I have a few minutes of free internet here in Shanghai and decided to check in. The experience here has been very gratifying, especially in the culinary arena. At least 95 percent of my photos are of kabobs and tofu and scallion bread grilled on the street, various sea creatures, food markets, tables full of food, restaurants and teahouses, and funny English translations of what exactly it all is.

Eating Chinese food in the States, as most astute noshers know, is not much the same as sitting down to a Chinese family dinner or even going to a Chinese restaurant in China.

When I return home, I plan to try my hand at some of the Shanghainese dishes I’ve been eating, post a few recipes, and invite friends (dear readers in the D.C. area, be warned!) over for a Chinese dinner. But if you can’t wait for that, here are some ways you can eat like I’ve been eating for the past week:

– Arm yourself and your guests with only chopsticks and small ceramic bowls.

– Prepare part of the meal beforehand, but keep that part in the kitchen.

– When everyone is hungry and ready to eat, go out to the nearest market for 10 grocery bags full of fresh vegetables, fish, noodles, eggs, and perhaps a live chicken or two.

– Saute each of your fresh ingredients in a wok with plenty of peanut oil. Sprinkle liberally with salt.

– Begin eating each dish as it comes out of the kitchen, piping hot.

– Don’t be shy. Reach around people to grab a mouthful of the newest dish, pour yourself tea, pour other people tea, and spit out unwanted shells or bones right on the table (or, if you want to be more polite, in your ceramic bowl).

That is all! Until next time, happy New Year from Shanghai!

As a Jewish vegetarian, I have to admit that one food has tugged at my lacto-ovo resolve: lox. It’s so tasty, and so available at so many Jewish functions. As fish, it already puts me on the moral fence, on one side doubting that a salmon’s level of consciousness is really that high and and knowing that the fish industry is a model of sustainability compared to factory farms, and on the other side knowing that the tasty, coral-colored stuff on that platter was once a salmon flitting through the water and leaping in the crisp Alaskan sunshine.

So I’ve always faced a conundrum when it came to lox… until now. The other day I discovered smoked dulse, and a smokey, savory, dilemma-free heaven opened up. Dulse is a sea vegetable (now that I see what it can do, wouldn’t dare call it a weed) that I already loved to snack on or sprinkle on popcorn. Then, it seems, some brilliant individual decided to smoke it with applewood. The smoked dulse has the same iron-packed goodness as regular sea vegetable with an added yummy flavor.

Here’s a spread I worked up that satisfies my lox tooth without the moral bite of eating fish:

Loxless Spread
Makes enough to schmear 2-4 bagels

4 oz. cream cheese or neufchatel cheese (1/2 a package), softened

Generous 1/4 c. smoked dulse, lightly rinsed and chopped

1 small clove garlic, minced

Small slice of pickled beet, mashed, or a few drops beet juice for color (optional)

1/2 carrot, finely grated, for color and more substance (optional)

Bagels

Capers, cucumber, tomato, bell pepper, and/or thinly sliced red onion

Combine cream cheese, dulse, garlic, beet and carrot (if desired, to achieve a lox-y color). Mix well. Serve on sliced toasted bagels garnished with capers and veggies.

Enjoy!

For generations, Jewish women (and, increasingly, Jewish men) have looked into a mixing bowl on a Friday and seen more than just eggs and flour. In the makings of a batch of challah, we have seen the oncoming shabbat, bringing with it rest and reflection. We have seen the community of people we will meet or pray with, the reading we’ll get done, perhaps the nap we’ll take when all that’s over. And, of course, we have seen ourselves a few hours hence tearing into some really tasty chometz.

My mom and I brought back the challah-making tradition at my house when I last went to visit. We teamed up to churn out a big batch of loaves she could save for future Sabbaths. Every time I’ve made challah, actually, it’s been a community effort. The first time was with a group from Gallaudet learning from a local rabbi. And it wasn’t just me and my mom baking this last time — we consulted with a woman who makes challah every week at the local Chabad house, getting details and tips while we shared tidbits about our Thanksgiving plans.

I must say the result was delicious, and ever so cute. Although we were making single-serving rolls, we preserved the traditional braided shape. The outcome looked like the regular forearm-length loaves had been hit with a shrink ray and I could just imagine Ken and Barbie (or may Chen and Sari) putting two of these darlings back to back and saying the hamotzi in their tiny doll voices.

I did not come away with a recipe I can recommend, mostly because the one we used gave the quantity of flour in pounds instead of cups. So if you would like to create your own challah, try one of these.

Another interesting note: there’s no Jewish law that says challah (literally meaning separate, not bread) should be braided or full of sugar and eggs. It tastes mighty good that way, though. Although studies have yet to prove that the bumps of the braid improve the flavor, I’m convinced this is true.