MITCH IN THE KITCHEN

zha jiang mian (noodles with pork sauce)

I’ve been having about one wedding-related nightmare each week. In the most recent one, I was at a Chinese restaurant ordering lunch with my friend Jeanice. After mulling over my options, I decided to get a basket of xiao long bao (soup dumplings). When the gruff, middle-aged manager-cum-waiter came to take our order, I asked him if he also had zha jiang mian (炸酱面). As he walked back to the kitchen to check, Jeanice asked me if my flowers were ready. I dashed out of the restaurant to arrange for flower arrangements, two days before the big day, leaving the possibility of zha jiang mian for lunch behind.

A few days later, I decided this was inspiration enough to make zha jiang mian, possibly the only Chinese dish I’ve come anywhere close to “mastering” (yes, it’s that easy). You can also find versions of zha jiang mian at Korean restaurants (jajangmyeon) and Japanese restaurants. The noodles should be wheat noodles (made from wheat flour), and the sauce should be pretty salty thanks to all the fermented bean products that go into it. Zha jiang mian is usually served with crunchy vegetables on top, typically bean sprouts, cucumbers, and shredded carrots. I like to cook diced carrots in the sauce (what my mom does) and top it with matchstick-sized strips of cucumbers and blanched bean sprouts. It’s a nice contrast of hot and cold, salty and cucumber-y, and soft and crunchy.

vegetable oil
1/2 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 medium carrot, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 pound ground pork
1 teaspoon corn starch
1 tablespoon light soy sauce
3 ounces pressed five-spice tofu (looks like this)
1 tablespoon broad bean paste
1 tablespoon hot broad bean paste (or substitute with more regular broad bean paste)
1 tablespoon sweet bean sauce (or hoisin sauce)
3/4 cup water
sesame oil

thick wheat noodles, cooked according to package directions

Heat vegetable oil in a large pan or wok over medium heat. Add onion and carrot. Cook until onion is translucent.

Combine pork with corn starch, garlic, and soy sauce. Add to pan and cook until pork is browned. Add tofu, bean paste, and bean sauce. Toss to coat everything evenly. Add water and bring sauce to a simmer. Turn heat to low and continue to simmer until sauce has thickened. Add a tiny bit of sesame oil at the end. Serve over noodles with blanched bean sprouts and julienne cucumbers.

the leftover files: bo ssäm sandwich

You’ve probably (definitely, if you’re one of my NYC buddies) heard of Momofuku Ssäm Bar’s bo ssäm, an entire slow-roasted Boston pork butt (note that this cut of meat has nothing to do with a pig’s ass) served with oysters, rice, lettuce, and a quartet of condiments. While it’s enough meat to feed 10 hungry people, only 5 hungover ladies were there to enjoy this glorious spread for lunch this past weekend (see previous post that mentions a bachelorette party). Sunday afternoon, by the way, is a great time to visit the Ssäm Bar; it’s bright and un-crowded inside, the pace of everything is more laid back than it is during later hours of the day, and David Chang himself was there shucking our oysters. Everyone in the kitchen seemed very quiet and focused on their work, a scene that I found strangely peaceful.

After 90 minutes of additional small plates, eating, and pants-loosening, we were spent. Guess who ended up lugging home a 5 pound doggie bag? Ms. Bachelorette, her bridesmaid Jackie, John and I ate half of the pork wrapped in lettuce, the way we did at the restaurant. We all mmmed and agreed that it keeps well and makes for great leftovers. The next day, I piled some of the heated, shredded pork on top of a roll and slathered on some of the sauces that came with our meal (kimchi and kimchi puree, ssamjang, and some scallion oil) to make a Korean-ish pulled pork sandwich. I topped it off with something light and crunchy: cucumbers lightly marinated in rice vinegar, sugar, salt, and a tiny bit of sesame oil. What next, Asian burritos?

Also, if you’re feeling ambitious and don’t mind having your oven on for 8 hours, you can make your own bo ssäm at home. Just call me if you have some leftovers.