Reader Sally supplied me with the basis of this recipe, which I ultimately decided to change in favor of a sweeter hoisin sauce barbecue style. Thanks, Sally!
3 tablespoons hoisin sauce
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon sesame oil
12 ounces pork, in strips
2 teaspoons flour
2 teaspoons cornstarch
2 ounces (1/4 cup) water
2 tablespoons lard or peanut oil
2 scallions, chopped fine
2 tablespoons finely chopped garlic
I’ve received a little flak this past week from readers who didn’t think my red chocolate myth busting post from last Tuesday was rigorous enough. “No Dutched chocolate!” “You didn’t heat it!”
So OK then. Here goes. First we have a slurry of un-Dutched Ghiradelli cocoa powder and water. Left to right, with a teaspoon of tartaric acid, a teaspoon of baking soda and a combination of both (but only half a teaspoon of each because I didn’t want it exploding all over the place like last time).
READ ONReader Wale brings up an interesting question: what’s the difference between an extract and an emulsion? If you’re unfamiliar with “emulsions” they’re thick gel-like versions of extracts, rarely seen in retail shops but fairly common in professional bakeries.
The main difference between the two is that the flavor compounds in an extract are suspended in an alcohol solution (about 35%), whereas in an emulsion they’re suspended in a mixture of water and vegetable gum. Both deliver the same amount of flavor, at least initially. Baked goods made with emulsions retain more of that flavor after baking.
READ ONThis formula is somewhat different from the traditional baozi dough recipes I’ve seen. It uses a machine for one, because I’m lazy. Next, it employs instant yeast instead of regular active dry, which eliminates a step. It also incorporates the baking powder early. The reason, because modern baking powders can sit in a wet medium and still react when heated hours or even days later. Though it’s not strictly traditional, it works splendidly.
1 lb. (3 cups) all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast
1 ounce (2 tablespoons) sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
8 ounces (1 cup) water
1 ounce (2 tablespoons) canola or peanut oil
Chinese steamed buns! They’ve gotten a fair amount of attention in recent years, particularly in my old home town of Chicago where the Wow Boa chain has all but taken over the city. They’re fluffy, delicious, addictive and I think it’s high time I made some at home.
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There’s only one absolutely critical thing you need to remember when making red velvet cake: wear an old shirt. Other than that it’s much like making a basic yellow butter cake. The odd alchemical steps you find in many traditional recipes really aren’t necessary. Plenty of food coloring and a little cocoa is the extent of the juju.
Which is not to say that red velvet cake is indiscernible from yellow cake in the mouth. The quarter cup of cocoa does create a distinctive taste and texture, and the food coloring itself brings a few unique hints of flavor to the party. Begin by preheating your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, assembling your ingredients and preparing two 9″ cake layer pans. Combine the dry ingredients in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a paddle (beater). Stir it all on low for about 30 seconds.
READ ONI experienced a (minor) flood of interest in my offhand reference to “ketchup pistachio cake” in the post just below. Are you pulling our legs, Joe? Actually no, though I’ve never actually seen a recipe for it, just a picture in a book called The Gallery of Regrettable Food by James Lileks. It looks to me like a combination of Heinz ketchup cake (oh yes, that still exists and it looks eerily like this week’s project, no?) and a green-tinted pistachio frosting (almost certainly something like this right here, made with instant pudding mix and Cool Whip). Ye who may be interested, knock yourselves out. I’ll look the other way.
READ ONIt’s under such headings that recipes for red velvet cake have been spread for decades. You’ve come across similar stories I think. A customer sits down at an expensive restaurant or in a famous hotel dining room. He/she likes the (INSERT FOOD ITEM) so much that he/she asks for the recipe. The waiter is happy to oblige. He returns moments later with the recipe, hand written by chef. Then the shock comes: the bill. On it is a “recipe surcharge” for (INSERT LARGE AMOUNT OF MONEY). Incensed, particularly because the recipe’s secret turns out to be nothing more than (INSERT SIMPLE TRICK), the customer pays the exorbitant bill, vowing to shout the secret to the four winds and punish (INSERT ESTABLISHMENT) forever. And here is the super-secret recipe!
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Seven minute frosting’s main virtue is that it’s fast to make and gives you, for ten minutes of effort, a silky and luxurious frosting that’s light and fluffy and sweet rather than rich (for those who can’t deal with the heaviness of a buttercream). You whip it up while your guests are finishing their meal, throw your cake together and serve it. Sure it’ll hold for longer than that, but not terribly much longer. The frosting begins to firm and crystallize as soon as it cools. It gets slightly gummy after an hour, has a crust on it after two hours, and is often hard as baked meringue a day later. So it’s an ephemeral treat, but well worth doing for a truly homespun layer cake experience.
READ ONUnknown. However it seems that it’s been around in one form or another since the about the 1930’s. In those days it was something of a regional specialty, being closely tied to the State of Texas, especially the City of Austin and most especially the Adams Extract Company. Adams manufactured food colorings, and one of the company’s favorite promotion techniques was to give away copies of recipes that used colors — lots and lots of colors. They spread around quite a few copies of their red velvet cake over time.
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