You’ll find here all the food & travel or ‘traveleating‘ posts from my various trips. Over the next five years, I’ll be travelling on a regular basis and adding more cities and countries to the list at the bottom of the page.
All the restaurants that I’ve visited and written about are categorised by city or country. Most of them are located in London, my base. I’ve recently stopped rating restaurants, as I think ratings can be too subjective, but I’ll continue to describe my experiences in as much detail as possible, so that you can decide whether you should visit a particular restaurant or not.
Please click on the links below to browse through the various ‘traveleating‘ posts and restaurant reviews, and feel free to leave comments within the posts. I’d love to hear from you if you have food & travel tips and suggestions for any of these destinations. They would be really useful for other readers too.
Helen Yuet Ling Pang @ World Foodie Guide
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Here are the Chinese recipes on World Foodie Guide. They’re mostly for simple, home-cooked Cantonese food (with a couple of exceptions), rather than dishes you would find in restaurants. Some are from my mother of course, while others are from Chinese friends. A few are mine, including the one on steamed and pan-fried dumplings and hot pot!
Some recipes are missing photos as I haven’t tried making them yet, but it’s my mission to try them all in the next few months, so please check back to see how I’m doing!
- Chinese Dumplings – three ways to prepare them!
Feel free to leave comments within posts for individual recipes if you have any questions or suggestions!
Helen Yuet Ling Pang
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Background:
If you’ve been reading my blog or following my tweets for a while, you may know that I’m a huge fan of dim sum and that one of my favourite restaurants in London for dim sum is Pearl Liang (the others being Yauatcha and Yum Cha). As my last dim sum post on Pearl Liang was well over a year ago, I thought I’d better revisit it to see if it was still as good as I remembered. With me were two dim sum fanatics and the husband.
What we ordered:
The usual suspects were ordered and the not so great dishes avoided (see last post).
- pan-fried turnip paste (£2.50) – the best turnip paste I’ve had in London has been at Yum Cha. The Pearl Liang one wasn’t gooey like some versions I’ve had, and it was nicely flavoured
- xiao long bao (steamed Shanghai soup dumplings) (£2.50) – I can’t remember whether on my last visit these came with the vinegar and ginger slivers dipping sauce or not. It didn’t come with these, but by the time we started to eat them and realised it was missing, it was too late as the dumplings would have become cold. Mine was very juicy, but the brother complained that his hardly had any soup inside
- BBQ pork puff (£2.50) – another star dish, perfect on the outside, while the barbecued pork filling was sweet as it should be
- har gau (steamed prawn dumplings) (£2.80) – not as good as I remembered. Although the filling was nice and crunchy, the skins were a little thick and sticky
- steamed prawn & chive dumplings (£2.80) – also not as good as they should have been, as they were a little bland
- paper wrapped sesame prawn roll (£2.80) – one of my favourite dishes at Pearl Liang. These are deep-fried, so that they are beautifully crispy on the outside, with a crunchy prawn filling
- honey roasted pork buns (cha siu bao) (£2.50) – I didn’t eat one, but they were good according to my fellow diners
- steamed spare ribs in black bean sauce (£2.50) – this isn’t always good at dim sum restaurants. Sometimes the pieces of rib are too fatty, or too chewy, but this version was excellent, with plenty of meaty pieces to chew off the bones
- BBQ roast pork cheung fun (£2.80) – not bad, but not as good as the prawn version
- king prawn cheung fun (£3.20) – nice fat rolls filled with whole prawns, just the way I like my prawn cheung fun
The husband, who doesn’t eat meat or seafood, had his own mini order:
- steamed spinach vegetable dumplings (£2.50) – there are very few vegetarian dim sum options on the Pearl Liang menu. This is one of them, served with spinach and sweetcorn kernels! However, it was quite tasty apparently
- gai lan stir-fried in garlic (£7.20) – the gai lan were fresh and crunchy and it was a substantial portion. I usually order this or pea shoots
- assorted vegetable fried crispy noodle (£6.80) – not something I would ever order for myself, but again, due to the limited vegetarian options on the menu, the husband was faced with very few dishes that he could eat
The verdict:
The prices, very reasonable for London, haven’t gone up, while the quality of food has remained about the same, with certain dishes being better than others. The standard of service is still friendly and polite. It wasn’t quite as spectacular as I remembered, but I do enjoy going to Pearl Liang because I’ve only ever had pleasant experiences there.
Booking a table is essential, particularly at weekends. I’ve had feedback from people who have just turned up, only to face a long wait. Not all dim sum restaurants take weekend lunch bookings, so take advantage of the fact that Pearl Liang accepts bookings, so that you know you have a table waiting for you.
My post on Where To Eat Dim Sum In London is regularly updated, so you may be interested in reading it for other restaurant recommendations (read the comments from readers for suggestions). There are also some informational posts on dim sum which might be useful, archived on the Useful Info page.
The cost came to approximately £13 per person including tea and service charge. All the food photos from Pearl Liang can be viewed here.
10 – Perfection, 9.5 – Sensational, 9 – Outstanding, 8.5 – Superb,
8 – Excellent, 7.5 – Very Good, 7 - Good, 6.5 - Above Average, 6 – Average
All the London restaurant reviews on World Foodie Guide
Contact Details:
Pearl Liang
8 Sheldon Square
Paddington Central
London W2 6EZ
Tel: 020 7289 7000
www.pearlliang.co.uk
Helen Yuet Ling Pang @ World Foodie Guide
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My first encounter with food writer Fuchsia Dunlop was at a British Museum talk on Chinese food last year. I didn’t stay behind to chat with her, but was impressed with her opinions on the importance of food in Chinese culture. We were briefly introduced at a Ferran Adrià talk last November, and more recently we exchanged emails when I needed a photo of Ba Shan’s interior, where she is a consultant. We met again at the recent Guild of Food Writers awards party, as we were both shortlisted for different awards. Her book Shark’s Fin & Sichuan Pepper: a sweet-sour memoir of eating in China, an account of her food experiences in China over a period of years, won the Kate Whiteman award for work on Food and Travel. And that’s how it landed on my doorstep, after I expressed an interest to publisher Ebury in reviewing it.
It made fascinating reading, because I would never have had the courage to study at a professional cookery institute in Sichuan, hang out by myself in Hunan or be quite so open-minded with my eating habits. I spent the best part of two years in 1996-1997 at the Beijing Language and Culture University, learning Mandarin. I arrived knowing only how to pronounce my name and left top of my class, having written essays on obscure topics and almost able to read a newspaper. In between those two stages, I had to look for an apartment on my own, find a part-time job, learn to speak, read and write and assimilate into a culture that was quite foreign to me, despite being of Chinese origin. That was my attempt at being brave and adventurous!
As for enjoying food in Beijing, well, I drew the line at eating deep-fried scorpions. I did, however, help to make jiaozi at a friend’s house, and was invited to some simple but mouth-watering home-cooked meals at other homes. I regularly enjoyed Beijing duck at Quanjude, Cantonese dim sum on Sundays at the Kunlun Hotel, Mongolian hot pot, Xinjiang lamb and cumin kebabs, all manner of Sichuan dishes and simple street snacks like steamed buns and fried spring onion pancakes (jian bing). My diet was supplemented by home cooking from my Swiss neighbour, plenty of Korean food (courtesy of my Korean boyfriend at the time) and sushi when I could afford it.
I didn’t immerse myself as deeply into Chinese culture to quite the extent that Fuchsia did. While I dipped a toe or perhaps a foot in it, she dived into it headfirst. I have to confess that when I first heard of her a couple of years ago, I was a bit skeptical of her skills as a writer of Chinese food, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one. Having now read her memoir, as well as leafed through Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook, I can say that I was very wrong. Anyone who is as dedicated as she is to Chinese food has my undying respect.
I read about classic Sichuan street snacks, such as Zhong shui jiao, a steamed pork dumpling ‘bathed in spiced, sweetened soy sauce and chilli oil, finished off with a smattering of garlic paste’. And dan dan noodles, the name of which is derived from the bamboo shoulderpole used by vendors to carry their equipment (the verb ‘dan’ means to carry on a shoulderpole). But fried rabbit heads anyone? Apparently they’re delicious tossed in a wok with chilli and spring onion…
The chapters on the Sichuan Institute of Higher Cuisine, where Fuchsia trained as a professional chef, were of particular interest to me, as she describes in detail the different types of stir-frying in Chinese cooking (’slippery’, ‘explode’, ’small & simple’, ‘raw’, ‘cooked’, ’stir-fry til fragrant’, ’salt’, ’sand’), intricate cutting techniques all performed with just a cleaver and the various flavours in Sichuan cooking. Rather than just ‘hot and spicy’, the flavours include home-style, fish-fragrant, strange, hot and numbing, red-oil, garlic-paste and scorched chilli. This was all fascinating to me.
She also writes about her research trips to find Sichuan pepper, sample ‘Mao family cuisine’ in Mao’s village of Shaoshan, Hunan, enjoy the best crabs in China (near Suzhou) and learn about Xinjiang food and culture. I doubt I’ll ever get a chance to go to these areas, although I’ve always dreamed of visiting Xinjiang, so reading about them was a good substitute for the real thing.
The ethics of eating endangered species such as pangolin, bear and shark (to be had at exorbitant prices), and the practice of skinning creatures while still alive (this deeply disturbed me) are discussed in depth, as is the traditional role of food as medicine. Another topic she covers is that of contaminated and polluted food products, whether meat, fish, crabs or vegetables. Fuchsia also debates the importance of MSG, which she avoids using. My mother never uses it when she cooks and my father will always ask for it not to be added to dishes when we eat in Chinese restaurants. I personally don’t think it’s necessary and have never cooked with it.
There are various recipes following each chapter for classics such as fish-fragrant aubergine (one of the first Sichuan dishes I tried in Beijing), dan dan mian, twice-cooked pork, Chairman Mao’s red-braised pork, and Kashgar kebabs. There’ll certainly be some attempts by me to recreate a few of these dishes in the not too distant future, using Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook and also her first cookery book Sichuan Cookery, which I plan to buy soon.
Shark’s Fin and Sichuan Pepper covers far too many subjects for me to even touch upon, so I can only recommend you read it if you’re interested in food and the role it plays in Chinese life and culture. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did. As for me, I’ll be planning a future traveleating trip to Yangzhou, ‘the ancient gastronomic capital of the east’…
You may like to read my other Book Reviews on World Foodie Guide. The photos used to illustrate the review were taken during last year’s ‘traveleating‘ trip to Beijing.
Helen Yuet Ling Pang @ World Foodie Guide
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Stir-fried Chinese morning glory with fermented bean curd is one of my all time favourite dishes. I’ve been enjoying it ever since I was a young teenager, regularly ordering it in Cantonese restaurants. Strangely enough, my mother never made it at home, even though there was usually a jar of fermented bean curd sitting in the fridge. So for me, this has always been a restaurant dish, until I recently decided to make it at home.
In Cantonese, we call this distinct-looking vegetable ong choi or tong choi (tongcai in Mandarin). It’s also referred to as morning glory or Chinese water spinach. Tong choi literally means ‘hollow vegetable’, which is an accurate description as the long stems are hollow, while the leaves resemble arrow tips. When cooked, you experience an interesting combination of textures, as the stems will still be crunchy, while the leaves will be soft. I bought a bag of fresh tong choi from New Loon Moon supermarket on Gerrard Street in Chinatown – £3.20 for 500g. I’m not sure whether this is considered expensive or not, but Chinese vegetables always seem to be rather pricey, particularly the ones that are air-freighted into the UK (I couldn’t tell from the packaging of my tong choi where it was grown).
From my regular See Woo supermarket on Lisle Street, I bought a jar of fermented bean curd with chilli for £1.85. There are three versions – standard, chilli and red (the latter is known as lam yue in Cantonese). I used to only eat the standard version, but I thought the chilli version would give the tong choi an extra kick. Fermented bean curd is delicious as an accompaniment to rice and I also like it with congee and noodles.
It comes in small cubes preserved in a glass jar. All you do is scoop out a couple (or more!) of cubes and place them on top of the rice, congee or noodles, breaking off a little with your chopsticks as you eat. It’s soft in texture, has a unique tangy flavour that I can’t really describe and may not be to everyone’s taste (like Marmite and thousand year old egg), but I love it. The husband didn’t think he would like it ’straight’, but loved it cooked with the tong choi. Once opened, it’s best stored in the fridge, but because it’s fermented, it will keep for a long time. You’ll note I don’t specify how long, because no jar has ever lasted more than a month in my fridge!
I used Ken Hom’s recipe from his The Taste of China, but added a couple of ingredients from Yan-Kit So’s Classic Chinese Cookbook, which I think are essential. The result was superb and I have to say, this was one of the most successful dishes I’ve ever replicated at home. I love the way tong choi just catches the sauce in its stems and leaves. I’m now also looking forward to adding fermented bean curd to other stir-fried vegetables. If you don’t like spicy food, all you have to do is use the standard or plain fermented bean curd and omit the fresh chilli. After cooking this, I spoke to my mother, who suggested adding some slices of fresh ginger along with the garlic and chilli. I shall try it next time!
Ingredients: (serves 4 as part of a meal or 2 as a single dish)
- 700-900g / 1½-2lb tong choi
- 2 tbsp peanut oil
- 3 tbsp fermented bean curd – chilli or plain
- 2 tbsp rice wine or dry sherry (Yan Kit-So uses Shaoxing, and so did I)
- 3 tbsp water
- 4 or 5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped (additional ingredient from Yan-Kit So)
- ½ fresh red chilli, de-seeded & finely chopped (additional ingredient from Yan-Kit So)
What to do next:
Wash the tong choi and drain. Cut off 5cm/2in from the bottom of the stem, which tends to be tough. I cut off a little more than this. Cut the rest of the spinach into 10cm/4in segments.
Heat a wok or large frying pan until hot and add the oil. Then add the garlic and chilli and fry for about a minute, before adding the fermented bean curd, mashing it up with your cooking utensil. Add the tong choi and stir-fry for 2 minutes. I added the stems and cooked them first before adding the leaves, as the stems take longer to cook. They should be crunchy but cooked through when ready to serve.
Add the rice wine and water and continue to cook for another 3 minutes, tossing and stirring constantly. Serve immediately!
This dish can be served as part of a three or four dish meal with steamed jasmine rice. We ate it as a main dish with rice for a simple healthy lunch.
Have you tried fermented bean curd? What do you think?!
Have a look at the other Chinese recipes on World Foodie Guide.
Helen Yuet Ling Pang @ World Foodie Guide
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Background:
I really wanted to like Min Jiang because I’m always on the lookout for excellent Chinese restaurants in London, particularly for dim sum. Ever since the Singaporean Chinese restaurant group of two opened a sister restaurant in London, I’ve contemplated eating there. Min Jiang specialises in Beijing kaoya (Beijing roast duck), which I also love, but I wanted to try their dim sum first. One recent Sunday lunch, I visited with a friend and dim sum enthusiast.
First impressions:
The restaurant is located on the tenth floor of the Royal Garden Hotel, with a splendid view overlooking Kensington Gardens. In the main dining area, the tables are laid out in two rows, one by the huge windows. The decor is reminiscent of Hong Kong / Singaporean hotel dining spaces, although the clientele was more mixed, with few Chinese having traditional Sunday yum cha. I was soon to discover why.
It wasn’t to be the serene and relaxed dim sum lunch I had been envisaging. Firstly, even though I had made the reservation weeks ago, we weren’t seated by the window. More importantly though, the service was terrible. I don’t want this post to be one long rant about service, but it ruined the entire meal to the extent that we didn’t leave a tip (and had service charge been added to the bill, I would have complained to the manager). It’s probably the first time since a brunch in NYC back in 1999 that I’ve not paid the service charge.
When the waiter was taking our tea order, he didn’t even wait for me to speak but walked away with just my friend’s order. He had to be waved at from where he was preparing the tea so that he could return to take my order as well. At Min Jiang, whether you share a pot of tea with a friend or order your own pot, you are charged the same amount – so if a pot cost £5.20 and you share the pot, you’ll be charged £10.40. Quite ridiculous. Which is why I insisted on ordering my own pot (Hairy Crab Oolong). And he poured the tea before it was even ready, so the first cups were just coloured water.
The service continued to be brusque, rushed and unfriendly. It became worse towards the end of the meal, when a waitress asked if we wanted to see the dessert menu but then never reappeared with it. I had to ask another one to bring it, but she also neglected to bring it. We were then handed the bill (without having asked for it!) by a third waitress, at which point I protested and demanded the menu, out of principle.
I hope the service isn’t like this in the Singaporean branches, because people are far less forgiving over there. Only in London…And for all those diners who have complained about Yauatcha‘s service, just wait until you eat at Min Jiang.
What we ordered:
- 1 pot of Rain Flower green tea (£5.80)
- 1 pot of Hairy Crab oolong tea (£4.20)
- baked char siu puff (£4.00) – three miniscule puffs arrived, slightly overbaked. They didn’t look particularly appetising and the filling was a little too sweet for my liking. I generally like this dish, but not Min Jiang’s version
- har gau (steamed prawn dumplings) (£4.20) – also somewhat disappointing, as the skins were sticky and thicker than they should have been, while the prawn filling, albeit crunchy, didn’t make me jump for joy either
- steamed crab meat dumplings (£4.50) – these dumplings and the ones below were indistinguishable apart from the fact that the pumpkin dumplings were orange in colour. They weren’t bad in term of taste, but for the price, every single dish should have been perfect
- steamed pumpkin dumpling with mixed seafood (£4.50) – see above
- xiao long bao (Shanghai soup dumplings) (£6.50) – the star dish of the meal. The skins were perfect, not too thick, not too thin, and there was a lovely burst of soup upon the first bite. Unfortunately, for the exorbitant sum of £6.50, we received a grand total of 3 dumplings. I’ve been on a quest to find the best xiao long bao in London, and although these ranked highly in taste and quality, I think they must also be the most expensive I’ve ever eaten in the entire world
- crispy Beijing duck rolls (£4.20) – I ordered this thinking that it might give us a taster of their famous dish. This was the third best dish. The rolls were nicely fried, and very big (they were cut in half and yet each piece was substantial), filled with shredded duck (a little dry) and a piece of cucumber and served with plum sauce
- fresh mango cream with sago pearls and pomelo (£6.50) – I wanted to compare this chilled Chinese pudding to the one I had at three Michelin-starred restaurant Lung King Heen in Hong Kong. It was beautifully presented and very refreshing, with tiny diced pieces of mango. However, instead of pomelo, there were tiny segments of pink grapefruit, and I had to really hunt for the sago. Overall, though, delicious
The verdict:
Regular readers will know that I’m usually fair and try to find something positive to write about when I visit a restaurant. However, the dim sum at Min Jiang is overpriced (double the price that most restaurants charge, although I don’t include Yauatcha, Hakkasan or Shanghai Blues in this price group) and I only liked three out of the seven dishes. I have no problems paying top price for dim sum, but only if it’s worth it. Even so, £6.50 for three xiao long bao is a lot of money. And the Beijing duck might be excellent according to various reviews, but I’d rather return to Beijing and have it at any number of outstanding restaurants there. Thank goodness my friend had a sense of humour, but I won’t be recommending Min Jiang to anyone based on my experience today.
Dim sum for 2 cost £44.40 without service charge. Even the total cost was unlucky (the number 4 sounds like ‘death’ in Cantonese and Mandarin)…
Here is my post on Where To Eat Dim Sum In London, which I’m in the process of updating. And click here for the set of Min Jiang photos on Flickr.
10 – Perfection, 9.5 – Sensational, 9 – Outstanding, 8.5 – Superb,
8 – Excellent, 7.5 – Very Good, 7 - Good, 6.5 - Above Average, 6 – Average
All the London restaurant reviews on World Foodie Guide
Contact details:
Min Jiang
Royal Garden Hotel (10th Floor)
2-24 Kensington High Street
London W8 4PT
Tel: 020 7937 8000
www.minjiang.co.uk/home.php
Helen Yuet Ling Pang @ World Foodie Guide
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When I was researching restaurants to visit in Hong Kong last year, I came across passionate debates on Chowhound and other forums on where to eat the best Cantonese wonton noodles, focusing on crucial details such as the size of the wonton, the silkiness of the skin, the taste and texture of the filling, and the all-important clear broth.
Mak’s Noodles and Tsim Chai Kee, both located on Wellington Street, Central, were most frequently mentioned as the best places to sample this classic street food, but there were others obsessively arguing that other wonton noodle restaurants were far superior. I ended up going to Mak’s Noodles because their second branch was conveniently located just down the road from my hotel.
For the princely sum of HK$28, I got four small wontons on a small bed of noodles, but I knew to expect this anyway. Despite their size, each wonton was firm and crunchy, the silky skins floaty and the broth delicious (Mak’s broth is made from powdered dried flounder, dried shrimp roe and pork bones). I ordered another bowl of just wontons as I was still hungry afterwards!
I had another bowl from King’s Palace at the airport on the way back to London. The wontons were larger and the broth tasted slightly different, but they were also rather good. More recently, I ate wonton noodles at HK Diner in London’s Chinatown, much more expensive of course when compared to Hong Kong prices, but the portion was substantial, with about five or six large wontons.
To satisfy my craving, I decided to make my own. As Ken Hom put it so aptly, ‘there are probably as many variations on the basic theme of this recipe as there are cooks‘. Although I have read that some people add pork bones and/or dried shrimp to the chicken stock, I live in a meat-free household so I rarely cook with meat (this privilege was only granted to me a few months ago, on the proviso that I have a separate set of kitchen utensils) and didn’t want to inflict the heavenly smell from hours of stock making on the poor husband. I therefore used Hom’s recipe from his classic Taste of China (his only book that I trust, because it was based on a journey through China that he made, collecting recipes along the way) that didn’t require pork bones and bought an expensive bag of fresh chicken stock from my supermarket.
Ingredients: (serves 2 as a single dish)
- 1 pack thin square wonton wrappers (made of wheat flour, egg, water and baking soda. They come in different sizes and I chose the smallest)
- 225g / 8oz thin wheat or egg noodles
- 850ml/ 1½ pt chicken stock
- salt
- 3 tbsp finely chopped spring onions as garnish
Filling -
- 100g / 4oz fatty minced pork
- 100g / 4oz raw prawns, de-veined and coarsely chopped
- 1 tsp rice wine or dry sherry
- 2 tsp light soy sauce
- ½ tsp salt
- freshly ground pepper to taste
- 1 tsp sesame oil
What to do next:
Mix the filling ingredients together in a bowl.
Place 2 tsp of filling in the centre of a wonton square. The amount of filling you use should be proportional to the size of the wrapper. It’s important not to use so much filling that the wrapper tears. Although it is quite stretchy and malleable, the wrapper is still delicate. On the other hand, you don’t want to end up with a measly sized filling and too much wrapper.
I simply folded the wrapper into a triangle, sealing the sides as firmly as possible. If you need to, dab a little water on the edges. Also remember to squeeze as much air as possible out of the wonton during the sealing process (otherwise you’ll see what happens during the boiling process!). Cover the wrapped wontons with a damp towel to stop them from drying out.
Bring two large pots of water to the boil and blanch the wontons for 3 minutes and noodles for 3 to 5 minutes, drain well and set aside.
Bring the stock to a simmer, and season if necessary with salt. Add the noodles and wontons, and simmer for another minute. Garnish the soup with the spring onions and serve at once.
This is a convenient and easy dish to prepare, particularly as you can freeze any uncooked wontons as well as the stock, and use dried noodles. You can also add Chinese greens such as gai lan or choi sum as an extra ingredient.
I hope you’ll enjoy this!
Other Chinese recipes on World Foodie Guide can be found here, including one for Sichuan wontons.
Helen Yuet Ling Pang @ World Foodie Guide
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When I first came across Australian chef and restaurateur Neil Perry’s Balance & Harmony – Asian Food in a bookshop earlier this year, I was impressed with its beautiful padded cover and glorious photos. It has to be one of the most beautifully designed cookery books I’ve come across recently. However, I had little time to do anything but briefly flick through the pages. So when I was offered a review copy by Murdoch Books, I was pleased to be able to spend more time going through it, and of course choose a recipe to replicate, as I do with all my cookery book reviews.
At 400 pages, Balance & Harmony really is a tome. And Perry’s passion for Asian cooking clearly shines through all the recipes. In the introduction, he describes his love for Chinese food from childhood and that ‘it was my greatest culinary influence until I reached my thirties‘. He has owned various restaurants in Sydney – Wockpool and XO (both of which have closed) and currently has three restaurants including Spice Temple , which serves ‘regional Chinese food…which draws inspiration from the provinces of Sichuan, Yunnan, Hunan, Jiangxi, Guangxi and Xinjiang‘. The menu looks innovative and I hope the food is as incredible in reality - braised beef short ribs in superior stock with wild bamboo pith & wild Chinese mushrooms; Hunan style crisp pork belly with fresh & dried chillies and mushroom soy; hot pot of fresh shiitake, oyster, enoki & wild Chinese mushrooms,Yunnan style.
There is a simple introduction to the cooking equipment required, and it’s heartening to read that one does not need much more than a wok, cleaver, Chinese cooking strainer, two types of wok spoon, mandolin and pestle and mortar (I only have three of these items!). A list of 52 basic Asian ingredients follows. Recipes are listed under Basic Techniques, including braising and boiling (sweet black vinegar pork belly; braised duck legs in soy sauce), steaming (whole steamed snapper with ginger & spring onion, stir-frying (stir-fried chilli pork), deep-frying (deep-fried squid with garlic & peppercorns) and tea-smoking (tea-smoked quail).
The second half of the book consists of more advanced recipes and banquet menus. Examples include spicy beef shank soup; Chinese roast duck; tangerine peel chicken; Shaoxing marinated king prawns; braised bitter melon; prawn rolls with tofu skin; and Chinese sausage steamed in rice. The list of ingredients for each recipe is neither overly long nor complex, while the instructions are clear and concise. All the dishes are designed to be part of a shared meal and as a result, he does not ‘specify serves for each recipe‘.
Perry writes that ‘much of the food in this book is inspired by Chinese cookery, however the flavours of Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, Japan and Korea find their way in as well‘. Most dishes are indeed Chinese, but I would have appreciated slightly more direction from Perry with regards to the region. Chinese cuisine is so diverse and to not include more detailed information and background about each dish seems like a missed opportunity.
However, I do feel that Balance & Harmony would make a wonderful present, and I will certainly use it on a regular basis, as there are cooking techniques I’d like to master, like tea-smoking, along with countless recipes I’d like to try, most particularly for XO sauce and Chinese roast duck.
So what recipe did I choose to replicate? After some deliberation, I decided to make braised chicken, tofu and glass noodle hot pot. I love clay pot dishes, and glass noodles is one of my favourite ingredients. The dish was easy to prepare, truly delicious and will be added to my favourite dishes. The only other ingredient my mother would have added would be some sliced dried Chinese mushrooms to give it even more flavour, so that’s what I will add next time. I ate this on its own with some steamed jasmine rice.
Braised Chicken, Tofu & Glass Noodle Hot Pot
Ingredients:
- 350g / 12oz free-range or organic chicken thigh fillets, cut into bite-sized pieces
- 100g / 3½ fried tofu, soaked in warm water for 5 minutes & gently squeezed dry
- 100g / 3½ glass noodles
- 1 tbsp vegetable oil
- 2 spring onions, cut into 5cm / 2 inch lengths
- 3 slices of peeled ginger
- 4 tbsp light soy sauce
- 1 tbsp Shaoxing
- 1 tsp crushed yellow rock sugar
- 2 spring onions, extra, finely chopped
What to do next:
Soak the noodles in warm water for about 5 minutes until tender. Drain, chop into 3 cm / 1¼ lengths and toss with a splash of vegetable oil.
Heat the vegetable oil in a clay pot (Perry recommends using one, but a standard pot is also fine), add the spring onion lengths and ginger and stir-fry until fragrant, then add the chicken pieces and move them around the pot until they become opaque.
Add the soy sauce, Shaoxing, and rock sugar and stir to coat the chicken, then add 1 litre / 35 fl oz/ 4 cups water. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat and simmer gently for 15 minutes, skimming the surface occasionally to remove any scum.
Add the tofu (as the cubes were very large, I cut them into smaller pieces so that they would be easier to eat) and simmer for a further 5 minutes. Stir through the noodles and extra spring onions to serve.
If you liked reading this, have a look at my other Book Reviews…
Helen Yuet Ling Pang @ World Foodie Guide
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[UPDATE - October 2009: I've returned to Leong's Legend for dim sum and it's turning into a reliable Chinatown dim sum spot for me. Apart from more xiao long bao (such good value and very soupy), I again ordered the Taiwan mini kebab with pork. It's very filling and most delicious. The pork belly rice is also highly recommended after you've had the dim sum dishes. It costs under £5.00 and for that, you get some gigantic hunks of pork belly with a sweetish sauce, and rice on the side. The classic Cantonese dishes - cheung fun, har gau etc are not as good in comparison. ]
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Background:
After I had dinner at Taiwanese restaurant Leong’s Legend a few months ago, I thought I’d never return. The three dishes I had weren’t bad at all, although they weren’t spectacular by any stretch of the imagination, but the rude manager annoyed me intensely. However, seeing as my Where To Eat Dim Sum In London post needed updating, I decided to give their dim sum a try, so feeling a little skeptical, I dragged along two dim sum veterans to help me out.
It was practically empty at just after 12.30, which was a relief, and even when we left an hour or so later, it still wasn’t that busy (perhaps not surprising given that it was mid-week). Although I kept an eye out for him, the rude manager was nowhere to be seen. In his place were calm and polite staff who served us efficiently and didn’t pull faces when I ordered tap water for three.
Menu:
The dim sum menu is small compared to other restaurants, but then this isn’t a Cantonese restaurant. There were a few classics like har gau, cheung fun, pan-fried turnip paste and char siu bao, but I was more intrigued about the non-Cantonese dishes. And of course on the menu were xiao long bao or Shanghai soup dumplings, pork as well as crab ones, for which Leong’s Legend have developed a good reputation. Having eaten xiao long bao most recently at Yum Cha (which were excellent), I was keen to see how these compared to those as well as the ones I’ve had in Taipei (the best ever so far). Xiao long bao aren’t technically classic dim sum fare, but more and more restaurants are now serving them as part of their dim sum menu.
What we ordered:
- fried dough stick cheung fun (£2.20) – my mother always orders this when we have dim sum. Both this and the roast pork cheung fun arrived in special cheung fun dishes, with the sweetened soy sauce in the sauce section rather than poured over the cheung fun, as is traditional. Because of this, the fried dough stick stayed nice and crispy. It was also perfectly fried and yet not oily-tasting. This is certainly one of the better versions I’ve had in London
- roast pork cheung fun (£2.80) – the cheung fun rolls, as with the fried dough stick cheung fun, were beautifully thin and translucent. The roast pork filling, cut into very thin slices (sometimes the meat is so chunky, it’s not very nice) was substantial
- pork xiao long bao (£5.00) – eight (very lucky!) xiao long bao arrived in a covered basket, with the dipping sauce of vinegar with ginger slivers. The skins were slightly thicker and not quite as silky as the ones at Yum Cha, and they weren’t quite as juicy. However, they were still very, very good and I look forward to returning just to have these and the crab xiao long bao!
- grilled minced pork buns (£2.50) – these sounded nicer than they actually were, in my opinion (top photo). They arrived piping hot, and the bun was light and fluffy, but the filling lacked flavour and was a little underwhelming, given their appearance
- roast duck & chestnut puff (£2.20) – a disappointing dish. The puff part was perfect, but I can’t for the life of me remember what the filling tasted like
- Taiwan mini kebab with pork (£2.60) – a stunner of a dish, although when it arrived, we had to ask for a knife to cut it into three. It’s the size of a smallish burger, with a gigantic slab of melting pork belly inside. The bread resembles the jiamo at Ba Shan, but is fluffier
- Beijing pork & chive dumpling (£3.20) – these are just boiled jiaozi (very popular in Beijing), served with a vinegar-based dipping sauce, when I was expecting steamed dumplings. These were rather ordinary, particularly when compared to the superb Ba Shan jiaozi
- wontons in spicy sauce (£2.80) – as I’d just made these Sichuan / Chengdu wontons (also known as chao shou in Sichuan) at home, I wanted to see what the spicy sauce tasted like. It was quite fiery (I know it’s all relative so you’ll have to try it for yourself!), and stronger than the Ba Shan version
The verdict:
I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of dim sum at Leong’s Legend, to the extent that I’ve added it to my shortlist of dim sum recommendations. So far it’s the only Chinatown-based dim sum restaurant on the list and could very well turn into a regular haunt for me. I’ll have to return to try some of the other dim sum options, but based on what I tried, on my next visit, I would certainly re-order the xiao long bao, mini kebab and cheung fun. After a few more visits, I’ll be able to pin down exactly what to order and what to avoid, then I’ll update this post…
Click here to see the dim sum set of Leong’s Legend photos.
10 – Perfection, 9.5 – Sensational, 9 – Outstanding, 8.5 – Superb,
8 – Excellent, 7.5 – Very Good, 7 - Good, 6.5 - Above Average, 6 – Average
All the London restaurant reviews on World Foodie Guide
Contact details:
Leong’s Legend
4 Macclesfield Street
London W1D 6AX
Tel: 020 7287 0288
Helen Yuet Ling Pang @ World Foodie Guide
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Although I cook Chinese food at home and I know more or less how to combine various ingredients and achieve the flavours that I want, I’ve always regretted not learning more from my mother when I was younger. In order to build up my confidence, I’ve been planning to attend a Chinese cookery class for some time. However, it hasn’t been easy finding one in London and as far as I know, there are no venues that offer regular classes. Occasionally Guo Yue will hold a class or cookery demonstration at either Books for Cooks or Divertimenti, but I’ve yet to attend one of these.
So when I found out that successful Chinese restaurant Sweet Mandarin runs cookery classes every Saturday morning, I asked Lisa Tse, one of the three sister owners, if I could attend the beginners’ class in return for a write-up. I already knew of Sweet Mandarin through Helen Tse’s book by the same name (their family story about three generations of women, starting with grandmother Lily who was the first Chinese woman to open a restaurant in the UK), so I was keen to meet the sisters. Furthermore, Sweet Mandarin appears to be the only Chinese restaurant in the country to offer cookery classes, so it would be a rare opportunity to cook in a commercial kitchen (neither Books for Cooks nor Divertimenti offer cooking facilities with a five wok range!). That’s how I found myself in Manchester bright and early last Saturday morning.
Sweet Mandarin is located in the hip Northern Quarter of Manchester. Lisa runs the classes, and as a bonus, Helen was taking a break from her US book tour to help her sister out. The class size was much smaller than I imagined, being limited to a maximum of 5 to 6 people, as Lisa likes to be able to watch over each student and provide individual assistance. After meeting my three fellow students, the class kicked off.
We started off by learning to wrap vegetarian spring rolls and chicken wontons. I’ve made spring rolls and wontons at home before, but was never that good at wrapping, so this part was particularly useful. We also made a chicken version of prawn sesame toast. All these were later deep-fried, but not by us (the use of a deep fat-fryer is another fear I’ve yet to overcome).
We then moved on to make two simple soups – wonton and chicken & sweetcorn, both classic Cantonese soups. I’d never seen soups prepared in a wok before, so this was an eye-opener for me. Incidentally, I’ve also never used a five wok commercial range before. When I was young, my parents would never let me in the kitchens of any of our restaurants, so commercial kitchens have always been a bit of a mystery to me. The five woks were set in a large sink, with taps providing water to both cool down the area (the heat from the gas is intense) and wash the woks (which was a constant requirement, after each dish had been cooked). We learned to scrub our woks, using only water and a scrubber, so that they were immaculate before being used for the next dish.
After the soups, which were first demonstrated, then we had to make our own small bowls, we moved on to stir-fries. Wok cooking produces quick and healthy meals, as very little oil is required to cook the food. We were reminded to have all our ingredients chopped up and ready (I have to admit that in the beginners’ class, these are done by Lisa but in the intermediate class, students have to do all the chopping themselves), and to keep tossing and moving the food around to spread the heat evenly (which was a struggle for me as the wok was quite heavy).
Lisa taught us to make stir-fried beef strips with ginger and leeks, kung pao chicken, crispy vegetable chow mein and egg fried rice. Each dish was demonstrated, then we each had to cook one dish for everyone else to eat at the meal after class. I chose egg fried rice because I knew it wasn’t an easy dish to perfect. And I was so right. Remember to use cooked but cooled down rice (my mother uses refrigerated leftover rice from the night before), otherwise the result will be a soggy mess.
I added two beaten eggs to the heated wok and scrambled them. Then I added the rice, salt and a bit of soy sauce. During the separating process using the ladle (you have to make repeated pressing motions to separate the grains), everything started to burn because I forgot to stir at the same time. Luckily Lisa rescued the rice for me, and I continued the separating process until each grain was separated and it was ready to serve. The result was a marvellous light dish, with not a single grain of rice stuck to another.
I enjoyed myself very much, even though I was slightly apprehensive to start with, being a Chinese food blogger attending a Chinese beginners’ cookery class! However, Lisa and Helen were both incredibly patient teachers and were always right next to us in case we needed help with the woks. Only fresh ingredients were used, and there was no sight of any dreaded MSG in the kitchen. The recipes we were taught demonstrated the basic principles of wok cooking, and of course they can be adapted in a myriad of ways at home, so that the chow mein can be served with beef, or the wonton soup with noodles and so on.
The kitchen isn’t large, hence the restriction on student numbers, but it’s a great space for learning wok techniques and for observing both Lisa and each other cooking at close quarters. There is no better way to learn than hands-on and I’ll be able to put into good use what I learned on Saturday. So even though you may think you know how to make a stir-fry at home, some simple but effective techniques can be picked up in just a couple of hours.
As a result of attending the class, I overcame my fear of using and controlling a wok, even though it would be impossible to recreate the intense heat of a five wok commercial cooking range in one’s own domestic kitchen. I’ve improved on my wonton and spring roll wrapping skills. And best of all, I learned to prepare a really good chicken and sweet corn soup, which I never order in a restaurant because it’s always so horribly gloopy, and almost perfect egg fried rice. Finally, we all got to eat what we prepared, not only during the class but afterwards too!
Apart from the beginners’ class (vegetarians, please note that there is a special beginners’ class for vegetarian Chinese cooking), Sweet Mandarin also offers an intermediate class called Stir Crazy, and best of all, from the autumn, there will be a dim sum class in which students will learn to make various dim sum (har gau, cheung fun etc) from scratch. Watch this space as I’m definitely returning to Manchester to make dim sum!
Recipe for chicken & sweetcorn soup (courtesy of Sweet Mandarin):
Ingredients: (serves 4)
- 100g skinless chicken breasts, finely diced
- 50g corn kernels (fresh, tinned or frozen)
- 1½ cups of chicken stock
- ½ tsp salt
- 2 tbsp cornflour (mixed with water)
- 1 egg, beaten
- 1 tsp roasted sesame oil
What to do next:
Heat wok and add chicken stock. Add chicken, sweetcorn and salt. Bring to the boil, stirring. Add cornflour, but it’s best to add this mixed with water using your fingers so that you can judge the amount and it might not be necessary to use all of it.
Then swirl egg in, which also helps to thicken the soup, hence the warning about adding too much cornflour. The soup should be light in texture, with just a hint of thickness.
Add sesame oil, stir in and taste the soup in case you need to add a little more salt. Serve in small bowls. It took me about 7 minutes to make one small bowl of soup, so it will take a little longer to make enough for four.
To see the entire set of photos taken during cookery class, click here, and here for the other Chinese recipes on World Foodie Guide.
Contact details:
Sweet Mandarin
19 Copperas Street off High Street
Manchester M4 1HS
Tel: 0161 832 8848
sweetmandarin@gmail.com
www.sweetmandarin.com
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