12 recipes. Page 1 of 1
As an Amazon Associate, we may earn from qualifying purchases.
Two kinds of heat meet here: the chili burn of doubanjiang, a fermented chili bean paste, and the tingling numbness of ground Sichuan pepper. That numbing quality, called ma in Sichuan cooking, is what separates mapo tofu from other spicy braises. Soft tofu takes on the rusty-red sauce at its edges while the center stays silken, and spooned over steamed rice, the thick sauce runs down between the grains.
Once the salt-blanched tofu is in the doubanjiang sauce, the spatula is put away and only the pan gets shaken, which keeps the cubes square all the way to the rice. A sprinkle of Sichuan pepper at the end pushes it toward a proper mala taste.
Doubanjiang, the Chinese fermented chili bean paste, is salty and hot, and how salty depends on the brand. So the soy sauce here is not poured by the recipe; it is decided after tasting the sauce. There is no meat, just pan-browned tofu and bok choy.
Despite a name that means water-boiled fish, the bowl arrives under a layer of red chili oil. Thin slices of white fish, coated in starch, poach gently in a doubanjiang broth so they stay tender inside all that heat. Hot chili oil poured over Sichuan peppercorns at the end sizzles and releases the numbing aroma, and bean sprouts underneath catch the broth. It is intense enough that rice on the side is not optional.
Minced pork, crumbled fine, clings to thin glass noodles as they soak up a reduced doubanjiang broth, and those bits of meat on the strands give the dish its name. The liquid cooks down almost completely, so the result is moist and glossy rather than soupy. Glass noodles go in still slightly firm and finish cooking in the pan, absorbing the sauce without breaking.
Dry-frying, gan bian in Chinese, means cooking the beans over high heat with very little stirring until the skins wrinkle and pick up brown spots. This home-style version seasons them with doubanjiang, garlic and ginger and leaves out ya cai, dried chilies and Sichuan peppercorns, so the result is salty and gently hot rather than numbing. Crumbly fried pork settles in between the beans.
Wide, thick noodles take on the numbing tingle of Sichuan peppercorns, the heat of chili oil, the tang of black vinegar and the fermented saltiness of doubanjiang (chili bean paste) all at once. The numbing note comes from warming the peppercorns briefly in chili oil over low heat, pulled off before they darken or smell scorched. Heat is best adjusted with the amount of doubanjiang rather than more chili oil, which keeps the flavor clean. Because the noodles are so broad, a sauce with oil floating on top seasons them unevenly, so the sauce gets stirred to the bottom and the noodles are tossed hard. Boiled 1 minute short of the package time, they stay chewy to the last bite. Bok choy blanched in the noodle water adds a crisp, green bite between the oily strands.
The name means meat returned to the pot: pork belly is simmered whole, cooled, sliced thin, then fried again in the wok. That second round crisps the edges while the fat turns pleasantly chewy, and doubanjiang (chili bean paste) with fermented black beans coats it in a salty, spicy sauce. Leek and green pepper go in at the end and stay crunchy. How much soy sauce to add depends on the doubanjiang, as brands vary a lot in saltiness.
Beef shank, first fried with doubanjiang (fermented chili bean paste), simmers in a soy broth until it splits under a chopstick, then goes over wheat noodles in big chunks. The broth is dark with soy and only gently hot, and a few blanched bok choy leaves add some green.
The eggplant is fried and set aside first, then returned to the sauce at the end, which keeps the pieces whole. The sauce starts from the spicy oil released as ground pork and doubanjiang (chili bean paste) fry together, and the sourness is adjusted at the very end with a little vinegar at a time.
A pork bone broth thickened with sesame paste and miso turns creamy and heavy, and pork mince fried with doubanjiang, a Sichuan chili bean paste, sits on top with a slick of chili oil. In this Japanese ramen take on Sichuan dan dan noodles, there is plenty of soup and sesame leads the flavor. The sesame paste and miso get a brief stir over low heat before any stock is added, which draws out their nutty aroma, but they come off before they brown. The stock is then whisked in a little at a time so no lumps remain. The pork fries until its moisture cooks off and the edges brown, and the heat drops to medium if the doubanjiang starts to scorch. Shake the boiled noodles well, since extra water dilutes the thick broth fast.
Sesame paste whisked into chicken stock turns the broth thick, tan, and nutty, and a spoonful of crumbly pork plus a drizzle of chili oil sit on top as separate layers of salt and heat. Doubanjiang, a fermented chili bean paste, gives that pork its savory backbone, and the pork is fried until its moisture is gone and the edges brown and crisp. Stirring the bowl gradually blends the chili oil into the sesame broth, changing the taste of the soup from the first sip to the last. Peanut butter can stand in for half the sesame paste, and the amount of doubanjiang sets the heat. The noodles come out a little before the package time so they stay firm in the hot soup. Blanched bok choy adds a crisp, green bite against all that richness.