It is widely acknowledged that Chinatown in any city has a distinct smell. Or several, rather: most people would say fish, pet store musk, and, well, sewage come to mind. New York Times olfactory journalist Jason Logan also reports “clay, crabs…and pickled cement.” Those are the outdoor smells, but upon entering any Chinese foodstuffs shop one is confronted with another pungent combination of a million different spices and dried mushrooms, vegetables, and fruits. Plastic bins and ceramic urns nearly overflow with unrecognizable fungi or all-too-recognizable dried fish, shelves stocked with boxes and bottles seem as if they’re about to topple onto you at any minute, and the space seems as filled with scent as it is stocked with goods. Chinese five-spice powder combines the most memorable of those fragrances and the flavors they belong to: typical recipes include star anise, clove, nutmeg, cinnamon (or cassia, a close relative), and peppercorns. Chinese chefs strive to find the perfect balance of the spices involved, and the result is a single coherent flavor with a distinctive earthy depth, and a smell that evokes the memory of every tiny Chinese corner store you’ve ever set foot in.
Five-spice is usually used in savory dishes, but I had used it in a molasses ginger cake with excellent results, and I had read about it being added to chocolate cake recipes. Chocolate is uncontroversially great, but it is easily made even better by pairing it with other flavors. Italians figured out that combining it with espresso magically makes chocolate more chocolatey, Mexicans have created sophisticated hot chocolate by pairing it with cinnamon and complex savory sauces by mixing chocolate and chili peppers. I wanted to see if the Chinese culinary tradition could have something to say about chocolate – but I wanted it to be a quick and relatively effortless test, so I turned to boxed brownie mix.
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This experiment was supposed to be about the five-spice powder, but I couldn’t help testing another variable. I’d heard that yogurt can replace the oil and water in boxed mix recipes, and I had a large tub of plain yogurt with an approaching expiration date. So I mixed the yogurt, eggs, and brownie mix together, added five-spice until its taste was sufficiently present (several taste tests were necessary, but it ended up being a teaspoon and a half), and sprinkled in some flax seeds (thanks to Chase I’ve discovered that they’re good in everything, especially strawberry chocolate chip milkshakes).
These brownies are more cakey than fudgey, but I suppose that was determined by the kind of mix we bought (Duncan Hines Dark Chocolate). The yogurt seemed to work, although I’m more of a supporter of Rob Ammirati’s “Add an Additional Stick of Butter to Whatever the Box Says” method of brownie making. But these brownies are not the kind that satisfy a typical gooey-chocolate-thing craving. They are much more interesting – more like an exciting spice cake, the smoothness of chocolate enhanced by a backdrop of exotic smoky flavor. Perhaps not best for a brownie craving, but perfect for a day when you want to go to Chinatown (or China?) but can only make it to Key Food.
yes, the butter trick!! Kath swears you learned it from her, but I know better . . .
ReplyDeletethe brownies sound delicious, and go flax seeds!
love,
polly
dear caitlin,
ReplyDeletei read with pleasure the attention you gave to one of my special rules of life, however, i fear you have failed to understand the limitations of my favorite culinary modus operandi. a stick of butter cannot be added to just everything, a stick of butter is only tasty when one stick is added per box of prepackaged baking good. that is a recipe for delight.
an addendum to this m.o. is to always remember that when baking with a boxed krusteaz chocolate good, one can substitute part of the butter with unsweetened chocolate. in berkeley this has fooled many a food snob. a krusteaz chocolate brownie mix with a stick of butter and unsweetened chocolate added is dense, smooth, and velvety on the tongue, yet not overly sweet; a delicious finish to any meal however short, and quite the compliment to any late harvest red. it is actually quite delightful, and so filling you're happy after a small slice. (please bake in a round pan with sloped sides).
perhaps a more universal epicurial accent ingredient is balsamic vinegar. if you buy the right kind, it's even good on ice cream. you can tell the best stuff by checking the label––it'll mention mulberry, juniper, and cherry. no grape must, and no caramel. you can relabel a burned vegetable dish as "brulé" if you add reduced balsamic vinegar. burned rice may test its limits, but probably not.
-rob
p.s.
ReplyDeleteeven though i haven't read all of your blog, i wanted to mention that your mother's turkey and her salami potato salad are joyously good and simple. i wonder if a roasted walnut and salami flapjack stuffing might be just the thing at thanksgiving. brandy soaked sultanas? with thyme?