Chinese bacon and garlic chive–smothered pierogi with tofu cream

My interest in foods from distant lands began to take hold sometime circa 1970. That’s when I first began my life of culinary travels.

Trips to the lazy blue seas and whitewashed streets of Greece brought my first tastes of perfumed, golden wildflower honey, briny olives, olive oil and lusciously thick yogurt. The clamorous, aromatic and oftentimes scary markets of Marrakech and Calcutta were my introduction to heady spices, whose exoticism alone threatened to blow my head right off.

Easier to negotiate were the open markets of France, where I developed my palate for lusty full-flavored cheeses, velvety pâtés and coarsely textured terrines; I nibbled crêpes chantilly and drank cider with the local townspeople.

In Italy, I marveled over pastas, both delicate and sturdy, and the boundless array of simple ingredients with which to sauce them. I saw a staggering, jewel-toned selection of produce, and I learned how to tame the wild artichoke and appreciate the pleasing licorice bite of fresh finochio.

With visits to India, Japan, China, Thailand, Mexico, Scandinavia, and the countries of my ancestors – Russia and the Ukraine – the world was my oyster (with mignonette, s’il vous plait).

I traveled the globe from a chair in my mothers’ kitchen, placed in front of the oven, equipped not with a suitcase, but with copies of her Gourmet magazines and cookbooks. Reading about food from other countries and cultures excited and inspired me. If the physical travel was not an option, I still desired to taste the world’s cuisines.

Selecting recipes from the pages of Gourmet, my mother would do her best to help me locate hard-to-find ingredients. I remember a dark Cleveland fresh fish market, which initially had me holding my nose and doing a lot of “p-u-ing”, but taught me to recognize quality. There was a tiny shoebox of an Asian market on Lee, where we shopped for Chinese ingredients and equipment, Alesci’s or Ferrara’s on Mayfield for Italian. Decades later, my manual Atlas pasta machine is still in perfect working order.

Intimidating as it may initially be to navigate a marketplace of unknown foods (particularly when there is a language barrier), I find that a smile gets you pretty much everywhere. Somebody is willing to help – they are there to sell wares, after all. Ask questions, gesticulate, and you will find success. Each time I shop at the manageably sized *Asia Foods on St. Clair, I grab at least one unfamiliar item. The friendly owner or one of the sweet cashiers, when asked, will give me a verbal preparation, other times, I enjoy figuring it out for myself.

A few weeks ago, I spotted a box of gnarled, fat-streaked meat strips piled in a box in the back area, near the meat and fish counters. A hot pink note card displayed Chinese characters, below which were two magical words written in English, in all caps: “CHINESE BACON”. Into my basket, a piece went. Already in my cart was a bag of frozen pork and shrimp dumplings, and that’s when those creative juices began running down my chin.

Almost every nationality has some representation of filled dough – vareniki, ravioli, kreplach, mandu, gyoza, to name a few. Who in Cleveland remains unfamiliar with the beloved pierogi of eastern European heritage? A favored way to eat pierogi is smothered with sautéed bacon and soft onions, topped with a generous dollop of tangy sour cream. Five items from Asia Foods later, I had cooked up a sweet, smoky and savory Asian riff on a Cleveland favorite. Authentic? No way. Delicious beyond a doubt? Absolutely.

About the ingredients:

Chinese bacon: sweet, salty, cured with soy, sugar and spices, such as 5-spice. Used as a flavoring ingredient and not a dish on its own. Remove the tough and chewy darker outer skin. Can be sautéed as is, or cut thick and steamed, or steamed and then sautéed.
Chinese chives and flowering garlic chives: Chinese chives are wider, longer and flatter than a typical chive. They have a subtler garlic flavor than more familiar varieties, though they pack an odiferous wallop in the fridge that would send any ramp cowering. The hollow-stemmed flowering chives pack a stronger bite, but a more subdued aroma. I love to use the two in combination for a layer of allium flavor and texture.

Chinese black vinegar: A dark vinegar made from malt and rice, brings acid complexity to dishes.

Silken tofu: Soft and creamy in texture, it works well in blended dressings and sauces.

Chinese Brand pork and shrimp dumplings: I chose this brand because the skins work beautifully boiled. Many other “potsticker” dumplings are best with the steam-fry method. Different sizes, different fillings, grab a bag of your liking and have fun experimenting.

*Asia Foods is relocating around the 17th of this month to ASIAN TOWN CENTER 3820 Superior  Cleveland 44114 216-621-1681

Chinese Bacon and Garlic Chive–Smothered Pierogi with Tofu Cream

Serves 3-6 as entrée or appetizer, respectively

Ingredients:

4 oz. Chinese bacon, skinned, and sliced crosswise into ¼” pieces – approx. ¾ cup
1 cup chopped washed and dried Chinese chives and/or flowering garlic chives
2 teaspoons Chinese black vinegar
½ bag frozen Chinese Brand pork and shrimp dumplings

Directions:
Bring a three quart pot of salted water to a boil.

Meanwhile, place the bacon in a cold heavy sauté pan or cast iron skillet. Bring pan to medium-low heat, cooking the bacon until brown and crisping in its own rendered fat. Add in the chives and sauté a minute or so – just until the chives have wilted and turned a deeper shade of green. Turn up the heat and add the vinegar, stirring to slightly reduce. (At this point, if the dumplings have not finished cooking, turn off the heat to the sauté pan.)

Just before adding chives to the pan with the bacon, drop frozen dumplings into the boiling water and stir when they sink to the bottom, maintaining the water at a low boil. Ideally, you want to coordinate things so the dumplings are cooked through as you finish the bacon-chive mixture. The dumplings will bob up to the surface when almost finished, between 3-5 minutes. Give pot another stir and allow dumplings to cook for an additional minute or so.

With a handled Chinese wire strainer or slotted spoon, scoop dumplings out of the water and into the sauté pan. Dial up the heat, and turn dumplings gently in the bacon, fat and chive mixture. When well coated, turn dumplings into a serving bowl and garnish with the tofu cream.

Tofu Cream 

Yield: 1 ¼ cups (enough for two recipes of dumplings)

Ingredients:
1 box lite silken tofu (Mori-Nu, 12.3 oz. pkg.)
1 tablespoon neutral oil such as canola or light olive oil
1 ½ tbs. lemon juice
1 ½ tbs. cider vinegar
1 ½ teaspoon salt

Directions: Place tofu into the bowl of a processor, process to mash and smoothen the tofu. Add in the remaining ingredients and puree until smooth. Check seasoning. Can be prepared a day or two ahead of time and kept covered in the fridge. Dairy is almost never used in Asian cooking – this trompe l’oeil stand-in works beautifully. – recipes courtesy of Heidi Robb; all photos by Heidi Robb