Cantonese Baked Chicken - Part I

Thanks to some friends, I made a brilliant discovery last weekend in Brooklyn's very own Chinatown: Lucky Eight Seafood Restaurant. (Admit it, you didn't even know that Brooklyn had a Chinatown.) This place has all the trappings of, well, China: red walls, gold accessories, and huge glass lazy susans spinning your food at dangerous speeds.

It's easy to feel overwhelmed by the extensive menu - which is daunting despite its many photos - but, luckily for us, we were dining with a veteran who handled all the ordering. Gorgeous dishes began to emerge from the kitchen, and we could barely keep pace.



One of the very first dishes was, in my humble opinion, the star of the evening. A crispy Cantonese-style baked chicken, sprawled across a massive plate, arrived with the aroma of Chinese five-spice and hit every salty note I craved. A light, sweet sauce lingered at the very bottom of the plate - it was something soy-like, but not as overwhelming, which had clearly dripped out of the bird itself. This was truly one for the mental notebook.

Other highlights of the meal included a delightful shredded abalone, whole-fried parts of lobster and giant crab bodies, and a surprisingly delicate jellyfish starter with pungent, Korean-inspired spices and pickled white radishes:


Another fascinating standout (though notably not a crowd-pleaser) was a soft white bamboo fungus, served over wilted greens. A round table discussion of this dish led to various interpretations of its texture, including variably "boiled fish stomach" and "a fried plastic bag." Interesting that anything as innocent as a mushroom - particularly one served to imperial royalty for good health over thousands of years - could be quite so offensive.







With the fun of eating over, now my challenge begins. I'm planning to attempt a close-to-accurate reproduction of my favorite dish of the evening, the crispy baked chicken, at home.

Some research has revealed that this dish is fairly common in Cantonese homes, and isn't quite as difficult as you'd think. Nonetheless, it calls for some unique combinations of flavors, especially if you're not totally at home with Asian spices - which I'm not. The skin is apparently crisped by a long refrigeration period, which essentially cold-air-dries the bird, as well as by regular bathing with a honey-vinegar solution and diluted baking soda. The recipe I'm using calls for 72 hours of this intensive TLC, but, having woken up groggy before work this morning to grudgingly prepare the cavity stuffing, it will only get around 36 hours. And it will like it, dammit.

A friend and I will be baking the bird tomorrow evening along with a salad of sharp greens and a sweet ginger chutney. Photos and evaluation to follow.