This refreshing peanut salad from Xinjiang, an autonomous region in northwest China, is adapted from Carolyn Phillips’ cookbook All Under Heaven. Known as huāshēngmĭ bàn xiāngcài, it pairs well with both grilled meats and fish. Use both the stems and leaves of the most delicate cilantro you can find.

Featured in “Eating on the Western Edge of China” by Fiona Reilly.

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Char siu (meaning “fork roasted”) is a typical cooking style in Cantonese cuisine, in particular for the method behind the beloved steamed pork buns on so many dim sum menus. In Houston chef Chris Shepherd’s succulent long-marinated chicken-based rendition, beet powder lends a naturally bright red color as well as a little sweetness.

The post Char Siu Chicken appeared first on Saveur.

In Hong Kong, you don’t have to choose between the world’s two most popular beverages. Yuenyeung, or coffee milk tea, gives you the best of both worlds. The drink is a hallmark of cha chaan teng, Hong Kong-style diners that emerged around the 1950s. Serving affordable hybridized Canto-Western dishes and beverages, the establishments became an emblem of the unique cultural confluence that characterizes this former British colony.

In Cantonese, yuenyeung also refers to mandarin ducks. The birds, which are believed to mate for life, are a symbol of marital union in traditional Chinese culture and are an apt namesake for the harmoniously blended drink that will amp up your mornings.

Featured in “These Humble Diners Embody the Unique Hybridized Culture of Hong Kong” by Megan Zhang. 

The post Yuenyeung (Hong Kong-Style Coffee Milk Tea) appeared first on Saveur.

The slightly bitter stems of choy sum are more tender than the leaves, although all parts of the vegetable, even the tiny yellow flowers, are edible. Thick stems should be trimmed and peeled, then blanched. If you can’t find choy sum, other leafy asian greens like whole baby bok choy makes a fine substitute. If you’re looking for more quick stir-fries, find our 27 favorites here.

Recreate Your Favorite Chinese Takeout Classics With These 29 Recipes

Sure, ordering in for Chinese takeout is easy—you call into your favorite restaurant, pick out your go-to starters, stir-fries, and noodles, and then camp out in front of the TV with those little foldable cartons. But did you know that some of those Chinese takeout classics can be even quicker to make at home?

The post Choy Sum (Asian Greens) With Garlic Sauce appeared first on Saveur.

This recipe for curried chicken and rice, adapted from a version regularly served by author Kevin Pang’s Cantonese parents, includes his family’s secret hack: using condensed cream of chicken soup in addition to the coconut milk.

Featured in: Macau Is Home to a Cuisine Found Nowhere Else On Earth

Equipment

• Large Bowl
• Medium Pot
• Medium Bowl
• Wok or Deep Skillet
• 8-Inch Square Baking Dish

The post Macanese-Style Portuguese Chicken appeared first on Saveur.

Peking Duck House on Mott Street in Manhattan is a local institution, and not just for its legendary food—for four wine professionals native to New York City, it’s a place of community in every sense of the word. 

“Growing up, the Chinese food spot on my block was the only restaurant that took food stamps,” says Kelvin Uffré, a wine and spirits specialist, educator, and advocate who was raised in the Bronx. “That made such an impact on me—I will never forget the respite that gave my mother from cooking and dealing with three children,” he adds, noting that Chinese restaurants are often integral in materially disadvantaged communities. As he got older, Uffré and his friends ventured into Lower Manhattan’s Chinatown, skipping class to explore the area and hit the comic book shops between bites of street wings and noodles. Peking Duck House—opened in 1978 by Shanghai-born chef Wun Yin Wu, who still operates the establishment with the help of his extended family—was one of the many neighborhood gems they discovered along the way, and Uffré has been going back ever since.

Fellow wine professionals Óscar García Moncada (wine and spirits director for 67 Wine and Spirits), Mozel Watson (owner of Wines by Mozel), and Marquis Williams (founder of Highly Recommended, a digital wine club and consulting company) each found their way to Peking differently, all quickly becoming loyal regulars. Williams, who has been dining at the restaurant for the past five or six years, estimates having visited well over 300 times to date. Together with Uffré, the tight-knit group have established a monthly lunch club inspired in part by Peking’s BYOB policy, pairing Champagnes from their own personal reserves with a feast of go-to house specialties like fried honey spare ribs, salt and pepper shrimp, and of course, the Peking duck.

Wine Migos, as they have come to be known, only ramped things up (as safely as possible) as Peking Duck House emerged from the COVID-19 shutdowns, which were especially devastating to bars and restaurants. “With all the anti-Asian hate crimes that happened here during the pandemic, it felt amazing to not only provide monetary support but to also stand in solidarity with our friends at Peking,” Uffré explains. “When I say ‘we take care of each other,’ I mean we see each other and the feeling of being seen in this industry is like coming up for air. Even though we all come from different intersections, our shared experiences make us New York fam.”

According to Peking Duck House assistant manager Steven Shi, Williams and friends (both within and outside of the Migos crew) have made quite an impact on the business through their visits and frequent word-of-mouth advertising. “We really do appreciate [their] efforts to bring us business, especially during this pandemic,” says Shi, who has worked at the restaurant for 11 years. The management’s BYOB policy wasn’t exactly a choice—Peking Duck House’s proximity to a local church hinders its ability to hold a liquor license, Shi tells SAVEUR—but it has fostered a unique environment for the Migos and other wine industry professionals to freely create and enjoy food and drink pairings they might not have otherwise discovered, especially given the restaurant’s decision to not charge a corkage fee. “We want [our] customers to be able to enjoy the wine while dining in and not worrying about the extra charges on the bill,” Shi explains.

In addition to camaraderie, the Migos find a bit of escapism from the usual buttoned-up (and, at times, elitist) wine scene in their regular lunches. The conversation sometimes turns to the industry’s exclusionary reputation and how the new generation of wine professionals is seeking to reset the tone. “For us, Peking is a way to get out of the formal, often white-dominated spaces where the sharing of beverage knowledge happens,” he says, adding that it’s also about “how we push for change with the currency we have.”

Typecasting is another symptom of systemic social issues that Wine Migos want to actively shift. “We are trying to break this assumption that only European cuisine can be paired with fine wines—the food [at Peking] offers an amazing form of intercultural exchange while having a feeling of freedom and expression very rarely found in many dining establishments in New York City,” says Moncada. “We use our experiences to show our friends and wine clients that Asian cuisine is an intricate part of our culture, no matter what your background might be.”

Self-expression is key in this movement, particularly as the wine world in America evolves from the antiquated standard of service in a stiffly-pressed suit. Each Wine Migos gathering is also a celebration of redefining the narrative through fashion. As our shoot for this story began, Uffré and Moncada both emerged from the restaurant’s lower level having changed into fresh looks by menswear designer Willy Chavarria, best known for his nods to Chicanx and Latinx cultures, while Williams wore a shirt of his own design paired with his signature bucket hat (Watson arrived already sporting a Chavarria ensemble). Collectively, the four opt for polished meets playful, with clean, voluminous lines, rich textures, and a bold accessory or two.

With everyone dressed for a party, the lunch kicks off. A server brings a handful of wine glasses, and Williams begins pouring. The energy and joy are palpable. Plates begin to arrive, and the table fills as quickly as each glass empties. Moncada’s affinity for the salt and pepper fried shrimp generally inspires his wine pick each month: “I look forward to eating this dish days before we meet—I absolutely love the salty, crispy, and crunchy flavors of the shrimp with the slight heat of the pepper.” For a “heavenly pairing,” his go-to champagne is a blanc de blancs, either a non-vintage Delamotte or Robert Moncuit’s Grand Cru “Les Grands.” “The notes of bright exotic lemon, orange skin, and chalky nuances are just perfect,” says Moncada.

Watson is a die-hard fan of the beef lo mein—a stir-fried combination of sliced steak, water chestnuts, bean sprouts, mushrooms, and egg noodles—and he often reaches for Ruinart Blanc de Blancs, its fine bubbles “act[ing] like tiny knives cutting right through the noodles.” Each of the ingredients accentuates the wine’s round creaminess and bright green apple notes. “It doesn’t matter what’s on your fork,” Watson says. “It’s a perfect match.”

For Williams, the fried honey spare ribs steal the show, and an equally standout bottle like Dom Pérignon’s 2003 rosé usually does the trick: “Lush berries and red fruits complement the sweetness of the ribs, yet [they] don’t overpower,” he says. The sharp acidity, according to Williams, cuts through the fat of the meat, washing over the palate and prepping it for the next rich bite. (Shi, who also counts the spare ribs among his menu favorites, shares the secret: “[they’re] marinated for two days.”) Moncada has paired the tangy flavors with two non-vintage rosé champagnes: Pierre Paillard “Les Terres Roses” Bouzy Grand Cru Extra Brut and Leclerc-Briant Rosé Brut, both of which offer a spicy red fruit element (thanks to the use of Pinot Noir in the blends), offsetting the ribs’ sticky sweetness.

And to accompany Peking Duck’s famed namesake dish—which, according to Shi, was served to Chinese emperors centuries ago and involves a strict and elaborate preparation—Uffré’s choice makes (almost) as much of a statement as each guest at the table: a Leclerc Briant Blanc de Meuniers Brut Zero. “The bracing, saliva-inducing quality of this champagne primes the mouth for the [duck’s] fatty sweetness,” Uffré shares, layering his house-made pancake with the fragrant oven-roasted meat and its accoutrements. The texture of the thin, crisp duck skin is quite unlike any other in the city, and the restaurant’s presentation is the stuff of Instagram legend. “It should be lathered,” Uffré advises, adding more hoisin sauce to demonstrate. “Like me at Orchard Beach with a bottle of Banana Boat,” he laughs, as he tops off each glass.

If you can’t visit Peking Duck House, try out your own pairings with these recipes.

Recipes

Honey Pork Spare Ribs

Get the recipe for Honey Pork Spare Ribs »

Peking-Style Lamb Chops

Get the recipe for Peking-Style Lamb Chops »

Beef Lo Mein

Get the recipe for Beef Lo Mein »

Salt and Pepper Shrimp

Get the recipe for Salt and Pepper Shrimp »

The post Meet Manhattan’s New Guard of Wine Pros appeared first on Saveur.

Salty, acidic pickled mustard greens are popular in soups, stews, and stir-fries all across Asia. They can be found prepackaged at Asian grocery stores, or made at home using a salt or vinegar brine.

Featured in: On the Hunt for Yunnan-Style Rice Cakes

What You Will Need

• Large Wok

• Wok Spatula

• Serving Platter or Bowl

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No single English word is sufficiently lyrical to represent what “wonton” means to the Cantonese. Loosely translated as “swallowing cloud,” wontons are a style of jiaozi, or dumpling, but with thinner dough than the dim sum served in Chinese tea parlors and a smaller amount of filling proportionate to the wrapper. These ­ethereal parcels first appeared in the Pearl River Delta port of Guangzhou during the Tang Dynasty (618–907 AD), then followed the Cantonese diaspora, drifting east to Hong Kong. Here they landed next to egg-based jook sing noodles floating in a “supreme” broth known as shang tang.

A street vendor from Guangzhou, Mak Woon-chi, has been credited with popularizing wonton noodle soup, or wonton tong meen, but the dish first achieved star status in the former British colony. (Woon-chi’s family opened Mak’s Noodles in Central Hong Kong, where they have specialized in this dish since the 1960s.) A far richer and more complex preparation than the version from most Cantonese-American restaurants, this soup is now considered the hallmark of a Hong Kong chef’s talent, and each noodle shop or restaurant has a house recipe.

This standard reaches its apex at Restaurant Lung King Heen, a modernist high-rise hotel dining room near the Central Ferry Piers. Here, Kowloon-born executive chef Chan Yan Tak—the first Chinese chef to receive three Michelin stars—renders his stock with whole chickens, pork shoulder, and prized Jinhua ham, which is dry-cured from a native breed of mottled pig called liangtouwu, or “two ends black.”

Mostly used as a ­flavoring agent for soups and stews, the highest-quality hams from Jinhua require a year or more to cure properly and can retail for $1,200. Yan Tak buys only the finest cuts. His ham purveyor is in the neighborhood of Sheung Wan, in a narrow, second-floor storehouse cluttered with crates of hua gu, or “flower” shiitake mushrooms, edible swiftlet nests, and vacuum-sealed pork legs with hoof and hock still attached. As we walked back to the restaurant through the dried seafood market on Des Voeux Road West, the stocky chef revealed one of the soup’s key xianwei, or umami seasonings: “dehydrated plaice [similar to flounder], bones removed, baked and ground to a powder,” he said, examining plastic sacks of the desiccated flatfish on the sidewalk.

Because Hong Kongers obsess over seafood, shrimp wontons are an essential element of Yan Tak’s version. His are distinguished by their delicacy: chopped shrimp blended with a ­dollop of fatty minced pork belly to hold the ­mixture together in egg wrappers produced at a local noodle ­factory. He explained that the fat melts and gives the ­wontons a smoother texture when boiled. Just before dinner service, his brigade simmers the broth and strains it once for clarity. Each night, only 20 fortunate guests swallow these clouds.

Hong Kong Food City author Tony Tan says: “In Hong Kong’s noodle universe, wonton noodles are the ultimate comfort food. This is a dish that will elicit sighs of nostalgia, hunger, warmth, and home.”

The Broth

The trademarks of a good wonton broth are its ­clarity, pale color, complex flavor, and freshness—chef Yan Tak starts his over if it’s more than five hours old. Strive for balance with the highest-quality ingredients: Pork shoulder adds fatty richness; Jinhua ham strengthens the broth and gives it a salty character (the closest comparisons are jamón ibérico and Appalachian country ham). Yan Tak also prefers stewing hens with their head and feet intact.

The Wontons

Wrappers should be thin and tender, never doughy, and just large enough to contain a ­single bite of filling. Choose fresh wonton wrappers from a reputable Asian market if possible, and buy extras to make up for any cracked ones in the ­package. (You can wrap leftover wrappers tightly in plastic and store them in the freezer for up to a month before they become dry and brittle.) Keep the unused wrappers under a damp towel to prevent them from drying out as you wrap the parcels.

There are many traditional techniques for folding ­wontons, and—much like ­Italian pastas—different shapes are better suited to specific preparations. When selecting a shape, consider the surrounding ingredients, says chef Man-Sing Lee of Hong Kong’s Mott 32. “The Szechuan wonton fold, which has the look of traditional Chinese gold ingots, works well with spicy sauces, while the more casual Hong Kong or Canton style of folding is better matched with the kind of clear fish-and-chicken broth [traditional for wonton soup].”

How to Fold Soup Wontons

Don’t fret over the perfect package; a good seal is more important than the shape.

Step 1: Keep your fillings in a small bowl surrounded by ice to prevent the pork fat from melting while you shape the wontons.

Step 2: Holding a wrapper in the palm of your non-dominant hand, lightly brush the edges with a pastry brush dipped in egg wash.

Step 3: Use a teaspoon or chopsticks to place a tidy, one-teaspoon scoop of filling into the wrapper’s center. Avoid wetting the edges with any fat, which can cause the wonton to rupture during cooking.

Step 4: Using your other hand, bring the four corners of the wonton up to meet, then use the thumb of your non-dominant hand to pinch them closed (the bundle will look flattened on one side, and one edge will be ruffled). Set on a baking sheet lightly dusted with rice flour while you form the rest.

Making Wonton Noodle Soup

Cooking chef Chan Yan Tak’s soup at home requires attention to ­superb stock, bouncy noodles, fresh greens, and delicate wontons. At Lung King Heen, Yan Tak asserts that the soup is best when assembled fresh and served immediately.

The Noodles

Extreme soup purists seek Guangzhou-style jook sing, which are laboriously flattened by being bounced with a bamboo rod. It’s a dying art, so even restaurants like Lung King Heen buy their noodles from a factory. Look for thin, soft noodles marked “alkaline” (with alkaline salt added), like Twin ­Marquis brand, in Asian markets. Cook them until al dente, and serve immediately to ­preserve their texture in the broth.

The Greens

Some recipes call for a final topping of minced ­scallions or leeks, but chef Chan Yan Tak floats seasonal brassicas such as choy sum or gai lan in the broth for his personal flourish. Gai lan, also known as Chinese broccoli, has a fresher green flavor than the Western cultivar too often used as its substitute. Simmer the leaves and trimmed stems until just cooked through before adding one or two to each serving bowl.

The post How to Make the Ultimate Cantonese-Style Wonton Noodle Soup appeared first on Saveur.

To form single-bite wontons, be sure to restrict the filling amount to 1 teaspoon. (This recipe includes a few extra wonton wrappers in case of breakage or dryness.) Keeping the pork well-chilled will help you cut it into the required fine texture for the filling.

Featured in: How to Make the Ultimate Cantonese-Style Wonton Noodle Soup

What You Will Need

• Small Bowl
• Medium Bowl
• Baking Sheet
• Parchment Paper
• Large Pot
• 8 Large Soup Bowls
• Slotted Spoon
• Ladle

The post Cantonese Wonton Noodle Soup appeared first on Saveur.

The most renowned wines in the world often get their namesake from the regions they hail from: think Bordeaux, Chianti, and Champagne. So it’s strange that we haven’t heard of any Shandong. As Bloomberg reports, the Chinese province will soon be home to “Wine City,” a sprawling, 1000-acre theme park of mock chateaux dedicated to the production of Chinese wine and brandy.

Nestled in the resort city of Yantai, Wine City is the brainchild of Changyu, the oldest winery in China, founded in 1892. It’s hardly the first of the company’s forays into European-style castles and wine—Changyu boasts an expansive network of wine-producing estates spanning the country from Xinjiang to Xi’An. But at $870 million, it’s certainly the most ambitious to date.

Kitschy architecture aside, Changyu is leading the pack when it comes to improving the reputation (and quality) of Chinese wine. Enlisting the help of Italian winemaker and Disaronno exporter Augusto Reina, the producer has implemented cross-cultural exchange programs with Italian winemakers to trade tips and practices on every aspect of the process, from the viniculture to the state-of-the-art machinery. For his part, Reina gets equity stake, his own “chateau,” and a bronze statue of himself.

At Wine City, there’s already one completed chateau on the premises, with more buildings under construction and new structures set to break ground in the coming years. Changyu’s website boasts that the winery at Yantai will be the largest single wine and brandy making factory in the world. Though they could be home to a slew of Disney characters, the castles are actually cleverly-disguised tourist attractions that will allow visitors to stroll through production facilities, immerse themselves in interactive wine displays, and of course, taste some of the goods. But the question remains: Will anybody show up?

Theoretically, Wine City could not have come at a more opportune time for China, the country that, according to Reuters, became the world’s largest consumer of red wine in 2013 (white, associated with death and mourning, is not nearly as popular). And it’s not just importing it either: last year, China became the world’s second largest wine grower by area under cultivation, knocking France down to the number two spot. So it would seem like building a massive city overflowing in wine, on the basis of expected tourism, would be a smart investment.

But let’s not forget: China is no stranger to failed investments in grand infrastructure projects. According to Wired, over the last 30 years, China has built hundreds of new cities in an attempt to convert some 250 million rural citizens into urban living—half-baked ventures that have resulted in a gaggle of uncompleted towns like Ordos Kangbashi, a city designed to be a mecca of politics, tourism, and the arts that long stood empty. Even on a smaller scale, the Asian superpower is notorious for erecting theme parks and shopping malls without sufficient demand: take a look at Thames Town, an imitation English town in Shanghai full of empty shops and roads, or the most notorious, the Disney-esque Wonderland, an abandoned theme park north of Beijing that once promised to be Asia’s largest amusement park.

Luckily, there’s some more hard data on the substantial appeal of wine among Chinese consumers and foreigners alike. So while you shouldn’t book your plane tickets just yet, take note: Wine City could combine everything great about wine and Disney World.

h/t Bloomberg

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