This recipe is a true hybrid. It starts with a traditional French mirepoix base of onions, carrots, and celery cooked down in extra virgin olive oil, but then gets a bare hint of flavors with a curry bent—ginger, garlic, hot chili, a touch of coriander and cumin and a jar of coconut milk. An unconventional gremolata topping turns a run-of-the-mill wacky lentil soup into something downright fancy tasting.
There are all kinds of variations on the dish that you'll find in Chinese restaurants in the U.S. Some go the ultra-authentic, hardcore traditional route, while others remove some or even all of the heat from the dish, instead replacing it with a creamy sesame (or even peanut butter!) based sauce. To me, picking one version of dan dan noodles as the best is kinda like choosing my favorite Beatles album: It's a constantly shifting debate, even with myself. Best plan is to just pick a path and run with it. This time I'm going for the more traditional approach. Obviously, modifying it for my vegan needs is going to alter that approach in practice (though not in spirit).
To Finish : Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add noodles and cook according to package directions. Drain. While noodles are cooking, heat oil in a wok or a small skillet over high heat until smoking. Add pork and preserved vegetable and cook, stirring and shaking constantly, using a spatula or a spoon to break up pork until cooked through, about 1 minute. Transfer to a small bowl and set aside.
Making the sauce for dan dan noodles is exceedingly simple once you've got the basic ingredients in your pantry. It's just a matter of mixing them in the right proportions. Soy sauce forms the base, while Chinkiang black vinegar lends its characteristic acidity—it has a sweet, almost balsamic vinegar-esque aroma to it, though not quite as syrupy as that. Fermented broad bean chili paste comes in many forms throughout China or can be purchased online. Chili oil is a given, and while it's best (and remarkably easy!) to make at home, there are a number of good options available at any decent Chinese market. Look for the kind which has actual chile, garlic, and ginger debris in the bottom of the jar, not the completely clear kind you see in easy-pour bottles. That debris is where the magic is at.
If you were so inclined, you could do as the street vendors of Chengdu did: make the aromatics and sauce base in larger batches, store them together in a sealed container in the fridge, and have them ready to go at moment's notice whenever you want a quick snack. All you have to do is cook the noodles, add some starchy cooking liquid to the sauce base, pour it on top, and you're good to go. Due to its high oil, salt, and acid content, the pre-made and mixed sauce should stay good in a sealed container in the fridge for several weeks at least.
The history of Singapore noodles is unclear—they probably aren't actually Singaporean—but we are confident about how to make the tastiest version. Most of the seasoning comes from curry powder, which we add to the noodles and vegetables separately so that everything turns out perfectly spiced.
"In the wine world we say, what grows together goes together. When it comes to pairing Chinese food with wine that theory goes out of the window. As the general rule I would pick wines with lower tannins, light to medium body and focus on preparation and cooking technique rather than ingredients. For example, if you serving spicy and complex dishes of Sichuanese cuisine, I would go with wines from Alsace (Riesling, Gewurztraminer, Pinot Blanc, Pinot Gris...etc) or German Riesling. If we are enjoying delicate seafood dishes of Cantonese cuisine my choice would be Chablis, Gruner Veltliner and any lean, crisp white wine. With fried noodle Food tips|https://noodleinsight.Com/, the best choice would be any refreshing, palate cleansing sparkling wine(Cava, Prosecco, Sekt,...) or Champagne. Sweeter dishes like mushu pork I would match with softer style Rose wines (Tavel, Muga Rose)."— Oz Podnar, BLT Fish (NYC)
There are some cravings that only that iconic white box of Chinese-American takeout will satisfy. We're no strangers to the stuff—many's the night we've spent in front of the TV, inhaling a truly shocking amount of beef with broccoli and fried rice. But, as much as we love the ease and convenience of calling in our favorite dishes from the neighborhood spot—ideally while riding the train on the way home, so the food is five minutes away once we walk in the door—homemade versions of takeout standbys are not only possible but often tastier than the originals they copy.
One of the problems with ordering dan dan noodles at a Chinese restaurant is that you never know exactly what you'll get. Are they gonna deliver the hardcore Sichuan version swimming in red-hot chile oil and laced with pickled zha cai (mustard root) and mouth-numbing Sichuan peppercorns? Or can you expect the equally delicious but totally different Chinese-American version with more pork, a vinegary soy-based sauce, perhaps some greens, and a sprinkling of peanuts?