TAIWAN BEER-HOUSE WOKED CLAMS

But who cares, we are here!  A crowd of my favourite comrads… well, mostly cousins and aunties, are already waiting by the street in front of a mystically gigantic wooden door, with an enormous statue of a one-eyed sailor-captain mounted overhead and staring down.  Coool… this is so cool.  Together as a hungry and undeterred unit, we push through the (I’d imagine) heavy barrier, into the hidden dimension behind walls.  Noises louden from far to near, a dim-lighted stone-hall of long tables opens up, permeating the scents of great feasts and flushed with the sound of clinking glasses and throaty roars of large drinking men like a mirage from the medieval.  I just remember thinking, HELL YEAH!

I was 11, arriving at one of Taipei’s most happening beer-house.

No shit.

Dishes such as this, chao la-ah (la-ah is Taiwanese dialect), small cockles flaming-stir-fried with garlic, scallions, gingers, chilis and tomatoes, seasoned with soy sauce, white pepper and a large handful of irreplaceable Taiwanese (or the same as Thai) basils, is as iconic and representative as a must-have for beer-houses, as it is for Taiwanese cuisine as a whole.  Spicy, savoury, briny and intensely aromatic, it goes as deep as a sensory can carve on the identity of being.  We, all of us,  grew up on this stuff.  I fought my brother over the dinner-table with one tooth-missing, for so many time that I’ve lost count, for this stuff.  We are not who we are, as eaters, without this stuff.  I don’t know how to tell you how much this stuff means, beer or no beer, nor can I predict how much you’ll like.  It’s too close to me to be rationally evaluated, but I can tell you that in the past decades of examining different cockles/clams/mussels preparations from around the world, white-wined/red-sauced/buttered/or curried…

Nothing.  Has toppled this, in my mind.

But will you agree?  It’s the first time that I’m publishing a recipe that I abso-fucking-lutely love, but have equally no clue, about you.  Make it with love, chase it with cold beer, and entertain it with a hand-game that’s shouted in Taiwanese dialect.  Maybe it will become your favourite shell-fish dish, I hope, or may be not.  But you’ll be reliving Taiwan’s 80’s with me, and time-traveling, is always something.

The key to success woking is to prep ahead.

Have all the aromatics cut/chopped and ready.  Whisk together all the “seasonings”, make sure there’s no lump, and set aside.  Wash and dab-dry the Thai basil leaves, set aside.

“De-sand” the cockles by pre-soaking them in salted water if needed.  Then wash and scrub the surfaces of the cockles really well to get rid of impurities.  Combine cockles and 1/3 cup of rice wine (or sake) in a pot, covered with lid and set over high heat.  Once you hear that the liquid has come to a boil, wait 30 seconds and remove the lid.  Keep boiling, and start picking out cockles the second they open, and transfer to another bowl.  Once all the cockles have opened and are removed (if there are a few that’s stubborn, they may be dead.  discard.), turn off the heat and reserve the cooking liquid.

Heat the canola oil in a wok or large skillet over high heat, and keep it on high heat throughout.  Add the scallions, ginger, garlic and red chilis and cook until fragrant, then add the tomato wedges and cook until slightly softened.  Add the reserved cooking-liquid and the “seasonings” all at once (whisk the seasonings again before adding to prevent lumps), stirring constantly to promote evaporation, and let cook until the sauce has thickened (only very slightly) and has reduced to no more than 3/4 cup.  Taste and adjust the seasonings if needed (depending on the saltiness of the cockles).  Too bland, add more soy sauce.  To salty, add a bit more sugar.

Now add the ground white pepper, cockles and Thai basil leaves, and fold to combine just for a few seconds only until the basil has wilted.  Remove from heat immediately and transfer to a serving-dish.  Serve immediately with, of course, beer, over a game that is best played unapologetically loud in Taiwanese dialect.