“I want to take Jerusalem food outside,” I’d said excitedly to Mike and Otto (boyfriend and cat, respectively) about ten days ago when we finally got our first glimpse of spring in Vermont.
This simple idea hit me like sudden blinding ray of light. I would start on the front porch and then, like the movable gnomes in the movie Amélie, I would take the food of Jerusalem on the road to various picnic spots around the state, or at least around town, to show you my environs. It would get me out of the house—it’s been a LONG winter—and challenge my photography skills.
THE BREATH OF A WOK
Unlocking the Spirit of Chinese Wok Cooking Through Recipes and Lore by Grace Young and Alan Richardson
Simon & Schuster 240 pp. $35.00
One wok runs to the sky’s edge
—Traditional saying
These are the first words you will come to in the book The Breath of a Wokby Grace Young. I like this saying, though I’m not sure what it means. I do know, however, that the word one seems important to understanding its meaning. Not in the sense that there is one wok in particular that has the ability to run to the sky’s edge (as in the Tolkien saying “one ring to rule them all”), but that all that is needed to do the job is one wok. In a wok, just one wok, you can do it all: stir-fry, pan-fry, deep-fry, steam, poach, boil, braise, smoke . . . run to the sky’s edge.
An appreciation for the amazing versatility of the wok is one of several
Above (from top left, clockwise): Judy, with her Teflon-coated wok (Judy ordered a flat-bottomed, carbon-steel wok, but was unhappy with the construction and returned it); Melanie, with her beautifully seasoned carbon-steel wok (she’s had it for years); Bhakti, with her 2-month-old carbon-steel wok (that looks as if she’s had it for years); Me, with my 2-month-old-plus wok, looking not nearly as nice as Bhakti’s; Marianne with her skilletful of Spicy Garlic Eggplant—notice the handmade label (she does not own a wok); Judy, again.
Most recipes in The Breath of a Wok are intended to be stir-fried rapidly over furiously hot heat and dispatched to diners will equal speed. If a finished stir-fry loiters on a kitchen counter even for a few moments, eaters may miss their chance of experiencing its wok hay. Make a dish ahead and reheat—the common MO of potlucks—and you can forget about wok hay or enjoying those just tender but still perky snow peas.
How then to host a potluck of recipes from The Breath of a Wok, or for that matter any
One day, wanting to make use of some tofu and scallions in the fridge, I came up with this very simple stir-fry. Having just spent several weeks cooking from Grace Young’s cookbook The Breath of a Wok, I felt emboldened to improvise with what I had on hand.
Once you do some wok time with the recipes in The Breath of a Wok you begin to get into a wok rhythm, and to gain a
When I came across this Chinatown scene with Lightning Louie (Vic Perry) and Candy (Jean Peters) in the film noir thriller Pickup on South Street (1953), I felt the giddy excitement of an explorer who has come across a hidden treasure by dumb luck. That was more than a year ago.
Since picking up The Breath of a Wokby Grace Young, the current DCCC pick, I’ve been thinking about the scene again. How impressive (and extensively employed) Lightning Louie’s chopstick wielding skills are. How at home he is in his adopted milieu. And how focused on eating he is. Lightning Louie is not about to miss out wok hay to just to do business with Candy. For these reasons, Lightning Louie is my culinary hero.
If you’ve got some rice, some water, and a saucepan you can cook rice. There’s no need for measuring cups and no need to measure the rice or water. All you need is your index finger.
I learned this freewheeling finger-in-the-pot method from Grace Young’s cookbook The Breath of a Wok, the current DCCC pick. To be honest, I’d come across the method previously in other Asian cookbooks, but it’s only now, after building my kitchen skills to their current level (due in part to this cookbook club) and with Young’s well-written and assuring book at my side, that I felt confident enough to leave my measuring cups in the cupboard. Once I took the leap of faith and made my first pot of rice this way, I felt liberated.
Perhaps you’ve noticed. The last couple of postings haven’t included food photography. I’m faced with a dilemma: either photograph the stir-fries, and forgo experiencing their momentary wok hay; or
Up until recently, I was using a cleaver all wrong. Not for chopping, but when attempting to cut through something hard and dense.
As though splitting firewood, I would hold the cleaver with both hands out in front of me and, with legs slightly spread for stability, whale down on my intended target, such as the middle of a large butternut squash.
My feeble attempts were seldom effective (about as effective as my wood splitting efforts), and what was worse is that the cleaver would usually get stuck in the squash. At those moments I would solicit the aid of the man of the house who could finish the job, sometimes with half a squash flying off the counter.
There had to be a better way, a less perilous way, but I had no idea what it could be. The way, it turns out, lies in
Today Chinese people all over the world are enjoying the Lantern Festival, which marks the last day of the Chinese New Year season. The traditional food for the festival is Yuanxiao dumplings, made with sticky rice flour.
Instead of dumplings, I made a rice noodle dish found in the cookbook The Breath of a Wok by Grace Young. In an email, Grace had suggested it to me as a very auspicious New Year’s recipe to try. “The noodles symbolize
THE BREATH OF A WOK
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