Chinese

Whereas fried sticky rice dumplings have their alluring crispy-chewy skins, steamed sticky rice dumplings are as soft and comforting as a well-worn pair of jeans. They retain the charming soft texture and natural sweetness of sticky rice. I grew up break-fasting on Vietnamese bánh ít (“small dumplings”), though they can certainly be a satisfying brunch, lunch, or snack food. Filled with a surf-and-turf mixture of shrimp, pork, and wood ear and shiitake mushrooms, these dumplings are enjoyed warm, dipped in a pool of soy sauce and pepper. The banana leaf imparts a wonderfully tea-like quality to the dumplings during the cooking process. These are easy to make, especially when the filling is prepared a day in advance. Viet cooks often use boiling water to create glutinous rice dough, but the dough is easier to handle and control when cold water is used. I combine two kinds of glutinous rice flour (see page 15) to arrive at a texture that is pleasantly chewy, not overly sticky. The rice flours are available at Asian markets, as is fresh or frozen banana leaf.

Opening up a steamed lotus leaf packet and inhaling its alluring musty fragrance is part of many Cantonese dim sum rituals. Inside, the sticky rice is stained a rich brown from the leaf, and once you start digging toward the center with chopsticks, there is a treasure trove of succulent ingredients. Figuring out what comprises the filling is most fun. Chicken is often included, as jī (fowl) is part of these packets’ name in Mandarin; they are called lo mai gai in Cantonese. Chicken is commonly combined with shiitake mushrooms and Chinese sweet sausage, as is done here. But cooks can add a myriad of other boldly flavored or rich ingredients, such as roasted char siu pork (page 224), roast duck, dried shrimp, salted egg yolk, and chestnuts. Lotus leaf packets can be made large enough for several people to share, but I prefer to present a small one to each guest. I freeze extras as a homemade convenience food to be later revived and packed into a lunch box or enjoyed on the road. At Chinese and Southeast Asian markets, you will find the sticky rice and dried sweet sausages. Packages of fanlike dried lotus leaves are usually near the dried mushrooms; they are inexpensive and last indefinitely if stored in a dry spot. If you are making lotus packets for the first time, soak a couple of extra leaves in case you tear them.

Earthy and well-seasoned, this filling features char siu pork and shiitake mushrooms. The five-spice power adds sweet perfume, while the dried shrimp injects a note of the sea. Feel free to vary this filling by substituting a combination of chopped raw pork and shrimp for the roasted pork below.

Cantonese deep-fried sticky rice dumplings can be filled many ways, but there is usually chopped rehydrated shiitake mushroom and a little chopped dried shrimp for savory oomph. With those two ingredients in this vegetable-laden alternative, you won’t miss the meat.

Commonly sold on Styrofoam trays at Chinese and Southeast Asian markets, these opaque white rice rolls flecked with orange dried shrimp and green scallion are a terrific southern Chinese snack. Purchased ones are seldom as tasty as homemade because producers tend to be skimpy with the dried shrimp, which give the rolls their oomph. These steamed rolls can be eaten as is, dipped in sweet soy sauce. Or they can be panfried to a delicate crisp. When served with other dishes, a few rolls are all you will need. For a light main course with a salad, double or triple the recipe.

Traditionally a Cantonese Lunar New Year treat, but now a standard dim sum offering, these remarkable football-shaped dumplings have a tender, crisp skin that yields to a wonderful sweet chewiness when you bite into them. Light brown sugar helps to color the dough during frying and adds a bit of sweetness—a contrast with the savory pork or vegetable filling. I usually avoid these dumplings (called haam sui gok in Cantonese) at dim sum restaurants because they tend to be leaden and overly greasy. However, made at home, they are irresistible. Make sure to prepare the filling before making the dough.

Asian dumplings are often prepared with chopped shrimp, but these rolls are filled with whole shrimp and always seem extra decadent. Called har cheung in Cantonese, they are a perennial favorite dim sum—delighting diners with the orange-pink glow of the shrimp beneath the sheath of rice sheet. On their own, the rolls will seem very mild flavored. But finishing them with the sweet soy sauce makes all the elements sing.

Rice roll fillings are often precooked and reheated through steaming, but this popular one involves a filling of raw beef and orange zest that requires steaming to complete the cooking. For efficiency, professional Chinese cooks typically add the raw beef to the rice sheet about 30 seconds into cooking, but that is a difficult technique. Filling cooked sheets and then steaming them to cook the beef is easier and the results are the same. You do not have to use the baking soda in the filling, but some Chinese cooks use it as a meat tenderizer and to lend a silky texture. The beef should be hand- or machine-chopped so it isn’t too finely textured and clumpy (see page 158 for guidance).

Chinese cooks use rice sheets as wrappers for not only shrimp and beef, but also tasty stir-fries like this one. The chicken and vegetable mixture here could be used as a filling for deep-fried spring rolls, but it is also wonderful in this delicate treatment: encased in rice sheets and steamed. The chicken and vegetables are cut into matchsticks to complement the shape of the oll. To cut the chicken, freeze it first for 5 to 10 minutes, slice it, and then stack the slices and slice again into thick matchsticks. Pork tenderloin or beef flank can be substituted for the chicken. For a vegetarian version, replace the chicken with 2/3 cup packed shredded bamboo shoots (boil for 1 minute first to eliminate the tinny flavor) and decrease the cornstarch to 2 teaspoons.

You can often spot these crystalline, dome-shaped dumplings from a far because of their contents: emerald green Chinese chives. The garlicky, flat-leaf green is a workhorse ingredient in Chinese dumpling making that commonly plays a supporting role. Here the chives are the star, flavored by a bit of shrimp in regular and dried form to punch things up a bit. Chinese chive dumplings (called gow choy gow in Cantonese) can be served steamed or panfried to a delicate crispness, my preferred option. They do not freeze well, but I’ve never had a problem gobbling them up quickly.

Many Chiu Chow people migrated from mainland China to Southeast Asia, particularly to the Malay Peninsula. That is why you will find Chiu Chow dumplings among the hawker street food offerings in places like Penang. Along with the regular version in the preceding recipe, there is usually a vegetarian option. Chai kuih (literally “vegetable cake”) can be flavored with dried shrimp and oyster sauce, or it can be totally vegetarian. I have presented the latter, though you can certainly add the other seasonings if you wish. The mushroom soaking liquid adds savory depth to this jewel-like filling, so remember to save it after rehydrating the shiitakes.

The Cantonese dim sum repertoire would be incomplete without this wonderful contribution from the Chiu Chow, a seafaring people from a region located on the Taiwan Strait. Robustly flavored by briny dried shrimp, this dumpling also tastes light because it’s packed with vegetables, including jicama and shiitake mushrooms, and peanuts. The varied texture of the filling gets rounded out by a touch of pork, though you can use any meat. Because there is lots of chopping involved with the filling, make it a couple days in advance to minimize last-minute pressures. I first enjoyed these nearly twenty years ago in Hong Kong and they instantaneously became one of my favorites. Good renditions were hard to find in the United States, so I began making them myself. Enjoy them alone or with soy sauce and an Asian chile garlic sauce of your choice. If jicama is not available, substitute canned water chestnuts.

Well known by their Cantonese name har gow, these delightful pinkish-white morsels are among the most popular offerings at dim sum houses. They go fast, and I’ve chased down my fair share of dim sum ladies to get a fresh order. When I started making my own and realized that they can be kept refrigerated and frozen, my fear of har gow scarcity diminished. These are difficult to prepare only if you aim to produce exemplary diminutive ones, which most dim sum places don’t. Start out with ones that are a little bigger and scale down as you gain dexterity. You can even make these dumplings as half-moons, and they’ll taste swell. Use the best shrimp possible, and immerse the canned bamboo shoots in boiling water to rid it of its tinny flavor before chopping. To make the pork fat easier to mince, blanch it in boiling water for 1 minute, or until firm. Obtain the fat from fatback (I go to a Latino butcher counter) or cut it off a pork chop. Fatty bacon works well, too.

This malleable, snowy white dough is the foundation for many Cantonese dim sum favorites, such as Chiu Chow Dumplings (page 137) and Har Gow Shrimp Dumplings (page 135). Wheat starch dough is easy to manipulate; texturally, it is like Play-Doh. In fact, I’ve seen rabbit-shaped dumplings made from this type of dough. You can definitely sculpt it, though I mostly focus on making sure the filling is sealed up well. When cooked, this dough has a translucency that allows the filling colors to be visible in a beautiful, impressionistic way. Wheat starch on its own would make a dough that is too firm, so dim sum cooks commonly add elasticity by way of tapioca starch, though cornstarch and potato starch are options, too. The oil lends suppleness and richness. This dough can be prepared up to 6 hours in advance and kept at room temperature in the plastic bag. When forming wrappers from this dough, do your best to keep the cut dough and formed wrappers covered with plastic wrap to prevent drying. At Chinese markets, look for plastic bags of wheat starch near other starches and flours; Middle Eastern markets sometimes carry it, too. Tapioca starch is reasonably priced at Chinese and Southeast Asian markets but is also available at health food stores, specialty grocers, and some supermarkets.

When I first tasted this Shanghai specialty in Vancouver a few years ago, I wondered how it could have escaped me so long. The stupendous filling is remarkably simple, with a mild bite from the raw daikon radish, smokiness from the ham, and richness from the sesame oil. The pastries can be shaped as rounds with an arty spiral pattern of layers or as oblongs with a handsome linear pattern of layers. They are a classic Chinese banquet morsel, but there’s no need to wait for a special occasion. Enjoy them as a snack, accompanied by other dumplings or a clear soup.

Literally translated as “crisp skin for cakes,” this northern Chinese flaky pastry employs techniques similar to those for French puff pastry to create tender, layered pastry. What’s unusually clever about the Chinese approach is that aside from the usual letter-type folds and turns, the dough is rolled into a cylinder as part of forming the wrappers. The cylinder can then be cut in ways that allow you to form pastries with layers that fall in a spiral or linear pattern. When deep-fried, this pastry becomes super-rich, but surprisingly not greasy. It may also be baked, though the result is not as spectacular. Some cooks don’t add sugar and salt, but I find seasoning the dough sparks the flavor. For the best results, use lard rather than vegetable shortening. If you have ever found making puff pastry difficult because of the firmness of the butter, this dough is a godsend. It comes together quickly and is amazingly easy to work by comparison.

If you like pot stickers and steamed buns, you’ll love these spongy-crisp panfried treats from Shanghai, where typically they are cooked in humongous shallow pans (much like large paella pans) with wooden lids. These buns are made of yeast dough that is filled with an aromatic pork mixture and then fried and steamed in a skillet. Cooking under cover with a bit of water delivers plenty of moisture to puff up the buns. Ground beef chuck or chicken thigh can stand in for the pork in this recipe. A bāozi is a mini bāo (bun) and for that reason, I like to keep these true to their name and shape small ones. However, you can elect to form sixteen medium-size (2 3/4-inch) buns. Roll the dough circles out to 3 1/4 inches in diameter and use about 4 teaspoons of filling for each bun; increase the water and cooking time a tad.

Whether steamed or baked, buns stuffed with Cantonese char siu pork are among my favorite dim sum. I rarely pass up the opportunity to savor how the spongy, slightly sweet dough complements the savory-sweet, rich meat. For spectacular buns, make this filling with homemade roast pork (page 224); in fact you can prepare a triple batch of filling from a single recipe of roast pork. If you elect to use store-bought pork, wait to salt the filling until after it is done and you can taste it to see what it needs; the meat is often well seasoned already.

Baked buns, called guk bau in Cantonese, are a wonderful southern Chinese creation. They can be filled with a whole host of things, including sweet bean pastes and savory preserved pork shreds. Some have a crumbly crust that’s akin to coffee cake topping. My favorite renditions are slightly shiny and sticky from having been brushed with a lightly sweet honey glaze. Whatever the filling inside, whether it is spicy chicken curry, roast pork, vegetables, or bean pastes, you can’t lose. Commercially produced Chinese baked buns are nearly cloying and super soft, whereas these have a delicate flavor and texture resembling that of challah.

Because ovens were rare, Chinese cooks have been steaming their bread dough for thousands of years, most likely since wheat-milling technology arrived in northern China by way of the Silk Road. There are many ways to present the steamed bread, and the Chinese knack for stuffing it with a savory or sweet filling is perhaps the most well known and well loved. The filled buns, or bāo, are a delicious, convenient fast food in many parts of Asia, where you can buy them from street vendors and snack shops. Here in the States where stopping at a neighborhood bāo stand isn’t the norm, I make the buns myself in small batches and enjoy them for lunch or as road food, whether I’m driving or flying. They can be reheated until soft , allowed to cool, and then kept in a plastic bag until you’re ready to eat. Medium-size buns are the easiest to make, so you may want to start with those. After you’ve made buns with the various fillings presented here, create your own fillings. To make steamed rolls that can be used for mini sandwiches.