Dragon’s Tongue and Breath Soup

Dragon’s Tongue beans were new to me. They are beautiful: creamy yellow pods streaked with purple and the entire young pod is edible. Sadly, the deep Imperial purple markings disappear as they age, and during cooking, which seems rather unfair when they went to all that trouble to present themselves so beautifully to the world.

When they appeared in my veggie box, it took only a small leap of imagination to go from dragon tongues to dragon breath, and from there to the idea of a fiery bowl of soup. Given my longstanding fondness for Asian dragons, which I collect, and the direction in which my thoughts took me, there was never much chance that something with that name was going to get eaten with anything other than spicy Chinese flavors. Essentially, this is a riff on the classic sweet and sour soup that you probably have sampled at your local Chinese restaurant.

With Asian dragons having transported me to that general geographical direction, I turned to the Chinese section of my pantry and its collection of ingredients that would make the beans into the spicy, brothy dinner I wanted. If your pantry is less enthusiastically stocked with Chinese ingredients than mine, don't let that stop you. Another spicy chili paste like gochujang can stand in for the doubanjiang I used, although the flavor won't be quite the same. In place of Chinkiang vinegar, try rice vinegar with a small splash of balsamic to provide some of the missing depth and sweetness. There isn't really a direct substitute for the citrusy, numbing character of Szechuan pepper, so I would simply leave it out rather than trying to reproduce it with ordinary black pepper. You can even use Romano or green beans if Dragon's Tongue beans are not available. The color of the soup will be markedly different, but those substitutions will add the same texture and substance to the finished dish.

I called the result Szechuan-inspired rather than pretending that this particular combination of Dragon’s Tongue beans, tomatoes and ground pork represents a traditional Sichuan soup. It is hot, sour, savory and thickened with just enough cornstarch slurry to give the broth some body without turning it into gravy. Most importantly, it gave my dragons somewhere suitably fiery to land.

The end result reminded me a lot of Mapo tofu so it occurred to me that the soup could be made even more substantial with the addition of a package of soft tofu, cut into small chunks, right before serving.

Serves four generously as a dinner main course soup.

1 lb Dragon’s Tongue beans, stems trimmed, sliced into bite-sized pieces

1/2 lb ground pork

2 large tomatoes, grated, skin and all

1 1/2 cups finely chopped roasted red peppers

1/2 yellow onion, finely chopped

3 cloves garlic, minced

1-inch piece ginger, grated

4 cups unsalted chicken or vegetable broth

1 Tbsp doubanjiang (Chinese chili bean paste)

2 Tbsps Chinkiang black vinegar

1 1/2 tsps + 1 tsp soy sauce

1 tsp sake, Vermouth would work here as well

1 Tbsp cornstarch

1 Tbsp olive or vegetable oil

1 Tbsp chili oil (optional based on your tolerance for and interest in spice)

1/2 tsp finely ground Szechuan pepper

White pepper to taste

In a small bowl, mix the ground pork with one teaspoon soy sauce, the sake, and a generous pinch of white pepper. Let it sit while you chop the vegetables. You could use more pork if your taste takes you in that direction. I wanted to use it as a seasoning rather than as a main character so only used half a pound.

Heat the oil in a deep pot over medium-high heat. Add the ground pork, breaking it into small bits with a spatula. Cook until browned with a few slightly crisp edges, about five minutes. Remove the pork from the pot and set it aside, leaving the rendered fat behind.

Lower the heat to medium. Add the onion, garlic and ginger and cook for about a minute, stirring, until fragrant. Add the doubanjiang and cook for another thirty seconds or so, stirring it into the aromatics until the oil takes on its characteristic vivid red color.

Grate the tomatoes directly into the pan to ensure that you use all of the juices, and cook for about five minutes, pressing them with the back of your spoon as they soften and release their juices, until you have a thick, somewhat chunky tomato mixture.

Pour in the broth and the remaining one and a half teaspoons soy sauce. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer for five minutes to give the tomatoes and doubanjiang a chance to make themselves at home in the broth.

Return the pork to the pot and add the Dragon’s Tongue beans. Simmer uncovered for four to five minutes. Taste one of the beans. It should be tender enough to bite through easily while retaining a little snap.

While the soup simmers, make a slurry by combining the cornstarch and two tablespoons of cold water in a small bowl, whisking until completely smooth.

With the soup gently simmering, slowly pour the slurry in while stirring. Simmer for about one minute, just until the broth gains a little body. You aren't trying to make it noticeably thick, merely substantial enough to cling slightly to the beans, tomatoes, and bits of pork. This will also give the soup a more substantial “mouthfeel.”

Turn off the heat and stir in the Chinkiang vinegar, chili oil, and Szechuan pepper. Taste the broth and adjust the seasoning. If you want it more sour, splash in a little more vinegar; if you want more heat, add more chili oil. The Sichuan pepper should contribute its distinctive citrusy, numbing quality without leaving the soup gritty, so add more cautiously if you think it needs it.

Ladle the soup into bowls and prepare to sweat and feel your nose start to run, in a curiously pleasant way. Though I made this in early October because that is when the Dragon Tongue Beans appeared in my veggie box, this would be an excellent winter soup to stave off the cold, and I may revisit it then.