Chop chae for the cowboy round-up

Last weekend I attended a surprising event.

There's an organization in the Bay Area called the Association of Chinese Cooking Teachers. My mother knows a woman who is a member and who has invited her to attend some of the get-togethers. They usually involve lunch or dinner, a food demonstration or lecture, and occasionally, western gear and line dancing.

I had trouble getting a handle on the confluence of these elements myself, and the husband was even more confused when I described the event I had agreed to attend with my mother last Sunday.

"It's an Asian-style potluck in Alameda, with a 'cowboy round-up' theme and line dancing. And we're supposed to come in western dress, because there's a costume contest."

"What?" he replied, blankly.

I didn't understand it either. I did know for a fact that I wouldn't be dressing up. My family, we are not dresser-uppers. I guess I might do it if forced to attend a Halloween party, but why would I be forced to attend a Halloween party?

Anyhow, costume or not, I agreed to go. When your 72-year-old mother asks you to attend a weird but harmless event within driving distance, you say yes.

We had to bring something for the potluck. She had gotten a recipe from my sister for chop chae.

Chop chae is a Korean vegetable-and-noodle salad. I'd had it before but never made it. Turns out it's kind of the dream dish to bring to a potluck, because it's simple and best if made ahead and allowed to sit overnight. Plus it can hang out on a buffet table for ages without wilting.

The noodles are cellophane noodles, or bean thread. Growing up, my dad, who was Chinese, called them by their Chinese name, which to me and my sister sounded like, "fence." I guess it did to my mother (who is Swedish), too.

"It's just vegetables, a tamari sauce, and fence," she said. She had come up to our place the night before to hang out and spend the night, and we were assembling the dish together.

It certainly came together in a flash. Of course, my mother had painstakingly julienned the carrots, shitake mushrooms, and onions earlier, which had taken the better part of an hour. By the time I came on the scene, we just soaked and cooked the noodles, whirled some tamari, garlic, and sesame oil in a blender, and stir-fried everything for 5 minutes.

It turned out fabulously. The noodles absorbed the salty sesame sauce, and the vegetables kept it fresh and light.

The event was exactly what it had purported to be. There were a lot of people, most of them over 50, many of them Asian but not all, and a good portion in cowboy costumes. The variety at the potluck was unmatched. I saw everything from curried chicken to Vietnamese spring rolls to clam chowder. The chop chae was a hit.

There was a dim sum demonstration, which we missed because we were running late, and a lecture that we skipped. But we did witness a dance troupe decked out in sequinned tops and cowboy hats line dancing at the end as we snuck out.

"That was odd," my mother said as we headed back over the bridge to the City.

I agreed. But it's always great to have a new potluck recipe to add to your arsenal.

The Hungry Dog's Fried Rice

After making Fire and Smoke Chicken, I had some leftover rice. There's only one thing to do with leftover rice, you know.

Now, lots of people know how to make fried rice, so I may not be enlightening anyone. But, I do make pretty good fried rice, and I can share with you a few of my tactics.

1) This is the most important one of all: you must use old rice. I'm talking about rice that has been cooked, cooled, and sat in the fridge for a minimum of one day, but preferably for a few days. Something happens to the rice. It gets hard and dry, which sounds awful, but makes for good fried rice. Trust me on this one. Never, ever use fresh rice.

2) Cook it over high heat and keep it dry. I just add a little Chinese cooking wine to soften things up once I've added the rice. You could use broth if you liked that better. Just use restraint. I think a lot of fried rice is soggy.

3) Don't rely too heavily on soy sauce for flavor. Use lots of veggies and bacon if you eat bacon, and salt and pepper. I only add a little soy sauce at the end. If you add too much, it turns the whole dish a weird tan.

4) If you're using an egg, scramble it in a separate pan and fold it into the rice at the very end.

That's it! The beauty of fried rice is that you can use whatever you have at hand. If you've been reading this blog, you know that's kind of my style. In general, I use the following things, because I pretty much always have them on hand: carrots, celery, onion, garlic, ginger, bacon, egg, frozen peas, Chinese cooking wine, and soy sauce. Oh, and make sure to fold in the peas right toward the end so they don't get mushy.

That's it!

Fire and Smoke Chicken

If there's a single food that reminds me of my dad's cooking, it might be Fire and Smoke Chicken. While the name is a misnomer (there is neither fire nor smoke involved in the preparation), the chicken does turn a deep burnished reddish brown, with delightfully crisp skin and a little heat from crushed red pepper.

We're not sure why it's called Fire and Smoke Chicken. My sister thinks my dad got it from a cookbook called "Fire and Smoke." My mom speculated that he might have just named it that for dramatic flourish. In our family's cookbook, the recipe appears, but called, dully, Oven Baked Chicken, a name that conjures up chicken breasts baked in cream of mushroom soup, not the crackling, sweet and slightly peppery Fire and Smoke Chicken of my childhood.

Everyone who has ever tried this recipe goes crazy for it, and it couldn't simpler. You can use a whole chicken cut up, as my dad did. My sister likes to make it for potlucks and parties and use wings. I do it with whole legs or simply thighs. I think the only rule is that the chicken should have bone and skin. Otherwise, you really don't get the full experience.

Last week I served Fire and Smoke Chicken with plain rice, and made extra for fried rice to go with the leftovers later. The chicken is good hot, room temperature, or cold.

Fire and Smoke Chicken

Marinade:
1/3 c. soy sauce
1/3 c. rice vinegar
1/4 c. brown sugar
1/4 c. granulated sugar
3 T. hoisin
3 cloves garlic, smashed
2 T. peanut or vegetable oil
1/4 t. crushed red pepper flakes

1 cut-up chicken or 8-12 pieces of your choice

Combine all marinade ingredients and pour over chicken, turning to coat. Marinate 1 hour, turning 2 or 3 times.

Preheat oven to 325. Place chicken skin-side up on a baking sheet lined with foil. Bake 15-20 minutes. Turn and baste. Increase the temperature to 350 and bake 15 minutes. Turn and baste. Increase temperature to 375 and bake 10-15 minutes. Baste. Finally, with skin-side up, broil 2-3 minutes to get the skin crispy.

This marinade can be used for pork, duck, or shrimp.

My dad used to boil the marinade on the stove and serve it alongside the chicken at the table. Probably not everyone would agree that that's safe to eat. But, that's what my dad did and we ate the chicken and the sauce and no one ever got sick. So, it doesn't scare me.

Up next: fried rice.