Noodles You Should Know: Liangfen

Jiggly, wiggly JELL-O is a staple of early American desserts, persisting to this day as a favorite of the young, the old, and the boozy reveler alike. Most associate it with sweet desserts, packaged in all sorts of fruity flavors, but it hasn’t always been that way. In fact, gelatin was traditionally a savory ingredient, featuring prominently in some questionable gelled salads, or for the upper class, aspics instead. Of course, there’s so much more to it than that, especially when you consider different plant-based gelling agents. Thus, whenever I see “Sichuan green bean jello” on a menu, I’ll always jump at the chance to place my order.

Better known as liangfen, it’s not actually made from JELL-O or any animal-based gelatin at all. More accurately, it’s typically made from the starch of either mung beans or green peas. It may come as a surprise when it arrives at the table in bright white, blocky rectangular lengths, stained red with chili oil, boasting a hint of green color only from scallions or celery leaves on top.

What are Liangfen, AKA Cold Jelly Noodles?

Slippery, with a short bite that’s much softer than a chewy wheat-based noodle, they’re very easy to eat, provided you can gently coax them onto your chopsticks. It can be tricky to pick up more than one strand at a time, especially if they’re slicked with a richly umami sauce. Consider them the tofu of noodles, being almost completely flavorless before soaking in a deeply flavorful sauce. Mala Sichuan peppercorns, black vinegar, pungent chopped garlic, toasted sesame seed, and red hot oil sizzling with chilies are all essential for this dish.

Make Your Own Liangfen

As a naturally, “accidentally” vegan noodle, there are plenty of excellent recipes online that need no modification. It’s incredibly easy to make and fully customizable to your tastes, in case you’d prefer a sauce with less heat or more acid.

Where Do Liangfen Come From?

Served cold, the contrasting heat of the spices is what makes it so addicting. Especially on hot summer days, it’s incredibly refreshing while making you sweat at the same time. Fittingly, the name liangfen translates to “cold starch” or “cool noodle” in English. Born some time within the Qing Dynasty (1644-1912,) it began life as a humble street food in the Sichuan province, spreading quickly to proper eateries and even fine dining restaurants.

Eat Liangfen For Your Health!

For the health-conscious, there’s a lot to love about this sleek, silky treat, too. Low in calories and fat, it’s also rich in fiber and quality carbohydrates, promoting digestive health and providing a sustainable source of plant-based energy. Since these noodles are made of starch instead of wheat, they’re gluten-free and free of all major allergens.

Upon first bite, the unique gelatinous texture, seeming to melt in your mouth, grabbing your attention as something far outside the realm of western culinary creations. The interplay of flavors is a symphony of sensations; the tangy vinegar dances with the umami soy sauce, while the chili oil adds a crescendo of heat. Altogether, it’s an extraordinary noodle that should be a prominent guest at your table, too.

Join The Cult Of Celtuce

Do you have a moment to talk about our root and savior, celtuce?

Perhaps this girthy stem lettuce doesn’t have a cult following, and I’m not exactly the most convincing salesperson, but tasting is believing. I’m on a mission to spread the good word for this sadly unsung Chinese vegetable that deserves a fervent fan base. Since we last spoke of our planted redeemer, I haven’t seen a surge in popularity, so I’m back with another pitch that won’t miss.

Why You’ll Love This Celtuce Stir Fry

Pretty much anything can be stir fried with great success, but celtuce is a truly exceptional selection.

  • Cooks in minutes. High heat lightly cooks the food while keeping it tender-crisp throughout, making this a dish you can get on the table at a moment’s notice.
  • Minimal ingredients. Just a few pantry staples and fresh aromatics stand between you and instant gratification.
  • Bold, savory flavors. This is the real reason you’ll want to make this recipe again and again. A touch of nutty sesame oil goes a long way in adding depth and richness, bolstered by umami garlic chives and scallions. Warm fresh ginger and peppers spice things up, while a touch of black vinegar adds acid that cuts through it all, lingering with a gentle sweetness at the end.

How To Cut Celtuce

The thick skin protecting each stalk makes celtuce seem intimidating to break down, but it’s really a snap to hack.

  1. Use a sharp peeler or knife to cut away the thick outer skin. Remove the dried out bottom and leafy top.
  2. Slice it on a bias to make long strips, about 2 – 3mm wide.
  3. Stack a few of the strips at a time and cut those into thin ribbons.
  4. Repeat until the whole stalk is thinly julienned.

If you have any means of getting your hands on fresh celtuce, you’re doing yourself a disservice by leaving it at the store. Support your local Asian market, ask your closest specialty store to carry it, or even order it online. There’s nothing else quite like celtuce and once you’ve been enlightened by its virtues, you’ll become a believer, too.

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Hot and Bothered Over Hot and Sour Soup

Of all the foods I crave, hot and sour soup is most commonly out of reach. Ubiquitous across Chinese restaurant menus big and small, often given away for free with a lunch combo, it’s a cruel joke that there’s no soup for me.

Traditionally a Sichuan staple, standard recipes include all the usual non-vegan pitfalls: chicken broth, beaten eggs, and sometimes thinly sliced pork. In rare instances, you may luck out and find a vegetarian option without meat, but completely vegan versions are true unicorns.

Hot and sour soup is a snap to make at home, but not without mild controversy. Truth be told, I’ve been making some version of this recipe for years on the down-low. It’s one of those everyday staples that doesn’t feel special enough to share in the spotlight, and moreover, it would undoubtedly raise the ire of culinary perfectionists for all its obvious flaws.

Authenticity be damned; no one should gatekeep good food. When I’m too tired or busy to travel to the Asian specialty store for the conventional ingredients, when I’m just trying to scrape together pantry staples to feed myself, or when I’ve simply run out of fucks to give, this is the soup I turn to.

How To Make Hot And Sour Soup More “Authentic”

  • Use bamboo shoots instead of shredded carrots
  • Swap the balsamic vinegar for black vinegar
  • Replace the shiitake mushrooms with wood ear mushrooms
  • Add dried lily buds

How To Make Hot And Sour Soup Less “Authentic” But More Accessible

  • Use vegetable stock instead of vegan chicken broth
  • Omit the plant-based egg component
  • Add green peas, diced tomatoes, or corn kernels
  • Finish with sriracha or chili oil, to taste

If you find this recipe offensive, categorically distasteful, or personally upsetting, guess what? It’s not meant for you. For everyone else trying to get a hot and sour fix with limited means: Welcome. Grab a bowl and a spoon, there’s plenty to go around.

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Congee Is The Cure

Have you ever eaten something that was spicy enough to wake the dead? Though not for the weak of stomach, that might be just what the doctor ordered.

That was the literal inspiration for this recipe, glutinous rice porridge, AKA congee. Of course, the original dish is incredibly mild, sometimes seasoned only with a pinch of salt, if that. Meant to soothe an upset stomach, it’s classic sick day food that’s easy to digest and gently nurse the unwell back to health. Now I’m beginning to think that the opposite approach might be more effective.

Mo Dao Zu Shi (魔道祖师) is far from a food-focused donghua, but stick with me here. The protagonist, Wei Wuxian, is known to make his meals unbearably spicy, to the point that you’d think one’s spirit would depart their body after a single bite. This turns out to be an asset that ultimately cures those suffering from corpse poisoning.

There’s good sense to back this theory up. Hot peppers have genuine medicinal properties granted by that characteristic burn. Capsaicin is the compound responsible for its culinary prowess and health benefits.

What are the benefits of capsaicin?

  • For short term pain relief, biting into a blisteringly hot food releases endorphins, creating a mild “high” and dampening other discomforting sensations, like headaches, joint pain, and beyond.
  • Chili peppers are great for improving heart health! Studies have shown they can reduce inflammation, lower cholesterol, and increase blood flow.
  • Stress less with a calming dose of B-complex vitamins such as niacin, pyridoxine (vitamin B-6), riboflavin and thiamin (vitamin B-1). Deficiencies in these vitamins can lead to added anxiety or trouble regulating moods over time.
  • Have tissues handy because this stuff will clear out your sinuses and ease congestion. Plus, capsaicin has antibacterial properties which are effective in fighting and preventing chronic sinus infections.

Most importantly, this is medicine you’ll WANT to take.

Toppings for congee are entirely up to the eater. Creamy rice porridge can do no wrong as a gracious base for anything your heart desires. Aromatic ginger and garlic are a classic starting foundation, amplified by savory, salty soy sauce.

Consider the following ideas to customize you own invigorating and restorative hellbroth:

  • Shiitake mushrooms are brilliant here, chopped finely to infuse every grain with umami.
  • To satiate a heartier appetite, bulk it up with plant proteins, like baked or braised tofu, or cooked beans.
  • Add textural contrast with toasted pine nuts or slivered almonds.

The only non-negotiable is the chili crisp. This is what transforms a bowl of mush into a downright addictive meal. While it’s tempting to eat it straight from the jar, try to keep at least a 1:1 ratio of chili crisp to congee, for the sake of your stomach.

Whether it’s a cold, flu, or corpse poisoning, this flaming hot chili crisp congee will cure what ails you.

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Feeding Hungry Ghosts

What do ghosts eat? It feels like a silly question to consider, but at the same time, deadly serious. Presenting such offerings to the dearly departed shows respect, and more importantly, our lasting love. Like living people, I’d imagine that ghosts have diverse tastes, unique to every individual spirit. Whatever might have brought them comfort during their lives would undoubtedly be the best gift. Perhaps it’s sort of a test to keep their memory alive; if you hold dear such comparatively trivial details, surely you could maintain a better picture of the person as a whole.

In any event, what you feed the deceased varies depending on their culture, though I’ve heard that particular dishes are more auspicious than others. For example, did you know that the Chinese originally set out soft tofu for spirits, since it was believed that ghosts have long lost their chins and jaws, making it difficult for them to chew hard or crunchy foods. If there’s anyone I’d trust with this practice, it’s them; tofu first appeared in China around 220 BCE. If that’s not a proven track record, I don’t know what is.

As a person with terrible teeth, I can relate. Besides, once our ancestors have had their fill, the living are meant to enjoy the leftovers, so we should consider making something that everyone would enjoy. That’s why mapo tofu bao are ideal for celebrating the Hungry Ghost Festival.

Also known as the Zhongyuan Festival in Taoism and the Yulanpen Festival in Buddhism, it’s essentially the Chinese version of Día de los Muertos, when family and friends who have left this world come back to visit. To treat our guests of honor, I’d like to suggest these fiery little snacks that are pungent enough to lift the spirits, no matter what state they’re in.

Soft cubes of tender tofu luxuriate in a spicy sea of black garlic, fermented bean paste, and plenty of mala Sichuan peppercorns. Wrapped in a pillowy shell of steamed white bread, each bite practically melts in your mouth, exploding into fireworks of flavor. I wish I could lay claim to such a brilliant culinary innovation, but I’m just as happy to share Chez Jorge‘s brilliant formula, already fine-tuned and perfected.

It takes some time and effort to prepare, but considering the fact that your guests of honor have been waiting all year to drop in, I think it’s worth your time. Besides, the ghosts are fairly generous when it comes to sharing; you’ll be grateful for all the extras when the party’s over.