Home-Style "Mapo Qiezi" Made Without Tianmianjiang and Without Deep-Frying

According to Ryuji, if you search for "mapo eggplant," the top result is his own recipe from five years ago, which also has the most views. However, that old recipe uses tianmianjiang (sweet bean sauce). As Ryuji explains it, tianmianjiang is basically a seasoning you only use for mapo tofu, so once you buy it, you fall victim to "the disease of making mapo tofu until the day you die." This time, he set out to make it with only doubanjiang and miso, aiming for a balance that would actually taste even better.

The inspiration was Cook Do's mapo eggplant, which Ryuji says blew him away. He sees it as a flavor that wins you over with umami rather than the rich sweetness of tianmianjiang, and he wanted to move in that direction. This recipe holds back on sweetness and leans into saltiness, and Ryuji says it tastes more like Chinese cuisine than his old recipe. The old recipe made about three servings, while this one has been reworked to make about two.

The ingredients are 3 eggplants (he says about 300 g; the video description says 270 g), 140 g ground pork, 10 g garlic, 10 g ginger, and about 50 g of Japanese leek (naganegi). The seasonings include doubanjiang, miso, sugar, soy sauce, Ajinomoto, potato starch, and sake. Since aroma is key in Chinese cooking, the garlic, ginger, and leek are minced.

The ginger is chopped with the skin on. According to Ryuji, ginger's aromatic compounds are concentrated just beneath the skin. When using it raw, you'd often peel it, but in a stir-fry the texture of the skin isn't noticeable, he says. He explained that the leek, just as in mapo tofu, adds a refreshing texture and aroma.

The eggplant is cut into bite-sized pieces with a roll cut, turning it as you go. When a staff member asked whether he wouldn't soak it to remove the bitterness, Ryuji answered, "I don't." If you're using it raw, it's better to remove the bitterness, but if you're stir-frying it, the bitterness cooks out. He said that if he made mapo eggplant with soaked and unsoaked eggplant, he probably couldn't tell the difference, adding, "There's no need to bother with steps that are unnecessary at home."

Sprinkle two pinches of salt over the cut eggplant. This seasons it, but Ryuji emphasized a different effect. Through osmosis, the salt penetrates the eggplant and fills it with water. Eggplant that's full of water doesn't absorb excess oil, so it tastes lighter, he says.

This prep step relates to the difference from restaurants. According to Ryuji, the mapo eggplant at Chinese restaurants is loaded with oil because the eggplant is deep-fried first. Restaurant mapo eggplant is delicious, but you can't eat it every day, and Ryuji's view is that the best mapo eggplant for home cooking is "one you can eat every day." When a staff member pointed out that the Cook Do mapo eggplant instructions also call for several tablespoons of oil, Ryuji replied that it's fine for that, since it's aiming for a restaurant taste. He added, half-jokingly, that part of the reason is that he's starting to have a bit of trouble with oil himself.

He cooks in an ordinary frying pan. Restaurants use high-powered burners, but he says a single home burner is plenty.

Add 1 tablespoon of sesame oil and first sear the ground pork. If you add the garlic or ginger first, they'll burn and won't taste good, so you start with the meat. Sear it well, as if you were cooking a steak, and lightly season it here with a pinch of salt. Since the eggplant is already salted, you don't need much. When asked why not salt and pepper, Ryuji explained that pepper would be fine too, but since the meat is seared hard, pepper burns, while salt doesn't. This dish includes plenty of spices, so salt alone is enough, he says.

Next, add just the garlic. According to Ryuji, garlic tastes better slightly browned, while ginger tastes better when it isn't. So the garlic is stir-fried until brown before the ginger goes in. Ryuji pointed to the browning on the flipped meat as "a nice color."

Before adding the eggplant, wipe off the moisture and squeeze it firmly. Quite a lot of water comes out when you squeeze it, so this is an important step, he says. Once this eggplant goes into the pan with the meat, there's no need to fry it separately. Deep-frying it would taste good too, but then it wouldn't be a side dish you could eat every day, Ryuji says.

At this point, add another tablespoon of oil to get the flavor into the eggplant. Lard is best if you have it, but salad oil also tastes good if you don't; this time he used rice bran oil. Restaurant mapo eggplant uses more oil. At home, 2 tablespoons at most is about right, coating the eggplant in the aromatic oil so it soaks it up. When a staff member asked whether the logic is different from adding salt later and stir-frying everything together, Ryuji answered, "The logic is different," and stressed that the order matters.

Once the eggplant is cooked through, add 1/2 tablespoon of doubanjiang (Ryuji uses Youki brand) and 1/2 tablespoon of miso. The miso stands in for the tianmianjiang. Using doubanjiang for the whole amount would make it extremely spicy, so he splits it half and half. Cooking the doubanjiang changes its flavor, giving a result that has some heat but isn't too spicy, he says. Ryuji noted that even without deep-frying, the eggplant takes on color and becomes plenty delicious. Next, add 1 teaspoon of sugar for a little sweetness, then add soy sauce and stir-fry.

For umami, Ryuji adds 10 shakes of Ajinomoto rather than Chinese soup base. Without it, there isn't enough umami and Japanese people would find it lacking, he says. Some people might find it tasty without Ajinomoto, but since Japanese people prize umami, his take is that most people will find it tastier with it in.

When a staff member asked about using dashi-infused miso, Ryuji said it's better not to. Dashi-infused miso contains things like bonito dashi, and since you don't put bonito dashi in Chinese food, it adds off-flavors, he says. For this recipe, he says miso without dashi is definitely better.

Next, add 100 cc of water. The staff thought this was where the starch went in, but Ryuji explained that you first make the base of the sauce with water. It comes to a boil quickly, and once it does, add the leek. The 100 cc evaporates quickly, he says.

For thickening, use 1 1/2 teaspoons of potato starch. Dissolving it in 1 tablespoon of sake instead of water gives it better flavor, he says. He started to turn off the heat but turned it back on, then drizzled the sake-dissolved starch into the bubbling, sizzling pan. Ryuji described the result: the eggplant is silky and fragrant, the meat's umami is sealed in, and there's an umami that's different from tianmianjiang.

On tasting it, Ryuji said it was delicious but judged that it needed a bit more soy sauce. He added 1/2 teaspoon of soy sauce for umami, plus a pinch of salt to taste.

To finish, turn up the heat to high and sear it for about 1–2 minutes. When a staff member asked whether he was burning it, Ryuji answered that it's less about burning and more about cooking off the moisture to concentrate the flavor. The cue is when it starts crackling as it sears.

Describing the finished dish, Ryuji emphasized that the sauce isn't soupy and everything holds together. Mapo eggplant tastes better when it isn't wet, he says. He also explained that adding water partway through was for adjustment; without the water, it would have burned by this stage.

You can sprinkle on Sichuan pepper if you like. According to Ryuji, people who eat out a lot often find it tastier with Sichuan pepper. Still, he wants people to try it as is first.

At the tasting, the staff first remarked on the strong aroma. On the combination of silky eggplant and seared ground pork, Ryuji said he liked the "contrast" of the meat being firm while the eggplant is meltingly soft. He also mentioned the crunch and freshness of the leek.

With Sichuan pepper added, a staff member said it "feels more authentic," and Ryuji agreed that adults might be better off with it. For kids, it's fine to leave it out, he says. The heat was mild, and a staff member felt it was at a level even middle and high schoolers could eat. Ryuji explained that he held back on the heat to make it easier to eat at home. Making it spicy tends to push it toward "spicy but delicious," but for eating at home, he thinks this level is right. Those who want it spicier can replace the miso portion with doubanjiang.

On the oil, a staff member pointed out that the amount of oil left on the plate was completely different. According to Ryuji, it's not that there's no oil, but since it's bound together with the sauce, it's hard to perceive as oily. Using as much oil as restaurants do would turn it into "oil rice." That's tasty in its own way, but tough to eat every day, and Ryuji said this is the limit for home cooking.

Comparing it with the old recipe, a staff member said they preferred this version without tianmianjiang. The conversation also touched on how hard it is to use up tianmianjiang and how it tends to make things sweet. This time, the sweetness comes from sugar alone. Ryuji closed by saying that this is, among mapo eggplant dishes eaten at home, the one he thinks is the most delicious, and urged viewers to make it as a home-style flavor you can't get at restaurants.