Food Processor

This ubiquitous Asian condiment does not need to be purchased. In fact, it has a wonderful, bright flavor when made at home. In the late summer, when chiles are at their peak red color and spicy-fruity flavor, I buy a bunch at the farmers’ market and make a batch or two of this sauce. Keep the sauce uncooked if you enjoy a wild, robust flavor. Or, cook the sauce for a more mellow finish. I often blend different kinds of chiles so as to not create too much of a burn.

Mung beans are a staple legume in many Asian kitchens, where their delicate, buttery flavor lends richness to both savory and sweet treats. Like red beans, mung beans can be made into a lightly sweet paste to be stuffed inside a baked or steamed bun or dumpling. In fact, the two bean pastes are practically interchangeable. Whereas sweetened red bean paste is vaguely chocolate-like, sweetened mung bean paste resembles marzipan, both in texture and nuanced flavor. This is a Vietnamese version of the paste, with vanilla to round out the flavor and salt to inject a little oomph. Mung beans are sold at many Asian markets and health food stores. Look for the yellow ones that have been hulled and split. The green ones still have their tough skins.

Like an American “popper” snack, this diminutive sweet enjoyed in Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore should be eaten whole: when you bite into it, the dumpling squirts lovely melted palm sugar into your mouth. The lightly smoky, caramel-like sugar then blends with the chewy rice dough and rich grated coconut in your mouth. These dumplings, also called klepon, are typically celadon green, since the dough features pandan (screwpine) leaves, a beloved ingredient in many parts of tropical Asia (see the Note below on buying the leaves). I like to amplify their herbal essence with vanilla. If pandan leaves are unavailable, just the vanilla and water are fine. Many cooks add food coloring for a cheery mint-green note; I prefer not to. Seek out Malaysian and Indonesian palm sugar (called gula melaka and gula jawa, respectively) for the best results. It is sold at Chinese and Southeast Asian markets, usually as thick cylinders wrapped in paper or plastic. The reddish-brown sugar is solid but moist. Shave off thin pieces with a knife to measure it out easily. If palm sugar is unavailable, combine 1/4 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar and enough molasses (a good tablespoon) to moisten the sugar well enough to roll it into balls.

To those unfamiliar with red bean paste, the concept may seem strange, but millions of people the world over cannot imagine their favorite steamed or baked buns and deep-fried sesame seed balls without this lightly sweet, chocolate-brown filling. The richness comes from the beans themselves and from a touch of oil, though lard would be used by traditionalists. Some cooks use brown or white sugar; I use both for a deep, well-rounded sweetness. Red bean paste is sold canned, but it’s overly sweet and incomparable to homemade. Adzuki beans are available at most natural food stores, specialty grocers, and Asian markets. You can also use the small red beans sold at Chinese markets. Sometimes I add a pinch or two of salt for a savory edge, reflecting a Japanese style of bean paste. The recipe here is more in the sweeter Chinese fashion.

One of the most beloved Asian sweet dumplings is crisp-chewy fried sesame seed balls. A Chinese New Year specialty that may have originated during the Tang Dynasty as palace food, they have been adopted by cooks of countless cultures to be enjoyed year-around. At Cantonese dim sum houses, this treat is called jin deui and usually contains sweetened red bean paste. In Vietnam, the filling typically features buttery mung beans. Ground peanuts are a quick and tasty filling option; if you select the peanut filling, use an electric mini-chopper to grind the nuts, sugar, and salt, and aim for a sandy texture. Sesame balls can be made without a filling, though I find those to be a tad lacking. The sugar used in the rice dough makes for a golden brown skin that slightly shatters with the first bite. Slab brown candy, called peen tong in Cantonese and sold at Chinese markets, looks like pieces of parquet flooring. It has a complex flavor not unlike maple sugar and lends a glorious rich brown color to the finished dumplings. When it is unavailable, light brown sugar is a fine substitute. Pressing on the balls during frying is the trick to getting them to expand, resulting in their signature hollow center.

Eating is practically a sport in Singapore, and these very popular pastries are part of he city-state’s eclectic and irresistible cuisine. Possibly Portuguese in origin, these intensely flavored pineapple tarts come in many shapes, from fancy open-faced tarts to carefully carved tiny pineapples. However, for the Lunar New Year, they’re made to resemble tangerines, a symbol of good fortune; in Chinese, tangerine is a homonym for “gold.” A decorative clove (not meant for consumption!) sits atop each one to mimic the fruit’s stem. Traditionally, fresh grated pineapple is used, but many modern cooks opt for canned pineapple. A long simmering turns the fragrant pineapple into a lovely amber-colored jam resembling tangerine flesh. Instead of adding food coloring to the egg-yolk glaze to enhance the pastry’s appearance, I add a touch of ground annatto seed to brighten up the dough. Without the natural colorant, the pastries still taste great.

Soft and somewhat elastic on the outside, this Malaysian morsel contains a spritely filling of dried shrimp, shallot, ginger, lemongrass, chile, and grated coconut. After I tasted my first one in Kuala Lumpur, I quickly learned to say “choo-choo ba-dah” like a local so that I could buy them from street vendors whenever possible. Use the yellow-fleshed sweet potatoes with pale skin because this variety has a lower moisture content and will yield manageable dough that is not too sticky. For the dough, I have provided a range so that you can make dainty or moderate-size dumplings. To determine the amount of flour, use the original weight of the sweet potato. If it weighs 3/4 pound, use 3/4 cup (3 3/4 ounces) of flour. A 1-pound potato requires 1 cup (5 ounces) of flour. Whole unpeeled shrimp traditionally crown the dumpling, but modern versions sold by vendors often lack them. If you opt for the charming old-fashioned topping, purchase shell-on white shrimp (not tiger shrimp) which have edible, thin shells; they are sold at Asian markets.

These flavorful little fried dumplings and the spiced potato balls on page 183 are members of the vada family of Indian snacks. They vary in size and shape, with some resembling doughnuts, but they often feature a thick batter of ground legumes and are deep-fried to yield chewy-crisp skins. Whereas potato batata vada is coated with a batter made from garbanzo bean flour, this preparation is all about the nutty richness of mung beans. Moong dal vada are easy to prepare and really quite approachable; yellow split hulled mung beans are sold at Asian markets as well as health food stores. Get the beans soaking (I have had them sit for 16 hours) and the rest comes together quickly with the help of a food processor. These dumplings are best hot from the oil, but they are not bad reheated, either.

Literally translated as “crisp skin for cakes,” this northern Chinese flaky pastry employs techniques similar to those for French puff pastry to create tender, layered pastry. What’s unusually clever about the Chinese approach is that aside from the usual letter-type folds and turns, the dough is rolled into a cylinder as part of forming the wrappers. The cylinder can then be cut in ways that allow you to form pastries with layers that fall in a spiral or linear pattern. When deep-fried, this pastry becomes super-rich, but surprisingly not greasy. It may also be baked, though the result is not as spectacular. Some cooks don’t add sugar and salt, but I find seasoning the dough sparks the flavor. For the best results, use lard rather than vegetable shortening. If you have ever found making puff pastry difficult because of the firmness of the butter, this dough is a godsend. It comes together quickly and is amazingly easy to work by comparison.

Like fried lumpia (see page 87), these savory-sweet turnovers are beloved Filipino snacks. Empanadas in the Philippines are usually deep-fried, as they are in other places, such as Argentina, where the Spanish pastry has also been adopted. Filipino-American cooks, however, mostly wrap theirs in a short pastry crust and bake them, with delicious results. If you’ve never had Asian pastries like those in this section, this is a good one to start with because it is easy to prepare and love. For richer, deep-fried empanadas, swap the filling below for the one used in the Shrimp, Pork, and Jicama Turnovers (page 118) or Curry Puffs (page 125) recipe. Feel free to substitute other ground meat for the beef.

Baked buns, called guk bau in Cantonese, are a wonderful southern Chinese creation. They can be filled with a whole host of things, including sweet bean pastes and savory preserved pork shreds. Some have a crumbly crust that’s akin to coffee cake topping. My favorite renditions are slightly shiny and sticky from having been brushed with a lightly sweet honey glaze. Whatever the filling inside, whether it is spicy chicken curry, roast pork, vegetables, or bean pastes, you can’t lose. Commercially produced Chinese baked buns are nearly cloying and super soft, whereas these have a delicate flavor and texture resembling that of challah.

There are several methods for making Chinese yeast dough, some of which employ starters and leavening, such as lye water and ammonium carbonate. This dough uses ingredients available at regular American supermarkets, and the results match the best I’ve experienced in China. Many Asian cooks employ—to great success—a cakey, snowy-white Cantonese style dough made from low-gluten cake flour or from a quickie flour and baking powder blend. This dough is different; it has more depth, and its loft and resilience comes from combining yeast and baking powder; fast-rising yeast works like a champ. All-purpose flour with a moderate amount of gluten, such as Gold Medal brand widely available at supermarkets, is what I prefer for this dough. Use bleached flour for a slightly lighter and brighter finish.

One of my favorite sources for fresh wonton skins is a market-cum-noodle shop in Oakland’s Chinatown called Hop Yuen. A three-hour round-trip excursion to this shop is worth it to me because I can get pliant, thin skins that are made without coloring or other additives. Those are the benchmark for these homemade ones, which are just as nice, and they come together handily with just a few ingredients and a low-tech, hand-cranked pasta machine. The Chinese term for these wrappers is pí, which literally means skin, and they function as a light, supple casing that protects and contributes texture to a dumpling. You may have a source for excellent Chinese skins, but do try making them yourself. You can control the thickness and cut them to whatever size you like, and it is a fun project. The dough can be made in a food processor or by hand, and a pasta machine makes rolling out the dough an easy and quick job. Moderate-gluten flour, such as Gold Medal all-purpose, produces terrific results that are neither overly chewy nor too soft.

Nothing says “Korean dumpling” more than one filled with kimchi, the spicy pickled cabbage that’s essential to the Korean table. Mandu are the Korean version of Chinese jiaozi and Japanese gyōza. The fillings often incorporate firm tofu as a binder and protein substitute—tofu is used in these kimchi mandu. In addition, the ground Korean red chile pepper used for making kimchi turns the filling a pretty orange color, and there’s plenty of garlic pungency to wake up the palate. Though these can be pan fried, deep-fried, and steamed, I love them boiled. The dryish filling gets a boost of succulence from the hot water bath. Purchased or homemade napa cabbage kimchi, especially older (stinkier) kimchi, works extra well. A side of shredded Korean or daikon radish tossed with a little salt and equal parts rice vinegar and sugar is a refreshing accompaniment.

If your preference is for seafood, substitute this fish filling for the ones given for boiled Pork and Napa Cabbage Water Dumplings (page 31), the pan fried Meat and Chinese Chive Pot Stickers (page 33), or the Steamed Vegetable Dumplings (page 35). Regardless of cooking method, you’ll produce dumplings filled with the elements of classic Chinese steamed fish. For the best results, select the freshest fish possible—it should have a bit of sheen and be devoid of any off odors. Because this dough filling is light in color, I often encase it in jade green dough made with spinach for a pretty presentation (see page 23).

This dough is the foundation of many excellent dumplings, including Chinese jiâozi, Korean mandu, and Nepali momo. The process of making the dough is easy to master, especially with a little help from modern tools such as a food processor (though you can mix the dough by hand). Asian wheat flour wrappers may be made with cold or hot water—the temperature is traditionally dictated by the cooking method. Boiled dumplings are said to require thicker skins made from cold-water dough in order to withstand the pressures of boiling, whereas pan fried and steamed dumplings require thinner skins made from hot-water dough for their gentler cooking processes. Over the years, I’ve found that homemade wrappers of medium thickness, a scant 1/8 inch thick in the center and about 1/16 inch thick at the rim, work well for all cooking methods. If dumplings are gently boiled as described for shuijiao on page 31, there is no need for thicker rappers. Producing medium-thick wrappers is easier with hot-water dough as it is more yielding than its cold-water counterpart. The resulting wrappers taste superior to store-bought ones, and they need no water to seal. Grocery store all-purpose flour with a moderate amount of gluten, such as Gold Medal brand, works exceptionally well.

Hummus is everywhere in Mediterranean cultures. In Greece, it is generally served as an appetizer, swimming in olive oil, accompanied by pita triangles, feta cheese and olives. In the United States, it is also served as a dip for raw vegetables, and often has other ingredients, such as roasted red peppers or pine nuts, blended right in. The basic formula is pretty simple: chickpeas (garbanzo beans), tahini (sesame butter), lemon juice, salt, and olive oil. Proportions of the basic ingredients may be varied in accordance with your taste. Less garlic, more garlic, less tahini . . . whatever. Play around with it and see what you get. Fattet is a sort of Middle Eastern layered casserole or salad. Taking a left turn at traditional, it occurred to me that you could easily make a sort of Middle Eastern tostada using some of the common ingredients found in the dish.

As I have mentioned, lentils and split peas are big in the rustic cuisines of so many countries. Greece is no exception. This very simple dish can either be served on a plate by itself as an appetizer for dipping warm pita or as a side with grilled vegetables and a salad.

Apples and walnuts ripen at about the same time, and are often grown in the same region. Pair them with a crusty, rustic loaf of bread, some spices, milk, and eggs, and you’ve got a perfect dessert for a fall afternoon. Puddings and bread puddings are particularly easy to make in a slow cooker, and the results are nearly always perfect.

A classic quiche Lorraine has long been one of my favorite dishes. You can make a good crustless, meatless in the slow cooker, drawing upon that gentle heat. I like to use a smoked salt to supply the smoky flavor that would ordinarily give. Serve with a crispy green salad.