FOOD GEOGRAPHY
Market vendors in Myitkyina sell butterfly beans, eggplants, small new potatoes, and more in a sunny spot in late afternoon.
IN MYITKYINA I stayed at the YMCA, a small hostel right near the train station. Well, “train station” is a bit misleading—I should say, near the platform where trains stop in Myitkyina when they pull in from their journeys. Myitkyina is the end of the line: trains take nearly four days to travel the 600 miles from Rangoon, passing through Mandalay at the halfway mark and then heading on north. They always arrive late. They turn around in Myitkyina on a long loop of track, and then head back south, slowly, the old tracks making anything more than an amble impossible. Because the train tracks are right across from the Y, every once in a while, day and night, there’s a whistle and a heavy rumbling as a train lumbers past.
Apart from the nightly train awakenings, the Y was a great place to stay and an ideal place to hang out. I got to see the daily comings and goings as kids and adults came for English-language lessons, more kids for karate classes, families for weddings and other parties. It was never hard to find someone to chat with, a boon for me because I always had questions about things I’d seen in the course of my wanderings around town.
Every day I went to the huge riverside market in the early morning and then to a nearby street market in the late afternoon, photographing and tasting as much as I could—listening, looking, and trying to understand the human landscape. Language can be a great way to learn who is around. In the Myitkyina markets I heard Yunnanese and Mandarin, Shan, Burmese, and Kachin (always a safe guess here), as well as various South Asian languages.
When I went on a long bicycle ride through the southern end of town, I came upon small weaving factories, where women sitting at noisy electric looms were turning out cotton lungyi (sarongs). Nearby was a more peaceful workshop with three or four women at old-style looms handweaving intricately patterned silk lungyi. On the other end of town I found the university, the museum, and the huge field where the Kachin New Year ceremonies and dances take place each January. Every day I filled in more details of my personal map of Myitkyina: temples, mosques, churches, new large houses and charming smaller ones, markets, and shops.
One day, while exploring a neighborhood, I smelled hot mustard oil, something I associate with Bengali and Nepali cooking. Back at the Y, I asked Lam, the young Kachin guy who manned the desk, “Are there Bengalis here?” “Oh no, that’s Gurkha,” he told me. “They cook with mustard oil. They came from Nepal with the British army and some of them stayed on. We get on well with them.”
Another piece of the puzzle explained.
pork strips with star anise
SERVES 3 OR 4
One evening in Mandalay I went out to supper at a little Shan restaurant with a German woman named Ann and a young monk friend of hers, even though he couldn’t eat at that hour (see “
Offerings at Dawn,”). Afterward we went to see the
Moustache Brothers, a comedy troupe headed by three brothers. Their show was subversive, funny, and touching all at once. Now that is changing, for as Burma moves toward democracy, they don’t have as much edgy material to play with.
This deeply flavored pork dish was another memorable star of that evening. There’s definitely more than a hint of China in the flavoring (star anise, soy sauce, a touch of sweet), a reminder that the Shan come from the border regions of Thailand, Burma, and Yunnan. I like to serve it with something acidic, perhaps
Succulent Grapefruit (or Pomelo) Salad, or a simple vinaigrette-dressed salad, to balance the smoky dark flavors of the pork.
About ¾ pound pork tenderloin or boneless pork shoulder
½ teaspoon salt, or to taste
3 tablespoons peanut oil or rendered pork fat
2 tablespoons crushed or minced garlic
2 teaspoons minced ginger
1 cup water
2 star anise, whole or in pieces
2 teaspoons soy sauce
¼ cup chopped coriander (optional)
Cut the pork into strips about 1 inch long, ½ inch wide, and nearly ¼ inch thick. Place in a bowl with the salt and toss to coat; set aside.
Place a wok or heavy pot over medium heat. Add the oil or fat and toss in the garlic and ginger. Cook until they are well softened, then add the pork and cook, stirring it to expose all sides to the hot surface of the pan, until it has all changed color.
Stir the mashed soybeans or miso into the water, then add to the pan, along with the star anise, stir, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for several minutes. Add the palm sugar liquid and soy sauce and simmer over low heat, half-covered, for another 10 minutes. Taste and add a little salt if you wish (the dish is traditionally a little salty).
Sprinkle on the coriander just before serving if you wish.
sweet-tart pork belly stew
[MOO JAW]SERVES 4 OR 5
This satisfying cross between a soup and a stew is aromatic with lemongrass. Traditionally the broth gets a tart edge from whatever leaf or fruit or flavoring is available. In Shan State, that might be hibiscus flower buds or unripe tomatoes or lime juice. You can also use tamarind liquid.
Serve over rice or over noodles or pasta, with a vegetable side.
About 6 cups water
2 teaspoons turmeric
1 tablespoon salt, or to taste
3 stalks lemongrass, trimmed, smashed, and cut into 1-inch lengths
1 pound pork belly, cut into ½-inch-wide strips about 1½ inches long
1 generous cup shallots, halved or quartered
1 cup garlic cloves, halved if they are large
1 cup hibiscus buds, or substitute ½ cup fresh lime juice or 1 cup finely chopped green tomatoes
¼ cup finely chopped coriander
Bring the water to a boil in a large pot. Add the turmeric, salt, lemongrass, and pork, cover, and bring back to a boil, then lower the heat to maintain a steady boil and cook until the pork is just cooked, 8 to 10 minutes.
Add the shallots and garlic, raise the heat slightly, and boil vigorously, half-covered, for 15 minutes.
Add the hibiscus buds (or other souring agent) and boil vigorously for another 10 minutes. Sprinkle on the coriander just before serving.
PORK BELLY SKIN: Pork belly skin (sometimes called rind) is a great but often neglected ingredient. Use it to make your own lard and crispy pork cracklings. Slice it, then cut it crosswise into approximately 2-inch pieces. Place them in a wok or wide heavy skillet over medium heat. Move them around as they heat, and soon the fat will melt off them. Continue to cook over medium to medium-low heat until you have a lot of fat with cracklings floating in it. Let cool for 10 minutes, then pour the fat off into a glass jar; seal and refrigerate. Use this lard, clean and subtle, in making pastry or for frying. The crispy cracklings are a delicious snack and also a great crouton-like addition to a salad: see Chinese Kale (or Broccoli Rabe) with Pork Cracklings for a Shan example—or a variation on Caesar salad for a Western one.
three-layer pork with mustard greens and tofu
SERVES 4
In Burmese, as in Chinese and Thai, what we call pork belly in English is called “three-layer pork,” a great description of the cut, and to me far more attractive sounding. Three-layer pork looks a little like pale slab bacon: meat layered with fat. It’s a great way to give depth to a vegetable, as it does here.
Pickled mustard greens are widely available in Chinese grocery stores. In this Shan dish, their acidity balances the slight sweetness of the pork, and the tofu is a nice bridge between them. As is typical of Shan cooking, the ingredients come together in one pot, seasoned with salt, not fish sauce, and flavored with onion rather than shallot, as well as with fresh coriander.
This is traditionally served with rice, but it is also delicious with polenta.
2 pounds pork belly, to yield about 1¾ pounds trimmed of skin
¼ cup peanut oil or vegetable oil
1 medium to large onion, quartered and thinly sliced crosswise (about 1 cup)
Scant 2 cups Chinese preserved mustard greens (see Glossary), well rinsed and thinly sliced crosswise
A scant ¾ pound tofu, thinly sliced into bite-sized pieces
1½ teaspoons salt, or to taste
About ½ cup water
½ cup coriander leaves
Lay the pork belly on a cutting board, cut it across the grain as thin as possible, then cut the slices into 2-inch or so lengths. Set aside.
Place a large wok or wide heavy pot over medium heat. Add the oil, then toss in the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until translucent and softened, about 5 minutes. Raise the heat to medium-high, add the pork, and cook, turning and pressing it against the hot surface of the pan, until it has all changed color and started to render its fat, 4 to 6 minutes. Toss in the sliced greens and stir well, then cook for several minutes, stirring occasionally, until heated through. Add the tofu and salt and carefully stir to mix thoroughly without breaking up the tofu.
Add the water, cover, and cook for 3 to 5 minutes, until the greens are a little more softened and the flavors are blended. Stir in the coriander, remove from the heat, and serve hot or at room temperature.
lemongrass-ginger sliders
MAKES 16 TO 18 SLIDERS; SERVES 4
The original Shan recipe is for meat balls made with ground beef or pork flavored with minced lemongrass, ginger, and garlic. I’ve found it easier in a North American kitchen to flatten the balls and cook them as sliders. They cook slowly in a little oil, which gives them a slight crust and succulent interior. You want some fat for tenderness, which is why the recommended cuts are flank steak or pork shoulder.
Traditionally the meat is chopped by hand, using two cleavers and alternating chop-chop-chop, as it’s done by all the Tai peoples (the word for the technique in the Tai languages is laap). Hand-chopped meat has a different texture from ground meat, and I urge you to try it. And chopping the meat yourself means that you know the quality of the meat. You can instead chill the meat and use a food processor to grind it.
The Shan traditionally use minced shavings of green
makawk wood (see
Glossary) in the meatballs. They help hold the meat together. I use a little leftover rice instead.
1 pound boneless beef chuck or boneless pork shoulder, or 1 pound ground chuck or ground pork
¼ teaspoon turmeric
2 tablespoons minced lemongrass
2 tablespoons minced garlic
½ cup minced shallots
2 tablespoons minced ginger
1 teaspoon salt
¼ cup chilled cooked jasmine or other rice
¼ cup finely chopped Roma tomatoes
About ¼ cup peanut oil
If using meat that has not been ground: To hand-chop the meat, thinly slice it, then place the slices on a large cutting board. Holding a cleaver in each hand, chop the meat with alternating hands, chopping across the piled meat one way, then another, and repeating until finely chopped. Sprinkle on the turmeric and set aside in a large bowl. Alternatively, to use a food processor, cut the meat into 5 or 6 pieces and place in the freezer for 20 minutes. Transfer the meat to the processor, add the turmeric, and pulse to finely chop. Transfer to a large bowl and set aside.
If using ground meat: Place in a bowl, sprinkle with the turmeric, and set aside.
To make and cook the sliders: Combine the lemongrass, garlic, shallots, ginger, and salt in a large mortar or the food processor and pound or pulse to a coarse paste. Add the rice, chile powder, and tomatoes and pound or pulse again.
In a Tai Koen temple in the center of Kengtung, large Buddha statues gleam in the half-light of a few candles.
Add the flavor paste to the meat and knead it thoroughly into the meat. Shape the mixture into balls about 1 inch in diameter, then flatten each one gently into a thick patty. Set aside on a lightly oiled plate.
Place a large skillet over high heat. Add the oil, then lower the heat to medium-high and add the sliders, being careful not to splash yourself with oil; arrange the first ones around the edges of the skillet and work your way in to the center. Cook for 3 minutes or so, then use a wide metal spatula to turn the sliders over. As the meat starts to release water, raise the heat a little to evaporate it. Remove the sliders from the pan when they are firm to the touch or have reached the degree of doneness you like.
Lemongrass-Ginger Sliders, with pea tendrils draped on them, accompanied by various dipping sauces and condiments and by Everyday Cabbage-Shallot Refresher.
MAKES 1¾ POUNDS; SERVES 6 TO 8
This jerky is hauntingly delicious as a snack with drinks or as part of a meal. The main ingredient for the recipe is time. The meat—beef or pork—is rubbed with a spice blend, then dried. Traditionally that would mean air-drying for 2 or 3 days, but I take a shortcut and dry it in a low oven for several hours. Just before serving, the meat is sliced and lightly shallow-fried.
2 tablespoons coriander seeds
2 teaspoons turmeric
3 tablespoons minced ginger
3 tablespoons minced garlic
2 teaspoons cayenne
1 tablespoon salt
2 pounds boneless beef steak, such as flank or skirt steak, or boneless pork shoulder, or 1 pound of each
Peanut oil for shallow-frying
Use a spice or coffee grinder to grind the coriander seeds to a powder. Place in a mortar or a food processor with the remaining ingredients for the spice paste and pound or process to a paste.
Cut the meat across the grain into strips just under 1 inch wide and about 4 inches long. Place the meat in a bowl; if using both pork and beef, keep them in separate bowls. Add the spice paste, dividing it evenly if using both meats, and use your hands to rub it thoroughly into the meat.
To air-dry the meat: Hang the meat in a spot out of direct sunlight for 1½ to 2 days; it may take 2½ days if the air is very humid. It’s easiest to do this by threading one end of each piece onto a long metal skewer, leaving ½ inch between the pieces so the air can circulate easily; you will need about six skewers. Then suspend the skewers so the strips of meat hang down freely and can air-dry. When ready, the meat will be lighter in weight but not completely dry.
A reclining Buddha at a temple complex in Amarapura, not far from Mandalay. These statues often have spectacular feet.
To dry the meat in the oven: Lay the meat strips on a rack set over a roasting pan so the air can circulate. Place in the oven set to its lowest temperature (usually 150°F). Turn the meat after 1½ to 2 hours, and remove when it is lighter in weight but not completely dried out, about another hour.
Once dried, the meat can be refrigerated for as long as 3 days.
To cook the meat: Cut the meat strips crosswise into bite-sized pieces. Place a large wok or skillet over medium-high heat. Add about ½ inch of peanut oil, and when it is hot, slide in a handful of the meat, without crowding; you want each piece in contact with the hot oil. Cook, turning frequently, until tender, 3 or 4 minutes. Cook the remaining meat the same way.
Serve hot or at room temperature.
