Monthly Archives: August 2014

When I was trying to decide if I could afford to go to the Gourmand Cookbook Fair and Awards event in Daxing, Beijing, I was swayed by some of the unique activities, places and things that it never would have dawned on me to get to otherwise. Lets start with The Watermelon Museum.

Daxing, a rural and suburban area of Beijing, located in the southern part of its 5th ring road, is also the watermelon capital of China, for this reason, there is a huge and amazing museum dedicated to the watermelon. It was–and while I really don’t like using this word, thinking it a lazy way out–awesome. Really awesome.

First of all, even just the idea of having such a museum is awesome. Second of all, it wasn’t just a little room, a shack filled with

Here we are, on the steps of The Watermelon Museum

hand-made displays depicting this regions prize fruit. No, it was a tall, massive building, whose front reminded me of the art in Rockerfeller Center, the steps seemingly leading to a temple of worship, a library, or a museum of note. An important museum.

The agricultural corner of Bejing, in its fifth ring road, Daxing, is known for several specialities: roses and watermelon, and since the cookbook fair and awards event was held in late May, the roses and melons were growing lushly. In fact, at every meal there were wedges of watermelon, usually red but sometimes yellow, always sweet, crisp and juicy, the question really was: HOW SWEET, HOW JUICY, HOW CRISP? There were meals in which the melons exceeded the laws of physics in their sweetness, juiciness and crispness. It was actually thrilling to bite into the melons and see what would happen next. Even when they were  merely okay, they were refreshingly delicious. We’ll get to the watermelons in the next posting.

First off was the Rose Festival.  The bus, organized by Daxing’s equivilant of the chamber of commerce or perhaps the city council, arrived at 10 am for those of us who wanted to play hooky from the cookbook fair and be a part of the festivities. I may have been first on the bus; I love roses.

All visitors to the Rose Festival were greeted with great festivities, both on our way in, and on our way out: there were acrobats, kung-fu demonstrations, and a gathering of drum players–two long lines of gaily costumed women enthusiastically banging on big drums ushered us down a long walkway and into the hall of flowers.  

Traditional caligraphy and brushstroke demonstrations depicted roses, a garden of rose drawings.

And there was a fashion show of rose-inspired gowns and frocks…..below left, you can see each model (in the sweltering summer heat) carrying the flower arrangement that had inspired her dress.  I sat on the side and could see backstage, where, in true catwalk style, the  fashion designer, flitting about backstage all a-twitter, nervously fluffing up and patting down, getting his models looking  their best in his designs.

I don’t know when i’ve ever seen such enthusiasm for a task such as these women showed for playing their drums: it was hard, and energetic, and the weather was hot, and they were drumming for all they were worth. Their presentation was awesome in more ways than I can try to explain: it sounded wonderful and stirring; and the looks on the women’s faces was heart-warming. It was love, the love of doing something well and all-encompassing. The love on the faces of all performers.

When I showed an interest, I was surrounded by “teachers”

Here I am getting a lesson in drumming from the gals

my teacher was very enthusiastic. and scary.

We left off, a few posting back, with my first meal upon reaching the Daxing region of China’s capital, Bejing. If you remember the plate, it will filled with dumplings, delicious noodles wrapped around chopped leafy greens. In case you wondered who was making the dumplings, chef allowed me into the kitchen to help, and though he looks a bit hesitant in this foto, and I look a bit over-eager, in fact, he said: “Very Good!”. And he ate my dumpling right up! There were dumplings everywhere, steamed dumplings and fried dumplings, sweet fat boiled dough filled with bean paste and paper thin noodles wrapped around seafood or meat, there were dumplings in soup and dumplings that were filled WITH soup, dumplings with sauce and dumplings awash in red chile oil. there were bao and jiaozi, tang yuan, xiao longao, wuntun, siu mai and dumplings I had no idea what their names were. 

The  dumplings in this picture to the left are not, as they appear to be, small hamburgers, but a tender version of a small english muffin-like dumpling,  split into two and filled with a savoury meat mixture, salty, spicy, with a hit of cumin. Its said that the dish was dreamt up by the Empress Cixi, literally: a dish that came to her in a dream and the next day she had her chefs whip up her vision. To be honest, they are available in many places, some better than others, some mediocre, and some fantastic. There were dumplings and also bread doughs steamed so that they were somewhere between a bread and dumpling: steamed cornbread was one of my favourites.

there were noodles rolled around a mixture of meats and greens, then pan browned, to the left–these were delectable– and to the right: puffy bread dough filled with meats or vegetables then steamed; these steamed/baked dumplings, bao, were filled with a much wider array of mixtures than I’ve found abroad: kung pao chicken filled bao were wonderful!

Another was a strange chewy dough, tang yuan, made of ground rice; to be honest, chewy doesn’t even come close to describing it: the dumpling slithers around your mouth, you think that maybe you will be chewing it forever, that maybe you will chew it for the rest of your life and onto the next one, too, but suddenly you’ve managed to swallow it and in that compelling way that many unusual foods have, you feel like: yes, i’m ready for another one! The tang yuan I was fond of were stuffed with black sesame seed and served with a sweet syrup; i was told that it could be eaten as a savoury dumpling, too, with either a bean paste and/or pork filling instead of sweet sesame.

And, because I don’t want you thinking I ate a very unbalanced meal of dumplings dumplings and more dumplings, there were greens! seafood! tofu salad! and my favourite, cucumber salad: garlicky, spicy, halfway on the road to being a pickle. Cucumber salad is a very good reason to go to Beijing, I say flippantly,  in case the Great Wall, Forbidden City and amazing ancient/modern culture isn’t enough. Cucumber salad: always a good reason to travel the world if you love cucumbers as much as I do.

chrysanthemum leaf salad

Besides the chryanthemum leaf salad and the garlicky cucumbers, I was also very fond of shoestrings of tofu, tossed in sesame oil dressing.

bamboo shoots, shredded cabbage, cloud ears, chopped greens......

my beloved garlicky cucumber salad

My first culinary “business” , a zillion years ago, was making herbal vinegars: steeping a myriad of herbs in various vinegars: white and red wine, as well as rice. I made a rather sweet handcrafted label with one of my line drawings, slapped them onto the old wine bottles I gathered, then filled up the bottles with mostly vinegar, as well as a hit of wine and a few BIG sprigs of herbs, either a single herb or a mixture. I arranged them on shelves built across a window so that they could infuse more quickly as the light shone down on them: that was my idea anyhow, based on no science whatsoever that I knew of. It was just that they looked so beautiful, like stained glass, as the light filtered through.

And they were delicious. Looks wise my favourite was the rosemary, because the sprig/branch held up so nicely, and the little peppercorns I added as well as the thyme branches, it was like an herb garden in the bottle. But the one whose flavour has haunted me throughout these years is that of tarragon. Every so often I”ll be doing something and think of that luscious, tangy, sour+fragrant+herbal scent of tarragon leaves pickled in vinegar, of vinegar infused with tarragon.

But to be honest, I tend to add fresh herbs to dressings, vinaigrettes, and the like, at the last minute instead of flavouring the vinegars. This summer, I changed my mind, due in large part to my hugely energetic tarragon patch. I started sticking bunches of tarragon leaves, in sprigs, or chopped, or a combination, into jars of white wine vinegar. Within a few days it is infused, I use it and use it and use it, then use up the tarragon as well. Somewhere along the way, when I see it dwindling and the vinegar level getting lower, I start another jar.

This summer has been my summer of tarragon vinegar. And, like Sebastian, the young French student who came to dinner the other evening, we’ve been loving the elusive yet compelling taste and aroma. Here are a few of our salads.

Asparagus and Small Delicious Tomatoes with Tarragon

If you’ve got homegrown, or farmers market shopped, oh now is the time to make this salad!

Serves 4, or half it to serve two

1 small bunch thin asparagus, tough ends snapped off

1 teaspoon French mustard, not to hot/strong, such as Maille

2 tablespoons tarragon vinegar (see description above) or white wine vinegar

1 pint box small delicious tomatoes, such as sweet grape or cherry ones, yellow and/or red, cut into halves

salt and pepper to taste

2-3 teaspoons fresh tarragon leaves, cut up

Drizzle of evoo

Cut the asparagus into spears several inches long; cook in rapidly boiling salted water for a minute or two or until bright green, still crunchy but getting tender; drain and arrange on a platter and leave to cool to room temperature.

Combine the mustard with the vinegar and stir well until smooth.

When asparagus is cool, scatter the top with the tomatoes, drizzle the mustard vinegar over the top, sprinkle with salt and pepper, tarragon leaves, then drizzle with the evoo. As to exactly HOW much of the mustard vinegar to use, you need to go with your tastes: some like a less sharp salad, some like me, love it tart tart tart!

Iceberg, Walnuts, St Agur or another lovely flavourful blue cheese, (Optional) Diced Beets, Green Beans, Chives and Tarragon

Serves 4

1 head iceberg lettuce, washed and broken up into chunks; chill in the refrigerator wrapped in a clean towel in a bowl, until you’re ready to serve

Handful thin green beans, topped and tailed

3 oz/ 175g St Agur or other creamy flavourful blue cheese, cut into small bite sized pieces

Optional: 1 cooked beetroot, diced (vacuum-packed if fine)

3-4 tablespoons coarsely chopped or quartered walnuts

Several tablespoons chopped chives

Several tablespoons chopped tarragon

About 2 teaspoons tarragon steaped vinegar (see description above), or to taste

About 1-2 tablespoons evoo, or as desired

Salt and pepper to taste

Cook the green beans in boiling salted water or steam them in a steamer, until they are crisp-tender. Drain and rinse in cold water. Set aside.

When you are ready to put together the salad, remove chilled lettuce and bowl from fridge, unwrap the lettuce from its towel and return to the chilled bowl.

Scatter with the green beans, the cheese, beetroot if using, the walnuts, then the chives and tarragon, sprinkling with salt and pepper to taste. Dress with the vinegar and evoo, and serve.