Hainan Chicken Rice

We ate lots of Hainan Ji Fan when I was growing up.  This poached chicken dish originates from Hainan, an island in China just south of the mainland where my grandparents are from.  It's also a popular dish in Singapore and Malaysia, where my parents were born.  And my mom continues to make it in her New York kitchen, where she taught it to me on a Mother's Day weekend visit.  The best part is the rice.  After the chicken is poached, the water essentially becomes chicken stock, and that liquid is used to infuse the rice, making it flavorful and rich.  If you have homemade chicken stock on hand, substitute it for some of the water for more potent chicken flavor.  The rice is also imbued with garlic and a hint of ginger.

This is how Mom rolls.  I don't have a problem with the head, but I have no use for it either.
So I bought the usual supermarket variety.

The poached chicken may be too simple for those used to loud flavors, but soy sauce and hot sauce are served on the side and my dad always partook.  He's always been proud of his Singapore-grown tolerance for heat, but by contrast I've only graduated to mild.  Yes, I said graduated.  Hainan Chicken Rice is also Singapore's national dish.

My parents, brother, paternal grandparents, and my twin sister and me.  Once again, not sure which runt I am.

One of my earliest memories includes this dish.  I had peeled off some chicken skin -- which I love when roasted and crispy but not when poached and soft -- just as my mother often instructed me to because it's healthier that way.  And my paternal grandmother, who was born a peasant in Hainan and was not into waste one bit, objected, pushing me to eat the skin.  "Eat it!  Go ahead, eat it!" she said, as my mother told me, "Don't do it!  It's not good for you!"  Whom to obey, mother or grandmother?  I think it must have been my mother.  Their reactions summed up their food philosophies, and the memory still makes me chuckle.

My twin sister with her daughter, Audrey, on Mother's Day weekend.

And this time a new generation of the family was introduced to Hainan Ji Fan.  My 16-month-old niece, Audrey, was a big fan.  I also decided she's now officially a Chinese lady.  When she would act up, my mother would chide her, saying, "Aiya!"  And Audrey, in a world-weary yet babyish voice, would sigh in echo, "Aiiyaaa!"

What are some of your quintessential family recipes?

Chipotle Chicken and Rice

This dish has gone through several incarnations, but its origins were in a dish called Pollo Estofado.  I liked this chicken and rice dish from my sister's ex, and made some changes for convenience and personal taste.  He served rice on the side in addition to potatoes in the dish; I was looking to avoid carb overload so I threw out the potatoes, and decided the green bell peppers should go too.  In the end, I browned the chicken with aromatics, then cooked the rice in the same saute pan -- the chicken ends up infusing the rice with its flavor.  Frozen peas are stirred in at the end and warmed through, adding a bright green.

But now I have one more revision.  Inspired by a similar Martha Stewart recipe I saw online that looked hopelessly fussy, I added chipotles to my dish for added flavor and heat.  The two chipotles made the spice level barely warm, so I would use four next time.  Point of reference: I'm a spice wimp, so if you like it hot you may want to amp it up with even more chiles.

Nuo Mi Fan, or Chinese Sticky Rice

Nuo Mi Fan, or Chinese Sticky Rice, is a Chinese household staple.  This is another recipe from Mom, who calls it Luo Mi Fan, but the pronunciation must differ by region because I can't find an "official" one in my searches.  I like mine extra sticky.  I recently discovered that lots of Chinese-Americans will use Nuo Mi Fan in place of a bread stuffing in their turkeys for Thanksgiving.  Mom always used Stovetop, and I've made my own bread stuffing from scratch for years.

Grandpa in the 1940s; Grandma, Dad, and my aunt

However, she said Grandpa, whom I called Ah-gong, used it to stuff his turkeys as well.  Grandpa was a native of Hainan, China, who immigrated to Singapore.  There he worked as a cook on ships, though we inherited no recipes from him.  He was on a ship during a Japanese invasion of Singapore (in the 1940s, I believe), and borders were closed and he ended up in New York City, parted from his family.  Only decades later did he locate my grandmother and Dad, and they rejoined him in New York.  But apparently during that time Grandpa engaged in practices like stuffing turkeys with sticky rice and developing a taste for Irish corned beef, which the Hainanese of Brooklyn called "salty beef."

One important thing of note is that Nuo Mi Fan usually includes dried mushrooms that are rehydrated.  But I hate mushrooms in any form.  So when Mom taught me this recipe earlier this summer, she omitted them.  That led Dad to ask, "Where are the mushrooms?"  For me the main attraction instead is the Chinese sausage, called la chang or lap cheong.  It's got a different flavor and texture from Western-style sausages, so don't substitute.  Some brands are better than others (I had an awful one once), but Mom got these straight from the butcher for me.  You can freeze them.

Regular long-grain rice won't work in this recipe.  You have to get glutinous rice, also known as sweet rice.  The grains are shorter and rounder and the result stickier, kind of like risotto.

Nuo Mi Fan is traditionally plated as a dome

Dried shrimp are common in Chinese cooking, but the unfamiliarity can put some people off.  Give it a try, but if it's a deal breaker or you can't find any, omit them.

And on a side note, it's mooncake time!  The Mid-Autumn Festival starts on Sept. 12 this year, so I bought my mooncakes, or yuebing.  I've noticed some beautiful snowskin mooncakes in various colors on the blogosphere lately.  View a bunch here.

Don't be intimidated: Risotto

That's what I recently told a friend who loved the dish. All it needs is near-constant attention, and I even included a pictorial guide below. And don't use regular long-grained rice like I did on my first try.

Butternut Squash Risotto, adapted from Ina Garten's recipe

1 butternut squash
2 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and black pepper
6 cups chicken stock or broth
4 tbs unsalted butter
2 large minced shallots
1 1/2 cups Arborio rice
1/2 cup dry white wine (or 1/4 cup chicken stock if someone doesn't drink alcohol)
1 teaspoon saffron threads
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan


Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.
Peel the butternut squash, remove the seeds, and cut it into bite-sized cubes. Place the squash in a roasting pan and toss it with the olive oil, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Roast for 25 to 30 minutes, tossing once, until very tender. Set aside.

Meanwhile, heat the chicken stock in a small pot. Leave it on low heat to simmer.
In a heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven, melt the butter and saute the shallots on medium-low heat for a few minutes. Add the rice and wine (or broth, if using) and cook, stirring, for 2 minutes.






Add 2 ladles of stock to the rice plus the saffron, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper.



Stir and simmer. When it looks like the liquid has cooked like this, add more stock.





Stir and let it cook until it is almost dry again, 5 to 10 minutes, and repeat the process by adding another 2 ladles of stock. Continue repeating the steps (adding the broth and letting the liquid absorb) until the rice is cooked through but not mushy, about 30 minutes total. Remove the Dutch oven from the heat, and add the squash and Parmesan.









Stir it all together and serve!