Week 6: Spicy Warm Bacon Lardon and Cucumber Salad

The book: Chinese Food Made Easy (Ching-He Huang)

The recipe: p48, "Spicy Warm Bacon Lardon and Cucumber Salad"

I've been looking forward to this particular ball popping out of the magic invisible lottery machine. Chinese Food Made Easy, a gift from Sam's mum several years ago, has seen reasonably active use in this household, but I've tended to stick to Ching-He Huang's supermarket-friendly variations on takeaway and restaurant staples rather than trying out anything more adventurous from her arsenal.

The book accompanied a BBC TV series that I didn't watch, and while it promises a simple introduction to healthy and fresh Chinese cookery, some of the recipes reach a level of complexity that I feel disqualifies them from the "Made Easy" tag. That said, the back of the book does contain a comprehensive index of all the various core ingredients with explanations of what they are and why you might use them, so that's to be commended (though, again, I would dispute the claim that they're all "easy-to-buy").

In any case, I'm glad this particular recipe has landed in my lap this week. I mean, yes, technically it's a salad, but (a) it's warm and (b) it's got bacon in it, so any thoughts of wilted lettuce leaves and sad low-calorie dressings are immediately cast aside. Bring it.

The prep: My initial enthusiasm is swiftly dampened by the sight of a frankly huge list of ingredients, some of which I have in the house, some of which I should have in the house but don't, and some of which I've definitely never owned. Considering this a recipe whose two primary ingredients are bacon/lardons/pancetta (your choice, possibly depending on how middle-class you are) and cucumber, I feel a little overwhelmed by the sudden need for Sichuan peppercorns and Shaohsing rice wine in my life.

Still, that's easily solved with a quick bumble down the Lee High Road to the box of delights that is Hua Xia Oriental Food Specialists, a.k.a. the local friendly Chinese supermarket. I've walked past it any number of times without ever venturing beyond the threshold of its unassuming exterior, yet I fall in love immediately - it's predictably unpretentious, has a cleaner and more logical layout than similar places I've been to in the past, and boasts pretty much everything you might need to rustle up some authentic grub (as well plenty of frankly scary-looking ingredients you'd hope to never need - forgive me, but I'm in no great rush to cook with jelly fungus).

#haul

Cupboards duly stocked up (OK, so the bamboo shoots, water chestnuts and Five Spicy Powder [sic] are superfluous to today's recipe, but when on the Lee High Road, etc.), it's time to begin! And actually, the "easy-to-buy" claim turned out to be true, didn't it? Assuming you're fortunate enough to live within striking distance of a Chinese food store, at least. Tesco Express will not help you here.

The making: With the recipe seemingly requiring military precision in terms of when the various ingredients are added, I prep literally everything in advance. More bowls to wash up, less chance of things going horribly wrong.

Oil is heated in a wok, then dried chillies and Sichuan peppercorns are stir-fried for a few seconds along with star anise. The lardons are added and fried until golden at the edges, before a chopped, de-seeded red chilli joins the party. Then things get frantic, as the aforementioned rice wine, sesame oil and rice vinegar are added, before the titular thickly sliced, de-seeded cucumber is thrown in and briefly stir-fried until everything is nicely blended.

Salt, dried chilli flakes and lime juice are added for seasoning, then the "salad" is plated up, drizzled with chilli oil, and garnished with chopped coriander and some dry-roasted peanuts, because nothing says Sichuan authenticity like British pub snacks.

Two small but perfectly-formed dishes of haphazardly mixed ingredients ensue - one with peanuts, one without, because that's how we roll in this house.

Nutty boys

The eating: It seems strange to say it, but the combination of vivid flavours actually takes some getting used to here. The first few bites are a bit like taking your first tentative steps onto ice, but once you're in the swing of things, it's a smooth and pleasant glide across the surface.

There's a sharp, aromatic tanginess that hits your nostrils almost before it reaches your mouth, and a substantial but very slow and manageable burn that clears the sinuses yet somehow isn't too overwhelming considering the recipe calls for dried chillies, fresh chillies, chilli flakes and chilli oil! The flavours are complex, bright, challenging, and quite unlike anything I've made before, while the texture is a pleasing if slightly confusing mix of crunchiness and chewiness - though I suppose that's going to be the case if you add peanuts to anything, isn't it?

I'd actually go so far as to say that this dish is restaurant-quality, although I suppose you might expect that with a list of ingredients the length of your arm. Still, none of them are particularly outlandish in context, and they combine to immense effect here.

A definite success, then. I may still be waiting for the random fairies to conjure up a tiered wedding cake or something involving a full side of beef, but my tongue and my tummy are very happy in the meantime.

(And while I make a point of not reproducing the recipes I'm using in full - copyright and that, innit - this one's available right here if you want to try it out yourself. God bless the BBC.)

One-word verdict: Tingly.