The Holy Grail of the Humble Fried Rice
White pepper — and the jazz of improvisation — make all the difference
Last night, we welcomed the Lunar New Year of the Wood Dragon (that’s me!) by enjoying frozen Xiao Long Bao Soup Dumplings available at Costco and Din Tai Fung style green beans my husband whipped up from a recipe (pictures below).
That’s when Ed raved about the wonders of white pepper. “It’s magic,” he proclaimed, “and nothing like black pepper.”
If you search on Google, countless people in countless articles will blithely say white pepper is merely black pepper, but without the outer shell, and to simply substitute accordingly.
But they’re wrong. I’ve heard white pepper stinks, but once added to food causes a strange and amazing commotion.
We experienced it for ourselves with these green beans. They were better than Din Tai Fung, or any other Chinese restaurant. So flavorful thanks to the white pepper umami and crispy garlic bits on top. Ed used an entire bowlful.
While we were eating, I noticed plenty of green beans we wouldn’t be able to finish with the soup dumplings (highly recommend, btw). “Maybe I should’ve made Din Tai Fung fried rice.”
My husband agreed, adding, “Make it tomorrow. I’ll help.”
Thank god he did.
After fussing over the mistake of making short-grain rice, instead of Jasmine/Basmati, and flinching at the spattering egg in the hot-oil wok, Ed came over and took the spatula from my shaky hand.
I told him what general ingredients go into Din Tai Fung copycat fried rice, then gave him the keys to the kingdom.
Score one for control freak me!
I also reluctantly let go of my tight grip on what should and shouldn’t go into my beloved fried rice, half-heartedly pointing to the soy sauce and garlic, opening a Pandora’s Box…
Growing up, I hated soy sauce in my rice, still do. On the other hand, my younger brother and all other kids all over the globe loved the salty combination to an unhealthy degree. Just the way they love ketchup on eggs and rice.
Me, I always felt like soy sauce was cheating somehow.
And garlic? What if it burns?
Sorry, I’m kind of a purist about food.
Alas, fate intervened, along with my aging, aching joints, trigger finger, and OC-D aversion to making a hot, sizzling mess of the kitchen, so, I thankfully handed over the reins to Ed.
As I watched him stir and flip and toss and improvise like an orchestral maestro on a jazz high, I realized he made a better fried-rice cook than me. He already has a peculiar penchant for evenly portioning out food on his plate whenever he ate meticulously and mathematically.
Plus, his strong, steady hands could handle to constant movement of those Japanese chefs churning out bowls and bowls and bowls of hearty fried rice.
He would perfectly divide ingredients for the perfect dish. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?!
As a result, we ended up with the tastiest fried rice ever — a cross between Din Tai Fung and one of our favorite Chinese restaurants in Edmonds, WA, Dumpling Generation.
My husband put way more chicken bouillon powder than I ever would, as well as copious amounts of soy sauce.
But whatever he did…worked…because…OMG!
My fried rice always tasted weird, fake, and bland, the result of not enough chicken powder and little else.
His tasted of deep, profound joy…and the complex, yet heartwarming love of a good mother.
Since I’m such a generous Wood Dragon, I’m sharing with you all what he did. Feel free to improvise based solely on taste. That’s how we ended up with this fantastic fried rice.
It’s so good, maybe our son will be tempted to drive back home to stay awhile.
;)
Ed Weber’s Superlative Fried Rice
Inspired by Din Tai Fung, Dumpling Generation, and all the kitchen mamas throughout Asia.
Ingredients:
peanut oil
sesame oil
shoyu
white pepper
minced garlic
eggs
rice, preferably at least a day old
scallions, chopped — there is no need to separate white from green
leftover meat (rotisserie chicken, pork, shrimp — cooked or uncooked, Portuguese sausage, SPAM)
optional — kim chee
Directions:
You’re going to stir-fry in batches, so get your mise en place (everything ready to go). Separate the clumps of rice in a large bowl. Keep all the jars and containers open, have two large bowls nearby — one filled with leftover rice, one empty for the fried rice, and utensils you’ll need.
Utensils include a spoon or half teaspoon to dole out the seasonings, half-cup measure, and spatula. Most kitchen mamas only need a spatula; they eye the amounts, going by feel.
Put a wok or pan on medium-high heat. Add a lot more peanut oil than you think and a little sesame oil to coat the pan. Let oil get hot. There should be a pool of the sizzling oil before you add an egg or two. We just add one egg per batch.
Stir-fry the egg until almost cooked, then add about 1 1/2 cups of rice. Again, you can go by feel and just add however much you want. You don’t need a cup measure, just throw it in, depending on how much rice you have to work with.
Add chicken powder to taste. I normally add 1/2 teaspoon per 1 1/2 cups of rice. But my husband added a lot more, at least a heaping 1/2 teaspoon, maybe two. The important thing is to taste as you go, and add more if you think you need to, and work quickly.
Mash the rice to spread out the grains and get as much of their surface on the hot pan, and mix with the egg and the chicken powder. Once you have everything mixed up nicely, then throw in a handful of scallions and whatever meat you have on hand. We like to use leftover, shredded Costco rotisserie chicken.
This is when you add soy sauce and minced garlic.
Continue to stir fry until you reach the level of doneness you like. Most people like the fried rice to develop crispy golden-brown bits. If you keep your wok or pan at a high enough heat, that won’t take long.
Keep tasting as you go along.
Bonus Recipe: Soup Dumpling DIPPING SAUCE
My husband Ed concocted his own version of Din Tai Fung’s dumpling dipping sauce. He’s the sauce master, whether it’s for dim sum, gyoza, katsu (psst, it’s ketchup and soy), or kal bi.
Here it is:
50/50 ratio of soy sauce to Chinese black vinegar and chili crisp oil to taste, depending on how spicy you like it. Boom!
