This is the first of two posts about learning how to cook Chinese food. Come back Wednesday to read about when I tried it at home.
If I’m honest with myself, my love for Chinese food is at least part of why I signed up to move to China for two years. One of my original goals was to learn how to cook Hunanese food so that I could escape the sesame chicken and greasy lo mein that constitute the standard American Chinese menu. But the low cost of eating out and a certain amount of culinary homesickness meant that the goal fell by the wayside over the past year.
The classroom at Hutong Cuisine
When I scheduled a short break in Beijing on my way back to the States in June, I realized it would be a good opportunity to make some progress on my Chinese cooking skills. Based on Savour Asia’s reviews, I signed up for a day at Hutong Cuisine, a tiny cooking “school” run out of a house just off of Nanluogu Xiang (southwest of the Bell and Drum Towers). This is the smallest of the Beijing cooking schools, with a maximum of six students per class. All of the classes are taught by Chun Yi, a professionally-trained chef, and they take place in her home.
I skipped the optional market tour because I shop at a Chinese market every day, so another student and I met the rest of the class at 10 a.m. The course began with a “wok and knife lesson,” in which Chun Yi explained how to season a wok (lots of oil) and how to buy a knife (look for a nice heft, with the balace point close to the handle, which should be made of wood or metal). We got a chance to practice our chopping skills on a daikon while she looked on and mocked. She expected a certain amount of basic kitchen competence, so if you are a total novice or especially sensitive to teasing, this might not be the class for you.
Chun Yi demonstrates the proper use of a cleaver.
Then we moved on to the actual cooking. The Hutong Cuisine classes rotate between eight different menus, each focusing on one or two individual techniques. (You can check the schedule on the Hutong Cuisine website.) The “stirfry chicken and vegetables” class began with two preparations of chicken: a Cantonese-style stirfry of chicken and mushrooms and gongbao jiding, better known in the West as kung pao chicken. Chun Yi demonstrated both recipes, and each student chose one recipe to prepare for himself.
My very own "kung pao chicken"
When stirfrying, preparation is key, as everything needs to be cleaned and chopped before any cooking can actually begin. Both chicken dishes began with a marinade, which imparts some flavor and helps seal in the juices when the meat hits the wok. Then we chopped up the seasonings: for gongbao jiding, we used Sichuan peppercorns, dried chilis, garlic, ginger and spring onions. Only once all this was ready were we permitted to approach the woks. Chun Yi’s tiny kitchen has just two burners, so we cooked in pairs, with the teacher hovering over our shoulder yelling instructions. (“Low heat! Low heat!”) The individual instruction was terrific, although I now wish that I had been taking better notes. After all the chicken was cooked, it was lunchtime. Even though we were cooking from the same recipes, with the same ingredients and instructions, each person’s dish turned out a bit different: the sauces had slightly different consistencies, the spiciness varied, and so on.
Practicing my stirfrying technique.
When the chicken was finished, we moved on to dish number three: stirfried vegetables, Canton-style. Cantonese food has a predominantly sweet flavor, without any of the spiciness that characterizes Sichuan dishes like gongbao jiding. The only seasoning for our stirfry of celery and lily bulbs was garlic. Lily bulbs are starchy and slightly sweet, and they can be easily stirfried once the “petals” are peeled apart. For this dish we worked in pairs, dividing the chopping and stirfrying labor.
As if our bellies weren’t full enough, there was a fourth “demonstration” dish on the menu. We watched Chun Yi make the “steamed milk egg with ginger” dessert, which was almost like a lighter, Chinese version of creme caramel. She whipped a couple of eggs with milk, a bit of sugar and ginger juice, then poured it into small ceramic bowls. The bowls were covered with plastic wrap and placed in a steamer for about 10 minutes. What came out was a lovely surprise. I’m not a fan of most Chinese desserts, but this was delicious — not overly sweet or overly gelatinous.
We were sent off with photocopies of all of the recipes so that we could (theoretically) make them at home. I hadn’t had a chance to try them out until yesterday evening. Check back on Wednesday to hear how they turned out.
Hutong Cuinese cooking classes take place every day of the week except Wednesday. The base lesson begins at 10:30 a.m., and the price is 210 RMB. The optional class schedule is now slightly different from when I took the class in June. The market tour now alternates with the seasoning, wok and knife lesson, depending on the day of the week. They begin at 9 a.m. and carry an additional 70 RMB charge. For reservations, e-mail Chun Yi at chef@hutongcuisine.com. For more information, visit the Hutong Cuisine website. (Note that Hutong Cuisine is different from The Hutong, which also offers cooking classes.)
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