On The Woks
I’m going to be unapologetic about the title as there is no more pun-able word than wok. It can be rock, like I’ll take you to the hard wok cafe, or walk, like Aerosmith by the stove belting at you to wokkkkkk this way, or even be furry and live in a galaxy and time far, far away on Endor and - yes you guessed it - be a wok-ie.
But let us no longer take the name in vain, the wok is a sacred thing. To read from the scriptures of Cantonese cooking that is Gok Wan’s Gok Cooks Chinese “When I pick up a wok or a ladle it does something to me - in a weird way it completes me. It reminds me of where I’m from and who I want to be.” A powerful idea - though I wonder why the editor didn’t cross out “or ladle,” having the above sensation brought about by a wok is epic, but by a ladle is frankly just weird.
My ancestry does not connect me with a wok as far as I know, but the stars of serendipity did align last week to develop a newfound kinship between us. Actually the story begins slightly before last week, let’s go right back to the start, it’ll be worth it for all of us I’m certain.
I survived most of Lockdown I through studying mandarin Chinese. My technique centred round watching Sichuan chef Wang Gang’s youtube channel and in no time at all I knew essential Chinese vocabulary such as “prepare - 准备”, “chop - 切” and “5 grams - 五克.” This was before Google started automating subtitles so I largely had no idea what he was saying, yet if you watch the master at work, you’ll see his fierce caress of the wok alone is enough to command attention for hours.
It was clear that if I wanted to master Chinese, I was going to have to watch hundreds of hours of Wang Gang, and if I was going to watch hundreds of hours of Wang Gang, I would also need to become a master of the wok. That ambition is stated too lightly, for anyone who knows a thing about the stir fry will tell you such an aim is comparable with aspiring on a whim to become a concert pianist.
Or perhaps the more corollary analogy would be learning a language. You can learn a few ingredients (words), chop them up (mix them in different orders) and start stir frying like a madman (shout drunkenly to the stranger next to you on el metropolitano) and sure kiddo you might get some results. However will you have an innate understanding of the ingredient? Will you chop without thought? Will your stir fry be marked by your own signature breath of the wok?
Oh no my friend, this learning will be an endeavour of years, but an endeavour that will equally render worthwhile these same futile years we share wokking this earth. There will be frustrations; burnt vegetables, (and worse still… ) soggy vegetables, you’ll scorch your arm with 250C oil and set ablaze to your hair, you’ll flip an egg and it will splat on your face, you’ll spend hours practising the wok-toss with dry macaroni and housemates will scream for zoom calls interrupted by this endless patter of pasta on steel. But there will be jubilations too; when you taste the char on your noodles, and that first time you witness a great wave of rice rise into the air and crash down against the wok without one whitehorse of grain escaped.
I’ve tried learning musical instruments many times before, but I now know the reason I could never succeed; you can’t eat music. The auditory reward of improved musical performance could not satiate my appetites, where as study of the wok each time yields something palpable - palatable even - and with each improvement of my technique, I am shown something more delicious.
Back to the moment of serendipity that made these memories erupt like the flames of a 120 000 BTU restaurant kitchen wok burner. At the peak of my enthusiasm for Wang Gang, obsessed with heat, saddened by my flat electric hob, I bought an induction wok burner (figure a). For about a year I then despaired wondering what could motivate someone to spend £200 on such an ungainly, unnecessary and niche piece of kitchen apparatus. Like a gambler in purgatory, I could neither cut my losses and sell the machine, or double down and invest in its required induction wok.
The day last week I finally summoned the courage to buy the wok coincided with the chance arrival of a book I’d pre-ordered many moons ago and forgotten about; The Wok. More than a cookbook, this is a textbook on the tool’s use, and that its index encompasses almost every dish from south-east Asia is the best proof of the wok’s endless versatility. I smiled to myself; the wok had come with The Wok, and I knew Wang Gang was smiling back at me somewhere from his Sichuan mound.
It was time to drill wok cooking’s equivalent of playing scales, or rasping trills, and make mountains of fried rice.
Fried Rice
Do not be put off by the excesses of my setup above, no matter what you have you will be able to begin your own journey in the way of the wok and make great fried rice.
And why fried rice?
It is cheap and can be made with anything knocking around. You always have opportunity to make it and if you are unhappy with the results, at least you have not wasted neither resource nor time in having sought out special ingredients. Your expectations can remain low, which may sever disappointment at its roots.
It then gets better as you get better. Fried rice will always be tasty, but it can taste greater, and in the hands of a master taste even of mystery; what spell has this cook cast on this rice? The final flavour should have smokiness to it and each grain of rice should be separate, chewy and a little nutty in flavour. When done right it’s an incredibly moorish number that always surprises in how complete it feels.
Sorting Your Wok Situation
There is not space enough for us to fully pull back the curtain on the magical factory of Willy-Wokka, but we can cover some basics and make sure you are in a position to begin whatever you hold.
A flat bottom wok will do nicely for home cooking and it would be a good investment to get one made of carbon steel or cast iron. This will require some nurturing and love to keep it seasoned, but it will repay you with affection in kind. Let us not knock off a a non-stick wok though; if you can’t make some decent fried rice with this, then we’d do well to keep those dreams of a restaurant grade wok and burner at bay.
I dare to add you don’t even need a wok to get going. A good 10-inch pan will do the job nicely. The order of preference goes:
Cast-iron/carbon-steel wok
Cast-iron/carbon-steel 10 inch pan
Non-stick wok
Non-stick 10 inch pan
Carbon steel and cast iron sit at the top because you can heat them to higher temperatures to get them literally smoking hot. Getting a teflon (i.e. non-stick) pan smoking is not a good idea I hear as this releases toxins or damages the coating or both or neither or far worse...
The wok is then preferable to the 10” because its smaller flat base requires less oil, and its curved shape creates grades of heat around the pan that are useful for controlling your cooking.
The Wok Toss (optional flare)
Flipping your food in the air with a toss of the wok not only looks the business, but provides two functions:
It mixes the food from to bottom
It creates a channel of steam that cooks the food as it rides through the air.
But the main thing is of course that you look cool, you know, wok n’ roll. The motion is best learnt watching cooks on youtube toss food in pans, but in essence it’s a motion akin to flipping a pancake. I practise with a pack of dry pasta in the wok off heat.
The Rice
It is often said to use day old rice. Age is not however the vital property, we don’t need old rice, we need dry rice, it is only that age can help with this outcome. I make fried rice whenever I have leftover rice, in fact I would never cook rice to make fried rice, which I’d view an effrontery to its raison d’etre; using up leftovers.
The leftover rice should be left uncovered in the fridge, relatively flat so that it’s surface moisture is free to evaporate. A day should be ample time. I hear you can also use freshly cooked rice that you’ve spread out and left to stream itself dry for near an hour (but why would you do this?).
Moisture is your enemy as it will cause your rice to stick, clump and sweat. We want fried rice; the key is to never forget the name.
Declump the rice in advance by running through it with your fingertips, and mix in a little cornflour too to absorb some excess moisture.
The Not Rice
Other ingredients often chucked in the mix are:
An egg (el classico)
Leftover vegetables (bits of carrot, celeriac, potato, onion… diced into small cubes)
Frozen peas (the undefeated champ)
Spring onions for garnish (*does chef-kiss*)
Some prawns, chicken/pork strips or ham/bacon (an unnecessary addition in my VB6 eyes)
Frying The Rice (And Not Rice)
If any task merits the age-old adage fail to prepare, prepare to fail, it is wok cookery. Once things hit the pan, you are in the shit my friend, right in the throes of fire, you’re tossing and jolting the pan with one hand while stirring with the other like you’re patting your head and rubbing your tummy as if your rice depends on it (which it does).
There’s no time to chop anything, we need everything prepped in advance and we’ll call in the help of Chinese cooking’s best friends, small bowls. Here is my mise en place before starting, if you don’t have something like this before you hit the ignition, you have failed before you’ve begun.
Time lost to this small amount of preparation is immediately regained though once the cooking begins. I advise to watch this video (from the author of The Wok itself) to flesh out my instructions, but refer to these words for a more concise and general guide.
Ingredients (for 1 person)
1 egg, beaten (optional)
A bowl of rice (we don’t need to be too specific with quantities here)
Some chopped vegetables (eg. half a diced carrot and half a small/medium onion)
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 handful frozen peas
1 or 2 spring onions
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1/2 teaspoon of MSG (optional)
Oil for frying
Method
Get your wok smoking hot (or if non-stick, heat it for a minute on high until it seems very hot, but don’t get it smoking!). Add a tablespoon of oil, swirl it around the pan and add the egg. Let it cook for about 10 seconds on one side until it is cooked then flip and give it another 10 seconds. Pour the egg back into its bowl.
Heat the wok as before, add a tablespoon of oil, and chuck in the veggies. Stir and toss on high heat for a minute so that they char a little, but still retain some of their inner texture. Pour them back into their bowl.
Heat wok again and add a tablespoon of oil. Make sure your pan is hot, hot, hot and add the rice. Stir for a few minutes so that the rice becomes pale brown and is chewy and nutty to taste. Then combining with the rest of the veggie, frozen peas and egg (which you can break up with your spatula into the rice) and salt and MSG if using. Pour your tablespoon of soy sauce round the edges of the wok (not onto the food directly) so that it sizzles, adding a little extra smoky depth.
Garnish with chopped spring onions and a little hot sauce on the side if you are so inclined.
Taste your end product each time. Were the grains separate? Did you get nutty and chewy rice? Was there smoky flavour? Think back to what happened, evaluate if there was a problem with moisture or perhaps heat, you’ll get a feel for this as you go.
Or do none of the above and just the follow the steps as a casual enthusiast, knowing the outcome will still be great, even if not that of one on the path of Wang Gang.
The reverence here summons the alchemist at her crucible, consciously engaged in a spiritual practice, surrounded by revered texts, mystically seeking the transmution of the commomplace into gold. A kitchen utensil as a conduit to another realm.
The reverence here summons the alchemist at her crucible, consciously engaged in a spiritual practice, surrounded by revered texts, mystically seeking the transmution of the commomplace into gold. A kitchen utensil as a conduit to another realm.