Chez Schwartz’s…

Vendredi soir, ma première soirée en ville, des amis expatriés m’ont invité chez eux pour un fête à saveur de Montréal. J’avais caché dans mes valises, un morceau de viande fumée et du pain de seigle de chez Schwartz’s.

La poitrine de boeuf, aussi connue sous le nom de « brisket » en anglais, est d’habitude une pièce de viande peu chère comparée à d’autres coupes, mais elle est particulièrement coriace. Pour l’attendrir, il faut la faire cuire longtemps, à feu doux.

Dans la cuisine chinoise, et dans notre cas à Hong Kong, on apprête aussi la poitrine de boeuf (牛腩 – niunan) dans des plats « populaires », souvent dans une marinade d’épices et de condiments chinois comme l’anis étoilé, la pelure d’agrumes séchée et la cannelle. Ce sont par exemple des currys (on coupe et on fait cuire) ou bien de la viande sur nouilles (on fait cuire et on coupe).

Parfois, on retrouve ce type de plats en version resto-culte, un peu comme notre Chez Schwartz’s à Montréal. Dans des restos aux files d’attente plus ou moins longues (les trottoirs ici sont franchement moins larges de toute façon), avec des photos de stars du Cantopop en compagnie du patron collés à la porte, on sert des tout simples, à peine plus chers que dans le casse-croûte sans notoriété, mais préparés avec une minutie et une fierté certaines.

…et chez Kau Kee. Du curry chinois de boeuf sur nouilles.

Dans la catégorie du boeuf braisé au curry, Kau Kee dans Central – le principal quartier international des affaires de la ville – est un incontournable.

Le menu est minimaliste: trois choix de nouilles (riz, blé, oeufs) et deux choix de viande (avec ou sans curry). On ne sait pas s’il y a un menu en anglais, mais en tout cas pas de pancarte dans une langue autre que le chinois.

Poitrine de boeuf sur nouilles de riz…

…et sur nouilles aux oeufs

Hier, je suis allé essayer le Restaurant On Lee (安利) dans le quartier populaire de Shau Kei Wan, à plusieurs stations de MTR à l’ouest des grands centres touristiques de l’Île de Hong Kong. On Lee a son propre mur des célébrités, remplis de noms célèbres locaux.

Parlons bouffe maintenant: les tranches de smoked meat poitrine, “ngau lam”, sont coupées à même un morceau cuit entier, persillé et encore entouré de l’enveloppe musculaire. C’est le gras et cette enveloppe qui donnera au boeuf toute sa saveur. La viande est ensuite déposée sur des nouilles avec ou sans bouillon (bouillon au glutamate monosodique, probablement). On agrémente la soupe de quelques balles de poisson et d’échalote hachée.

En Chine, il n’y a pas que la viande qui est prisée. Les cartilages sont également des bouts mangés par les Chinois (votre serviteur aime bien ça aussi, pour en avoir mangé aujourd’hui pour le lunch). On laisse souvent les cartilages dans les recettes de poitrine, et on servira parfois des nouilles ou du riz nappés d’un ragoût aux cartilages de boeuf. Le cartilage mariné prend une consistance à mi-chemin sur le Jell-O, collant gentiment à nos incisives.

A new grocery store on Victoria Avenue just opened its doors last week. The half basement shop offers a variety of organic (and non-organic too) produce. It may fit the look of a Westmount upscale boutique, but the prices shown for the basic stuff (tomatoes, apples, lemons) are at market price (similar to PA’s price, comparatively lower than the nearby Metro).

On top of that, you also find a unique offering of Asian products (the owner Clara happens to be a food-loving Canadian Chinese) such as soy milk, bok choy and ramen noodles. They are also importing a type of pasta from Italy.

334A Avenue Victoria, Westmount

(photos under the cut)
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Sur la rue principale de Lachute, alors que je faisais un tour en voiture dans la région ce mercredi, je suis passé devant l’enseigne de ce buffet chinois. Utilisant l’effroyable police de caractère asiatiques, l’enseigne pend visiblement au-dessus du trottoir.

It was while eating at Maison du Nord on St-Mathieu that I discovered roujiamo or “pork sandwich”, a Shaanxi dish that has spread around China. I had roujiamo also when I was in Beijing (see picture). Roujiamo is what you could consider a typical fast-food snack, sort of like a Chinese-style hamburger, or rather a Chinese-style sloppy joe.

So having a surplus of coriander leaves from my dumplings party last week, I decided to make my own roujiamo from scratch, bread included. I loosely followed this webpage.

I made the dough first and used yeast and baking soda to try and leaven it. I must’ve used around 2.5 cups of flour. Then, I prepared the meat. I bought around 1kg of pork belly, with fat and skin. I cut rough pieces, knowing that I could pass my scissors later as it simmers.

So, I started frying chopped onion and garlic in a wok and then added the pork. Then, I added three pieces of star anise, and a few pieces of cinnamon bark. I then added a little Chinkiang vinegar, and Chinese shaoxing wine and soy sauce (fermented). I could’ve added sesame oil too if I remembered. I added water to cover. Then, I then let the mixture simmer for around 30-45 minutes until I got a nice sticky mixture (probably the gelatin in the pork skin helps to give such a texture).

In the meanwhile, I cooked the break on a cookie sheet. I should’ve been more careful. The specimen on the picture is probably the one that was best made. The other pieces either baked for too long or were too thin to begin with.

Served with cilantro / coriander leaves as a topping.

蔥油餅 (cong you bing) or green onion pancake was my latest experimentation with Chinese food. It has never ever been something we ate in our family, let alone made. I tried it for the first time in newer Chinese restaurants opened by Mainland Chinese, notably at a restaurant on St-Mathieu, formerly Ravioli du Manchuria, now Friendship House.

It takes two main ingredients to make cong you bing (so the pronunciation is more like “tsong you bing”), namely flour and green onions. You can substitute green onions for chives.

In a mixing bowl, add salt for taste to two cups of flour. Then, mix in about one cup of boiling water. Apparently, it helps gelatinize the gluten in the flour for a better texture in the end. Knead the dough throughly for about 5-10 minutes. Coat with vegetable oil (and sesame oil for taste) and let it sit for an hour on the counter.

Once you have your dough, divide into eight pieces. Flatten as much as you can and sprinkle with green onions, chives or the filling of your choice. I added too much of it and it overspilled. I figured that if I chopped my green onions more finely, it would’ve been ok.

Roll like a cigar, and then roll again into a snail-like form. I understand that this step is to incorporate the green onions into the dough so that it cooks on the inside of the dough after pan-frying.

Now let’s pan-fry the pancakes. Add generous amounts of oil so that the pancakes won’t burn. When they’re done, they make nice crunchy individual snacks! You can keep them in the fridge, but it might not be as crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, even if you re-fry them…

It’s good with Chinese-style vinegar, soy sauce or hot sauce… whichever suits you! Took me about two hours to make, including all the waiting and the frying.

2007-2009

Un peu pour rendre hommage à la série de mon collègue de Spacing Montréal, Guillaume St-Jean, voici un petit montage de deux photos prises à à peu près deux ans d’intervalle. Ce coin de rue se situe en plein nouveau Quartier Chinois de Montréal, juste à l’ouest de l’Université Concordia, dans ce qu’on appelle aussi le Village Shaughnessy.

Dans ce cas-ci, c’est du “plus ça change, plus c’est pareil”, alors que les deux commerces furent des restaurants chinois.

Cet article a également été publié sur le blogue Spacing Montréal.

They are perhaps the most interesting handmade noodles I ever had. La Maison du Nord (北方人家 – Bei Fang Ren Jia), within a block from Guy-Concordia’s St-Mathieu exit, is remarkable for its pork sandwich, a common northern Chinese snack. It’s basically a shredded pork sandwich served with a variable set of seasoning, which can hopefully included fresh coriander leaves.

On the menu are also these Lanzhou noodles, another common eatery item. They are wheat-based handmade noodles, and apparently not always available depending on whether the “noodle master” is available to make them, according to this Chowhound thread.

Also on the menu, dumplings of many kinds, although not as many as their cousin Qing Hua Yuan.

北方人家 (La Maison du nord), 2130, rue St-Mathieu. 514-670-3188

Noodle Factory on St-Urbain in Chinatown is the only place in Montreal that makes its own Chinese noodles. The must-have is its zha jiang mian, or “fried sauce noodles”, which are wheat noodles served with a soybean-based sauce usually with ground pork in it. It’s really like a kind of Chinese spaghetti.

The other must-have are the xiao long bao — which would be a lot better if the long (steamers) could be a little larger. The problem is that pieces tend to stick between them, making the broth contained in the xiao long bao (the main attraction of those) be quickly evacuated through the parchment paper. In Montreal, they are still the best I’ve had. The skins could still be thinner, if you wondered.

Making dumplings is not a family tradition at all. My father occasionally makes wontons (once a year perhaps) in its most basic form of shrimp and pork and skins that you buy from the supermarket.

On the other hand, in my desire to be different from family tradition, I’ve been inviting friends over for many years to make dumplings. We treat it as a social activity, sort of to pay hommage to the cult of slow food – because making dumplings is kind of slow.

There was this time last month when coming home from a long day at work, I felt like making dumplings at home. I also happened to have a pack of frozen ground lamb (from Adonis, a Middle-Eastern supermarket chain) that had been sitting there for many months. Here’s what it looked like after I added coriander, green onions and seasoning (soy sauce, sugar, salt):

Then, I decided that they wouldn’t be homemade dumplings if I didn’t also make my own skins. In my first few dumplings parties, I always made my own skins, but found that most people didn’t and that it was so time-consuming that it started to have an averse effect on appetite… Skins are fairly simple: flour + water, until you get a ball of moist dough.

Using a plastic beer mug that followed me since one of those inter-university conventions of my undergraduate years, I would make individual skins starting from small ball (roughly the size of a large marble).

Then, you can either send them to the steamer or the frying pan. The fried option is perhaps tastier and requires you to add half an inch of water to a frying pan and a good tablespoon of oil. Boil the dumplings until the water dries out and fry both sides to get the crisp brown texture. Then, serve and enjoy.

It took me maybe an hour and a half from the time I broke open the flour bag to eating the first (steamed) batch. With a ball of lamb the size of a softball, I had enough dumplings for the night, lunch and one more portion for the freezer.

I must say that I still have trouble making skins that are as thin as those served in restaurants like Qing Hua Yuan. However, it’s a rather simple and easy meal to prepare; probably even fun to do with friends in any season.

Edit: Qing Hua Dumplings closed down in June or July 2009 because of a zoning issue. They are going to re-open somewhere in the Lincoln / St-Mathieu area with a larger location. Are handmade dumplings becoming the new sushi?

I discovered Qing Hua Yuan Dumplings (1240 St-Marc, corner Tupper) just over a month ago. Like a lot of people, according to this Chowhound thread, I’ve been waiting and waiting for a restaurant specializing in the Chinese dish of dumplings (jiaozi).

Well, there it is, opened by a certain Mr. Song, on St-Marc, just south of Ste-Catherine on what seems to be a residential block. It’s also really close to the Canadian Centre for Architecture.

About the dumplings, they can either be boiled, steamed or fried. The fried option: I never actually had it and doubt that it is even available. The steamed option is by far the best one in terms of experience, but not if you are in a hurry. It will take an average of 20 minutes to get your steamers of dumplings.

The result is something that goes unmatched in Montreal with its main qualities being thin skin and quantities of tasty broth. Qing Hua Yuan is also remarkable because its menu is almost exclusively dumplings. No General Tao chicken (thank Gott), and only cold Chinese salads (cucumber, or cabbage and vermicelli) as the “stomach-holder” while waiting for things to steam.

Briefly before the Mirror‘s Mark Slutsky and La Presse‘s Marie-Claude Lortie wrote about Qing Hua Yuan, you could order some beef noodles, which is a bowl of handmade wheat noodles served in a spicy soup with Chinese vegetable and slices of precooked beef.

Voici un reportage de L’épicerie qui a passé la semaine dernière à la Télévision de Radio-Canada:

On imagine souvent que les nouilles chinoises sont toutes les mêmes. Il en existe en fait plusieurs variétés, fabriquées à partir de farine de riz, de blé ou de fèves. Chaque région de Chine a sa spécialité, et il existe même des nouilles fabriquées spécialement pour l’exportation. La diversité se retrouve aussi dans la façon de les cuire et de les apprêter.

Just as your local home renovation centre is bringing out flowers, herbs and other greens to seduce you, I found out on Monday that a grocery store in Brossard (Taschereau, where else), Heng-Heng, is in turn selling potted plants of all sorts: melons, chilis, herbs that you put in your pho (the middle pic, says Vietnamese friend).

I didn’t in fact buy anything there, preferring to settle for “Western” plants for now. They include the very versatile coriander, one that can be used interchangeably in dishes, east, west confounded.

If my notes are accurate, the three plants in the previous pic were, from top to bottom, chili, bitter melon and cucumber.

Most plants were priced at 2$ per pot. For a limited time, I guess.

Voici un petit complément à mon article sur le nouveau Kim Phat à Brossard… C’est en explorant la section des produits laitiers que j’ai découvert comment se vendait le tofu en feuilles (enroulé comme des croissants), mais également que des oeufs de canard y étaient vendus à la douzaine. Ils sont également surprenamment abordables à $2,99. Sauf que la question demeure: se sert-on d’oeufs de canard comme on se servirait d’oeufs de poule?

Ça faisait des mois que je spottais le nouveau Kim Phat qui devait ouvrir au 7209 boulevard Taschereau près de la sortie de la 10. Ça a ouvert au début de l’hiver dernier, mais ce n’est qu’à la fonte des neiges (au retour d’une sortie à la cabane à sucre) que j’ai finalement pu faire mon touriste de banlieue.

Brossard n’a rien à voir avec Markham, et le boulevard Taschereau est à des mondes de différence d’avec Highway 7. L’espoir d’un café à desserts / hangout de twentysomethings en banlieue ne s’est malheureusement pas matérialisé, mais nous avons tout de même droit à un strip mall à connotation asiatique.

Il y a un hypermarché Kim Phat comme centre d’intérêt, qui remplace les deux autres de la même chaîne dans le coin. Sino-Québec, l’organisme communautaire sud-riverain lié au Service à la famille chinoise du grand Montréal, a transporté ses bureaux tout juste entre un magasin de thé et une nouvelle succursale de la fondue mongolienne Little Sheep (小肥羊). Le restaurant Kam Fung fait impressionant et le take-out coréen a l’air bien sympathique.

Pour ce qui nous intéresse en tout cas, il s’agit d’un autre grand supermarché asiatique/chinois qui s’ouvre dans la grande région montréalaise. On se plaindra sûrement que ce n’est pas aussi achalandé qu’un Oriental Food Market ou alors que ça n’offre pas une qualité imbattable (mais à des prix pas trop compétitifs) et des heures d’ouverture malades comme dans un T&T, mais on trouve quand même de tout sous un même toit.

Y compris une bonne soixantaine de variétés de nouilles instantanées aux dates d’expiration très suspectes. J’ai constaté qu’un bon tiers des clients n’étaient pas asiatiques – et pour cause, car les prix parfois bons et la fraîcheur (des poissons et fruits de mer vivants quelqu’un?) ça n’a pas de frontières. Mes parents, qui vivent dans l’Ouest-de-l’île, préfèrent eux aller chez Adonis.

C’est beau et tout neuf, alors ça vaut bien le détour. Comme au Kim Phat sur Jarry, il s’agit d’une grande surface avec des comptoirs à pâtisseries, BBQ, boucherie et la fameuse poissonerie vivante. À l’opposé, il n’y a pas d’espace commercial à l’intérieur du supermarché pour une bijouterie ou un restaurant.

Ouvrez l’oeil pour les paniers-comptoirs suspendus au-dessus des réfrigérateurs horizontaux!

Pâtisserie-restaurant Callia (嘉莉／麵包茶餐聽) just opened over the weekend in Montreal’s Chinatown and I went to check it out.

I was initially surprised at how fast it appeared – I didn’t even notice that the former tenant, a Chinese restaurant presumably branded as upscale, had closed shop. The owners, I think, are from Hong Kong, based on the use of traditional Chinese characters. It is a Hong Kong-style bakery-restaurant and its restaurant part is better known as cha chaan teng (literally tea salon – but better known for that sub-genre of European-Chinese fusion cuisine evolved from the colonial era in Hong Kong.

Callia’s formula is the same as long-time incumbent MM Legende (Lai Tsing), which has been around for at least a good decade. The same stretch of De la Gauchetière between Clark and St-Urbain now has four different shops selling drinks and pastries. Is it going to be one too many?

Another cha chaan teng called Pêches used to exist across from MM Legende (downstairs from Bubble Tea L2 – where “My Cup Of Tea” used to be) but won the war of the cha chaan teng. Montreal Chinatown hardly sounds like a battlefield for this kind of business, but with Harmonie at the corner of St-Urbain, it seems this time unlikely that MM Legende could be able to compete solely based on looks – it is my grandparents’ one and only hangout place when they are in Chinatown.

A customer browsing Chinese pastries at Harmonie in Chinatown

MM Legende, bottom-right corner

However, we have yet to actually try things out at Callia. It was incredibly packed today as the staff (interestingly wearing suit uniforms) was selling stuff at a big discount for the grand opening. The dining room was a big mess. We’ll give their Hong Kong milk tea and whatever macaroni-in-its-broth a try before giving any non-aesthetic appreciation of the place!

Edit (2009-05-03): Apparently, this place was opened by the people of Keung Kee, a few doors down. I actually ate at Callia tonight and it was pretty good. My dad got a brisket noodles, while my mom had a Yu Hsiang Eggplant (with bits of delicious dried fish). I had a Brisket Rice with a cream soup with corn (not corn cream) and of course a standardly good Hong Kong milk tea.