<h3>Pork Buns/肉夹馍</h3><h3><br /></h3><h3>The first time I tasted 肉夹馍 was in its place of origin, Xi’an, China, when my family and I were visiting my cousins. We had just returned from a trip to the Xi’an Bell Tower, sweating from a full day in the sun and eager to fill our stomachs. When we walked through the door, we were immediately hit by the mouthwatering scent of simmering pork. I leaned over the pot and saw a staggering amount of spices mixing together to form a rich aroma. In the living room, my cousins were kneading dough, occasionally stopping to hurl flour at each other and snicker at the white streaks it left. One of my aunts, 姨妈, shook her head at them and turned to me. They were making 肉夹馍, which were buns sandwiched with pork. Although they were traditionally Chinese street food, we would be having them for dinner, she said. "很好吃, very tasty," my mom assured me, as if I wasn’t already convinced from the smell. They certainly didn’t disappoint once they were served.</h3><h3><br /></h3><h3>A week later, we bid farewell to our relatives. On the tedious train ride from Xi’an to Bengbu, I had a sudden wave of nostalgia for the togetherness I felt with my relatives. I remembered the delicious pork buns and fondness with which they were made and asked my parents if they had the recipe. This way, even though I couldn’t bring my relatives back to the States, I could at least cherish the memory of the fun we had in my heart (and my stomach).</h3> <h3>Ingredients</h3><h3>2 bay leaves 1 dried cinnamon stick</h3><h3>2 dried tsao-ko 2 cloves</h3><h3>3 slices of ginger2 star anise</h3><h3>¼ tablespoon fennel seed 5 sugar cubes</h3><h3>6 cups of flour4 cups of water</h3><h3>1 teaspoon yeast1 pound pork belly</h3><h3>1 tablespoon vinegar1 tablespoon rice cooking wine</h3><h3>2 tablespoons soy sauce3 tablespoons salt</h3> <h3>Preparation</h3><h3>1. Locate your closest Asian supermarket and buy the spices needed for this recipe (bay leaves, dried cinnamon, dried tsao-ko, cloves, ginger, star anise, fennel seeds, vinegar, rice cooking wine, and soy sauce). For a truly authentic flavor, have your relatives in China ship over a portion.</h3><h3><br /></h3><h3>2. The pork belly should ideally be cooked the night before so that it may fully achieve its flavor. Begin by placing your pork in a medium-sized pot. In a separate bowl, mix together the bay leaves, cinnamon stick, dried tsao-ko, cloves, ginger, star anise, fennel seeds, sugar cubes, vinegar, rice cooking wine, soy sauce, and salt to form the sauce. Make sure to keep your wine glasses and mugs away, as my brother once filled all of ours with spices. The people we had over later that night tasted something funny in their drinks, but luckily no one minded when they found out it was merely seasoning.</h3><h3> </h3><h3> </h3> <h3>3. Add the sauce to the raw meat in the pot and boil for 20 minutes. At this point, the smell will drift upstairs. My dad, brother, and I always come down to the kitchen to see if we can sneak a bite. My mom pretends to reprimand us and jokes that since my dad is from southern China, he has been deprived of good food for most of his life. My dad shakes his head, and they reminisce about the restaurants in China they visited with relatives that left them feeling content with both the food and company.</h3><h3><br /></h3><h3>4. Turn the heat down to a simmer and let it sit for 4 hours. At this point, my 9 year old brother will beg us to play a game of Monopoly with him. He insists that he will go easy on us, so we should at least give it a shot. We eventually agree, and keep a TV show playing in the background. One of us falls asleep on the sofa, wrapped with a fluffy blanket.</h3> <h3>5. The next day, reheat the pork and let it simmer while preparing the dough. Put your 6 cups of flour and spoon of yeast in a large bowl and gradually add in water, kneading it as you go. My brother and I like to steal little balls to make snowmen that get cooked with the rest of the buns. He also dares me to eat raw dough, which prompts a lecture from my mom about me potentially getting sick. I laugh and eat it anyway.</h3><h3> </h3><h3><br /></h3> <h3>6. Place the dough in a sealed container and let it rise. After 2 hours, take it out and cut it into 4 equal pieces. If my mom feels particularly relenting, she lets me do this part. My brother never gets the honor, and I smirk at him. He huffs and sings loudly and out of tune to annoy everyone.</h3> <h3>7. Form each one into a tube, then slice them into 6 equal balls. I try to ignore the relentless singing from my brother and will sometimes retaliate with my own, equally as awful singing.</h3> <h3>8. Roll each ball out into a flat strip, then roll into swirls. My brother is allowed to do this step, which cheers him up and saves the family from more singing. Everyone sighs with relief.</h3> <h3>9. Press the swirl down, then flatten slightly to form a thick disc. This helps the dough puff up when cooking.</h3><h3> </h3> <h3>10. Place the discs onto the stove. Carry a portion of the pork from the pot to a cutting board and chop it into tiny pieces with a butcher knife. If my mom is feeling anxious about hosting a party, it shows when she vigorously beats the meat into oblivion.</h3><h3> </h3> <h3>11. When the buns have turned golden brown on both sides, take them out and slice them down the middle. Stuff them with the sliced pork, then dribble some sauce on top to retain moisture. Try to keep your family from eating them all in one go. Once, we ended up having our pork buns for lunch even though they had to be served for a party later that day.</h3> <h3>12. Enjoy!</h3>