Smashed cucumbers, bruised on purpose
The salad you'll make unprompted. Bring a heavy knife.
At a Glance
Story
This is pai huang gua, the smashed cucumber of northern China, and the smashing is the whole point, not a party trick. A cucumber whacked apart tears along its natural seams into craggy, porous rubble, and every one of those rough faces grabs dressing that would just slide off a clean knife cut. The salting that follows is the second half of the same idea, it draws out the cucumber's water so the dressing you add later stays a dressing and not a puddle.
Ingredients
- 1 English cucumber
- 1 tsp kosher salt
- 2 cloves garlicfinely grated
- 1 tbsp rice vinegar
- 1 tbsp soy sauce
- 2 tsp toasted sesame oil
- 1 tbsp chili crisp
- 1 tsp sugar
- ¼ tsp MSGoptional, though I never skip it
- toasted sesame seeds and cilantroto finish
Method
You resist salads on principle. You'll make this one twice a week. Cold, garlicky, savage with chili crisp. A benchmark.
- Lay the cucumber on a board and whack it with the flat of a heavy knife or a rolling pin until it splits along its length, then tear it into rough bite-size pieces. Ragged is correct. Neat is a waste of a good cucumber.
- Toss the pieces with the salt in a colander and leave them to drain 15 minutes. Then press gently and blot properly dry, this is where a watery salad is won or lost.
- Whisk the garlic, rice vinegar, soy, sesame oil, chili crisp, sugar and MSG into a quick dressing. Taste, it should be sharp, salty and a little sweet all at once.
- Dress the cucumbers only just before serving, since the salt keeps pulling water the longer they sit in it. Pile them up, shower with sesame seeds and cilantro.
You can smash and salt the cucumbers a few hours ahead and keep them blotted and chilled, but hold the dressing until the last minute.
More to cook
Crisp rice cakes and sausage in a ketchup glaze
Rice cakes fried until they crackle, then lacquered in ketchup and miso with the sausage.
A full course of Italian penicillin
Chicken soup's glamorous Italian cousin, with a spicy crumb and a cold lemon dollop.
Harissa shrimp broiled over a tray of greens
The greens go in first with half a cup of water, and the shrimp only arrive once the broiler takes over.
Salt and pepper dumplings straight from the freezer
Frozen potstickers and green beans, tossed at the last second in salt, sugar and more black pepper than seems wise.
Garlic noodles the way San Francisco does them
Two heads of garlic, plenty of butter and three bottles from the cupboard, done in the time it takes to boil the pasta.
Shrimp over creamed corn, and rather a lot of feta
Corn simmered soft in cream and butter, then blitzed until chunky and used the way you would use grits.
Creamy lemon spaghetti with a Sichuan pepper buzz
Crème fraîche, miso and lemon make the sauce, and toasted Sichuan peppercorns go in twice so your lips hum.
Chicken sausage and lemon, baked as a lasagna
A lasagna that went on holiday and came back with a tan and a lemon habit.
Pumpkin pasta with sausage and crisp sage
Tinned pumpkin, Gruyère and a sheet pan to crisp the lot.
Sausage lasagna spread thin for the crust
Lasagna with no layers, baked flat on a sheet pan, and an insult to nonnas everywhere.
Vodka rigatoni, baked till the tops crackle
Vodka sauce given a sheet pan, a jar of Calabrian chilis and a honey drizzle it did nothing to deserve.
Charred corn and halloumi panzanella with chili crisp
One bowl, mostly made in the morning, so the cook can sit down with the guests.
Chicken and zucchini meatballs under a feta sauce
Half the meatball is grated zucchini, which is the only reason a chicken meatball has any business being this juicy.
Dan dan noodles, served cold on purpose
The sesame and chile sauce is bossy enough to work as a dressing, so the noodles never need to be hot.
Zucchini parmesan, roasted not fried
All the comfort of the fried original, a fraction of the oil, and no pan spitting at you.