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Dragon and phoenix cakesLotus seed paste wedding pastries

In Guangdong and among Cantonese families in Hong Kong and overseas, a groom's family sends boxes of 'lung fung beng', dragon and phoenix cakes, to the bride's relatives ahead of the wedding, and the cakes are shared out among guests as a token of the match. The dragon stands for the groom and the phoenix for the bride, and the cakes are stamped in red with the two creatures or the double-happiness character. Inside the many-layered, flaky crust is smooth, sweet lotus seed paste, sometimes with a salted duck egg yolk, served with tea. Older bakeries often use lard; this version uses butter and vegetable shortening, so it is vegetarian. Chef's tip: roll the laminated pastry lightly and evenly; uneven rolling is the common mistake that leaves thick patches of raw dough and torn, leaking sides.

138 min

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Hua dan xia ren (shrimp with silky scrambled egg)

Hua dan xia ren comes from Guangdong and the Hong Kong cha chaan teng, where it is spooned over rice for a quick lunch or set in the middle of a family dinner: prawns folded into eggs that are barely set, glossy and soft as custard. The classic error is stirring the eggs like a breakfast scramble over a high flame, which gives you dry little curds. Because the eggs are only just set, cook them a little longer for anyone pregnant, very young, older or vulnerable. Chef's tip: a spoon of cornflour slurry and a little oil in the beaten eggs keeps them silky even if you overshoot by a few seconds.

14 min

Chinese Fish

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Chinese walnut cookies

Hap toh sou are a fixture of Cantonese bakeries in Guangzhou and Hong Kong, sold loose by the catty or packed in red tins for Lunar New Year visits, when walnuts stand for family happiness. They are wide, crumbly and slightly sandy, with a cracked golden top crowned by a walnut half and a gentle sweetness that suits a pot of oolong or pu'er. Traditionally they are made with lard, which gives an extra-short crumble; this version uses vegetable shortening or neutral oil, so it is vegetarian. The top is brushed with beaten egg for shine; milk mixed with a little honey or golden syrup is an egg-free alternative. A common mistake is pressing the balls flat: leave them domed and they crack open naturally in the heat. Chef's tip: toast the walnuts before chopping; it deepens their flavour and keeps them crunchy inside the soft crumb.

45 min

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Pork floss bread rolls (rousong mianbao)

Every Chinese bakery, from Taipei to Guangzhou and the Chinese bakeries of Singapore, has a tray of pork floss buns, and they are a favourite thing for parents to buy at the school gate: pillowy milk bread with a sweet-savoury coat of mayonnaise and rousong, the dry, fluffy shredded pork. Children pick at the floss first. Home-baked, they make a weekend project and freeze well. They contain gluten (wheat), milk and egg. Chef's tip: let the buns cool completely before the mayonnaise goes on, or it melts and the floss turns soggy.

45 min

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Shou tao bao (longevity peach buns)

In Chinese tradition the peach is the fruit of long life, so birthday tables, from a grandparent's 80th to a child's party, carry a plate of shou tao bao: fluffy white steamed buns pinched into a peach shape, blushed pink at the tip and filled with sweet lotus seed paste. Children love helping to shape the creases and add the pastry leaves. This version is made without milk. It contains gluten. Chef's tip: steam over a gentle, not roaring, boil and wait 5 minutes before lifting the lid, so the buns stay smooth and don't wrinkle.

105 min

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Bai zhuo xiaPoached prawns

Bai zhuo, "plain poaching", is how Cantonese cooks treat seafood they think is too good to sauce, and a plate of whole poached prawns is on the table at almost every family dinner and wedding banquet in Guangzhou and Shunde. The prawns are dropped into boiling water with ginger and spring onion for barely two minutes, then peeled at the table and dipped in a sizzling sauce of soy, chilli and spring onion. They are sweet, springy and very light. A portion is about 130 kcal. In Guangdong the prawns are often bought live; this recipe uses fresh or thawed raw shell-on prawns. Discard any that smell of ammonia, have black heads or slimy, soft shells. The common mistake is overcooking, which makes them rubbery and hard to peel; take them out the moment they curl and turn pink. Chef's tip: plunge the cooked prawns into iced water for 30 seconds; the flesh firms up and shrinks slightly from the shell, so they peel easily.

15 min

Chinese Fish

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Luo han guo teaMonk fruit tea

The hills around Guilin in Guangxi grow luo han guo, a small round gourd that is dried until its shell turns brown and brittle. Cantonese and Guangxi households simmer one in water when someone has a scratchy throat or a dry cough, or simply in the heat of summer, and the result is a dark amber tea that tastes of caramel and dried fig with no sugar added at all. Drink it hot in winter or chilled in summer. The mistake most people make is using a whole fruit for a single cup, which is cloyingly sweet; one fruit is enough for a large pot. Chef's tip: crack the shell and tear the pulp into pieces, so the flavour comes out in 15 minutes instead of an hour.

20 min

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Tomato beef brisket (fan qie niu nan)

Many Cantonese families in Guangzhou and Hong Kong grew up on this pot of beef brisket stewed slowly with a mountain of tomatoes until the meat falls into soft, gelatinous chunks and the sauce turns rich, tangy and bright red; it's a weekend dish, served ladled over rice or noodles, and better still the next day. The mistake is using only fresh tomatoes and ending with a thin, pale sauce; a spoonful of tomato paste and a long simmer give it body and colour. Chef's tip: add half the tomatoes at the start to melt into the sauce and the rest for the last 30 minutes, so there are still soft pieces.

170 min

Chinese Curries

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Salted duck eggs

Gaoyou in Jiangsu is famous for salted duck eggs with oily, deep orange yolks, and at the Dragon Boat Festival they are hung in little woven nets around children's necks before being eaten with congee or rice. At home they are simple: clean duck eggs left in a strong salt brine for about four weeks, then boiled. Cracked eggs are the risk; use only uncracked, very fresh eggs, keep the jar cool and always cook them before eating. The common mistake is too weak a brine, which lets the eggs spoil; it must taste as salty as the sea and then some. Chef's tip: from week three, boil one test egg each week until the yolk is as firm and rich as you like.

25 min

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Fa gao (prosperity cakes)Steamed rice flour cakes

Fa gao is the little cake on every Cantonese New Year altar in Guangzhou and in Chinatowns from Kuala Lumpur to London: the word 'fa' means both 'rise' and 'prosper', and the deeper the cross-shaped crack on top, the luckier the year. This quick version uses rice flour, a little wheat flour and baking powder, steamed hard so the tops burst open, and it is egg- and dairy-free. The mistake that stops them smiling is a gentle steamer; the water must be at a fierce rolling boil before the cups go in. Chef's tip: fill the cups right to the brim, so the batter has to split as it rises.

35 min

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Hong you (Sichuan red chilli oil)

In Chengdu kitchens, a jar of hong you sits next to the stove and goes into almost everything cold: wontons in red oil, cucumber salads, cold noodles and the dressing for liang mian. Good chilli oil is a deep ruby colour, fragrant rather than burnt, with a warm, rounded heat and the tingle of Sichuan pepper. It is poured in two stages, hot then warm, so you get both toasted and bright chilli flavours. The mistake most people make is pouring smoking oil onto the flakes, which turns them black and bitter in a second; check the temperature. Chef's tip: mix coarse and fine chilli flakes, the fine for colour and the coarse for crunch and flavour, and let the oil sit overnight before using.

20 min

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Peanut cookies (hua sheng bing)

Lift the lid on a Chinese New Year snack tray in Guangdong, Penang or Singapore and there will be these pale golden domes, so short they crumble the moment they touch your tongue. They are nothing but roasted peanuts ground fine, flour, icing sugar and oil, and this version skips the usual egg wash, so they are vegan. The mistake is over-grinding the peanuts into a paste, which makes the dough greasy and the cookies flat; stop while it is still a fine powder. Chef's tip: let them cool fully on the tray before moving them, because they are fragile until set.

40 min

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Five-spice powder

Across China, from Cantonese roast meat shops to Sichuan home kitchens, five-spice is the blend that seasons red-braised dishes, tea eggs, roast duck and spiced tofu. Shop-bought powder loses its scent quickly; grinding your own takes ten minutes and gives a sweet, warm aroma with a gentle tingle from the Sichuan pepper. It is used by the pinch, not the spoonful. The classic mistake is grinding the spices raw or toasting them until they smoke; warm them just until fragrant. Chef's tip: pick the black seeds out of the Sichuan peppercorns before toasting, since they are gritty and bitter, and sieve the ground blend so it is silky fine.

10 min

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DouchiFermented black beans

Yangjiang in western Guangdong and Liuyang in Hunan are the two great douchi towns, and both traditionally make their fermented black beans in the dry season, when beans can be moulded indoors and dried in the sun without spoiling. Cooked black soybeans are covered until a yellow-green koji mould grows over them, then washed, salted, packed and fermented for weeks before drying. The result is wrinkled, soft-chewy beans with an intense salty, savoury, almost chocolate-dark flavour. A spoonful steamed with spare ribs or a whole fish, stir-fried with bitter melon or pounded into Hunan's chilli dishes seasons the whole plate. At home, buying koji spores (Aspergillus oryzae) is far more reliable than waiting for wild moulds. Common mistake: letting the beans sit wet or warm in a sealed container during the moulding stage; they must breathe at 28–32 °C. Good koji smells sweet and chestnut-like; discard any batch with black, pink or bright coloured mould, slime or a rotten smell. Keep the salt as given. It is ready when the beans are dark, wrinkled and dry outside but supple within. Store dried douchi in the fridge for 1 year. Chef's tip: rinse and lightly crush the beans before cooking.

180 min

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Douzhi (fermented mung bean drink)

Douzhi is the breakfast that divides Beijing. It is the sour liquid left over when mung beans are ground and their starch settles out to make noodles and jelly; left to ferment for a day or two, the grey-green whey turns tangy, a little cheesy and sulphurous. Old Beijingers drink it piping hot at dawn in hutong shops around Qianmen and Huguosi, with a dish of finely shredded salty pickle dressed in chilli oil and crisp fried dough rings (jiaoquan) from the bakery. First-timers often say it smells like stale socks; regulars say it tastes like home. The texture is thin and slightly creamy, the flavour sour, a little bitter and savoury. The common mistake is boiling the soured starch hard: it separates into grey water and sludge. Bring it up slowly, stirring, and take it off as soon as it froths. The ferment makes only a trace of alcohol, well under 1%. Ferment at 20–25 °C; normal signs are fine bubbles, a sour, yogurt-like smell and a grey colour. Discard it if you see fuzzy mould, pink or black patches, a slimy texture or a putrid smell. Chef's tip: save 100 ml of a good batch to start the next one, as Beijing workshops do.

50 min

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Suanmeitang (sour plum drink)

Old Beijing sold suanmeitang from brass bowls at street corners in summer, chilled with blocks of river ice, and the Qing court drank a version as a cooler. Today it comes in big jugs at copper-pot hotpot restaurants, where its sourness cuts through mutton and sesame sauce; families brew a pot every few days all summer. Smoked wumei plums give a deep, almost bacon-like smokiness, hawthorn adds fruity acid, licorice softens the edges and rock sugar rounds everything off, with dried osmanthus on top for a honeyed scent. It should be dark ruby, clear and refreshing, tart first and sweet after. The common mistake is boiling it hard for hours: the plum stones and hawthorn seeds release bitterness and the brew turns muddy. Simmer gently, strain early and chill fast. It is ready when the plums have collapsed and the liquid tastes clearly sour-sweet with a smoky finish. Licorice root is traditionally used in small amounts; people with high blood pressure, heart or kidney problems, or who are pregnant should keep the licorice out or check with a doctor. Chef's tip: add the osmanthus only after the heat is off, or its perfume vanishes.

70 min

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Hongzao guiyuan cha (red date and longan tea)

Across southern China, from Fujian to Guangdong, a pot of red dates and dried longan is what mothers and grandmothers put on the stove when the weather turns cold, and it is the classic drink brought to new mothers during zuo yuezi, the month of rest after childbirth. It is also sipped through the winter in the afternoon, or offered to visitors at Lunar New Year because the red dates promise sweetness ahead. The tea is amber-brown, naturally sweet and fruity, with a caramel, smoky depth from the longan and a gentle warmth if you add ginger. The common mistake is simmering whole dates: their skins stay tight and the tea tastes thin. Slit or tear each date so the flesh can give up its sweetness, then simmer slowly. It is ready when the dates are puffed and soft, the longan has swollen and the liquid is the colour of weak tea and tastes of toffee. It is traditionally drunk for comfort and warmth, not as a medicine; it is high in natural sugar, so go easy if you watch your blood sugar, and goji can interact with blood-thinning medicines, so check with a doctor if you take them. Chef's tip: eat the softened fruit from the bottom of the cup with a spoon; nothing is wasted.

40 min

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Juhua cha (chrysanthemum tea)

The small white hangbaiju flowers grown around Tongxiang, near Hangzhou, are picked in November, steamed and dried, and they end up in teapots all over China. Families brew them after a rich dinner, through the dry autumn, and iced in summer; dim sum houses in the south offer them as a caffeine-free choice, often mixed with pu-erh. The tea is pale gold, lightly floral with a faint bitterness like chamomile, softened by a little rock sugar and a few goji berries that turn plump and red in the pot. The common mistake is pouring boiling water straight onto the flowers and leaving them for twenty minutes; the tea turns brownish and bitter. Water just off the boil, around 90 °C, and a short steep keep it clear and sweet. It is ready when the flowers have opened like little daisies, the colour is light amber and the smell is honey-like. You can top up the pot two or three times. If you are allergic to ragweed, daisies or marigolds, try a small cup first or skip it, as chrysanthemum belongs to the same family. Chef's tip: for iced juhua cha, brew it double strength and pour it straight over a glass full of ice so it does not taste watery.

10 min

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Dousha bao (red bean buns)

All over China, from Beijing breakfast stalls to Shanghai school bags, dousha bao are the sweet buns people grab in the morning and tuck into a lunch box for later: fluffy white yeasted dough wrapped around smooth red bean paste and steamed until springy. They freeze beautifully, so families make a big batch on Sunday. The mistake is opening the steamer lid as soon as the timer goes; the sudden cold makes the buns wrinkle and collapse. Turn off the heat and wait five minutes before lifting the lid. Chef's tip: chill the bean paste and roll it into balls before wrapping; a firm filling is much easier to seal neatly.

55 min

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Guihua jiangOsmanthus syrup

When the osmanthus trees around West Lake in Hangzhou and along the Li River in Guilin bloom in late September and October, the whole town smells of apricots, and families shake the tiny gold flowers onto sheets to preserve them. Guihua jiang, sweet osmanthus sauce, is the result: a loose, amber syrup thick with petals that is drizzled over glutinous rice cakes, sweet lotus-root stuffed with sticky rice, tangyuan in fermented-rice soup and plain congee through the Mid-Autumn Festival and all winter. It tastes floral, honeyed and faintly fruity, with a clean sugar sweetness and a soft, slippery petal texture. The flowers are salted briefly first, which takes away their green bitterness and helps them keep their colour. Common mistake: boiling the petals hard in the syrup, which turns them brown and flattens the perfume; add them only once the syrup is ready and let them barely bubble. It is ready when the syrup coats a spoon and the petals are evenly suspended rather than floating. Chef's tip: dried food-grade osmanthus from a Chinese grocer works well out of season; soak it for 10 minutes and use a third of the weight of fresh.

35 min

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Hong suan tangFermented tomato sour soup base

In the Miao and Dong villages of Qiandongnan, south-east Guizhou, small wild 'hairy' tomatoes and red chillies ripen together in late summer, and every household fills tall jars with them to ferment into hong suan tang, the red sour base of the region's famous sour-soup fish and sour-soup beef hot pots. The fermented paste is bright scarlet, sharply sour, fruity and fiery, with a funk from the ferment that ordinary tomato never has. People say three days without sour and you walk unsteadily, and it goes into soups year round. Outside Guizhou, use cherry tomatoes, which have a similar high acidity. Common mistake: fermenting with too little salt or with wet produce, which goes mushy and off; dry everything first and weigh the salt. Normal signs: bubbles, a sour, wine-like fruity smell and liquid rising. Bad signs: fuzzy coloured mould, pink or black patches, or a rotten smell; discard. It is ready after 2–3 weeks, when it tastes clearly sour and the raw tomato taste has gone. Then keep it in the fridge for 3 months or freeze it. Chef's tip: fry a few spoonfuls in oil with ginger before adding stock; it turns a deeper red and smells richer.

60 min

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Ju hua chaChrysanthemum tea

Ju hua cha is chrysanthemum tea, a summer staple in Hangzhou, where the famous small white Hang bai ju flowers grow, and across Guangdong and Hong Kong, where it is poured at dim sum and sold chilled in street-side stalls. Dried flowers open in hot water into a pale golden, honey-scented infusion with a gentle bitterness. It is drunk plain here: no salt and no sugar, so about 0.0 g salt per cup. The usual mistake is using boiling water, which turns it harsh; let the kettle rest for a minute first. A few goji berries add colour and a little natural sweetness. Chef's tip: rinse the dried flowers quickly in warm water first to wash off dust and wake up their fragrance.

7 min