Those
who grew up before 1975 would remember -- life was so much simpler then. Color
television was then a rare luxury; in fact the majority of households didn’t
even own a ‘black-and-white’ television!
Much of
my childhood was spent in Chinatown. The hill where Kreta Ayer Theatre now
stands was the centre of activity for my neighborhood. Back then there was no
theatre; in its place, instead, were a small community centre and a crèche, and
a huge empty plot of land.
Come
nightfall, a professional storyteller – an old man -- would set up his stall,
which consisted of a small wooden box, a kerosene lamp, and 20 or so wooden
stools. Night after night on the hill, his voice would echo. He would narrate tales
from the Chinese classics – the cases of Justice Bao, the exploits of warriors
of The Three Kingdoms...
People
would drop him coins as a donation, or as rental for the stools, and these
would be his earnings.While the adults
listened to the stories, the youngsters would play on the nearby seesaw or the
community centre’s basketball court. The cool evening air would also draw out courting
couples and strollers to the open grounds.
Hawkers
would set up food stalls: ice kachang, fruits, drinks, and one particular snack
that I loved dearly -- steamed peanuts. This hawker would ride his
trishaw-cart, which held a huge basket of peanuts kept warm by a pot of simmering
water below it. Five cents would buy one a tiny paper bag full. The peanuts
would be too hot to handle, making splitting the shell open a challenge -- but
the reward would be soft, steaming, succulent peanuts!
Sadly,
this simple treat is not as ubiquitous as it once was, so I’ve decided to
recreate it, adding some spices to enliven it!
Since,
this is the eve of Lunar New Year 2013. I would like to wish everyone
花开福贵 ＊＊ 生意兴隆
Spicy Boiled Peanuts
Peanuts
(with husks)1 kg
Cinnamon2 sticks
Star
anise2
Fennel
seeds½ tsp
Sichuan
peppercorn1 tsp
Salt1 tbsp
Water1½ litres
Method:
Fry spices in a clean pan until it emits a
strong fragrance. Pour it into the water and boil.
Add peanuts and simmer for 3 hours.
Strain the peanuts and serve immediately.
Peanuts taste best when it is warm; simply reheat
it in the microwave when it gets cold.
Note:
By using a pressure cooker, cooking time could be shortened to 30 minutes.
Although
Pen Cai (盆菜)is new to Singapore, this dish actually originated some
eight hundred years ago, in the Southern Song Dynasty (A.D. 1132 – 1279). There
are two stories to how it was born: one which told of the escape of the Emperor
to the southern part of China; and the other in which the scholar-general Wen
Tianxiang (文天祥) led his soldiers to Dong Guan (东莞), now
known as Shenzhen to escape from Mongol invaders. I would like to believe the
latter version, as I was made to memorize General Wen’s poems when I was young,
and so grew up to love his work. (My favorite poem from him appears below; it was believed this poem was written during the General's exile in Dong Guan.)
The
story goes that when the fleeing army of General Wen reached Dong Guan, they were hungry
and exhausted. The residents of the city, who were mostly Hakkas, fed the soldiers with whatever they had
at home, but as they were poor they soon ran out of crockery
and serving pots. So food was collected in huge wooden basins, and served to
the general and his men. Since then, the practice has been preserved and passed down to posterity to commemorate the patriotism of General Wen, who was eventually
executed on the orders of the Mongol ruler of China, Kublai Khan, in 1283.
As the
Hakka were a frugal people, Pen Cai was a “peasant” dish that used ingredients
drawn mostly from the farm. It was normally served during Chinese New Year when
Hakka families returned to their ancestral houses to pay respects to their
elders. Such visits would last a whole day; and as it seemed only appropriate
for the visiting family to contribute to the festive feast, they would bring a
pot of Pen Cai.
Pen Cai
looks simple and straightforward to prepare, but that is deceptive. Authentic
Pen Cai embodies the spirit of Hakka cooking, in which complex cooking
techniques are brought to bear on “poor man’s” ingredients. The soul of the dish
lies in the number “8” -- there are eight main seasonings, eight key cooking
techniques, and eight layers of “dishes” stacked on top of each other.
红糟 . 南乳 . 蚝油 . 头抽 . 大茴 . 罗汉果 . 肉桂 . 丁香
The
eight seasonings are red wine lees, preserved bean curd, oyster sauce, superior
light soy sauce, fennel seeds, dried Lohan, cinnamon, and clove. Unlike the Pen
Cai that is available in restaurants these days, with their abalone, sea
cucumber and oyster, the original meats and vegetables used in the dish were
modest produce of the farm such as pork, fried pig’s skin, chicken, prawn,
radish, yam, bean curd sticks, and dried mushrooms.
煨 . 烩 . 炒 . 炸 . 焖 . 煎 . 煮 . 卤
The
eight techniques found in Pen Cai are simmering, thickening, quick-frying,
deep-frying, braising, pan-frying, boiling, and pot-stewing.These techniques are not only found in Hakka
cooking, but are central to Chinese cuisine in general.
The
eight “dishes” that make up Pen Cai would be cooked using these techniques,
singly or in combination. They would then be stacked in this order beginning
from the bottom: simmered radish; dried mushroom and bean curd skin; quick-fried
pig’s skin and yam; deep-fried fish paste; braised roast pork belly and dried
cod; pan-fried prawns; boiled chicken; and caramelized pork trotter pot stew.
Pen Cai
etiquette prescribes eating your way down – that is, starting from the top, and
finishing it before starting on the next lower layer. In fact, the bottom
layers are generally considered the most tasty and “prized”, as they consist of
absorbent radishes, mushrooms, and bean curd skins that have been “soaked” for
a long period of time in the juices and seasonings of the upper layers!
Today,
the Hakka who live in the New Territories in Hong Kong still practice and
celebrate Chinese New Year with a massive Pen Cai feast at their village. Not
only have they preserved the dish and its traditions, they have also turned it
into a cultural event that has received much publicity in the press and
television. In fact, these annual Peng Cai gatherings attract hordes of
tourists and outsiders eager to witness, and hopefully taste, this great
communal dish. Tickets are even sold to these events.
In
Singapore, restaurants usually offer the “deluxe” version of Pen Cai as a
Chinese New Year celebratory dish. Personally, I much prefer the original
version in which the old saying of “the family that eats together, stays
together” seems to shine through more powerfully without the frills and fanfare.
You can
enjoy the dish at restaurants such as Old Hong Kong Legend, Quan Xin Yuan, Plum
Village Restaurant, and Zai Shun Curry Fish Head, which offer their own versions
of Pen Cai, without burning a hole in your pocket.
I was
lucky to have an amah as company when I was growing up in Singapore.She was fiercely loyal, insanely protective
and cooked like a Michelin-star chef. She had come from Shunde, China, in the
1950s, as life was hard there then.
The
Shunde women who travelled to Singapore were mostly illiterate. They were
helped largely through the recommendations of friends who had come earlier, and
found work mainly as domestic help. They worked and lived with their employers,
with certain days off a month. These women came to be known affectionately as
“amah” (“mother” in Cantonese) for their devotion. An amah usually stayed with
one family for life until retirement, becoming a respected family member, and,
in some cases, a de facto matriarch.
As amahs
took a formal vow of singlehood, they remained unmarried through life. However,
they formed strong bonds with their peers, and quite commonly shared an accommodation
where they could congregate during their days off. What leisure hours they had
would be spent at the professional letter-writers who read and wrote their mail
from home in China. They would also catch up and gossip with other amahs and,
most importantly, they would cook up a Shunde feast to “cure” their homesickness.
I have
vivid memories of the amah who helped raise me. She liked to keep herself busy,
and was always casting around for things to do in the house. I remember how she
would buy cloth to make covers for everything -- furniture, appliances – and how
she used a string to meticulously take measurements and cut the cloth.
I was a
mischievous kid and always got into trouble, so she used food to distract me. Which turned out to be a good thing. I would
help her prepare snacks to be eaten while watching afternoon matinees on TV; and
it was from her, that I learned Shunde cooking. For the most recent session of
my new project, The Jumping Table, I cooked a Shunde dinner for my friends,
with dishes I ate as a child. I’ve adapted some recipes to suit the ingredients
available in Singapore -- but the techniques remain the same ones I learned
from my amah.
Cordyceps, Dried Figs &
Kumquat Drink/天地遍黄金
For the
welcome drink, dried figs, kumquat and brown sugar were boiled to extract the
sweetness. I added cordyceps 10 minutes before
the drink was ready. Cordyceps is believed to possess anticancer properties and
also acts as an anti-depressant agent.
Fried Spicy Cashew Nuts/花落再重生
Fresh
cashew nuts is marinated overnight, boiled, and fried until crispy. It was a
snack for the family and visitors.
Roast Meat with Crystal
Lard/凤干金钱鸡
Curing
fat is an ancient skill, yet the knowledge to do it has mostly vanished from
Singapore. The fat, known as “bing ro”
or 冰肉 in Chinese, is cured in
sugar for days. The end result is a piece of transparent meat with a crunchy
bite. One popular use of it is as roast meat with chicken’s liver -- with each
bite, you would experience three different tastes and textures in one mouthful.
Seared Semi-dried Oyster in
Wine/意醋煎干蚝
This
method of semi-drying and preserving oysters results in oyster that is
half-juicy, yet infused with a flavor far more intense than that of fresh
oysters. The oysters would first be steamed in wine, salt and sugar. Once
cooked, pan-frying would sear the oyster. I then added some balsamic vinegar to
the remaining juice and reduced it. Finally, the oysters were tossed into the
reduction for a nice glossy finish.
Traditional Meat Roll with
Chinese Ham/古式野鸡卷
This
dish, which combines ordinary ingredients with intricate skill and technique,
has become very hard to find. By transforming simplicity into something to wow
the palate, it can be said to embody the spirit of Shunde cuisine. The meat is
thinly sliced, then marinated, steamed, and fried. To balance the taste of
lard, I have added a slice of caramelized pineapple.
Blanched Fish Soup/鱼边皮蛋汤
This
simple bowl of soup is usually served during summer. Its key ingredient is cha gua, 茶瓜 , a preserved vegetable
believed to “cool the body” during hot weather. Sadly, this ingredient is quite
neglected here. This soup is very “clean”, with a pronounced taste of fish
accentuated by cha gua and coriander. Traditionally, the Chinese carp is used,
but I have opted for ikan parang, and used the most tender cut of the fish,
located just below the dorsal fin.
Pan-fried Lotus Root Meat
Cake/顺德煎藕饼
Another
trait of Shunde style is the ability to come up with “101 ways” to cook banal
ingredients in a tasty manner. While lotus root is usually made into soup, here
it is shredded and pan-fried into a pancake. The yam in the mixture is a
secondary ingredient that offers an additional level of taste.
Steamed Pork with Pearl
Rice/蕉叶米沙肉
The
Jasmine rice that is crushed and added as an additional coating on the pork
cubes absorbs the juices and flavors of the meat. By wrapping and steaming in
banana leaf (similar to the double-boiled effect), this delicate dish offers up
the scent of lotus, the grainy texture of rice, and the succulence of meat
cooked to perfection.
Smoked Chicken in Soy
Sauce/色香太爷鸡
This
recipe was created by a late-Ching Dynasty scholar, who found himself in dire
straits in his autumn years, and cooked this chicken to earn a living. The dish
became popular, but as the term “smoked” sounded demeaning in Cantonese, the
dish’s name was later changed to reflect its creator’s official appointment at
court. While smoking was a common technique in the Zhejiang area, the Cantonese
hardly cook using this method.
Steamed Glutinous Rice with
Cured Meat／八味糯米饭
In
autumn, Shunde villagers would slaughter their animals and cure and preserve
the meat for winter. They would marinate the meat, stuff it into animal’s
intestines and hang it in the open field, where the dry North Wind cured the
meat quickly without dehydrating it too much. I cured the pork belly myself,
burying the meat in coarse salt and leaving it in the fridge for weeks. I
picked dried scallops, chicken cubes and dried shrimps – similarly colored
ingredients -- to give layers of taste, and a visually “neat” appearance to the
dish. Another ingredient was also added: Shunde’s famous preserved radish.
Steamed Guo with Preserved
Candies/芬芳竹叶果
This
dessert makes an appearance only at Chinese New Year. Traditionally, glutinous
rice cake cakes were steamed with a Ping-po leaf, which is native to Canton. I
have replaced it with bamboo leaf, which lends the dessert its own distinctive
fragrance. The stuffing is a selection of candied fruits such as tangerine,
winter melon, coconut, and lotus seeds, which comes into abundance at this time
of year.
Red Bean Soup with
Tangerine Peel/陈皮红豆沙
Although a common Cantonese dessert soup, it is
hard to find a good version of it. The beans are boiled under high heat, so
that bean and water would emulsify completely. Dried tangerine peel lends a
tangy hint. Tangerine peel is ready to be used only after a three-year period
of maturing; and the older the peel, the mellower the taste derived from it. In
fact, each year of aging seems to add another digit to its price – 50 grams of
50-year-old tangerine peel would easily fetch S$400 and above!
Credits:
Like
all great parties, it was a group effort. Special thanks to Bee Bee for the
wonderful menu design, Mark for his photographic eye, Jimmy for making my life
less stressful, Byron and Grace for the premises, and everyone for chipping in,
in one way or other. Not forgetting the two Ss for helping out in the kitchen.
Many of
us would be familiar with the black-and-white ‘amahs’ of old. We may have seen
them in our youth, or even lived with one in our household. The amahs’ devotion
to their employers is legendary; but how many of us know of the cuisine they
brought to Singapore -- the cuisine that goes by the name Shunde (pronounced
‘shun-tak’ in Cantonese).
Shunde
is located about 30 minutes by train from Guangzhou, on a site that was seabed
5000 years ago. People first settled in the area in the Nanyue Dynasty (BC 203
-110), and they came mostly from Guangdong and Guangxi in China, and Hanoi in
Vietnam.
In the
Ming Dynasty, Shunde became a prosperous agricultural city known for its
lychees and longans. It grew further economically in the Ching Dynasty, when it
became renowned as the Silk Capital of Southern China.
In
World War II, the town suffered occupation by the Japanese, and its population
-- and fortunes -- fell from 0.85 million to 0.37 million.The city’s inhabitants fled in a mass exodus
to Southeast Asia, seeking refuge and a living. The men found jobs mostly in construction
sites, while the women became the black-and-white domestic servants – the amahs
-- of the rich.
Many
famous Cantonese chefs hail from Shunde. In fact, it is believed that Shunde was
the precursor of Cantonese cuisine, as the Chinese saying suggests “食在广州，厨出凤城”,
(“Eat in Guangzhou from a Shunde kitchen”). Shunde traditional cooking employs
diverse and complicated cooking techniques. In the hands of the frugal Shunde
people, these skills and techniques have helped to transform mundane
ingredients into dishes fit for a king.
