Taiwanese Preserved Turnip Omelet

The first time I tasted this was at lunch at a rice farm: the farmer, in addition to his experimental rice farm, also runs a country restaurant. I’ll post the details, pictures, address, etc separately.After that, the omelet appeared fairly often, all similar, delicious, and slightly different as well.

Everything we ate at that lunch (and for the entire week following) was beautifully prepared, but this omelet….this omelet  i fell in love with:so simple: so western, like a fritatta, yet filled with nuggets of utterly Asian diced preserved turnip, tossed in garlicky oil. A combination of all of my favourite Eastern and Western tastes: oily, salty, crunchy, soft, crisp.

Preserved turnip is available in Chinese and other Asian groceries: its salted dried daikon, sort of chewy, soft-hard pliable, and very salty.

I soaked it a little bit here to get rid of too much salt, but i use them in other things without soaking, such as meatballs, or dumpling fillings. it smells a bit funky so might take you awhile to get used to it–i found that once i did, i felt a near addiction to it–having it on hand is a necessity in my kitchen!

The omelet has a lovely hit of  garlic so i guess falling in love with it was inevitable. its one of those things you can make without thinking, and since i’ve been moving around in a world hazy with jetlag, i’ve been whipping this up pretty regularly. it brings the taste of taipei right into my home, kitchen, plate.

piece of dried turnip being put into water to soak

dried turnips, in their package

Preserved Turnip Omelet

Serves about 6 as part of several dish meal; or two as the main plate.

1-2 ounces (50-60 grams) preserved turnip

about 1 tablespoon oil, more if you like

4 eggs, beaten

5-6 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped

about 2 tablespoons coarsely chopped cilantro (fresh coriander) or thinly sliced green onion

1. Rinse the preserved turnip for a few moments, or place in a bowl and cover with cold water for 5 to 10 minutes. Remove from water, wipe well with a paper towel. When dry, chop coarsely and set aside.

2. in a small to medium sized frying pan (depending on how wide or thick you want your omelet) heat about half the oil and stir fry over medium low heat the chopped turnip and the garlic; don’t brown, just enhance their aromas!

3. Remove the mixture and add it to the beaten egg; mix well.

4. pour remaining oil into pan, heat a few moments, the pour the eggs and turnip into the pan, spreading it out, tipping the pan, etc to form a flat fritatta-like omelet. Cook over medium low heat until the eggs seem set and the egg is golden underneath, then flip by placing a plate on top of the pan, flipping, then sliding the omelet back into the pan.

5. Continue cooking a few moments, raising heat if needed, until the bottom layer is golden browned, only a moment or two.

6. Serve on plate, cut into wedges and sprinkled with either cilantro (coriander leaves) or chopped green onions.

It hits you when you first arrive: the excitement of deliciousness is in the air, and literally it seems to be: everywhere your nose takes you, there is the smell of temptation: grilling, roasting, baking, stewing, frying…..fragant smells coming from shops, cafes, street nosh, all right there, irrisistible and exciting. I felt like taking a nibble every step or two i went, then continuing on. (Confession–and those who were with me know it to be true: in fact, I DID take a bite and another and another and another, everywhere we were, so many things to taste. even if strange or i didn’t like it, i just needed to taste taste taste–some places are just like that. and no place more than Taipei).

But it didn’t seem to be just the visitor so affected: the locals were pretty excited not only about their own dishes, but also what we might THINK of their dishes: get a pork-stuffed fishball near the dock area, and the local police might just offer you a suggestion of where else its even better. Enjoy the pickled vegetables at a restaurant and chef might just come out with a container of pickles for you to take home (and i did, munching them all the way back, with enough leftover to share with my UK buddies).

Streets are lined with motor scooters, tidily parked though often-crazily driven, their riders en route to the market, cafe, local snack bar: see the scooters lining the street as their occupants line the barstools, eating any of a wide variety of dishes, from tiny crabs to crisp fried chicken, dishes featuring as much tripe or other offal as you could ever imagine…

Shaved ice cafes are everywhere, with kids, teens, families, everyone, spooning into crisp snowy mounds piled with syrups, candied fruits, topped with fluffy ice cream like swirls. (One of the strangest, silliest, and okay: kinda delightful) restaurants for such sweet deserts is Modern Toilet–the theme is, yes, you guessed it. silly and strangely delightful for ice cream dishes, a bit less so for stewy savoury dishes.

Taiwan is a small island with an amazingly rich variety of eating traditions. Indiginous tribes–of which there is a very touching exhibit of lifestyle in Taipei airport, were the first residents, their presence and influence still strong. Around the 15th century immigrants from China began to come; first from Fujian, Hakka people–this layer of taste is a strong part of modern Taiwanese food. Next came Portuguese sailors, giving the island a name, isla Formosa which remained its name until fairly recently. Then came colonizations of Dutch, Spanish and Japanese (who were sent back to Japan at the end of WW2), each adding layers to the cuisine of the island, especially the Japanese who brought among other tastes, the taste for raw fish.

In 1949, at the end of the Chinese civil war, Chiang Kai-shek fled with about 2 million compatriots and the defeated Nationalist army. Many of Chinas top chefs fled to Taiwan as well–the new communist regime didn’t have a place for such luxury. During the following turbulant years on the mainland, Taiwan was the upholder of Chinese traditional cuisine, keeping alive the traditions and tastes that had dissappeared on the mainland.

The melting pot of regional Chinese cuisines thus became an intrinsic part of Taiwan/Taipei food.

There are elegant fine dining experiences in Taipei, dumplings awaiting you are every turn, night markets filled with the exotic, and the just plain delicious such as a flat spicy fried chicken breast to woo the heart of this not crazy about fried foods gal.
I ate at a rice farm high up on a hillside on the outskirts of Taipei, and sipped tea–blissful, spiritually– in a tea house on the docks.

There was a very zen lunch of all vegetables in a tranquiol sculpture garden, and a very meaty dinner paired with fabulous wines and accompanied by jamon from spain: combined with wine from italy and noodles of traiwan, as well as various little niblets of offal and pickles, what a memorable kinda only in taipei feast.

And the macadamia nut nougat! and the islands traditional pineapple cake!!!! and the soothing, cozy warm almond soup, partially tea, partially dessert, endlessly delicious.

And i’ve not even mentioned beef noodle yet; that bowl of noodles in clear strong broth that comes with a bowl of spicy beef stew, another bowl of shredded pickled mustard greens, and a saucer of spicy sauce. This needs its own posting, with pictures! It all does! And over the next few weeks, months, lifetime, its all coming!

And I can’t wait to go back.

no story, i just want to tell you this: roast a few hunks of belly pork, slowly slowly slowly, with garlic and preserved lemon all smushed up, and its heaven. crunchy crusty crackling fat on top, lean meaty meat underneath.
the secret? blanch the fatty part of the pork for a few minutes, or the whole thing, as you like, then score the skin/fat, rub with chopped garlic, lay in pan drizzle and rub with preserved lemon, sprinkle with thyme or any herbaly herb, then roast. slow. lowish heat, say 325 for a couple of hours, raising the heat at some point to make sure the top is browned and crunchy. also at some point i ladled a little consomme/broth/bouillon over the top. not a lot, a little. it liased with the juices into a yummy jus.

Sometimes a place calls to you all of your life and you finally get to visit–if you’re lucky it becomes part of your life, a touchstone to revisit for a reality check. other times its so amazing you never leave. yet other times, its okay, great, and checked off your list as a place whose visit has been wonderful, enriched your life and you’re ready to move on.

But other times you know a place is out there–maybe you’ve studied it in school, or noted it here and there for various reasons (usually in my instance to do with food!) yet, as a destination it doesn’t (yet) pull you.
and then somehow you find yourself strapped into a 747, and emerging on the other side, blinking with exhaustion. If you’re lucky you have a great trip; if you’re very lucky, you fall in love.

The moment you fall in love is when just being there zings you right in your heart, and when you feel a part of a place, taste a few nibbles of the language as if it were the tastiest of treats, and in general inhale the culture, visuals, friendliness. And sit down at the table, of course.

Its not a once in a lifetime love that leaves no room for any place else–rather, for me, it is a love that lasts a lifetime and after i’ve left i long to learn more, taste more, cook more of course, bringing it all home with me so that i can take it with me and share.  For example: Greece. the first time i visited was an accident–a sort of turning left instead of right accident when i hit the french town of Nice. what really happened was that amongst my group we voted on which direction to take: i voted for spain and morocco; they voted for italy and greece. you could say that they won the vote, but I won the lifetime love of italy and greece.

similarly there are places i go on assignment, to write a story, work on a book, and within a short time feel as if i’ve been there all of my life. Or i get invited on a food tour, step off the plane, and don’t ever want to leave. at the end, heading home, when i click my seatbelt snugly across my waist  for takeoff,  I carry my new found love with me, plotting ways to return.

And so it was with Taipei.

True, I had been writing little notes to myself as i prepared to go: mostly they read: “CHINESE FOOD!!!!!” so i was geared up in this direction. But i was unprepared for the sheer exhuberance of eating, cuisine, and the culture that is such a large part of eating. this alone was enough to make me LOVE the place. each meal was amazing, so many tastes and traditions, philosophies and histories involved with each dish; and for this certified garlic-lover the appearance of thinly sliced garlic so many places was enough to grab my heart.

But there was more, a very crucial and heart-grabbing more: though each and every guidebook said: “the people are sooooo friendly” to paraphrase, what they didn’t say was this: Marlena, you will feel so at home that within days you will be surprised when you look in the mirror and see that you’re not Chinese!