Goose Fire Pot on a Wintry Day

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).

Peking Duck in Beijing

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. 

Peking Duck (Ba Ye Duck) Dinner

 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 SihuiEven 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).

China: There and Back Again

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).