Hot-Sour Soup Recipe & article

[Guest guest]

On Food: Soup for the senses

If you're looking for satisfaction, a bowl of Chinese hot and sour soup is

hard to beat. And better yet, it's easy to make

By HSIAO-CHING CHOU

SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER FOOD WRITER

 

For six years or so, I made hot and sour soup seven mornings a week at my

family's restaurant. I made it in the big wok, which had close to an 8-gallon

capacity. It was such a large wok that, when I cleaned it, I would have to lean

into the stove to maintain balance while lifting the front and using the back

side of the wok ring as a fulcrum to dump the water down the gutter.

 

It was a well-seasoned wok, too, dark and shiny from constant use. It gave

its essence to everything cooked in it. I believe it's still in use today, which

means my family has had that wok for more than a dozen years.

 

When I first started making this soup, my mother wouldn't allow me to scoop

it out of the wok into holding containers because she was afraid I might trip

and burn myself transferring the pots to the warmer. Eventually, it became

too much of a hassle for her or someone else to stop what they were doing to

finish my task, so I took over.

 

There was a formula to making this soup. Fill the wok with water -- instead

of broth, to be vegetarian-friendly -- to about 4 inches below the rim. Add

three spoons of soy sauce and two of white vinegar. (The particular Chinese

cooking spoon I used had a 2-cup bowl size.) Then shake white pepper over

and stir. Stirring meant dragging the spoon to and fro from the front handle

to the back handle.

 

While the seasoned water came to a boil, I would collect the other ingredients:

one block of tofu and a handful each of wood ear (black fungus) strips,

bamboo shoot strips and canned sliced button mushrooms. The tofu I would

cut in half, slice each half and then cut those slices into uniform strips.

 

We used canned button mushrooms because it was less expensive than

using traditional shiitakes. At home, however, when I make hot and sour

soup for myself, I use only shiitakes, thinly sliced so the cross sections

float,

displaying their frilly edges.

 

The ingredients go into the simmering water. When the soup hits a boil, the

cornstarch slurry gets whirled in to thicken the consistency. After the soup

returns to a boil, the beaten eggs are drizzled on top. The egg sinks into the

soup, then springs up almost immediately in blossoms on the surface. Egg

flowers, they're called.

 

The final touch, after the seasonings are adjusted, is a drizzle of sesame oil.

 

This was the process for all those days, all those years. I made a vertical of

three soups every morning, and hot and sour was the last one because it had

the strongest flavor. It wasn't the most traditional version of the soup, but we

were in the Midwest, catering to the Midwestern palate.

 

After so many years of making hot and sour soup, I forgot just how

satisfying a bowl of it can be. Even though it's on every Chinese restaurant

menu, it's not something I think of ordering. Recently, a friend battling

bronchitis snapped me out of my moratorium. She craved hot and sour soup

as medication, so we met at a restaurant in the International District to fill

the

prescription.

 

The soup arrived steaming and glistening. There were tiny bubbles on top

and the color was golden. I explained to my friend that this glowing quality

indicated the soup was fresh, made to order. I also noticed right away the red

chili flakes, which told me that the cook had used chili sauce to spice the

soup.

 

I took a bite. The soup wasn't salty enough and it was overpowered by the

chili. I " fixed " the soup by adding a dash of soy and a few shakes of white

pepper. I used soy instead of salt because soy adds not only saltiness but

its characteristic fermented soy bean flavor. I added white pepper because it

imparts a fragrant quality that functions much like the essence of the wok:

It's almost ethereal.

 

Traditionally, hot and sour soup is made with lily buds, tofulike chunks of

curdled pork or duck blood and sauteed slivers of pork in addition to the other

ingredients mentioned above. The spiciness comes from a combination of

white pepper and chili flakes.

 

I prefer the soup made with only white pepper. In my opinion, versions made

with chili sauce have a sweetness and fieriness that throw off the balance of

the soup. Most places use chili sauce, which is another reason I don't often

order hot and sour soup these days. Thankfully, it's easy to make at home.

Here's my version:

 

 

HOT AND SOUR SOUP

SERVES FOUR

 

* 8 cups water or Chinese-style chicken or pork stock

* 1/4 cup soy sauce, or more to taste

* 1/4 cup white vinegar, or more to taste

* 2 teaspoons ground white pepper, or to taste

* 4 dried shiitake mushrooms, reconstituted and sliced

* 1 small block medium or firm tofu, cut into strips

* 1/2 cup wood ear, cut into strips

* 1/2 cup bamboo shoot strips

* 1/4 cup pork strips (see note)

* 1/4 cup cornstarch, mixed with 1/4 cup water to make a slurry

* 3 eggs, beaten

* Sesame oil

* Chopped onions, for garnish, optional

* Chopped cilantro, for garnish, optional

 

In a large soup pot, add water or stock, soy sauce, vinegar and white pepper.

Then add the mushrooms, tofu, wood ear, bamboo shoots and pork. Let

mixture come to a boil.

 

 

When soup reaches a boil, turn down heat to medium. In consecutive slow

pours, add the cornstarch slurry to the soup while stirring. The soup will start

to thicken.

 

 

When the soup returns to a boil, drizzle the egg on top. When the egg

blossoms, give the soup a gentle stir to incorporate the egg. Taste the soup.

Add more soy, vinegar and white pepper, if needed. Drizzle with sesame oil

and serve with garnishes.

 

 

Note: Take a small piece of pork from the loin or chop. Cut into rough strips

or little chunks. Saute in a skillet in 1 tablespoon of vegetable or peanut oil.

Add a dash of soy sauce to help it caramelize a little. Cook for about 1

minute, then add to soup.

 

 

 

PASS THE PEPPER

 

 

What is white pepper? The peppercorn is allowed to ripen. Then the outer skin

is removed and the inner portion of the berry is dried. When dry, the berry

turns a creamy white. Chefs often use white pepper in light-colored sauces

because it blends better -- unlike black pepper, which would show up in a

white sauce. Some people say white pepper is milder in flavor than black

pepper. Actually, it's just as spicy, but it's more refined.

 

 

P-I food writer Hsiao-Ching Chou can be reached at 206-448-8117 or

hsiaochingchou.

[Guest guest]

Note: Though his recipe had ingredients we would not use here, I thought

over all it was informative and contained some ideas for how we might be

able to play around with it to make it veggie-friendly.

 

~ P_T ~