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DIY turnip cakes: Where to find and how to make
This ain't your dim sum's turnip cake -- it's better.While the Cantonese love their turnip cakes (sometimes referred to as radish cakes) in dim sum houses, we in Shanghai like ours right off the street.
We recently caught up with our favorite turnip cake (油墩子) vendor, Mr Huang, a native of Hong Kong, who fries his on the popular Yunnan Nan Lu snack street.
“When I first set up my stand here on Yunnan Lu over 15 years ago,” explains Mr Huang, “I wanted to offer something different from other vendors and something from my hometown.”
Since he first set up shop, Huang has expanded to selling more than just turnip cakes. He offers other Shanghai classics like stinky tofu and other fried goodies. But it is his turnip cake that sets him apart from the others.
Like most of Shanghai street food, the predictable condiments of fermented soybean paste and chili sauce are both available for the diners to use, so people have a hand in creating their favorite yin and yang flavor combination -- much like in Mei Ling’s jianbing.
“I think people like to put the sauces on themselves,” explains Huang. “That way they get exactly what they are craving.”
“I used to have a stand like this in Hong Kong, but the competition was too steep,” admits Huang. “So, about 20 years ago I packed my bags and came here with my family. It’s nice to be the only one on this block selling this specialty -- it means I can charge a little more, too.”
When he first came to Yunnan Lu, his cakes sold for 5 jiao. Now, they sell at RMB 1.5. We think they’re worth that extra kuai.
Early preparation
Huang wakes at 5:30 a.m. every morning. At home, he washes his turnips, and then shreds them. He prepares the other ingredients, which often include mushrooms, dried shrimp, and sometimes Chinese sausage, and steams small mounds that he’ll later dip in batter and deep fry on the street.
By 7:30 a.m., he leaves his apartment and heads to Yunnan Nan Lu to get the end of the breakfast rush and prepare for his busier lunch crowd.
“Once I’ve fried all of my shredded turnips,” he tells us, “I pack up and go home.” I make the same amount of cakes every day, so if I am done at noon, I was busy. If I’m not finished until 5, then business was a bit slow. But once I’ve sold out of my turnip cakes, I still have other snacks to sell, like stinky tofu.”
While Huang wouldn’t divulge his family’s turnip cake recipe, we found one in the popular cookbook, “A Little Taste of China,” that Huang gives his personal tweak and seal of approval to.
Although these turn out deliciously, nothing really compares to eating one of Huang’s freshly fried -- albeit it greasy -- cakes right off the street.







