Sichuan-Style Braised Eggplant With Pickled Chilies and Garlic (Yu Xiang Qie Zi) Recipe

Eggplant is stir-fried until tender and smoky, then braised with with pickled chiles, feremented chile-bean paste, black vinegar, scallions, ginger, and garlic.

A small bowl filled to the brim with Sichuan-style hot and sour eggplant.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji Lopez-Alt

Why It Works

  • Soaking the eggplant in salted water allows some of its cell structure to break down, which subsequently allows it to soften more efficiently in the hot wok.
  • Cooking the eggplant until charred delivers the best, deepest flavor.

Despite its translation, fish-fragrant eggplant actually contains no seafood or meat products whatsoever. It gets its name from the combination of hot, sour, and sweet flavors that are typically served with fish in its native Sichuan. Smoky eggplant is stir-fried until tender, then tossed with a quick sauce flavored with chiles, black vinegar, sugar, ginger, and garlic for a hearty, flavor-packed dish that comes together in one wok with minimal effort. Some of the best vegan recipes are ones that weren't adjusted to be vegan, but just happen to start out that way.

There were a lot of ups and downs during the long trip my wife and I took through Asia last summer, particularly during the two days we spent hiking on Emai Shan, one of the four holy Chinese Buddhist mountains located in China's central Sichuan province. No, I mean that literally. Lots of ups and downs. Endless flights of stairs leading us through lush valleys, monkey-infested bamboo forests, breathtaking vistas, the longest expanses of no-contact-with-people we experienced in China, and the odd impromptu bodega peddling warm beer and instant noodles.

Adri and I had made the mistake of doing zero planning before heading up for the hike and it was about three hours into our two-day descent that we realized that carrying our full load (that'd be a 65-liter pack on our backs and a 20-liter day pack on our fronts) was not the best way to avoid intense pain during the 30 kilometers and 2,000 meters of vertical shift. We hobbled into a small Buddhist shrine on the side of the mountain as the sun started to set, paid the modest fee for a simple room, shrugged off our packs with a thud, and shuffled our way to the kitchen where a cook was busy preparing a hot meal for the dozen-odd fellow travelers who'd stopped for the night.

Man oh man, was it delicious. All of the food was 100% vegetarian (as much Buddhist food tends to be), and all of it extraordinarily simple. A rice porridge with leaves of sweet lettuce. Cabbage that had been charred ever so slightly, giving the whole thing a sweet, smoky aroma. Tender green beans steamed then stir-fried with garlic, chiles, a touch of salt, and nothing more. And platters full of yu xiang qie zi—fish fragrant eggplant.

Adri and I housed down two platters of the stuff. I'm pretty sure we snapped like wild wolf puppies at a guy who tried to move the platter from our side of the table's iron grip. I will not apologize: It was the only thing fortifying enough to get us through the second (and as it turned out, far more difficult) day of hiking ahead.

These days, we have to hike up a hill to get to our home in San Francisco, but at least it doesn't leave us wanting to remove our limbs and hit the "restart" button on our bodies. Still, that eggplant is one of my favorite dishes of all time.

I decided to perfect it for myself.

Pressing Issues Regarding Eggplant

The first step was figuring out which eggplant to use. Big ol' globe eggplants are way too big and watery. Smaller Japanese eggplants work, but in the end, tradition reigned and I went with long, slender, pale purple Chinese eggplants. They tend to collapse a bit less than their darker counterparts, giving you a meatier bite. They also have a slightly sweeter flavor that goes nicely with the hot and vinegary sauce.

Whatever eggplant you use, one thing's for sure: Simply cutting them and stir-frying them does not work. The eggplants absorb all the oil, leaving dry spots on the wok, which in turn allows the eggplant to stick and burn. Raw, untreated eggplants also take a long time to cook through, exacerbating the burning problem. Why is that?

It's because eggplants contain so much excess air, distributed within a spongy cell network. Air acts as an insulator, which means that heat travels through an eggplant very slowly. This is one of the reasons you always want to buy an eggplant that feels nice and heavy for its size: denser eggplants have less air and will cook more evenly with better flavor and texture.

So how do you solve this problem? There are quite a few techniques I wanted to test.

Chinese eggplant has been quartered lengthwise, cut into 4-inch segments, and arranged in rows on a drying rack.
I tried treating eggplant a half dozen different ways to arrive that the best for this dish.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

Almost all of the methods you hear about involve an attempt to break down the internal cellular structure of the eggplant either through heating or chemically with salt. In the past, I've used the steaming method for dishes in which the eggplant is going to be braised until fall-apart tender, like in this braised eggplant with tofu dish. It's simple: Put the eggplant slices in a bamboo steamer set over a wok of simmering water and steam them for about 10 minutes until tender.

Quartered lengths of Chinese eggplant arranged in a bamboo steamer.
Steaming eggplant in a steamer gets it soft, but it's hard for flavor to penetrate.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

The problem is that without simmering in a sauce, it's hard to get steamed eggplant to absorb much flavor. It also comes out really soft. Too soft for this particular dish.

Microwaving the eggplant until cooked through followed by stir-frying works better. It completely breaks down cell structure while driving off moisture, giving you smaller, easier-to-fry pieces. But I find the pieces actually a little too shriveled and concentrated when you use this method.

That leaves salting. Typically, salting takes place on dry land. You sprinkle the eggplants with a bit of salt, then let them sit until the salt pulls out excess moisture through osmosis, causing the cell structure to collapse. But I've also seen recipes that call for brining eggplant: soaking them in a salt water solution. This seems counterintuitive to me. Aren't we trying to get rid of excess moisture?

I decided to compare the two methods side by side, also testing them against eggplant soaked in unsalted water and plain, untreated eggplant as a control. After their brief 10-minute soak in salt water, the eggplant pieces did not look all that different. After drying them with paper towels and weighing them, I found that they actually lost a little weight during their soak. Osmosis would explain this: So long as the concentration of salt outside the eggplant is higher than the concentration of other solutes inside the eggplant's cells (1/4 cup of kosher salt for each quart of water worked), water from the cells should be forced outward in an attempt to reach equilibrium.

I cooked all four batches of eggplant using the same method in a hot wok with oil, cooking them until lightly charred on the exterior and tender throughout. Both the salted and brined eggplants cooked faster and browned better than their water-soaked or untreated counterparts.

Close-up of fried eggplant on a drying rack.
Brining gives the best final texture.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

"I may well start brining all my eggplant from now on, whether it's destined for a Chinese recipe or not."

And whaddaya know? The brined eggplant was actually the best of the bunch. It managed to brown and soften while still retaining a nice meaty bite. The salted eggplant came in a close second, but was not quite as easy to cook. Brining eggplant is also easier than salting: Salting eggplant requires a big rack to lay the slices out. Brined eggplant is good to go with just a single bowl. I may well start brining all my eggplant from now on, whether it's destined for a Chinese recipe or not.

Turning Up the Heat

With the eggplant pre-treated, the next step is cooking it. The wok is where you want to go here, preferably a well-seasoned carbon steel wok.

Eggplant is one of those vegetables that really benefits from a nice, deep, char. Plain eggplant is bland. Mushy, watery, insipid—it's no wonder so many people dislike it. Well-charred eggplant, on the other hand, is smoky and sweet. There's really not much to it: just cook the eggplant in plenty of oil over moderate heat, turning it every once in a while, until it's completely tender throughout and well charred on the outside.

Eggplant is charred on all sides in a wok.
It's ready for the sauce.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

I like to take a fairly orderly approach to this, systematically flipping all the pieces so they're on the same side and turning them sequentially until they're browned all over. But a lazier, stir-and-shake approach will work as well if you're not quite as obsessive detail-oriented as I am.

My Chiles Are in a Pickle!

With the eggplant addressed, I moved on to the sauce, which is pretty simple, but has a few issues to address. The base of the sauce is hot and sour. A combination of vinegar mixed with chiles, Sichuan chile-bean paste, sugar, wine, soy sauce, and just enough cornstarch to bind it into a glossy glaze (too much and it turns gloppy).

I started off by making the dish with fresh Thai bird chiles but something wasn't quite right: Instead of the general heat that I want coating each piece of eggplant, I was getting sharp, concentrated bursts of heat. Traditionally, the dish is made with pickled chiles, and it turns out they're essential for flavor: Pickled chiles spread their heat around the whole dish.

They're available in many Chinese grocers, but they aren't common in a standard supermarket. The solution is to simply pickle your own. It's a really fast process: Just heat up vinegar on the stovetop, pour it over sliced chiles, and let them sit for about five minutes. You can even do it while your eggplant is brining.

A prep bowl containing pickled red chile slices and Sichuan chile-bean paste.
Pickled chilies and Sichuan chile-bean paste.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

The only other issue to address is the black vinegar. Again, a common ingredient in Chinese markets (look for "Chinkiang vinegar" or "black vinegar"), but not so in a standard supermarket. It has a very mild, almost sweet and woody flavor to it. I tried a number of substitutes—red wine, sherry, white wine—but found that the best was to use plain white vinegar to pickle the chiles, then a splash of cheap Balsamic vinegar in place of the black vinegar if you can't find it. Balsamic vinegar in Chinese cooking may sound weird, but trust me on this one: It works well.

The pickled chiles and chili-bean paste are combined in a prep bowl, flanked by sliced scallions, minced garlic, and minced ginger.
Garlic, ginger, and scallions are the aromatic base.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

To finish up our sauce, we're going with the classic Chinese trifecta of garlic, ginger, and scallions, with a very heavy hand on the ginger.

In his testing, Daniel Gritzer found that chopping garlic by hand is the best way to mince it for most applications. But for this specific case, the microplane works just fine. The garlic cooks so fast that it doesn't have time to develop that acrid, sharp flavor that can come out in garlic-heavy applications where it's more prone to burning.

Close-up of the finished Sichuan-style eggplant in a serving bowl.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

So: Eggplant gets brined, chiles get pickled, eggplant gets charred, aromatics are added, sauce is stirred in, everybody inside the pan gets happy for a minute or two, then everyone outside the pan gets even happier as they down it.

A piece of eggplant is raised from the serving bowl with a pair of chopsticks.

Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

This is what you're looking for: Eggplant that is tender but holds its shape, a sauce that is glossy but not gloppy, and flavor that is hot, sour, and sweet all at once.

Now if only we had a Buddhist temple on the side of a gorgeous mountain to eat this from as we observe the tranquility of life, the universe, and everything else, our lives would be complete.

February 2015

Recipe Facts

3.9

(11)

Active: 30 mins
Total: 30 mins
Serves: 4 servings

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Ingredients

  • Kosher salt

  • 1 1/2 pounds Chinese or Japanese eggplants (about 3), trimmed, split into quarters lengthwise and cut into 3- to 4-inch lengths

  • 3 tablespoons white vinegar or rice wine vinegar

  • 2 red Thai bird chiles (or any small hot red chile)

  • 2 tablespoons Shaoxing wine (or dry sherry)

  • 1 tablespoon sugar

  • 2 teaspoons soy sauce

  • 1 tablespoon Chinkiang vinegar (use a not-too-fancy balsamic vinegar in its place if unavailable)

  • 1 1/4 teaspoons cornstarch

  • 3 tablespoons vegetable oil

  • 4 teaspoons minced fresh ginger

  • 4 medium cloves minced garlic (about 4 teaspoons)

  • 4 scallions, whites thinly sliced, greens cut into 1/3-inch segments

  • 2 tablespoons Sichuan chile broad bean paste (Doubanjiang)

  • Roughly chopped fresh cilantro leaves, for garnish

Directions

  1. Combine 1/2 cup kosher salt with 2 quarts water in a medium bowl. Add eggplant pieces, skin-side up, and set aside to soak for at least 10 and up to 20 minutes.

    Eggplant pieces soaking in a salt water brine.
  2. Meanwhile, heat white vinegar in a small saucepan until simmering. Place sliced chiles in a small bowl and pour hot vinegar on top. Let rest for 5 minutes, then add wine, sugar, soy sauce, and Chinkiang vinegar. Stirring constantly, add cornstarch and stir until dissolved. Set sauce aside. Drain eggplant carefully and pat dry with paper towels.

    Pouring vinegar brine into a bowl of Thai chiles to pickle.
  3. Heat oil in a wok over high heat until smoking. Reduce heat to medium, add eggplant, and cook, tossing occasionally, until softened and well browned on all sides. Push to sides of wok. Return wok to high heat and add ginger, garlic, and scallions. Cook, stirring and tossing constantly, until fragrant and raw bite is gone, about 30 seconds. Add broad bean paste and cook, stirring for about 30 seconds. Pour in chile sauce, making sure to scrape in any sugar or starch that may have settled on the bottom.

    Brined eggplant is stir-fried in a wok.

    Serious Eats / J. Kenji López-Alt

  4. Cook, tossing constantly, until sauce is thickened, glossy, and coats eggplants nicely, 1 to 3 minutes (if the sauce overthickens, thin with a few tablespoons of water). Transfer to a serving bowl, garnish with chopped fresh cilantro leaves, and serve immediately.

Special Equipment

Wok

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Nutrition Facts (per serving)
209 Calories
12g Fat
23g Carbs
2g Protein
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Nutrition Facts
Servings: 4
Amount per serving
Calories 209
% Daily Value*
Total Fat 12g 16%
Saturated Fat 1g 5%
Cholesterol 0mg 0%
Sodium 1151mg 50%
Total Carbohydrate 23g 8%
Dietary Fiber 5g 19%
Total Sugars 9g
Protein 2g
Vitamin C 12mg 58%
Calcium 36mg 3%
Iron 1mg 5%
Potassium 320mg 7%
*The % Daily Value (DV) tells you how much a nutrient in a food serving contributes to a daily diet. 2,000 calories a day is used for general nutrition advice.
(Nutrition information is calculated using an ingredient database and should be considered an estimate.)