Ground Pork

These open-faced dumplings are a requisite part of the Cantonese dim sum repertoire. In contrast to their dainty size and frilly edge, shāomai (siu mai in Cantonese) are packed with a pork filling that’s typically punctuated by earthy mushrooms and crunchy water chestnuts. The dumplings here are made from thin wonton skins that have been cut into circles. Don’t confuse them with the Jiangnan version from the area between Shanghai and Nanjing, which is made from hot-water dough wrappers and filled with a sticky rice mixture. Both go by the name shāomai, which literally means “cook and sell,” reflecting their perennial popularity. Feel free to add chopped raw shrimp to the filling (cut back on the vegetables) for variety. Any of the wonton fillings can be used, too; but do remember to double the pork and shrimp filling on page 41 or quadruple the shrimp filling on page 70, adding a beaten egg white in each case to insure a smoother texture. The shape of siu mai enables them to hold a lot more filling than other dumplings of the same size.

Most people think of wontons as being fried and in soup broth, but they may also be served like Italian ravioli in a light coating of splendid sauce. Here, the sauce is nutty, spicy chile oil punctuated with fresh garlic and soy sauce. Feel free to dial the heat up or down by varying the amount of chile oil. The full amount is definitely not for the faint of heart. If you have semi refined, cold-pressed peanut oil on hand (the kind employed for making the chile oil on page 216), use it instead of the canola oil for an extra roasty dimension. These wontons make a terrific snack or an elegant, eye-opening starter. If you can, substitute the greens below with 1/4 cup thawed and well-squeezed shepherd’s purse, a mild vegetable that’s sold frozen at Chinese-American markets.

Bursting with flavor, these northern Chinese dumplings are a specialty of Beijing. Dating as far back as the late Han Dynasty (25 to 220 c.e.), plump boiled morsels such as these are members of the jiaozi family of dumplings, which include pan fried guōtiē (page 33) and steamed zhēngjiao (page 35). Jiaozi are not just for a modest snack or meal, they are a must-have for northern Chinese Lunar New Year celebrations. Their shape resembles gold ingots, harbingers of good fortune. Easy to make for a crowd, shuıjiao (which means “water dumpling”) are especially good hot from the pot and tumbled in a soy-vinegar dipping sauce piked with chile oil. Pork and napa cabbage comprise the classic jiaozi filling, but you can use one of the lamb, beef, vegetable, or fish fillings on the following pages. Or substitute chopped shrimp or reconstituted dried shiitake mushrooms for half of the pork.

These little breakfast treats really put their ready-made store-bought counterparts to shame, and they couldn’t be easier to make. If you are watching your waistline or just aren’t partial to pork, ground chicken or turkey can certainly be used in its place. But with those leaner meats, exercise extra caution to avoid overcooking the patties and drying them out.

Larb is traditional Thai comfort food. The mint adds a clean jolt of flavor to this casserole-type meal. My cousin Abi lived in Thailand for a time and helped me fine-tune my version of this classic dish. Typically, the meat and rice are served over raw cabbage, but we think this style is pretty tasty as well. You can use serrano, Anaheim, or almost any other kind of chile pepper if you can’t find a jalapeño. Of course, your meal will be as spicy as your chile. Consider adding 1 tablespoon of chopped fresh basil or cilantro to the mint mixture for a slightly different taste.

Feel free to make this recipe using ground turkey or pork instead of beef, or even meat-substitute crumbles. You could also use a tenderloin cut of meat. Look for peeled and chopped butternut squash in your supermarket vegetable aisle.

I love burgers made from freshly ground meat. If you have access to your own meat grinder, grind up a fresh boneless Boston butt with the onions. If you don’t, don’t worry about it. These burgers aren’t quite as over the top as my Whistler Burger (page 98), but they’re flavorful as hell and a really nice change if you feel like eating something other than beef.

Recently I stumbled upon a package in the meat counter of my nearby supermarket that contained 1/3 pound each of ground beef, pork, and veal—just enough to make a small meatloaf for two, or for one with some welcome leftovers. I was elated, not only because I wanted to make a small meatloaf and I’d found it so hard to get the mix that I needed in modest amounts, but also because I felt it was a sign of the times. Maybe supermarkets are finally waking up to the fact that so many New Yorkers live alone and should be catered to, instead of forcing us to buy more than we need. So I took the package home and made myself this meatloaf, sneaking in a few French flavors to jazz it up a bit.

Fruit in a meatloaf? What were we thinking? Trust us; we thought the exact same thing when Crystal’s sister, Cindy, suggested it one night in our test kitchen. But since Cindy is usually right (don’t even bother trying to play a game of Trivial Pursuit with her), we gave it a whirl and it worked! In fact, the sweetness from the mandarin orange brings an exciting new twist to this old-time dish. As soon as you try it, you’ll understand. Substituting ground turkey keeps the calories and fat in check, and when served with a side of stir-fried veggies and brown rice, this healthy meal is sure to become a regular household favorite.

In Italy they don’t eat spaghetti and meatballs. Instead they have what they call polpettini, or little meatballs (page 47). And when they want something bigger, they make polpettone—meatloaf. I figured, if they make little ones and a big one, why not make a medium-size one and throw it on a bun? This size is just right, and if I could have a burger this good every time I wanted one, I’d be a happy, happy girl.

I LOOOOOVE meatballs—who doesn’t? This is my interpretation of the classic Italian-American dish. What makes these meatballs special are two things: First, I cook the onions before putting them in the meatball mix. Second, I add water—this helps ensure a moist ball every time!

Polpettini are delightful little Tuscan meatballs. I love them bite-size, but you can also take this mix and make one big log called a polpettone—either way, it’s delicious! And here’s a tip: For cute and easy serving, cut 1-inch rosemary sprigs to use as toothpicks.

My favorite firework is the Friendship Pagoda. A little bright yellow house spins ’round like a top, emits sparks, and then up pops a pagoda and a little light glows within. My son Joe’s best first-grade friend is named Edison Seto. They make quite a pair. I love to see them out at recess walking with arms slung over each other’s shoulder. Joe has had friends, of course, before first grade, but they were all friends of the family. Edison is the first friend he has made on his own. It looks as if Joe is a good judge of character, for Edison is as sweet as can be. Edison lives in the family’s New Sunlight Market with his parents, grandparents, and tiny sister, Grace. Joe loves to play over at Edison’s. I would too; they get to ride their scooters up and down the aisles, snagging Little Debbie snack cakes for each lap. Edison’s family is from China and this has turned Joe into quite a fan of anything the slightest bit Chinese. This soup was inspired by their friendship and by the fine collard greens from the New Sunlight Market.