On the Noodle Road
Page 12
2 tablespoons food-grade lye (sodium hydroxide), available online, or substitute baking soda
¼ cup vegetable oil
Make the dough: Heap 4 cups flour in the center of a large work surface. Dissolve the salt in the hot water. Make a crater in the center of the flour, then pour in 1 cup of hot water and slowly mix it in with your hands. Add another 1¼ cups hot water, ¼ cup at a time, until the water is fully incorporated. Knead the dough briefly.
Dissolve the lye or baking soda in ¼ cup hot water and set it near your dough. Keep the remaining hot water nearby.
Knead the dough on the floured work surface for 5 to 10 minutes. When it has softened to the consistency of putty, stretch it out about one foot into a long rope and add a few dabs of the lye solution, working it in with your fingers; this will make the dough more flexible. Knead for another 5 to 10 minutes. Cover the dough with a damp cloth or wrap in plastic and set aside for at least 30 minutes.
Form the noodles: Break off a quarter of the dough to work with, leaving the rest under the damp cloth. Knead the dough for 4 to 5 minutes, working in a few drops of hot water at a time to soften the dough. Grasp the dough by each end, then stretch it out in front of you. Roll it on the counter into a long rope an inch or so in diameter and a foot long. Holding each end of the dough in either hand like a jump rope, swing it up and down to loosen the gluten and further lengthen the rope to about 2 feet long. Slap the rope of dough against the counter, stretch it until it’s about 3 feet long, double it over, and twirl it so the strands twist around each other like a cruller. At this point you are stretching and doubling and twirling just to get the dough to the right degree of stretchiness and pliability, not to form separate strands. Dust the dough with flour and repeat the stretching, swinging, and twisting for 5 minutes. Then gather the dough into a ball, rub a clean portion of the counter with vegetable oil, place the dough on it, and cover with plastic wrap while you repeat the process with the remainder of the dough, working with a quarter of the dough at a time. Let the dough rest, covered, for 15 minutes.
Return to the dough and once again swing, twirl, and twist each mound. If the dough isn’t able to stretch to full arms’ length without breaking, dab on more lye solution and work in another sprinkling of hot water. Divide the dough into portions about the size of a tennis ball. Roll them into long ropes and cover with a damp cloth.
Working with one rope at a time, dust it and your work surface liberally with flour. Loop the dough around the index finger of your dominant hand, holding the ends of the rope in your other hand and stretching your hands apart to lengthen the dough. Then drape the resulting double strand over the middle finger of your nondominant hand and stretch out the now-quadrupled strands of dough again (experience with the children’s game of cat’s cradle comes in handy here). Repeat this motion of hanging the multiplying strands of dough over the finger of one hand and stretching with the other, taking care that the noodle strands do not stick together by periodically passing the noodles through the flour on your work surface. When the strands have reached the thinness of angel hair pasta, yank your finger through the looped ends to separate the strands.
Cook in boiling salted water for 3 minutes and serve with the sauce of your choice, or with broth, as in the following recipe.
HAND-PULLED NOODLES IN BEEF SOUP
Serves 6
2 pounds beef rump or round steak
1 pound beef bones
1 thumb-sized knob ginger
3 celery stalks
8 cups water
3 cinnamon sticks
3 to 4 black cardamom seeds
1 teaspoon Sichuan peppercorns
1 teaspoon whole white peppercorns
3 bay leaves
1 recipe La Mian (Chinese Hand-Pulled Noodles), or 1 pound thin variety of dry Chinese noodles or angel hair pasta
1 bunch cilantro, chopped
Chili oil
Shanxi black vinegar
Place the beef, beef bones, ginger, celery stalks, and water in a large, heavy stockpot and bring to a boil. Tie the cinnamon sticks, cardamom seeds, Sichuan peppercorns, white peppercorns, and bay leaves in a cheesecloth sachet and add to the pot. When the soup comes to a boil, reduce the heat to medium and partially cover. Let the broth simmer for 3 hours, skimming the impurities occasionally.
Remove the soup from the heat and strain the broth, then return it to the pot and keep it hot. Reserve the beef and discard all the other solids. Cut the beef into thin, bite-sized slices and set aside.
Fill a large pot with water and bring it to a boil. Add the noodles. Boil the freshly made hand-pulled noodles for 3 minutes. Premade noodles should be boiled according to package directions. Drain the noodles and divide them among 6 soup bowls.
Ladle the hot broth over the noodles, top with the sliced beef and serve immediately, accompanied by cilantro, chili oil, and vinegar.
MIAN PIAN (NOODLE SQUARES WITH SPICY TOMATO SAUCE)
Serves 6
¼ teaspoon salt
4 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups warm water
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 recipe Spicy Tomato Sauce
Combine the salt with the flour in a bowl. Make a well and add the water gradually, following the instructions for mixing, kneading, and rolling out the dough for Chef Zhang’s Hand-Rolled Noodles/Andrea’s Pasta. While the dough is resting, make the Spicy Tomato Sauce.
Bring a wok or large pot of water to a boil.
After you have rolled out the dough and unrolled it into S-shaped layers, cut it into strands 1 inch wide. Dab your fingers with a little vegetable oil. Working with one strand of dough at a time, hold one end between the thumb and index finger of your nondominant hand and drape the other end of the strand over the wrist of that same hand so that the noodle doesn’t dangle too much. Position yourself before the pot of boiling water. With the thumb and forefinger of your dominant hand, rapidly pinch off the strand of dough into 1-inch lengths, using the index finger of your nondominant hand as a cutting edge, and drop them into the boiling water. Once you’ve torn several strands of dough into squares this way, stir, and boil for 3 minutes.
Remove the noodle squares from the boiling water with a slotted spoon and plunge them into a basin of cold water, then quickly drain them in a colander. Continue forming and boiling the rest of the noodle squares in batches this way. When the last batch is boiled, return the previously cooked noodles to the pot to reheat for a minute, then drain and serve immediately, topped with the sauce.
SPICY TOMATO SAUCE
To top 1½ to 2 pounds pasta
¼ cup vegetable oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 red onion, diced
½ pound beef or lamb tenderloin, thinly sliced into 1-inch squares
2 tomatoes, diced
2 cups roughly chopped Napa cabbage
1 cup garlic scapes, chopped into 1-inch pieces (optional)
1 poblano or other mildly spicy green chili pepper, chopped, or substitute a mixture of bell pepper and jalapeño
2 celery stalks, leaves discarded, chopped into ½-inch pieces
¼ cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons ground dried chilies
2 tablespoons sugar
3 ounces tomato paste
¼ cup Shanxi black vinegar
¼ cup chicken stock
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Place a wok over high heat and add the vegetable oil. Add the garlic and onions and stir-fry for about 2 minutes, until they are soft and fragrant. Add the beef squares and stir-fry until lightly browned, about 3 minutes.
Add the tomatoes, cabbage, garlic scapes, chili peppers, and celery and stir-fry for an additional 3 minutes. Add the soy sauce, chili powder, sugar, tomato paste, vinegar, chicken stock, and salt and black pepper to tast
e, stirring between each addition. Reduce the heat and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, adding ½ cup water if the sauce begins to dry out. Remove from the heat and serve with Mian Pian.
CHUCHURA (UIGHUR WONTONS)
Serves 5
FOR THE DOUGH:
5 cups all-purpose flour
1 extra-large egg
Pinch of salt
2 cups water
FOR THE STOCK:
2 quarts water
1 large sheep bone (such as the leg bone, or several ribs), with gristle and fat
2 tomatoes, diced
1 medium onion, diced
1 white turnip, diced
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
FOR THE FILLING:
¾ pound ground mutton or lamb
1 small onion, minced
1 bunch cilantro, stems minced, leaves reserved
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon salt
Make the dough: In a large bowl, combine the flour, egg, and salt. Mix with one hand while you slowly add the water with the other. When the water is fully incorporated, place the dough on a large, floured surface and knead for 3 to 5 minutes, until the dough is soft, pliable, and smooth. Cover with a damp cloth or wrap in plastic and let sit for at least 30 minutes.
Make the stock: Place the water and sheep bone in a large pot and bring to a boil. Skim off the impurities. Add the tomatoes, onions, and turnips. Season with salt and pepper. Return to a boil, reduce the heat, and simmer for 1 hour.
Make the filling: In a bowl, combine the ground mutton or lamb with the onions, cilantro stems, cumin, black pepper, and salt.
Form the dumplings: Working with a quarter of the dough at a time, follow the instructions for rolling out the dough in Chef Zhang’s Hand-Rolled Noodles/Andrea’s Pasta. Unwind the dough in one long sheet and cut it into 2-inch squares. Stack the wrappers in a few separate piles, taking care to dust each wrapper with a little flour before stacking so they don’t stick together.
Place a dumpling wrapper in one palm and place about a teaspoon of filling in the center. Fold the square in half and seal all the edges, forming a rectangle. Fold down the long sealed edge of the dumpling like an envelope flap. Bring the bottom corners of the dumpling together and pinch them closed, forming a ring. Repeat with the rest of the wrappers.
Roll out another quarter of the dough and repeat the process until you run out of dough or filling or both.
After the stock has simmered for at least 1 hour, raise the heat and add the dumplings and any scraps of leftover dough, along with the reserved cilantro leaves. When the soup comes to a boil, cook the dumplings for another 5 minutes, then remove the pot from heat. Divide the dumplings among 5 bowls, add a couple of ladles of soup, and serve immediately.
5.
A sandstorm swept through Kashgar the morning we left, blanketing everything with a fine layer of dirt, including the inside of our hired car. The driver, apparently used to the storms, left his window partially rolled down, turning our throats hoarse and our eyes watery. We drove two hours through dry hills marked by nothing but the occasional wild camel before reaching the border.
The Han guard on the Chinese side was unusually friendly, probably out of boredom. I asked what time it was; he quoted me what the clocks said in Beijing. “We all go by Beijing time. It saves time,” he declared. He examined my Han face, then my American passport, and, confused, asked where I was from. I gave him the pat answer I’d developed over many years: Yes, my ancestors were from China and my parents from Taiwan, but I was born and raised in America. After my complicated explanation, the inquirer would usually conclude, “So you’re Chinese.” This one nodded in admiration, as if being born in America was a hard-earned achievement.
“It’s a long crossing, isn’t it?” he added. “We have to make it this wide because otherwise the shepherds might lead their sheep into the other country!” The stamp came down on my passport with a loud thunk. I was finally out of China, the country where I’d lived for a decade. It was a strange feeling, even though China hadn’t felt “Chinese” for the last thousand miles.
We switched to a new car and a Kyrgyz driver and went on for a couple more hours before we reached the border post for Kyrgyzstan. It was only after more bureaucratic stamping and crossing over a high pass that we officially entered Central Asia. Rain, rather than dirt, now fell from the sky. Men rode horses across pastures dotted with the occasional wooden cottage. The land became green and mountainous—scenery that was different from most of the Silk Road and, as it happened, the kind of terrain my husband loved.
In the early evening, we reached Tash Rabat, a caravanserai, or a camel way station where travelers once hitched their animals, ate, and slept. Hundreds of caravanserai dotted the Silk Road, though this one, more than a thousand years old, was particularly beautiful: the domed stone building sat in an emerald green valley. A caretaker unlocked the gate, and, with a flashlight illuminating the way, we wandered around the well-maintained cavernous building, in which I envisioned traders and explorers sitting down for a communal meal in one of its long halls. Marco Polo had wandered through this very area, in fact, and dined on prairie dogs, animals that still darted through the grasslands.
We’d sleep in cozier quarters nearby, in a camp of yurts, the round, tentlike dwellings of Asian nomads. We shivered as we entered through a heavy straw curtain; it had gotten so cold that I’d donned two fleeces and a raincoat. Inside, we found a stove, a pile of duvets, and a floor of felt carpets with swirling patterns of red, brown, and purple. An entire family usually occupied a single yurt, which they could take apart and reassemble in just a couple of hours. But nowadays, few Kyrgyz lived in yurts, because most were no longer nomads. Even the yurt camp owner, Borul, didn’t live in a tent. “They’re just for tourists,” she said with a laugh. She pointed to her dwelling, a blue trailer made of scrap metal. She and her husband spent their summers in the “wagon,” as they called it, and their winters in a wooden house in a nearby village.
Borul looked older than her mid-forties, her face leathery and dark from the high-altitude sun. But she dressed younger than her years, in a flowery purple skirt over black tights and a yellow fleece emblazoned with the logo for Dolce & Gabbana. Flashing a smile that revealed a set of gold teeth, she invited me into the trailer where she was making dinner.
In the simple kitchen, two pots simmered on a gas stove. Borul invited me to sit on a loveseat before a coffee table littered with an odd assortment: a jar of Nescafé, a plate of Russian candies, clotted sheep’s cream in a tin, and, disconcertingly, a raw lamb’s leg. Like many of the homes I’d come across, this one didn’t have a refrigerator.
I asked Borul if I could help with dinner, and with a shrug and an easy laugh, she handed me a potato to peel. We were her only guests for the night, the last ones having departed the week before.
“Windy,” said Borul, looking at the gray skies through the thin windows, steamy from the cooking. Yesterday it had been sunny.
“What about tomorrow?” I asked. She shrugged. Without television, phones, or the Internet, she never knew.
She scooted me out of the trailer and into a yurt that doubled as a dining room. Craig and I sat across from each other at a long table, under a generator-fueled lightbulb that flickered like a candle. Borul set down a round of nang, softer and denser than the ones in Xinjiang, and the tin of clotted sheep’s cream called kaymak. It tasted gamy until I added a layer of homemade apricot preserves. Washing the appetizer down with black tea, I was reminded of a European tradition: tea and scones. Borul also brought out coleslaw and a vegetarian borscht, enlivened with freshly chopped dill, the herb’s first appearance on my journey. The lamb’s leg, thankfully perhaps, never appeared.
Our stomachs pleasantly full, we retired to our yurt. Bo
rul’s husband lit the stove, fueled with kerosene and dried rounds of odorless dung. The room was cold at first, but as the stove got cranking and we piled on the padded blankets, that yurt—in the isolated mountains of a country barely known to the world—became the coziest of our accommodations so far. We woke after ten hours of peaceful slumber to find warm blini in the dining yurt. These crepes were thinner than the ones in Kashgar, and folded into quarters and smothered with the same clotted cream and apricot preserves from the night before. Central Asian dining was getting off to an unexpectedly fortuitous start.
• • •
Kyrgyzstan’s tourist traffic had slowed to a trickle ever since a revolution had swept through a few months before. We’d heard about the turmoil while we were still in Cambridge, just as I’d decided to journey the Silk Road. It was the lead item on the evening news: images of protesters running from the military flashed on our television to the sound of gunfire. My husband raised an eyebrow. Did I still think I would be safe on my own? he asked. I considered other routes, but since my travels began, the revolution had died down and the country had installed a new transitional government.
Still, the instability was one more reason Craig had joined me before I reached Central Asia. We abandoned a plan to travel through southern Kyrgyzstan, because even as the rest of the country regained calm, riots had broken out there between ethnic Kyrgyz and the Uzbek minority, resulting in dozens of deaths. Instead, we stuck to the north, a mountainous, peaceful area. I even decided to set aside my culinary mission for a week to go trekking with Craig, something I wanted to do for him since he was accompanying me on the Silk Road for long stretches.
We drove to a small town called Karakol near a beautiful lake of the same name. At a trekking agency, we decided on a route and paid for the necessary support. For seven hundred and fifty dollars, a guide, a cook, and two porters would accompany us. Food and gear were included. Craig and I usually preferred to hike independently, but Kyrgyz trails weren’t marked and a large crew was the standard offering at the agencies, many of which were nonprofits aimed at employing youth in the poor region.