Niu Rou Mien

I stood by the kitchen counter, clumsily hacking at the green onions, vegetables, and beef shank, trying to cut them as neatly as possible, just like how my mom taught me. I’d been tasked with making Niu Rou Mien for the New Year’s Eve dinner with my cousins this year. How am I going to make this all by myself?

Niu Rou Mien has always been a family favorite, and I was feeling the pressure to cook the dish to perfection. I splashed a tablespoon of oil into a large pot, and once it was hot, added as much of the beef shank cuboids as I could fit into the bottom of the pot with a crackling sizzle and cooked, fumbling to flip the cuboids of beef with tongs, until both sides were gently browned.

I remembered my mom’s gentle voice patiently instructing me on how to prepare the broth. “Add the ginger, garlic, scallions, chilies, and tomato, but be careful of the hot water splashing up. And stir with the ladle every once in a while until the veggies are soft”. I then stirred in a pinch of sugar and added the pieces of beef to the pot. The hardest part of the dish was almost over. Not so bad after all, I thought, stirring in the rice wine, soy sauce, water, peppercorns, and fragrant star anise, then letting it simmer for 3 hours. The pressure began to ease, and I felt confident that I had done justice to my mother’s recipe as I began to catch the delightful aroma of the broth rising up from the pot.

Finally, as I anxiously waited for the water to boil to cook the starchy wheat noodles,  I suddenly returned to my first time cooking Niu Rou Mien with my mom. The fragrant, slightly tomatoey taste of the broth, soft, tender chunks of beef, and bright, verdant color of the onion and bok choy reminded me of the peace and happiness that comes with this dish, despite the stress and hardship of the day.