I wasn’t in the mood to cook dinner. I wasn’t even sure what the heck I wanted to eat. I’d baked two different loaves of bread in two days– a pillowy soft, fluffy whole wheat milk bread and my lazy person’s version of a rustic loaf (aka 5 Minute No Knead Bread)–mainly because I just couldn’t decide. Sounds weird but these days I derive more comfort from the process of making the bread than actually eating it, no matter how inviting a warm freshly baked loaf seems. I suppose it’s a good thing I have plenty of friends and neighbors who are more than happy to buy a loaf or two off of me.

What I’m really chasing is the sensation I could only describe as a kind of “baker’s euphoria.” It happens when I open the oven door to retrieve a loaf of bread (or for that matter any baked product) and that blast of intense heat and heady first whiff of toasty, caramelized crust sends a momentary rush of endorphins through my body. The thrill lingers as I admire my handiwork cooling on the rack, which then dissipates along with the aroma. Unless I’m starving, though, I don’t usually feel compelled to slice off a hunk of bread and smother it with lashings of butter. So yesterday, my golden crusty boule, marked atop with perfectly concentric flour rings, sat untouched for most of the afternoon, until I got around to slicing into it to check the texture and crumb. Even then, I felt no desire to slice off a couple of pieces to build a sandwich. It was not exactly what my stomach was yearning for. Yet with no specific craving to guide me, I had to peruse the contents of my fridge for inspiration.

I always make more steamed rice than I need for one meal just so I’ll have leftover cold rice on hand to make fried rice at a later date, but I was growing bored with my standby comfort food. I’ve made about a dozen variations at least once, sometimes twice a week since the pandemic–kimchi with SPAM, shrimp and bbq pork, shrimp, Chinese sausage and pineapple, chicken and broccoli, beef and tomato.

Sure, I could get creative taking the kitchen sink approach, using up leftover bits and pieces to make a satisfying dish, from a flavor standpoint at least. It just wasn’t what I was up for last night, especially not as I’d already made pineapple fried rice for dinner two nights ago. No, my stomach longed for something warm, cozy, and familiar to accompany the leftover steamed rice.

Sitting prominently in my fridge was the answer–eggs. There was an absolute abundance of them, having stocked up to fulfill all the cake requests I’ve been getting–from chocolate birthday cakes, to guava cupcakes, to basque cheesecake.

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Nothing wrong with a runny fried egg, crispy around the edges, drizzled with a little oyster sauce and sprinkled with furikake over rice. Easy peasy…or maybe a little too easy, too ordinary.

I thought about other satisfying yet simple egg dishes I could make, a dish evoking those sought-after warm fuzzy feelings…then I remembered something Mom used to make often when I was a kid–savory steamed egg custard. When was the last time I had that, much less cooked it? Last summer at a popular Japanese restaurant specializing in yakitori in Santa Clara, I was served a petite ramekin of chawanmushi as part of a bento lunch.

Chawanmushi is a divinely smooth savory steamed custard dish with subtle hints of dashi and ginger–texturally a first cousin to Mom’s Chinese version. For me, what makes it substantively different is that it’s more a self-contained entity–each chawanmushi steamed in its own little pot or ramekin with a couple of thinly sliced mushrooms and/or shrimp suspended in quivering custard–to be enjoyed solely for its own merits. Producing a perfectly steamed, pristine chawanmushi is a point of pride for my Japanese sister-in-law Mariko.

While equally silken and delicate in texture, Chinese savory steamed custard, is nowhere near as fussy. It’s a communal dish meant to be spooned over steamed rice. As you dig in with your chopsticks the barely set custard drizzled with soy sauce and sesame oil gently seeps into the bowl, bathing the rice with luscious salty creaminess. To get all that velvety goodness into your mouth you have to practically slurp it. I loved that as a kid, routinely spooning on more custard in proportion to the rice in my bowl.

I don’t think I was anymore more of a picky eater than most kids my age. My parents introduced me and my brothers to all kinds of Chinese food early on, from Chinese sausage and preserved duck eggs, to salted fish and fermented tofu.

We ate all kinds of offal before we knew what they were. As long as we had a bowl of steamed rice to go with it anything was game. I’m told that I practically lived on rice flavored with specks of pungent salted fish when I was three. Steamed savory custard was one of those rare dishes where the rice was secondary, only there as a vehicle to transport the precarious perched custard to one’s mouth.

I’d made a plethora of custards, mostly sweet, but I’d never made this particular dish at home. I knew that, like chawanmushi, Chinese steamed custard contained an almost equal ratio of liquid to egg to achieve that whisper light texture. How much liquid was up for debate. Do you want your custard to taste more eggy or do you prefer a softer, more subtle flavor? The more liquid you add to the eggs the longer it takes to steam. It reminds me of the debate over the “right” proportion of egg yolk to cream in creme brûlée. For the record, I on the side of creaminess (or as my friend Damon would say “clabber”) over egginess, employing a combination of egg yolk, whole eggs, heavy cream and whole milk to achieve the ideal (to me) texture…but I’ll tackle the subject of creme brûlée another day.

I researched a number of recipes for Chinese savory steamed custard, from cookbooks and YouTube. The technique for steaming were all about the same. The only variable was the amount and type of liquid beaten into the eggs. Water is the standard, but you can use chicken, vegetable or even dashi broth for more flavor. I went for chicken broth. As for the amount of broth, I settled on a ratio of 1.5 liquid to 1 egg–not too eggy but just the right level of protein to set the custard in under 20 minutes.

Mom often steamed her custard with bits of bbq pork. For once I had none in the freezer. What I did have was a little bit of fatty ground pork leftover from my slu mai project, so I pulled it out to thaw. Taking some tips from Flo Lum’s YouTube video for Silky Asian Steamed Egg with Pork, I seasoned the pork with a bit of rice wine, soy, white pepper, sea salt, sugar, and sesame oil. I added a tiny squeeze of ginger juice and a half a teaspoon of cornstarch. Once I mixed the pork well, I spread it out in an even layer at the bottom of a 9″ glass pie dish.

Flo’s method of measuring out the liquid works great if you, for some reason, don’t have a measuring cup, using an empty half egg shell to measure out three shells of liquid per egg, which is essentially 1.5 liquid per 1 egg. If you’re not skilled at cracking egg shells evenly down the center, then I suggest cracking them into a measuring cup to determine the volume then measure out 1.5 times the volume in liquid.

In any case, to make the custard you simply beat the eggs in a bowl just to break them up, then beat in the broth. I didn’t add any additional seasoning because broth and pork were seasoned enough, but if you’re using plain water I’d season the eggs with maybe 1/2 t. sea salt, a pinch of sugar, and 1/4 t. white pepper. Once the egg mixture was beaten, I strained it over the ground pork and stretched a film of plastic wrap tightly over the dish to prevent condensation from dripping into the custard as it steamed.

I set the dish on a rack over simmering water (on medium low heat) and covered it with a lid and steamed it for about 13 mins. I would’ve used my trusty steamer basket for this but the pie plate was too wide to fit. The amount of time really depends on the size and type of dish you use. The only appropriate shallow vessel I had to use was a glass pie dish so it didn’t take very long. I began checking for doneness at the 10 minute mark. The finished custard jiggled evenly. I carefully spooned a mixture of soy and sesame oil on the surface and garnished the custard with a sprinkling of chopped scallions.

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Served over rice with a side of baby boy choy and sliced Chinese sausage, this wobbly steamed custard made for the coziest of meals–the kind that reminded me of how satisfying and restorative a simple egg dish from my childhood could be.

You can switch out the pork for variety of ingredients, like shrimp, diced chicken, or even Mom’s favorite bbq pork. Or make it plain and season the custard base. The possibilities are endless. Just make sure you have enough steamed rice to cradle the custard.

Savory Steamed Egg Custard with Minced Pork (adapted from Flo Lum)

Yield: 2-3 servings

• 6 oz. fatty ground pork
• 1 1/2 t. sesame oil, divided
• 1 t. rice wine
• 1 1/2 t. soy sauce, divided
• 1/4 t. sugar
• 1/4 t. ground white pepper
• 1/4 t. sea salt
• 1 t. ginger juice (squeezed from grated peeled fresh ginger)
• 1/2 t. cornstarch
• 3 extra large or 4 large eggs
• chicken broth (or water)*
• 1 T. chopped scallion

1. Combine pork with 1/2 t. sesame oil, 1/2 t. soy sauce, and the remaining seasonings. Mix thoroughly with chopsticks or by hand until the texture of the pork feels tacky.
2. Spread the pork out in an even layer at the bottom of a shallow dish.
3. Crack the eggs into a measuring cup to determine the volume, then transfer the eggs into a medium bowl and measure out 1.5 times the volume in broth or water*.
4. Beat the eggs to break them up. If using water, season the eggs with a little more salt, sugar, and white pepper.
5. Beat in the broth (or water) until well mixed, then strain the custard over the pork.
6. Tightly wrap the dish with cling film (or foil).
7. Set the wrapped dish on a rack or steamer tray over simmering water. Cover and steam under medium low heat for about 13-20 mins. depending on the size and shape of your dish. Begin checking after 10 mins., jiggling the dish to see if the custard wobbles evenly.
8. Mix together the remaining soy sauce and sesame oil.
9. Remove the cling film from the set custard and carefully spoon the soy-sesame sauce on the surface and top with a sprinkling of chopped scallions.