Jiu cai hua jiangGarlic chive flower sauce
In late August the garlic chives of Hebei, Beijing and Inner Mongolia send up stiff stalks topped with white flower heads, and northern households grind them with salt into jiu cai hua jiang. A few days of fermentation turn the raw, oniony paste mellow and tangy, and by the first cold evenings it is stirred into the sesame-paste dip for shuan yangrou, Beijing's copper-pot lamb hot pot, alongside fermented tofu and chilli oil. It also lifts plain noodles, steamed buns and boiled dumplings. The taste is salty, garlicky and green, with a gentle sweetness from Asian pear and warmth from ginger; the texture is a loose, coarse purée. Pick the flowers when the buds are just opening, before seed pods form, or the paste turns bitter and gritty. Common mistake: using too little salt; under 8% the paste goes slimy instead of sour, so weigh it. It is ready when small bubbles rise, the colour dulls from bright to olive green and it smells pleasantly sour rather than raw. Chef's tip: a crisp apple works if you cannot find Asian pear; use slightly less, as it is sharper.
















































