global cuisine – ¡Comemos!

Around the World in 80 Plates: Bao

26th Sep 2020Leave a comment

In recent years, the light and fluffy Chinese delicacy that is the baozi, or bao, has found its way into restaurants and kitchens across the globe. Their being steamed, combined with the yeast within the dough, makes for a soft and delicately spongey texture, quite unlike any other kind of baked bread or steamed dumpling.

Our lexical disclaimer for today is here to inform you that ‘bao’ in itself translates as ‘bun’ in Mandarin, and so the commonly-used Western phrase ‘bao bun’ is grammatically redundant, literally meaning ‘bun bun’, in the same way that in Hindi, ‘Chai tea’, actually means ‘tea tea’.

Generally baozi are a filled ‘bun’, with the dough gathered together on top, sometimes leaving a small hole for steam to escape, and complete with either a meat or vegetable filling. One of the most popular is the Char Siu Bao, filled with sticky barbecued pork. Other variants include the xiaolongbao, with xiaolong referring to the bamboo steaming basket in which they are cooked and served., This bao is filled with a hot soup, and is sometimes referred to as a dumpling. The final type of bao that I’ll touch on is the gua bao, which comprises of a flat, open steamed lotus-leaf bun, with a meat (often pork belly) filling.

As ever with Chinese food, it’s very difficult to generalise, as regional cuisines across what is such a huge country vary so significantly. Whether we’re talking baozi, xiaolongbao or gua bao, these may be more prevalent in certain provinces, or be made differently in others, and so defining such a specific part of incredibly complex and diverse cuisine is pretty tricky to do in a few hundred words!

…….

Career changes, and COVID combined meant that my dreams of heading to China this year were scuppered, and so I’ve never tried these dreamy little buns in their homeland. Living in London does mean however, that there are a million one street food stalls, Chinatown restaurants, and chains that serve up these little beauties, although of course I’m unable to comment on their authenticity.

Interestingly, many of the places in which I tried bao/baozi weren’t actually Chinese-influenced, and include Malay, Vietnamese and Japanese-inspired food businesses to name a few. The very first time I tried baozi was years ago at a little independent restaurant back in Nottingham, called Yumacha, which describes itself as serving up ‘an eclectic mix of the Far East’s favourite dishes’. These kind of ‘Asian fusion’ restaurants seem to be on the rise, combining Chinese, Japanese, Thai and Indonesian cuisine plus a whole lot more. I had no idea what I was eating at the time, with the concept of a steamed bun seeming completely alien to me – I have to say this was many years before my foodie instinct really kicked in, and my knowledge of the food I was eating was minimal. Despite this, I loved the unfamiliar, cloud-like texture of the buns, along with their punchy flavoured meat fillings.

Fast-forward a good 5+ years, and I’ve tried a fair few variations. Popular Vietnamese Keu Deli in London serves up a giant baozi, which definitely wins points for the lightest, most satisfying bao texture. BaoziInn in Chinatown is a solid bet for quality baozi, which were slightly flatter in my experience, and fillings include the pork-patty-like stuffing that I tried.

Admittedly, I’ve yet to try xiaolongbao, possibly because I’ve distanced them from the baozi that I love, as they do tend to resemble dumplings, and the hot broth filling has never appealed to me as much as a juicy meaty filling.

Gua bao , however, might be my favourite, based on those that I’ve tried. They have the most wonderfully smooth texture, and oddly, more filling seems to be packed into these open bao than stuffed within the closed, larger baozi.

My favourites so far were from Thai-Malaysian street food stall Satay Street ,where I was lucky enough to win a competition for two free portions. I tried a curried chicken bao and a satay chicken bao, both of which were great, with the satay flavour being particularly delicious.

I have to admit that the first gua bao I ever tried was actually from Wagamama – I think they’d just added it to the menu, as they were giving away samples outside with a pulled beef style filling, and it was pretty good. There’s only been one occasion where I’ve not been able to finish a gua bao, and I won’t name the business, but it was the filling rather than the bun that I couldn’t stomach – I can only hope you never stumble across it yourselves!

DIY BAO

Baking your own bao at home seems like such a daunting exercise, and I have had varying degrees of success. The first time I tried it was a BBC GoodFood recipe, with a pork belly filling, and whilst the filling with sticky and sweet, as you can see, my buns failed entirely, ending up flat as pancake, stodgy and generally quite grim. Whether this was the recipe, my techniques, or dodgy ingredients I couldn’t tell you, but it didn’t bode well for future attempts.

That’s why I was so surprised when I tried Queen Nadiya’s recipe for spicy tuna bao, and they turned out excellently. From her ‘Time to Eat’ cookbook, this is a recipe I would 100% recommend – there’s definitely a little effort required, but with such impressive results, it’s worth it. The buns are super filling but the tuna itself is light, fresh-tasting, and umami, and when a recipe like this goes to plan, there’s a real sense of achievement waiting for you on the other side.

I’m sure there are a huge number of people who still have never tried any form of bao, and if you’re one of them I really urge you to do so. I can’t think of a single other food that compares in texture to these perfect little buns, and with fillings being so varied, there’s bound to be something to suit all tastes.

¡Comemos!

Around the World in 80 Plates: Pecan Pie

15th Aug 2020Leave a comment

So far on our global culinary journey, I’ve covered some of the world’s greatest (and lesser-known) savoury dishes, but it’s time for a change. With its sticky, nutty, booze-fuelled filling, Pecan Pie is surely one of America’s greatest desserts, and it’s about time I dived into some sweeter culinary classics.

As is often the case with ‘traditional’ dishes, tracing their origins is pretty tough, but with pecans native to the southern states, pecan desserts such as this one are most commonly associated with the south. New Orleans is a particular hub for the famous pie, with some believing that it was invented by the French, shortly after they settled in the city.

Nowadays, in the US, corn syrup is the most common ingredient used to get the deliciously sweet and sticky flavour and texture, however, prior to the invention of corn syrup, and in Pecan Pie recipes not of direct US origin, molasses, treacle, syrups and maple syrup are all used as alternatives.

Closely linked to Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations, there are a number of variations of Pecan Pie, the most common being with the addition of Bourbon whiskey – another product which is also symbolic of the deep south. Occasionally, chocolate or chocolate chips are added to the pie, although this seems to be less ‘traditional’.

My first couple of experiences of Pecan Pie were both in London, the first being at Christopher’s, an American-influenced restaurant in Covent Garden, and the second, a new menu item created by Claire at my favourite street food stall, A Pie Party. The Christopher’s pie slice was delicious – warmed through and served with ice cream, and was slightly more cakey (and without a traditional crust) than Claire’s version, which is definitely more conventional. I was apprehensive when I first bought a slice from A Pie Party, as unlike the Christopher’s version, this one was flavoured with Bourbon, and I’ve never been great with boozy flavours in desserts. Unsurprisingly, I had nothing to worry about, as Claire had got the balance spot on – a definite punch of whiskey flavours without it overpowering the whole dessert. The pecans were definitely more the star of the show in this second version, with no cakey filling – simply a classic pastry filled with a sticky, non-dense pecan mixture. Both were very different, but equally as delicious.

Having had New Orleans on my mind for the last couple of years, I was lucky enough to spend a few days there earlier this year, precariously close to when all travel was put on hold due to Covid-19. Of all the places in the world to try this dessert, I was going to land in the epicentre of Pecan Pie greatness. It was tough trying to narrow down exactly where I would indulge in a slice of the classic pie, with it generally being a staple on most menus, but after conducting a little of my own research, casual dining restaurant Mulate’s seemed like a good shout.

It felt like the most American place I’d ever step foot in – the kind of setting you’d see the Teen Mom cast being filmed in, talking over their latest dramas. It’s a weirdly large place, with endless tables and super high ceilings, and your typical uniform all-smiles service. And to be quite honest, it’s got a pretty down-market feel. However… this is precisely the reason you don’t judge a book by its cover (not that there’s actually anything wrong with the interior), because the Pecan Pie… oh that Pecan Pie. A sensation. I definitely made the right shout having it warmed with a dollop of ice cream – as the ice cream melted into the gooey, sticky filling, it was honestly heaven on a plate. Of all the Pecan Pie slices mentioned in this post, this one definitely takes the top spot.

So when I touched down back in the UK, I felt inspired by the tastes of NOLA, and had bought many sticky pecan related goodies to cook with. I actually already had the Jamie’s America (Jamie Oliver) cookbook and there’s a whole section in there on New Orleans, including a Pecan Pie recipe.

Looking at the results, the pastry case definitely shouldn’t go up as high as this did but this was due to the pie tin that I used combined with significant excess pastry based on the recipe quantities. I’d say overall it’s a decent recipe. The filling tasted good, full of sticky pecans without an overwhelming Bourbon flavour, however, the pastry on the other hand was slightly underwhelming. It didn’t have the lovely crisp, buttery texture that I was hoping for, but how much of that was down to my cooking (and shit, overpowering oven) I can’t say.

Pecan Pie is a dessert that really does deserve to go global. That sticky, nuttiness with a hit of Bourbon to the back of the throat is certainly a more adult taste, but because of that, if you’ve ever thought you didn’t like it, I’d recommend going to back it a few years down the line (our tastes really do change over time…).

It can be a bit pricey to recreate at home, but if you still want your fix without all the effort, there are so many restaurants and bakeries out there that can sort you right out. If you can’t quite justify crossing the Atlantic for it, definitely visit Claire at A Pie Party, or Christopher’s in Covent Garden for two solid New Orleanian efforts.

¡Comemos!

Around the world in 80 plates: Man’ousheh

12th Jul 2020Leave a comment

It’s been a while since our last virtual food adventure, but I’m back at it, and this time we’re heading to Lebanon, for a baked breakfast treat that’ll make you question why eating flatbreads for breakfast isn’t the norm here…

I have tried desperately hard throughout this piece to use the singular form of today’s featured dish as the plural version completely changes the word and I can’t bear to incompetently destroy the language… so without further ado, welcome the Man’ousheh.

Origins…

Similar to what we learnt from the Hungarian Lángos, the Man’ousheh (there are also spelling variations) traditionally came from the haul of bread that women would bake in the mornings to feed their families. Smaller portions of dough would go towards making the Man’ousheh for breakfast.

Bread historically has played such a huge part in many cuisines across the globe, being a staple way to feed a family, and one that has unique features in various countries. Compare the fried or baked Lángos commonly topped with sour cream and cheese with the thinner Man’ousheh, heavily spiced with za’atar, sesame seeds and minced lamb to name a few common toppings. You could go from a Turkish stuffed gozlëme flatbread to Spanish pan con tomate, but regardless of where you are, variations of bread-based dishes have been feeding us for centuries.

Terminology…

As I begin to think more deeply about cultural appropriation and the exoticisation of food, I’d like to add a disclaimer here about the use of the word ‘flatbread’. There’s sometimes debate when it comes to equating one country’s produce to that of another nation, for example, lots of articles talk of the Man’ousheh as the Lebanese ‘pizza’. A man’ousheh really isn’t a non-Italian pizza, and actually, only an Italian pizza is an Italian pizza… Therefore trying to equate the two risks ignorance. I’ve also seen some posts questioning the depiction of the Man’ousheh as a flatbread. At the end of the day, a Man’ousheh is simply a Man’ousheh, however, when language and cultural barriers prevent us from understanding what that actually consists of, it can be useful to make comparisons.

The difference between referring to it as a flatbread and as a pizza, is that flatbread is a much more generic term that doesn’t refer to one specific dish from a specific culture, and instead types of flatbread can be found globally. On the other hand, the term ‘pizza’ has more limitations, and almost suggests the idea that the Man’ousheh is trying to live up to a European classic, but hasn’t quite hit the mark.

It’s these kinds of connotations that we should be aware of when comparing food from different backgrounds – let’s eliminate the unquestioned assumption that everything we’re not familiar with is a variation of something we already know. Instead, we should appreciate that there’s a wealth of food out there that goes beyond our personal experience.

With our less-than-inspiring culinary reputation here in the UK, we, more than anyone, should be aware that actually there’s very little we did invent on the food front, and so much that we’ve adopted here stems from the influence of other cultures. The terminology we use should respect and appreciate the food we’re discussing, only using generic comparisons when essential for explanatory purposes.

From Lebanon to London

Lengthy disclaimer aside, nowadays the Man’ousheh can be found in bakeries across the Levant, and has even branched out further afield, gaining attention in the US and here in London. The Lebanese Bakery is one of the best places in the city to try a Man’ousheh, and it actually has stores in Beirut too, which should tell you exactly how legit it is. Their menu’s full of Middle Eastern flavours and toppings, including halloumi, pine nuts, pomegranate molasses and various yoghurts. They even do sweet versions topped with Nutella, tahini and honey.

As well as a basic flatbread with hummus, I ordered their all-day breakfast Man’ousheh with baked eggs and awarma (lamb confit). It looked beautiful, with its plaited crust and dazzling egg yolks, and for £6.95, they’re very reasonably priced.

Home cooking

Moving from the experts to my home kitchen, things aren’t as pretty. I love my Lonely Planet Street Food cookbook for its array of recipes for much-loved snacks and on-the-go dishes across the world, so I thought I’d give baking a Man’ousheh a go myself.

As you can see, definitely not as attractive as those made by the professionals, which is to be expected, but it was ok. The dough definitely wasn’t as light and fluffy, and instead was much thinner with more of a crunch to it, however, it was edible, and sometimes that’s all I’m asking for. I avoided the temptation to shovel as much meat and cheese on top as I could manage, and instead opted for a lighter za’atar, sesame seed and date topping.

If you’re inspired to have a go at home, although the Lonely Planet recipe worked, I’m 100% sure there are much better recipes out there, so it’s really not tricky at all, but just give it a Google and take your pick.

Failing that, trying a Man’ousheh at The Lebanese Bakery is highly recommended for a substantial shared snack or a solid lunch (or very solid breakfast…).

I have no idea where I’m going next time so off I go to get planning for the next edition of Around the World in 80 Plates!

¡Comemos!

Around the World in 80 Plates: Lángos

4th Apr 20204th Apr 2020Leave a comment

Deep fried dough. No one can explain why something that sounds so basic and actually quite gross is in reality so delicious. It still baffles me that there are so many different ways of making deep fried dough into snacks and meals, each one of them bringing something completely different to the table, literally.

My travels are this week taking us to the home of the Lángos – a deep fried dough featuring as many customisable toppings as you’d like. And where does this delicacy hail from?

Hungary.

If you’ve read my post on my trip to Budapest last November, you may already have known that.

Don’t be too tempted to jump on the idea that this is like a Hungarian pizza. There are many differences. Obviously here the dough is fried, and that’s key, but sometimes mashed potato is added for a fluffy, slightly creamy texture. Secondly, the main topping tends to be sour cream – not a tomato sauce in sight. And last to mention, is unfortunately, the (optional) cheese topping on a Lángos doesn’t tend to be melted, but don’t let that put you off, this actually allows you to get a lot more flavour from the cheese, even if the texture isn’t quite as mouth-wateringly gooey.

Despite not being as large as a typical medium-sized pizza, as it’s deep-fried, it can be pretty heavy, so don’t underestimate just how filling they are, even if the toppings are minimal.

The Lángos is often described as a street food – in fact, once again, it was in my Lonely Planet Street Food guide that I first came across it. Having said that, one of the main qualities of street food tends to be that it’s super easy to eat on the go. As a pretty stodgy flatbread, the Lángos doesn’t really fulfil this brief, and so whilst it’s cheap and easy to quickly whip up outside the confines of a restaurant, you’re probably going to want to take a seat to eat it.

Back when bread was regularly baked in every household, the Lángos dough would be excess leftover from bread-making, and would be baked in the same way, however seeing as such daily home baking is no longer practised, the dough now ends up being deep-fried instead. Back when it was baked in the bread oven, it was placed right at the front, close to the flame, which is where the delicacy gets its name, with láng being the Hungarian word for flame.

Moving on to my own experiences of the dish. I first tried it at the Central Market in Budapest last year. The upstairs section of the huge market hall has an area dedicated to food, which is comparatively small in size, meaning that queues of people are packed in to one small space, all eagerly awaiting their delicious lunch meal. Whilst my friends opted for slightly more nutritious salad and veg-topped versions, I of course went for the meatiest feast I could find. Sour cream, grated cheese, onion, chicken, pepperoni and ham struggled to contain themselves on top of the dough base as we hunted for somewhere to perch. This is by no means a light snack; be prepared to feel a little heavy afterwards, but it’s worth it. To be honest, Lángos aren’t the most flavoursome meals – other than the flavour from the toppings, there’s little seasoning or added ingredients, other than perhaps a garlicky rub on the base, but the appeal here is definitely more due to tradition and doughy, fried indulgence.

Having said that, when I attempted my own version at home, I have to admit that it was even better than the one I tried in Budapest. After frying, along with the standard sour cream and cheese base, I topped the dough with shredded chicken, pancetta, rocket and onion. Whilst the onion on my Lángos in Budapest was raw, I decided to cook it this time, just to avoid the pungency that raw onion can have. The seasoned toppings were really tasty, and the addition of mashed potato to the dough made it super soft, whilst still maintaining the slightly crispy exterior.

I would definitely make Lángos again at home. They’re really simple, although I would fry the dough for slightly longer next time, just for extra crispiness, as my fear of overcooking it this time made it a little too squidgy in the centre.

And that’s dish number 2 in the series complete. We’ve gone from a healthy, plant-based tomatoey pasta lentil dish last time round, to a deep fried fully- loaded doughy delight, so you can be sure that there are no rules when it comes to deciding which dishes to showcase next.

There are loads of recipes for Lángos online, so with so much time at home at the minute, why not try your own hand at one of Hungary’s signature dishes for an indulgent weekend treat.

¡Comemos!