I guess I could have also called this Hibiscus Mojito Granita, but that sounds a little hokey.
My experimentations with tea desserts continue. Since my Rose Tea Rice Pudding was a success, I moved on to hibiscus tea, another tisane I bought at Maliandau, Beijing's tea street.
Hibiscus tea is also known as roselle in Southeast Asia, red sorrel in the Caribbean, and karkady in the Middle East. Among other benefits, it contains vitamin C and is believed to lower blood pressure. All that is wonderful, but my main concern on yesterday's 30 degrees Celsius afternoon, was how to incorporate hibiscus into a frozen dessert.
Read MoreI have to admit that I have a strong bias towards jiaozi (饺子). Besides Shanghainese soup dumplings (xiaolongbao), my favorite Chinese dumplings are thin-skinned and pan-fried, the kind found mainly in Southern China or New York's $1-for-5 fried dumpling joints. Northern Chinese-style dumplings, which offer more thick doughy skin than filling, just can't compare.
What's better than anything a restaurant or dumpling stall can offer are homemade jiaozi, hot off the skillet. On my last day in Zhongshan my mother and I bought dumpling skins from a lady specializing in doughy things like wrappers and noodles, and spent an hour or two wrapping dumplings for dinner.
Since I have so many photos from that afternoon, I thought I would do a pictoral guide on jiaozi-making. (Often dumpling recipes fail to show the step-by-step process in folding.) Also included is my mother's fool-proof method for getting perfectly crisp pan-fried dumplings without burning them.
Read MoreThis afternoon, less than 24 hours before hopping on a train to Hong Kong, I was faced with a dilemma. Do I boil some instant ramen noodles and start packing early, to ensure I remember everything and not wait until the last minute? Or do I make myself a good, hearty lunch, while updating my iPod with all the new music and podcasts necessary for a long train ride?
A perpetual procrastinator, I chose the latter.
The plan was to make Kung Pao Chicken (Gongbao Jiding), because that was what I was craving. Then I looked in the fridge and saw a pack of lonely-looking tofu, which would certainly go uneaten before the trip.
Read MoreRemember when I wrote about the kaleidoscope of tofu available in China? Here's a couple I picked up today at the market:
The lighter colored pack is 豆干 (dòu gān), the super firm kind I like to use in dishes like caramelized tofu. The other was new to me, and intrigued me because the name on the packaging: 啤酒肉片 (píjiǔ ròupiàn) literally reads as "Beer Meat Slices." I know the character for "meat" in Chinese can also mean the flesh of any food, from pigs to pineapples to tofu. But the "beer" part I couldn't figure out, since it wasn't listed as one of the ingredients.
Nor did it taste much like beer. Then again, Chinese beers themselves don't taste much like beer. (So either it really was cooked with a Tsingdao-like hop-less concoction, or the marketers were desperately trying to find an appealing name.) Either way, the tofu was fried, and although it didn't taste like beer it had the nice slightly sweet flavor and meaty texture I wanted for noodles with hot bean sauce.
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