Flank steak with bok choy and black beans

My dad might roll over in his grave to hear me say this, but I hardly know how to cook anything Chinese. And for some reason, most of the things I have experience making are very labor intensive, like potstickers and won ton. I also once helped the extended Hungry Dog clan make sesame balls. You may be familiar with these little bits of fried dough, usually containing sweet bean paste. Well, not in our family. We make them savory, filled with roast pork, green onions, and water chestnuts.

When I asked an elderly aunt why we make them with salty pork instead of sweet beans, she looked at me in surprise. "Because we like pork better," she said. Well, then.

I do have one Chinese dinner in my repertoire that I am capable of making on any given weeknight. My dad would be pleased to know that it's actually a recipe of his that appeared in the first volume of our family cookbook: flank steak with black beans.

As might be typical with family recipes, this one is somehow both incredibly specific ("Stir-fry flank steak for 45 seconds!") and frustratingly vague ("use several slices of ginger"). But now I've made the recipe so many times I know how to do it just the way I like it.

FLANK STEAK WITH BOK CHOY AND BLACK BEANS

Marinate 1 lb. thinly-sliced flank steak in 4 T. soy sauce, 2 T. dry sherry, and several slices of ginger for 20 minutes.

When done marinating, remove ginger slices. Heat 2 T. vegetable oil in a wok over very high heat. Add the flank steak, being careful not to splatter the hot oil. Cook, tossing constantly, for 1-2 minutes. Do not cook all the way through. Remove the flank steak from the pan with a slotted spoon and set aside.

Heat another 2 T. vegetable oil in the pan. Add 2 1/2 T. black beans, 2-3 minced garlic cloves, and 1-2 T. minced ginger.

A word about the black beans: I've used the old-school ones that are encased in a starchy fermented goo. These actually taste good but have a strong smell while cooking. If you use these, you should rinse them really well first.

Usually I use this, which may or may not be considered cheater-style, but works like a charm.

Cook black beans, garlic, and ginger over high heat for 2 minutes. Add one chopped red bell pepper and cook 1 minute.

Add 1 t. sugar, 1 t. salt, and chopped bok choy (or other vegetable) and toss to coat vegetables in black bean mixture.  For the vegetable, use as much as you like. I might use one head of broccoli, or several bok choys, depending on how big they are. With broccoli, I blanch it first and then add it to the stir-fry; that way it doesn't have to cook so long in the black beans and keeps its bright green color.

Add 3/4 -1 1/2 c. chicken broth. The amount varies with 1) how saucy you like your stir-fry, and 2) how much liquid your vegetable needs to cook.

If you use bok choy, it hardly needs more than a minute to cook. Broccoli will take 4-5 minutes.

Make a slurry with 1 1/2 T. corn starch and 1 1/2 T. water and add to the pan, stirring into the sauce. It will thicken very fast.

Turn off heat and add flank steak and all juices to pan. Toss, allowing the steak to finish cooking in the residual heat. Serve immediately.

I usually serve this with rice and a piece of fish (usually cod, snapper, or white basa) that I steam with salt and ginger and drizzle a little sesame oil over. Two dishes is all the Chinese cooking I can handle at a time.

I realize I haven't written out this recipe in a printer-friendly way. I guess I feel it doesn't matter too much--once you learn the method, you can adjust all the amounts and the ingredients depending on your tastes. You could use chicken or shrimp instead of beef, and any vegetable you like. The key with stir-frying, besides taking great care not to overcook any of the ingredients, is that you want everything chopped in advance. Once you start cooking this dish, it's done in 10 minutes. But you don't want things getting soggy while you're frantically trying to pull ingredients together. I get everything prepped and have it ready right by the stove before I start.

This is one of the husband's favorite dinners. I have to agree there's something incredibly satisfying about this dish; plus, it makes for impressive lunch leftovers the next day.

Spreading a little love

On Wednesday, I got the exciting news that Michelle over at One Ordinary Day had awarded me the "One Lovely Blog" award. The last time I won an award was...never. I'm a terrifically low achiever. So, I'm feeling rather pleased.

Part of the good will of this award is that once you're named, you pay it forward and give a shout-out to some blogs you really like, preferably ones you've recently discovered. You let them know they've won, and they pass it on.

I appreciate all kind of blogs, but I tend to gravitate toward writers that have a distinct, defined perspective. Although I naturally enjoy the ones written by fellow Bay Area peeps, I find myself increasingly drawn to blogs written from other coasts or continents. I don't mind if the photos aren't great (although I admire them when they are), and I don't really care if anyone posts recipes (although I've been known to bookmark a few). I'm interested in the person behind the blog and their unique view of food, and the world.

Here are a few I've been digging recently. Not all are new to me, but a few are.

Croque-Camille: An American in Paris, writing about her cooking and eating adventures abroad.
Feasting on Art: One of the coolest blogs I've seen, blending art and cooking in the most graceful way.
Jessica's Dinner Party: I recently discovered this one and was quickly impressed with the elegance of the photos as well as the writing.
Tiny Urban Kitchen: I like the way Jen writes about Boston; it really makes me want to go there.
Unfussy Fare: I love the clean, uncluttered look of this blog almost as much as love the sharp writing.

I hope you check these out if you haven't already. I think they're great.

-The Hungry Dog

Paulette, Miette, et le chien affamé

Ever since I started looking at food blogs and writing my own, I've been impressed with the incredible skill and dedication of so many home cooks out there. I'm consistently blown away by the complicated recipes people will bravely undertake and then write about, revealing every misstep along with each success. I've read about people curing bacon, making puff pastry, and trying their hand at fresh ricotta. So many cooks seem undaunted by things I see as obstacles: candy thermometers, cooking things under bricks, yeast. As a rule, I pretty much avoid anything that requires deboning or cheesecloth.

I guess we draw lines arbitrarily. Why will I make crackers from scratch but refuse to bake bread? One can't be that much harder than the other, just a bit more time-consuming. I suppose as deep as my love for cooking may run, so runs my laziness, and it's randomly applied. There are certain things I'm just not interested in making by hand. 

While much of this can be attributed to personality, it's also a result of where I live. In San Francisco, there's no reason to make your own dim sum. That's why we have Yank Sing, and any number of alternatives in Chinatown and the Richmond. For good ramen, I can roll down my hill to Hotei in the Sunset. For excellent ramen, I can roll a little further to Tanpopo in Japantown. And then there's the matter of the little French macarons that have become so popular in the last year.

I've seen many food bloggers attempt these delightful little cookies with varying success. Every time I see a photo of a homemade macaron, I feel a surge of admiration for the person's fortitude. I know macarons can be moody little bastards, and can turn out entirely differently depending on how humid it is, whether the egg whites were properly aged, or if the almonds were ground finely enough. It seems that just looking at the little suckers the wrong way can doom you: a hopeful, beseeching glance can send these sweet, chewy mouthfuls into an angry fit, rendering them flat and gummy.

I love these cookies too. But I will never make them. I'm just not determined enough.

Also, and perhaps the more important reason, is because five blocks from our house is Boulange de Cole, where periodically I'll pick up a few macarons on the way home from work. I am particularly fond of their passionfruit ones. Or because from work I can walk to Paulette in Hayes Valley, which packs the macarons in slender, brightly-colored boxes. Buying macarons from Paulette makes me feel chic and French, like Catherine Deneuve in The Umbrellas of Cherbourg.

And because there's Miette in the Ferry Building, where the husband stopped the other day after a few errands.

He picked up a tidy half dozen: raspberry, hazelnut, and pistachio.

We ate them after dinner, one after the other, silent little termites making our way through the bag. I'm not sure toiling over these myself could equal the pleasure I felt in opening Miette's little cellophane bag to see the delicate macarons carefully lined up so as not to crush each other, but I'm positive it could not equal the happiness I felt that the husband surprised me with them on a plain old Wednesday night.