How often,
and easily, a dish disappears from our memory…
A short
conversation with a friend brought me back to a dark bottle of preserved crabs,
often displayed in old provision shops back in the late 60s.
Even
though it was a common side dish with the Teochew, I recall eating these
pickled crabs only once -- when I was very young. Back then in the 60s, the
majority of people earned meager salaries, and these little crabs would often
be the only dish in a meal, eaten with a bowl of plain porridge. They are
called Wa Kee.
Photo by Mark Ong
Wa Kee
are tree-climbing crabs that inhabit the mangrove swamps. They are parasitic
and burrow in the mud, and feed on the propagules, or buds, of the mangrove
plant. The crabs emerge at dusk and are known to climb as high as 6 metres up a
tree to forage for food. To harvest them, a net is held at the base of the
tree, and a long stick used to scare or dislodge the crabs, which then drop
into the net.
The
Teochew pickle them in vinegar or soy sauce, while the Thai like the crabs
salted or deep-fried. Sadly, these crabs have become hard to find in Singapore.
Pickled
Crab
Wa Kee300
g, live
Fresh
coriander2
tbsp, minced
Seasoning
Sichuan
pepper¼
tsp
Coriander
seeds¼
tsp
Soy sauce2 cups
Garlic4 cloves
Chili
padi2,
sliced thinly
Sugar2 tsp
Method:
Soak live crabs in clean water for 2 days,
changing water every 6 hours. Pat dry.
Pan-fry Sichuan pepper and coriander seeds in
a dry pan until fragrant. Pour soy sauce and garlic. Simmer for 3 minutes
and remove from heat. Add chili padi and sugar; stir thoroughly until the
sugar dissolves. Let it rest to room temperature.
Chicken
was a luxury in the 1960s. At a time when a bowl of mee pok tah was all of just
20 cents, the 70-cent cost of a plate of chicken rice was princely. And no
surprise then, that chicken drumstick was a special treat reserved for birthdays.
Therefore choosing the right chicken rice stall on which to ‘splurge’ one’s
hard-earned cash truly mattered!
My gold
standard, back then, for chicken rice was a stall parked inside Great Wall
Kopitiam along Keong Saik Street, where the popular porridge stall, Tiong Shian
Porridge Centre, now stands. Run by two young guys, their Cantonese-style chicken
and rice were the best: the meat succulent and cooked just right, leaving the
marrow still pinkish; and the rice and chili sauce good enough to wolf down on
their own.
My amah
never failed to remind me (and everyone else!) of an incident. The 70-cent
portion was served on a single plate – sliced chicken on a mound of rice --
just like today. The $1.50 ‘deluxe’ set would get you a plate of rice, with
much more chicken on a separate plate. However, spoiled and broke as I was, I
insisted on having the ‘deluxe’ style -- but at 70 cents. The stall owner naturally refused;
whereupon I threw such a big tantrum that he relented. Being all of ten years
old at the time, I got away with it!
These
days, most diners, and even stallholders themselves, often confuse the
Hainanese for Cantonese chicken rice. Signboards or menus say ‘Hainanese’ but
what you actually get is Cantonese. The difference? The Hainanese do not soak
their chicken in icy cold water after boiling it, hence there is no jelly-like
layer of gelatin developing just beneath the skin.
The
chicken is soaked in room-temperature water for 30 minutes or so, then dripped
dry and placed on a tray, covered with a piece of towel. The Cantonese, on the
other hand, plunge the chicken in icy water then hang it to drip dry, leaving
theirs with the thin gelatinous layer below the skin.
Cooking
chicken and its rice is simple. Everyone seems to have his or her own little
trick for a good version; here’s mine.
Hainanese
Chicken Rice
Chicken1
Ginger
juice2 tbsp
Chinese
wine1 tbsp
Salt3 tbsp
Spring
onion2 stalks
Ginger3 slices, thickly
sliced
Pandan
leaves1 stalk, bruised
Water7 litres
Chicken
stock2 litres
Oil2 tbsp
Rice:
Rice3 cups
Chicken
stock3 cups
Ginger2 slices, thickly
sliced
Pandan
leaves4, bruised
Salt1½ tsp
Chicken
oil4 tbsp
Chili
Sauce:
Red
chili5, minced
Chili
padi2, minced
Ginger4 mm, bashed and minced
Garlic5 cloves, bashed and
minced
Calamansi
juice5 tbsp
Chicken
broth3 tbsp
Salt½ tsp
Sugar1 tbsp
Method:
Marinate chicken with ginger juice and
Chinese wine for 30 minutes. Rinse and drain.
Boil a pot of water (2 litres) and chicken
stock. Add spring onion (1 stalk), 2 slices of ginger, pandan leaves, and
boil for 5 minutes in high heat. Add 1 tbsp of salt and turn off the heat.
Let it rest and cool to room temperature. This is to ‘cool’ the chicken
immediately after being boiled.
Boil another pot of water (5 litres) with
the remaining spring onion and ginger. Add 2 tbsp of salt. Holding chicken
by the neck, plunge it into the boiling water. When the water starts to
boil, remove the chicken. Wait for the water to boil rapidly again, then
plunge the chicken in and repeat the step two more times. On the third
plunge, leave the chicken submerged in the water. Let the water boil for 1
minute. Cover with lid and turn off the heat. Leave the chicken for 40
minutes.
Remove the chicken and plunge it into the
pot of room-temperature chicken stock and leave it submerged for 30
minutes.
Remove chicken, drain and lay flat on a
plate, cover with a wet towel until it is ready to be chopped and served.
Chicken
Rice:
Wash and drain rice in a colander for 30
minutes.
Saute ginger with 1 tbsp of oil until it
turns slightly brown. Add chicken stock and boil.
Add rice and pandan leaves to boiling stock.
Boil until the water subsides to the level of the rice.
Lower the heat and simmer for 15 minutes.
Add the remaining oil, salt, and stir
thoroughly, continue to simmer for another 10 minutes.
Mix the rice thoroughly again. Close the lid
and turn off the heat.
Let it rest for another 5 to 10 minutes
before serving.
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.
