

Uzbek Manti

I can’t review Choyhona without discussing the very classy way they slipped lamb testicles onto the menu – they are the “delicatessen” kebabs. I’ve never really been a fan of eating genitals for dinner. I don’t like the smooth, dense texture, and I don’t really care for the strong flavor – which I call “crotchy”. That said, these little kebabs were the best testicles I’ve ever had. Still, I’d rather have a second lulya kebab than a delicatessen kebab, so there will be plenty around for those of you who like them.

Besides all that, I hope that Choyhona holds on to this dish and perhaps adds some more “traditional dishes” as their business allows.  When we go into a Chinese restaurant, my husband and I head right for the traditional dishes – sausage, tripe etc. It would be great if more ethnic restaurants did this for those of us who want to stray beyond the “greatest hits” of a cuisine.

My son had the lamb chop kebab with fries had he absolutely loved it!! I tasted it and the lamb was quite good – well cooked, but still soft and delicious. My daughter had the chicken tabaka the flattened and spiced fowl dish eaten from Western through Central Asia which she liked a lot. Our kids usually travel with us and eat a lot of unusual food when we are on the road. However, when they return home, their dietary habits tend to take a turn for the pedestrian. So, it’s great to find an ethnic restaurant here in the States that the kids like.

We ended the meal with a nice pot of green tea and some good conversation, before leisurely trundling back out into the cold. If you are in the area – run don’t walk to Choyhona. But don’t eat and run. Rather come to spend part of an afternoon or evening, enjoy the food and flavors, and “travel” to Uzbekistan. If you can get out to Uzbekistan or some of the world’s far places – do.

Something that we in the west all too easily forget is that there are still lots of wild places in the world and there are many adventures to be had. That’s why I love traveling. I like to get outside of my comfort zone to, for example, wait for a bus which may or may not ever show up. Sure, I love the fantastic sites – I’m not too jaded or ironic to admit that I was blown away by the still-sapphire, celestial ceilings of Hatshepsut’s Tomb – but I also simply like to appreciate the rhythm of life that is different from the one I am accustomed to. Appreciating a sunset or finding beauty in a cardgame brought on by boredom provides a moment to hold in memory and provides a welcome return in the swirl of a more complex life.

(Words by Laura Kelley, Photo of Interior in Samarkand by © | Dreamstime.com; photo of Uzbek Shurpa © | Dreamstime.com; and photo of Uzbek Manti by © | Dreamstime.com. Ozbek Valsi performed by Mashriq and borrowed from Uzbek Classical Music.)

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Making Kimchi

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Several Types of Kimchi

Kimchi is a fascinating thing.  It is a salt-pickled Korean vegetable dish often made primarily of Napa cabbage, but also made of daikon radish, cucumbers, spring onions and a wide variety of additional ingredients that create a range of flavor from spicy and hot to savory to mild and almost sweet.  Currently, there are over one hundred different varieities of kimchi and countless derivative dishes – from pancakes, omelets, and soups, to salads and stir fries and noodle dishes.  Additionally, there are forms eaten in times past that are not commonly enjoyed anymore.

Interestingly, most of the kimchi encountered in the west is of the spicy and hot variety, and its slang use in English reflects this.  We say we are in “deep kimchi” when we have troubles at work or in our personal lives.  People (often women) with fiery or violent social reactions are often said to have “kimchi tempers”.

Unfortunately some of this slang use of the word kimchi is used as derrogatory to Asians.  The term “kimchi squat” is often used described the way many Asians sit with knees bent and feet flat on the floor, or “kimchi handshake” to describe the rapid handshake that is common (and not-well liked by westerners) in many parts of Asia.  Despite all that unpleasantness, kimchi isn’t always hot or spicy and varies quite a bit in flavor by where and how it is produced, the season of year it is made and how it is enjoyed once created.

Probably arising from Chinese suan cai a salted and fermented cabbage, kimchi started being produced in Korea during that country’s Three Kingdoms Period (57 – 668 ACE) and was made from vegetables soaked in beef broth and salt alone. The now distinctive red chilli peppers, originating in North America were added only in the late 16th Century after they were introduced into Korea by the Japanese after the Hideyoshi Invasions.

In general, kimchi made in the north is less salty and spicy than that produced in the south. Often, kimchi produced in Northern coastal areas is flavored with fresh fish, shellfish and oysters, and kimchi from southern coastal areas uses salted fish or brined anchovies or shellfish to flavor savory kimchi varieties. In the middle parts of the peninsula there is a wide variation in the types of kimchis produced, and it is characteristic of production in the middle east to bury or ferment the kimchi for longer periods – lending a stronger flavor to the final product.

Although modern technology has obviated the need for kimchi production in strict accordance to the availability of seasonal vegetables, Koreans still tend to produce and eat kimchi according to seasonal tradition. The biggest kimchi producing season of the year is late autumn or early winter after the harvest has come in. Women will often get together to make kimchi together at this time – so, once again, it takes a village to make great kimchi. Salted Napa cabbage is a popular center for the kimchi and this is often supplemented by daikon, parsley, pinenuts, pears, lichen and sometimes red chili peppers (but sometimes not). In the middle part of the peninsula, it is also common to use pumpkin, squash or carrots as the kimchi center, although leeks and turnips are also used sometimes.

In the spring and summer, vegetables are pickled as they are harvested from the garden, often with lots of potherbs such as spinach, chard and fiddlehead ferns as well as other leafy greens used to flavor the kimchi of young radishes, cucumbers and early carrots etc. Kimchi made at this time is usually consumed quickly and not left to ferment for long periods of time, and so usually it has a milder flavor.

In the autumn, saltier, more savory or fishy varieties are commony produced and enjoyed, with Napa cabbage being the most common center, although many other vegetables are also used.

Preparations for Making Kimchi

This past weekend I put up several different types of Napa cabbage Kimchi, some spicy, some sweet, some savory and some a bit fishy. I like the mild chili peppers now known as Korean chilis so all of my types had red chili pepper flakes in the paste, but I also used daikon radish in the spicier variety, chestnuts in a spicy and nutty concoction, nuoc mam and shrimp paste in the savory and fishy types and in what I think may be original variations: Fuji apples and pomegranate seeds for the sweet varieties. The jars are resting in the garage while the salt and spices work their fermenting magic for a few weeks.

Despite its reputation, making kimchi is really rather simple. Although it is somewhat messy and time consuming, it is well worth the effort if you are a fan of kimchi as I am. One of the things I like best about homemade kimchi is that it has much less salt than the average commercial product – which burns my mouth. I also like having different types of kimchi around so I can serve or enjoy spicy, sweet, nutty or savory variieties – most of which are unavailable on the western consumer market.

Basic Napa Cabbage Kimchi (with variations)

Main Ingredients
1 large Napa cabbage
¾ cup coarse sea salt
3 generous tablespoons garlic, peeled and minced (about 1 medium-large head)
2 generous tablespoons ginger, peeled and grated
1/3 – ½ cup Korean red pepper flakes
3 spring onions, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon salt

Secondary vegetable or fruit
1 6-8-inch long round of daikon radish, peeled and grated
1 Fuji apple or Korean pear, peeled and thinly sliced
1-1/2 cups of chestnuts, roasted and sliced
1 cup of pomegranate seeds

Other flavors
2-3 tablespoons Nuoc mam
1 1/2 -2 tablespoons shrimp paste*

Method
Fill a large vessel three-quarters full with warm-to-hot water. Add salt and stir to dissolve. Quarter cabbage and submerge in brine. Place a plate on top of the cabbage to keep most of it submerged and set aside for 1-3 hours depending on how crisp the cabbage was when cut. Stir occasionally to move the surface cabbage pieces below the brine. Move the cabbage several more times during the brining process to ensure even penetration of the brine into the cabbage.

When the brining is done, the cabbage should be supple, almost as if it had been parboiled. Drain the cabbage, reserving the brine. Shake or spin cabbage to remove excess brine.

Place the garlic, ginger, red pepper, spring onions, sugar, and salt into a large mixing bowl. Take about a cup or two of the brine and mix the red pepper combination into a thin paste. Let sit for 10-15 minutes to allow dried pepper flakes to absorb some of the brine. After that time has elapsed, add more brine if necessary to keep slightly watery consistency of the paste.

Add the cabbage – one bunch at a time – and work the paste all around each leaf until the leaves are evenly coated on both top and bottom. When you are done coating the leaves of each quarter, slightly run your fingers down the leaves and remove excess garlic and ginger on the leaves. It is important to leave some, but not too much on each leaf. Then place each bunch on a cutting board and cut the base of the bunch to separate the leaves. Then, if desired, cut the leaves in half crosswise, reducing the length of each leaf by about half.

If desired, you could place the cabbage leaves directly into clean, sterilized glass jars. Pack the pieces down as you go, but not too hard. As you near the top of each jar, add more brine if necessary to make sure that all of the pieces are bathed in liquid.

On the other hand, if you wish to add additional flavors such as daikon, carrots, apples, pears, chestnuts, pine nuts or fish or shrimp sauce, now is the time to do so. Place the grated or thinly sliced vegetables, fruits or nuts in between each cabbage leaf, or just a dab of fish or shrimp sauce on each leaf. When you have a stack that you can easily handle, slide it into the jar. Then layer the next set of leaves with the flavor and stack those into the jar, pressing down as you fill the jar. As above, fill jar with brine and seal.

Place the sealed jars in a cool, dark spot for at least three weeks to a month before using. Turn the jars upside down and then right them every few days to allow even distribution of the spices throughout the brine. Once unsealed, store the opened jars in the refrigerator or other cold place.

* If using the shrimp paste, saute it lightly and dab onto individual leaves, or mix with ground rice paste (roasted or unroasted) and then apply

Although it will be difficult, I will be anxiously waiting for the end of the month or early February when I can lace into some the the kimchi I made yesterday.  It is really quite delicious and healthy – containing lactobacillus, and lots of vitamins A and C, good quantities of iron and some of the B vitamins as well.  It also really works well as a central flavor for a meal as in a kimchi soup or omelet, or simply as one of several banchan on bountiful Korean table. ((Words and recipe by Laura Kelley; Photo of Several Types of Kimchi by ppy2010ha @Dreamstime.com; Photo of Preparations for Making Kimchi by Caroline Knox from Wikimedia).

N.B. There is apparently a Kimchi Museum in Seoul.  I am very much looking forward to visiting it, and will report back on it if I am able to make it there.

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New Year, New Day

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Old Man Practicing Calligraphy

The large brush laden with water is drawn from the bucket by the old, steady hand and moved in deliberate strokes across the pavement.  One stroke, two, three or more until the complete character develops.  Luminous lines, black on grey stone he moves onto the next character.  The words from the ancient Tang poem begin to take shape.  Even in the afternoon sun it is bone cold, but he keeps on writing.  Before he reaches the end of the stanza, the first characters have begun to fade.  When he comes to the end, more than half the poem is gone – leaving no trace.

All across China, one finds elderly men practicing calligraphy in this way.  In parks, on sidewalks in big cities and small towns, men armed with a bucket and a long brush incessantly trace out words from times long past.  Old poems, classical tales, and bits of history they learned as young boys or men – words flowing out of their brushes and fading almost as quickly as they were born again.

They say they do this to keep their minds sharp and hands strong.  Lately, I have been contemplating the spiritual or cathartic value of producing such transient and beautiful art with personal subjects.  It could be so liberating!  Because it is a public expression, sharing and communicating the experience stops it from being bottled up inside.  As the words fade, so do one’s attachment to the events or people that formed the basis of your composition.  Calligraphy therapy.

At this time of year when we often contemplate our lives and make adjustments to try to live better or healthier, be kinder, more patient, less greedy etc., I thought that this image and concept might be useful to some of you.

Years ago, in graduate school I employed a sort of food-based catharsis with alaphabet soup.  I’d spell the name of the person or thing out on the rim of the bowl and eat it last after all the soup was gone, chewing each letter slowly to make sure it was gone completely and would trouble me no more.  Not the most tasty way to eat soup, but a satisfying one if someone or something is vexing you. (Words by Laura Kelley; Photo of Old Man Practicing Calligraphy by Chen Po Chuan @ Dreamstime.com).

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Caveat Venditor (Merchant Beware!)

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“O thunder-and-lightning-hurling Iao, strike, bind, bind together Babylas the greengrocer . . . As you struck the chariot of Pharaoh, so strike Babylas’ offensiveness . . . O thunder—and-lightning-hurling Iao, as you cut down the firstborn of Egypt, cut down his livestock!”

Tablet with Grocer Curse

A delightful, if not a bit frightening artifact from everyday life in Roman Antioch has recently been deciphered to reveal a curse against a grocer.  On the lead tablet, written in Greek almost 1700 years ago, a person entreats God to strike the grocer Babylas. To make sure that the curse is directed against the appropriate grocer and not just any random merchant, the tablet details some aspects of the grocer’s geneology, such as the names of his mother.

Other tablets have been found entreating God to strike glagiators, charioteers or would-be lovers who rejected the curser, but this is the first tablet with the curse directed aganist an ordinary fruit and vegetable seller. The tablet was recovered in 1930, but left untranslated until this year when Alexander Hollman of the University of Washington accomplished the task. The tablet resides at the Princeton University Art Museum

Whether the curse was written becasue of a business rivalry or because of poor-quality goods purchased or high prices etc. is unknown. Its interesting to imagine cursing the manager at the local Safeway because a couple of potatoes in a bag were rotten – but that indeed could be the case. (Words by Laura Kelley. Photo by Alexander Hollman).

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Goose Fire Pot on a Wintry Day

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I love to eat hot soups and stews to chase away the chill of a cold day.  Asian soups are wonderful for this purpose.  From Korean Doenjang Jjiggae to Central Asian Shurpa, Asian soups are hearty, delicious and offer unusual flavor combinations for warding off winter weather.  The Chinese have a dish that is an intermediary between a soup and a stew for warding off the cold called a firepot.  I got to enjoy a northern firepot recently in the countryside northwest of Beijing, on the way to Badaling, and can attest that it is a tasty way to keep warm.

Goose Fire Pot

Briefly a firepot is a metal pot of one shape or another with broth in it, into which you cook meat, vegetables, tofu, noodles and sometimes an egg.  Sometimes pots are communal, other times they are individual or shared between two or three diners.  Traditionally, they were heated with charcoal, but today the most common form of heating is from propane, which provides a steady, constant heat.  You can enjoy the ingredients one or two at a time with rice and a couple of sauces or wait until the ingredients have melded into a rich dish.  Firepots can be flavorful and spicy as they often are in the South and West or mild and salty as they often are in the North and East.

The dish is of Northern origin, arising in Northern China, Mongolia and Manchuria and spreading to the rest of the country from there. Formal histories site the spread across northern China by the time of the Tang Dynasty (618-906 ACE), and then on to the rest of the Empire. Beyond China, the dish has been adopted and adapted from Japan and Korea to Vietnam and Thailand.

The day we ventured out of the city toward Badaling was a typical late autumn day – very cold and dry. After leaving the city, the smog began to clear and the highway sliced through uplifted mountains dotted with pines and evergreens that looked like a geological textbook with the layers of history laid bare. Soon enough the blanket of pines thinned as the vegetation became scrubbier and the soil more beige. The shaggy auburn coats of working Bactrian camels dotted the dirt road that flowed beside the modern highway and the colorful clothes of citydwellers gave way to the simple rural uniform of black pants and indigo jackets that were easily spotted against the pale landscape.

Great Wall - Badaling

The area just south of Badaling is one of China’s areas renowned for goose farming. As some of you may already know, China leads the world in the number of geese and ducks it brings to market each year. It produces more than two-thirds of the world’s birds. What the area around Badaling specializes in is goose-liver production – the bulk of which is destined for markets and restaurants in France and western Europe. Subsequently, goose meat is inexpensive and commonly consumed in the area. This is where we enjoyed our Goose Firepot. The windows of the simple rural restaurant were steamed up because of the amount of boiling broth at the tables inside.

The broth in our individual firepots was a salty chicken broth which I quickly threw some crushed ginger and garlic into to boost the flavor. The greens offered were a mix of mustard and radish greens, lettuce and spinach. Also on our plates were tree-ear mushrooms, tofu, radish noodles and an egg. The goosemeat was thinly sliced like low-sodium bacon and had a dusky, rich flavor that I love. The dipping sauce was made of crushed sesame seeds mixed with sesame oil, water, a chili or two and a bit of soy – sort of like a watery tahini.  I enjoyed everything except the thick radish noodle.  My dislike was largely becasue of the size and slimy consistency of the noodle. If they were thinly sliced, I don’t think that it woudl have been a problem.

I tried the firepot both ways – one by one with rice and sesame sauce, and as a bit more of a soup. Of the two, I preferred the former, mostly because the salty chicken broth left a bit to be desired, and I had nothing on hand to flavor it with. I chose to boil the egg whole and eat it sliced as part of the meal, but others swirled it into the soup to create texture. It was a wonderful lunch and warmed me for the steep hike up the Badaling wall to view that followed.

We were told by our guide that there were two ways up the wall – the hard way and the harder way.  We chose the harder way, becasue it was much less crowded and seemed more peaceful.  Our kids ran all the way up and on to the barbed-wired end while we took in the sights with slower stride. The wall is very steep in places and one needs to grab on to the edge for balance going up and coming down.  My husband and I paused on the watchtowers to take in the surrounding landscape and gorgeous desolation and listen to the echo of the hooves of the Mongol horses rallying at the gate. Our only company was a talkative magpie and a few travelers continuing on.  (Words and photos by Laura Kelley).

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Peking Duck in Beijing

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Peking Duck (Ba Ye Duck) Dinner

Crisp, amber skin atop moist, flavorful dusky meat all carved and rolled into parchment-like pancakes and brushed with sweet bean or hoisin sauce: Peking Duck is perhaps the dish we most often think of when imagining Chinese cuisine.  It is listed in brochures and books as being the “must-have” dish for travelers to Beijing, where preparing it is still considered an artform.   I grew up seeing rows of delectable cooked ducks hung on hooks in the front windows of food shops and restaurants in New York City’s Chinatown.  Today, the same shops in Chinese cities and settlements all over the world are still selling roasted ducks in this fashion.  This is because the dish is considered a specialty – requiring great skill to make – and one too difficult to prepare at home.

Roasted duck in one form or another has been enjoyed in China for more than a millennium, but the first description of prepared duck that resembles our modern Peking Duck comes from the Yuan Dynasty, ca. 1330, in Yinshan Zhengyao (Important Principles of Food and Drink), by Hu Sihui. Even at that time, the dish was world renown, having been brought by the Yuan to the furthest reaches of their Empire and beyond.  At roughly the same time (mid-fourteenth Century) a reference for “Chinese Duck” that seems to describe Peking Duck is also found in a Yemeni dictionary written in five different languages (Arabic, Persian, Turkic, Mongol and Greek).  So, Peking Duck is, and has been for centuries, one of China’s great Silk Road gifts to the world.

Traditionally, Peking Duck is served and many important occasions, including weddings, because ducks and geese are symbols of conjugal fidelity in China.  When served with the head and feet on they  conjure images of wholeness and completeness as well.  The amber-to-auburn color of a roasted duck  also counts as “red” and brings happiness and good luck to the marriage or the  event that is being celebrated.

Peking Duck really  isn’t a dish, it is more of a process  that begins with the type of duck selected and how it is raised and culminates in the Chef slicing the meat into 120 pieces and serving it for diners to  enjoy.  Historically, small black ducks  from Nanjing were used to create Peking Duck. These birds were canal dwellers and relatively sedentary with a high  percentage of body fat.  Today, most restaurateurs  use the larger, white Pekin Ducks as the basis of the dish, although there is some use of foreign ducks that are larger and leaner in some establishments.

To offset the change from the small black ducks to the modern ducks, a period of force feeding has been introduced to increase body fat.  So  the ducklings are allowed normal lives for about the first month and a half of  their lives and then they are put in small pens that restrict their movement  and force fed several times a day.

Peking Ducks in Supermarket

After harvesting and  cleaning, the skin is separated from the body by blowing air underneath and  through it.  This allows the skin to cook  separately and lets most of the fat cling to the meat and keep it characteristically moist.  In times past  this was accomplished by inserting bamboo straws under the skin and having  chefs or line cooks blow air into the straws to separate the skin from the fat  and meat.  These days, it is done with a  manual or automatic pump, very much like a bicycle pump, that pumps compressed  air under the skin.  After this, the duck  is dipped in and out of water that has been brought to a boil and then removed from the heat.  This dipping tightens the skin  while keeping it separated from the fat and meat below.  Next, the duck is hung by a large hook in a “cool and dry” place.  This can be a screened area outside, or an unheated room at the periphery or cellar of the house or  building, or it can be a room made cool and ventilated by the use of fans.  There are also special cabinets that are used  for ventilating and drying ducks.  First  the duck is dried inside and out and then it is brushed inside and out with one or more layers of a malt-sugar based syrup.  If multiple layers of syrup are used, the duck is allowed to dry completely  between layers, giving a lacquered appearance to some ducks.

The ingredients that go into this syrup are tightly guarded secrets that vary between restaurants and  cooks and help to give the duck a range of distinctive flavors and keep the Beijing establishments competitive in a market awash with Peking Duck offerings.  Although the ingredients vary quite a bit,  the few recipe anchors include some variety malted sugar, water and salt.

The type of malt  sugar can be from rice, millet, wheat, or barley or a mixture of these grains.  Some cooks use a bit of sorghum to produce  the malted sugar for a more complex flavor as well.  To this, a rice wine like Shaoxing (Huangjiu) or Liaojiu can be added, although some cooks prefer to use rice wine vinegar or even just a bit of lemon juice instead.  This can be used as is, or it can be seasoned with cloves, star anise, cassia, black cardamom, mustard or fennel seeds, ginger, nutmeg,– or nearly anything else you wish to add. Sometimes a bit of dark soy sauce or a touch of fermented gluten is used to deepen and darken the syrup as well.

Chefs Near Ovens at Hua's

When the lacquering  and drying is completed, the bird is placed on a rack or hung on a pole and cooked in a brick oven heated to 475 – 525 degrees Fahrenheit.  How the ovens are heated is again a matter of debate between cooks.  The “hung” ovens  are generally heated with fruit-wood fires produced from peach, pear trees and the rack ovens are sometimes heated with hardwoods and/or sorghum.  The sorghum is very high in tannins and phenols (like tea) and produces a distinctive flavor in the meat.  In the hung ovens, the birds are placed near the wood embers and cooked for 30-40 minutes depending on the temperature.  The cooks can adjust the distance the ducks hang above the flame to ensure even cooking. In the rack ovens, the birds are placed on the grill after the heating fire has been extinguished and the birds are cook by convection.

Unfortunately, there  is no substitute for a brick oven.  I  grew up in a home that had a large wood-fire brick oven in the backyard as part  of a great stone cooking chimney and can attest that there is nothing better for meat, bread or pizza.  Short of redesigning your kitchen or backyard, I recommend preheating your oven for many hours before attempting to cook a Peking-like duck.  This massive preheating will allow for more even heating and will tend to keep the oven’s temperature more stable – both characteristics of brick ovens.

Chef Carving Duck

The Chef carves the  duck, traditionally, into 120 pieces, and these days, many scrape the underside of the skin to remove bits of fat that may have clung to the flesh.  First the skin is served and enjoyed dipped in sweetened or unsweetened garlic sauce. Then the meat is served on pancakes (although I have also seen it served  on buns in the South).  Tiny brushes made from spring onions are available on most tables to brush sweet bean paste or osmanthus sauce onto the pancake, although in Hong Kong and in the West, the osmanthus sauce is replaced by Hoisin sauce.   It’s a pity that the osmanthus sauce is seen infrequently outside of  China.  It has an unusual flavor and tastes  and smells a bit like apricots.  It can be extremely (overly) sweet or a bit sweet and tart, depending on the constituents of the simple syrup used to make it.  Cut vegetables are also served with the duck and can include cucumber, lettuce or cabbage, Chinese yams, taro or lotus, and shallots.  Fermented gluten which has a  very strong soy flavor is also served as well sometimes, as is sliced pineapple.  Lastly, a duck stir fry or a broth or soup is often made from the scraps on the duck carcass after the first two duck courses are consumed.  The soup or broth helps to clear the palate after the Peking Duck feast that preceded  it.

You can see from the  description above how complex the recipe is and how variation in just one or  two ingredients or methods can produce a dramatic change in the flavor of the  final product.  I have never attempted it  at home, and am happy eating great ducks during my travels, or passable ones  from the better Chinese restaurants in this area. The version of Peking Duck – called Ba Ye Duck – I has a couple of weeks ago at Hua’s Restaurant in Beijing was miraculous and is the duck to beat. here at home, I sometimes grab a duck-to go from a Chinatown market and reheat it at home – the Chinese version of take-and-bake.  However you choose to enjoy Peking Duck, now you know that it is a recipe – or rather a process – steeped in the history of the Silk Road. (Words and most photos by Laura Kelley; photo of Ba Ye Duck borrowed from Hua’s Restaurant).

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Sage, Rosemary and Thyme – Not Wine!

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Greek Amphora - 3rd Century BCE

With the help of DNA analysis, scientists are getting a present-day look at centuries-old trade in the Mediterranean. Such studies may help debunk some long-held assumptions, namely that the bulk of Greek commerce revolved around wine.

During the fifth through third centuries B.C., the Mediterranean and Black seas were major thoroughfares for ships loaded with thousands of amphorae, thought from their shape to contain wine. But only recently have researchers peered through the lens of 21st century genetics to identify the actual remnants of the jars’ long-disappeared cargo.

Analyses of DNA fragments from the interior of nine jars from Mediterranean shipwrecks now reveal various combinations of olive, grape, Lamiaceae herbs (mint, rosemary, thyme, oregano, sage), juniper, and terebinth/mastic (genus Pistacia). General DNA targeting analyses also reveal the presence of pine (Pinus), and DNA from Fabaceae (Legume family); Zingiberaceae (Ginger family); and Juglandaceae (Walnut family).

The findings, reported in an upcoming Journal of Archaeological Science (Volume 39, Issue 2, February 2012, Pages 389-398), suggest that the ancient Greeks produced and traded a wide range of foods. The economy of the time was much more sophisticated than previously thought, says Brendan Foley, an archaeologist at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, who coauthored the work with biologist Maria Hansson of Lund University in Sweden and colleagues at the Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Tourism.  Some samples already await analysis and further studies are planned.

With this new information, scientists could reconstruct a more accurate picture of the crops being grown and the products changing hands when the world’s first complex economies were getting under way, possibly gaining clues to the agriculture, technologies, art and geopolitics that played into daily life. (Words by Laura kelley; Photo borrowed from Ancienttouch.com)

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There and Back Again

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We returned home from China a few days ago, my mind is still awash with all of the fantastic food I encountered on our combination family vacation and food research trip. We sampled a wide variety of food from fine restaurants in big cities serving national and regional specialties to street vendors dolling out snacks for a single yuan or two. We toured outdoor markets serving cooked food as well as huge, modern supermarkets where locals buy fresh produce and staples as well as fresh dumplings, rolls and breads. I even bought an armful of unusual, local snacks at the Xi’an Airport which included Yak Jerky and Dried Chicken Feet. In addition to sampling and enjoying food, I’ve brought back recipes and food ideas that I will have to reconstruct and share with you.

Hua's Restaurant - Shimao Mansion

In Beijing and Shanghai, we sampled classic dishes such as Shark’s Fin Soup, Bird’s Nest Soup, Hong Kong Roast Goose, Deep-Fried Pigeon and Stir-Fried Abalone. We also enjoyed a modern take on Peking Duck, called BaYe Duck, that is prepared exclusively at Hua’s Restaurant in Beijing. This last dish is interesting, because it is representative of a new, lighter Chinese cuisine called Beijing cuisine in which traditional dishes are prepared with modern health sensibilities in mind.

Seahorse Tokay Wine

Xi’an was all about local food and drink for us. We sampled a variety of local “wine” which was really corn-based liquor (aka Chinese moonshine) flavored with pomegranates, saffron, ginseng and wolfberries and the strangest with starfish, sanddollars, a turtle and what might have been a lizard. The drinks flavored with pomegranates and saffron were good and had a great flavor, the other two just tasted sharp to me – not something I would reach for a second time unless they had fantastic health benefits attached to it. On the other hand, the tea we had in Xi’an – blooming jasmine, pu’er, and dragon-well tea were keepers that I brought home loose or pressed in decorative tea cakes

Other local food we had in Xi’an include hand-stretched noodles in a rich broth and thousand year eggs as part of an incredible buffet. We also had grilled mutton spiced with cumin, babaojing rice cakes flavored with jujube and jam, and persimmon cakes – all food that arose from the Shaanxi Muslim community.

Dumplings were everywhere – stuffed with pork, cabbage, fish, and combinations of meat and vegetables, and we enjoyed them with dipping sauces or sliced baby ginger and salted cucumber sticks. They also have marvelous “soup dumplings” that are served with straws for you to enjoy steaming hot soup before the cooked dumpling dough. These are made with a mixture of meat and aspic that then becomes “soup” when steamed. We trudged through the long queue in Shanghai’s Yu Yuan Bazaar for an authentic soup dumpling from the source at the Nanxiang Bun Shop.

I’ll be writing about these experiences and more over the next few weeks and I hope you tune in to enjoy the descriptions, cultural significance and when possible, recipes for some of the food we sampled. (Words and Photos by Laura Kelley).

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Games of the Great Silk Road – Mancala

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Most parents will be quick to agree that they learn a lot from their kids. When you have kids, you cease to be the center of your own life and the lessons range from the mundane to the profound. When they are little, you realize how little they know when they come into the world and how much you, as an adult, have come to take for granted. When they are older, you begin to see fragments of yourself or of your spouse or partner who helped raise them. But these characteristics are not a direct reflection. Rather, they are more like a mosaic. From mother to daughter or father to son the tesserae can be the same, but the patterns that they are arranged in can be very different.

Ethiopian Mancala Board, 6th or 7th C.

I am beginning to pass into a new stage, with a teen and a tween in the house, they are beginning to introduce me to things I have never heard of before. By exploring their interests with them, I am learning things about the world that I never knew. This is quite humbling to someone like me who has always considered herself something of a well-traveled brainiac.

A couple of weeks ago we were at the National Geographic Society to see the latest treasure trove of Anglo-Saxon weapon fittings and religious items (The Staffordshire Horde) that have recently been uncovered in England. Rich, finely worked 24-carat gold with sparkling garnet inlay filled the display cases. Videos to explain the details of the craftsmanship accompanied the exhibition, along with recordings and quiz games of Old English helped to bring the exhibit alive and make it a wonderful way to spend an afternoon.

Endodoi Board - Tanzania

On the way out, we did the obligatory pass through the gift shop on the way to the exit. While we were browsing, my daughter came flying at me – begging for a mancala set, telling me how fun it was and explaining how it was played. We got the set and later that evening she taught me how to play. That night, I learned that the game is played all over the world and has been for the better part of the last couple of millennia.

Pallankhuzi Board - Sri Lanka and S. India

What my further research has shown, is that the Silk Road trade of goods, ideas and cultural elements was probably responsible for its spread – at least across the Old World. From Vietnam and Mongolia, through Central and Western Asia, across Central and Northern Africa and into Europe through Andalusia, the Old World plays this game. It passed into the New World with the slave trade and is played from Louisiana and Haiti to the Dominican Republic and Brazil.

Toguz Kumalak Board - Kazakhstan

If you’ve never seen or played mancala, count and capture or any other variety of the game, it is often played on a board containing at least two rows of cup-shaped depressions or holes in which the pieces are arranged and moved. The number of cups varies across cultures and over time, but the game remains the remarkably the same. The goal is to move all of your pieces off the board before your opponent, and there are strategies, societies and in some nations, major competitions in which people play mancala. Our board is a nicely carved wooden set with small, irregularly shaped stones as pieces, but some mancala boards consist simply of holes dug in the ground or bored into stone into which other stones or objects are moved.

Girls Playing Oquan in Vietnam

There are 19th and 20th Century claims that the game is arose in ancient Egypt, Jordan or even Mesopotamia – but none of these are accepted by modern game scholars (did you know there was such a thing?) or archaeologists specializing in these areas. The oldest definitive set comes from Axum (Ethiopia) and date from the 6th or 7th century ACE, but an earlier set may come from a 4th Century Roman-era fort in Egypt along the banks Red Sea. The earliest European set is found in Spain’s the Museo de Burgos. It belonged to a daughter of Abd-al-Rahman III, the emir (912-929) and first caliph (929-961) of Cordoba. The scholar Murray, writing in the mid 20th Century, concluded that the game spread from east to west across Africa and from west to east across Asia – which again points to an Eastern African or Levantine origin.

Importantly, Arab and Muslim traders were probably an important force in moving the game around the Old World. The very name, “mancala” comes from the Arabic verb “naqala” meaning, “to move”. It is not mentioned in the Koran by this name, but must have been known to the Arabs in the Middle Ages, as it is referred to in the commentary to the Kitab al Aghani, the “Book of Songs,” which speaks of a “game like mancala.”

Ornate Congkak Board - Malaysia

Today, the game is played competitively in many Central Asian nations, with Kazakhstan having a national association for their version of the game, Toguz Kumalak, whereas in most of Africa, it is a game to be played while relaxing after the day’s work.  Interestingly, in the New World it is sometimes played as part of mortuary or funerary practices – to amuse the spirits of the dead.  This suggests that this might have been a practice among the Africans who carried the game with them to the New World, although this practice seems to have vanished in modern-day Africa.

I’ve played a few games with my daughter and can attest to the game being both fun and a great way to teach strategy and the consideration of future consequences when deciding current moves. Thanks to my daughter, to whom I dedicate this post, I’ve found an unexpected echo of the Silk Road found in an ordinary board game. (Words by Laura Kelley. All photos from Mancala Wiki).

N.B. I will be in China for the next couple of weeks and will blog if I can. Hopefully, I will return with loads of tales and photos.

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Autumn Means . . . A Bounty of Pumpkins and Squash!

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I love this time of year! I love the blustery days and the chilly evenings and snuggling under blankets to keep warm. I love the cacophony of colors offered up by the deciduous trees, and of course, I love the panoply of fall produce – my favorite of which are pumpkins and squash.

They are just so beautiful – all the shapes: round, oval, flattened, tubular, and fluted like an amber bead, or goose-necked, with bumps and warts and all. And the colors – warm shades of orange, ochre, yellow and deep earthy green – some striped, some with a gradation of color fading from one into the next. Such variation in color and shape – and flavor! There are so many ways to prepare pumpkins and squash, that it seems unfortunate that we generally relegate these vegetables to pies or soup. All too often with the familiar triumvirate of spices – cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves and more often than not – too much sugar.

Autumn Pumpkins

By themselves, many pumpkins and squash are already quite sweet and don’t need much sugar to make their flavors really shine. My two favorites – the Butternut and the Kabocha – are amongst the sweetest. I often use them to temper dishes with sour flavors offered by pomegranates, sour grapes, lemons, or limes.

Across the Asian continent there are a myriad of ways to prepare pumpkin and squash. As main dishes, many cultures stuff them – with rice, or a combination of meat and grains. They appear mixed with curries, stews and braised meat dishes. They are layered in casseroles, topped with sauces, curried, stir-fried and coated with spices and baked. However they are prepared, they are another gift of the New World to the Old and have been dearly embraced since their introduction only a few hundred years ago.

In Western Asia, they can be stuffed with marigold petals or pomegranate seeds in Georgia, layered in an Armenian casserole called Ailazan; baked with eggs in an omelet called a “kuku” (after the Persian work for egg) or braised with fowl or lamb in a delectable cardamom and pomegranate sauce in Iran, used as a stuffing for pastries or prepared with tomatoes and sour grapes in Afghanistan.

In South Asia, pumpkin and squash are curried in rich ginger and garlic-laden sauces, baked and pounded into dips with or without yogurt, used in rice pilafs, mixed with pulses for dals, mixed with seed spices (such as fenugreek, onion, mustard and poppy), cumin, a handful of chilli peppers and lemon juice in sweet and spicy dish, and sweetened with coconut cream.

The Central Asians use squash in casseroles like Damlyama flavored with copious amounts of cumin and black pepper, stuff them with their own pulp flavored with tarragon and lemon or nuts, sour cherries and nutmeg and pepper or baked with cinnamon and black pepper, or cooked with tamarind, fenugreek leaves and garlic.

In the Himalayas, the Bhutanese have delectable pumpkin fritters spiced with cumin and use squash or pumpkin layered in their biryani, the Nepali have their Tarkari curries with garlic, ginger and lots of cilantro, the Tibetans coat squash slices in chickpea or lentil flour spiced with chili peppers, star anise, lots of black pepper and some cinnamon and fry the slices until golden, and the Burmese have make a stew of them with shrimp and soy sauce, lime juice, ginger and garlic and lots of pungent peppers. And in the Indo Pacific, one of the most common ways to prepare them are using a tomato-based sauce flavored with sweet soy, vinegar, nutmeg and pepper.

Pumpkin Curry

In the far-east, the Korean’s have their black-peppered squash cooked with soy, ginger and garlic and garnished with sesame seeds. The Japanese cook them similarly using sweet soy or a soy-ginger sauce, and in Southern China there is fish-flavored eggplant named after the method of preparation with brown bean paste, fish sauce and rice vinegar, often used to cook fish. In Thailand, pumpkins or squash are used to flavor the rich spicy curries and are used with a variety of meats or cooked rapidly in a stir-fry with lots of spicy Thai basil, or cooked with crushed black peppercorns, lemon juice and fish sauce to form a rich sour sauce around a sweet kabocha squash. The Cambodians use squash in mixed vegetable stews and stir fries, and use them with in stews with beef, coconut milk, and their ginger-spice paste called Kroeung, the thick fish sauce tuk prahok and lots of Kaffir lime leaves. And lastly in Vietnam, squash and pumpkin are sometimes enjoyed with stir-fried with lemongrass and peanuts, and roasted and pounded into a dip with lime juice, fish sauce and basil.

Certainly not an exhaustive list of Asian pumpkin and squash recipes, but ones that reach far beyond the familiar flavors of cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves and too much sugar, and all of which are available in the Silk Road Gourmet volumes already published or yet to come.

So enjoy our seasonal bounty of pumpkins and squash, but think outside the box and try an unfamiliar recipe or two. You may discover a favorite vegetable you’ve never tried before – like the Sri Lankan curry posted below. (Words by Laura Kelley. Photo of Autumn Pumpkins by Haywiremedia @ Dreamstime.com; Photo of Pumpkin Curry by Sarsmis @ Dreamstime.com. Recipe in Silk Road Gourmet Volume 2).

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Curried Pumpkin in a Ginger-Garlic Sauce

This curry is sour, sweet, and hot due to its curry leaves, vinegar, coconut milk, sugar, and ground chili peppers. Blended together, these flavors make this dish quintessentially Sri Lankan, but it also complements a wide variety of other cuisines as well.

Ingredients
1 medium butternut squash or small kabocha pumpkin, peeled, sliced and seeded
2 tablespoons oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
½ teaspoon turmeric powder
1 teaspoon cumin powder
1 teaspoon coriander powder
1 teaspoon whole mustard seeds, ground
2 teaspoons garlic, peeled and diced
1 tablespoon grated ginger
½ cup coconut milk
1 teaspoon chopped chili peppers
10 curry leaves, crushed
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons sugar

Method
Preheat oven to 375°. Place sliced squash or pumpkin on an oiled or sprayed baking sheet and when the oven is hot, bake for 20–25 minutes. Remove from oven, cool, and slice into quarters or eighths, depending on the size of the slice.

Heat oil in a medium sauté pan and sauté onion until it softens and starts to color. Add the turmeric, cumin, coriander, and mustard and stir for a couple of seconds. Add the garlic, ginger, coconut milk,
chilies, and curry leaves.

Add the vinegar, salt, and sugar and bring slowly to a boil. Add the squash or pumpkin pieces, stir, and simmer on a low heat for 5 minutes until the pumpkin is warmed.

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